THE PASSING WIND
-TheSilentReader-
A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.
-William Shakespeare
CHAPTER 12
Yumi guarded herself as she read her letter in the secluded corner of her workroom. The painter usually had a rice-papered door left open for her rancid air of pigments to dissipate out, but with this unusual letter, she decided not to take any chances. Maybe, there's some biological weapon inside this letter, a deadly virus ready to kill her in a matter of hours, she joked to herself. Her imagination was taking entertainment from this; she imagined that this letter might be from some unknown organization or fraternity recruiting secret agents—even bordering to an Illuminati conspiracy, signing her up for some trivial cause. Or to warn her the her time was near. But she rolled her eyes.
Still, she opened it. And she found a handwriting that she could recoginize since she became one of the helpers of Yamayurikai a decade past. She smirked at the stupidy and pain Yoshino must have done to deposit such a suspicious letter—without a damn return address—to Kashiwagi's mailbox. Really, why all the anonymity? That's just terribly inconvenient.
As expected from Yoshino, the message was brief and direct. No tradional and conventional how-do-you-do and how-does-the-season-fairing-you sort of greeting. Yoshino was now getting in harmony with Yumi's method of communication. Fast-read, substancially detailed, brief, no more bullshit on the side. Yoshino must have been consulting someone that knew how to entrap Yumi to approval. Indeed, the painter was impressed on how she could extract techniques such as this from Yuuki—or maybe Sei, without asking it directly.
Yumi was asked to get out of the compound two days hence and meet Yoshino at Ginkaku-ji at Sakyouku, on lunchtime, noon. She would be waiting at the front gate, and lunch tab would be Yoshino's. But one note made Yumi wondered of the nature of the meeting: she was not allowed to tell Kashiwagi Suguru of this. That made Yumi think only of her painting; Yoshino and Yuuki might have been getting leads (and direction) to her lost piece, and she thought that Kashiwagi was somehow tied into the situation.
She was unsure on how to respond to that theory.
There was a series of numbers on the post-script, and she noticed that it was Sei's mobile number. With that, she concluded that Yoshino was asking consultations from that blonde, teasing woman.
She decided: she would be there. Just one phonecall away then the meeting would be settled. She folded the paper and burned it with the envelope. She thought of Sei as she got a small box of matchsticks and watched the flames trickled to the plane of the papers, turning them to ash.
For drama and flair.
Yoshino looked at Sei as she reviewed everything that she had done for the investigation for the last two days. First, she went to different agencies in Kyoto to know more about the Kinomoto family—the family registers, schools, museums were inspected and asked for any information regarding them. With that, she needed Sei to establish contacts—she was after all, the senior curator of a gallery back at Musashino. The reason for the stupidly delivered letter to Yumi was sort of a joke insinuated by Sei, thinking that this should spice up Yumi's reaction to the letter—equiping it with elements of secrecy would make everything dramatic. Sei mentioned that maybe Kashiwagi would be cautious enough to open it before giving it to Yumi, and with that possibility, Yoshino still allowed Sei's endulgement for frivolity. After all, if Kashiwagi had read it before Yumi does, then Kashiwagi's involvement would depend on how he would act, or draw his next move. Yoshino expected him to do nothing; it was the best and safest move. After all, only extremely stupid (and guilty) people would be worried with mundane trick such as a letter from an anonymous source.
But Sei's idea was still mundanely stupid. Yoshino wondered why she allowed her to have her way.
They were at a small traditional inn, owned by a tall, stocked man with gentle smile and thick beard who Sei claimed to be her old friend who helped her during the early days of her "post-university". She pursed her lips as she dismissed Sei-san's idiotic words, telling herself that these "post-uni" days could be fundamentally summarized as the cruel outside world. The man just nodded cheerfully, grunting twice to agree with Sei's informal introduction, then proceeded with the business.
She could never get used to Sei's musings.
A call a while ago catalized their plans to fruition; Yumi finally turned on her cellular phone just to confirm her acceptance to Yoshino's invitation. Yoshino did not ask any question—when she took the gadget from the unsuspecting Sei, she immediately asked her best friend if she'd accept, and she was given a brief, affermative answer, "I'll be meeting you." Without farewell greetings, the line broke, leaving on Yoshino's ear statics.
After two days, Yumi showed up; her black motorbike roaring smoothly along the pathway to a parking space near the gate. Still clad in her equally black riding jacket and helmet, she unfastened the front zipper of the leather trench-collared jacket. As usual, Yoshino could feel irritation on Yumi's features; as if a cloud of dust was above her, that some people passing by would step back away from her. Because her silent strides to the steps leading to gateway were screaming I'm-so-pissed-off. Yoshino was waiting there, empty handed, which made Yumi walked faster than before.
"I agreed to your proposal since you promised that lunch would be in your tab." Yumi groaned.
Yoshino smiled wickedly as her silent reply.
"I'm very hungry."
The agent then walked away, while she replied, "Good. We're having a picnic." She expected Yumi to follow her.
They found Sei sitting below the canopy of a tree facing the famous Buddhist temple. The tall blonde noticed them and greeted. But her eyes took a longer linger to Yumi's sharp ones; Yumi realized immediately that Sei was situated under the tree where they first reunited many years ago. And that brought a frown on Yumi's face. Sei's lips turned the same.
"How are your commisions?"
"Working on the second Hinata now."
Sei was very expressive with things like this. She believed that nothing is coincidental, and she took advantage of that. Yumi would not be surprised if the news that Yoshino and Sei would give would be a bad one. It was like that years ago, when Sei dropped Yumi the news that Sachiko was indeed marrying Touma Ryu. Under this tree, bad news was being delivered.
"We eat first. Business afterwards."
The bento Yoshino bought was good anough for four people, but Yumi, taking advantage of Yoshino's invitation took half of the fourth's share and indulged herself. After a few minutes of silence after Sei started to take away the finished bento, Yoshino gathered Yumi's attention from the silver-plated roof of the temple and said, "You probably noticed what I'd say."
"Yeah, yeah, it's about my employer. It's stupid to send unnamed letters like that. Really," Yumi snorted, unimpressed. "You're giving us false sense of danger. Very anticlimactic."
(Us?) Yoshino tried not to emphasize that part.
"Sei planned that." Yoshino shifted the blame to the quiet one of the three. "But I intended to do that, just to shake things up a bit in your compound. You seem to be having a good time there." The agent gave a long look at Yumi's face, but the latter countered a glare. She said nothing more.
Good time? Yes, she supposed that she did, but at the same time, a part of her was silently objecting. Sachiko's move few days ago proved to be very taxing occasionally; she was sometimes spacing out from her work, neglacting the Kinomoto for seconds was as if it was stretched to hours, or even a lifetime. That portrait that she had almost forgotten took toll on her judgment, nearly convincing herself that Sachiko was serious in making amends, because of what that painting meant for them. A declaration of love. To declare it six years ago—before going to Kyoto or before her marriage—would be a celebration for Yumi, but now, Sachiko's imposing took her not to happiness, but to confusion. Touko was right; she was still not settled with her feelings about her former onee-sama. Touko would be satisfied if Yumi still hated her; better to have a singular sentiment for a person rather mixed and contrasting feelings. The latter was always constantly destructive, in any form, in any occasion.
Kashiwagi-san's presence too, was beginning to be a little less irritating as time passed. He no longer inspected her progress every night since she went there and be as suffocating because of his pushiness about the paintings. It was very alarming at first, realizing that fact as he took a small space outside her workroom sipping his sake as she worked her way to a Kinomoto in the middle of the night. In his yukata or business clothes he drank, savoring the scenery before him—the moonlit garden, the star-studded sky. He claimed that it was the best spot outside to watch them, but she doubtful of his assertions. Sometimes, he took the time to go inside the workroom, nonchalantly commenting about the fumes of her mediums or look at the progress of the painting she was now restoring. Back then, she was still in the first Kinomoto—Hinata's—and was on the final touches. He said that the first time he saw it; he was very disappointed and saddened at how the painting could not breathe in its old home. That made Yumi pondered, but never voiced it loudly: where was this old home? She knew exactly what he was talking about; the painting had spots of molds on the sides of the wood that supports the painting, and the delicate ink that was used was beginning to fade and pluck out. It was supposed to stick to the medium for a longer time. She was wrong about him at this point: he really knew his paintings.
At times, he would be offering her a drink, and she agreed, only allowing herself two shots or three, not to drown herself into stupor. As time passed, he was frequently staying there almost every night, beyond the doors of her workroom. And she was beginning to accommodate the little piece of addition to her usual surroundings. They were beginning to act like drinking buddies, almost bordering close to a silent, mutual friendship. Because no matter how Yumi hated it—he was the only person that speaks to her in the house. Not his butler, who only appeared when Kashiwagi-san summons him, or that old woman dressed in dull kimono.
She did not need conversation or company; however, Kashiwagi always had her attention because of their common ground: the Kinomoto paintings.
"Why not? Six Kinomoto on commission. There is free food and lodging. No one is banging my doors," she shortly shifted her eyes to Sei's direction; Sei smirked. "And it is quiet there. Tell me, what more could a painter like me ask?"
"You should be watchful of your employer, Kashiwagi Suguru."
Yumi raised a brow. "Oh?"
"Haven't you notice how doting he was with the Kinomoto family and their paintings? It was obsessive."
"So? There's nothing wrong with having fixation to the Kinomoto; afterall, they are a very interesting family of painters. So much warped impression on their works." She said as she remembered the other five that she'd restore next.
The air was getting colder, amidst the pleasant surroundings.
"He could be connected to the Kinomoto on my list." Yoshino said grimly. "Just be wary of him. I personally don't trust that guy. He has a very shady past. He's very connected to a very prominent ya-chan*. He also has great backings from the black market, and holds an extensive influence there. Yet, he appears so harmless on the outside."
"He is not my business. Our business, ladies, is my missing painting. Maybe, I'm more concerned and interested in the progress in locating my stuff than gossip about my employer." Yumi deadpanned.
"He's fixated with the Kinomoto painters. He could be as interested to the only person capable of restoring Kinomoto masterpieces? Maybe," Sei suggested, as she crossed her legs and lean on the trunk of the tree and look at the temple, "Maybe, he likes Fukuzawas too?"
Yumi gripped harder on the rod and let her motorbike roar along the road, just accelerating a notch above the speed limit just to calm down. She expected Kashiwagi Suguru to be as Yoshino described her: shady, suspicious, and distrustful. Those impressions made him the way he was, and she had no qualms; she was there to do his commissions, not to snoop into his life. She was never interested in that, but it made her think of Kashiwagi Suguru. He was an exciting human being to study and scrutinize. He was very contradicting—he acts normally, nothing of how she usually perceived rich people was, as if he came from a very humble origin. She found him a little coarse, even when he appeared to be seducing her back at his hotel. As if he was not that adept to it. He was not imposing as most men of influence were; she could not think of him as a person with chambers filled with gold. She could not even see him fit properly in a custom-tailored suit with heavy cuff links and impeccable tie, and expensive shiny shoes. He just did not fit.
Shady? That was what she expected of him.
She reckoned before that it was no harm for them to be friends after the commission was done. Like Sei, there was something in Kashiwagi that ease her somehow; Sei was free, unshackled by time, culture and circumstances and Yumi loved that about her. Kashiwagi was surprisingly unpretentious. But even with his strange humility, he reeked of power—something visceral. Neither because of money nor influence.
Was there ever a person that could read him thoroughly? Was there any man that could catch him off-guard? Because no matter how powerful a man is, there is always someone far greater than him, far more dominant.
Be watchful of him. Do not be swayed with his musings. Yoshino said.
Be more resilient. Kashiwagi once said that to her.
"They're becoming friends."
"I could see the doubt in her eyes, as I told her that Kashiwagi Suguru might have stolen it. . . refusing to believe me."
"It seemed that they were sharing more time together than the usual business."
"She's softening to him."
Could she be wrong in telling Rei those things? Yoshino still could not decide whether her move was tactical or not. Her cousin and Sachiko-san remained closest—it was obvious that Sachiko could be as fluid and transparent to Rei. The former kendo captain must have been aware of Sachiko's intentions of pursuing Yumi again, and with Yoshino's information, Sachiko would be more cognizant, more suspicious of Kashiwagi. Given his background, the now-concerned Sachiko would unleash her protectiveness for Yumi to the point of maybe . . . wedging herself into the scene? It was a long shot; it was very risky, but she was certain that Sachiko, upon hearing this from Rei, would surely do something.
Yuuki began to investigate Kashiwagi Suguru's past. This job was something that he should have done way back since his first high school year at Hanadera, when he took Yuuki as his apprentice for the first time.
He was once more in the confines of Hanadera Private Academy for Boys, heading towards the administration building to visit the school's headmaster. He already requested the old man's presence days ago in a phonecall, that he intended to visit there for his investigation. He specifically reported that he needed to talk to teachers who once were Kashiwagi's homeroom adviser, and to guidance councelors that took him in. He gathered ample bits of his sempai's middle school life—just to profile him.
School files too; he almost forgot.
Kashiwagi came into Hanadera Academy during the first year of middle school. He was from a middle-class family, enough to send a boy of thirteen to one of the most prestigious all-boys private schools in Tokyo. He was a handsome boy, already taller than most his age, and managed to stand out among the crowd with his calm and quiet bearing. He spoke when he needed to. Yet, even with his excellent marks and unpolished charm, he was not regarded highly most of his teachers and peers. He was, in a way, a delinquent. He fought a lot, frequenting detentions as if it were a day-to-day task. A former classmate, who was now a math teacher there, told Yuuki that whenever he fought, he never showed anger or enjoyment in his spoils. He just fought. During the math teacher's second year, he saw Kashiwagi fought a known third-year bully, who was intimidating a first year just because he passed by him without bowing, defending the poor boy without saying anything by swinging a baseball bat to the bully's head, only to stop just an inch from the ear.
They were in the center of the school grounds, just outside the middle school academic building, where all students could see him shrink the bully's nuts without actual, physical violence. No one dared to care about the little boy at that time, afraid of the larger man's wrath. He got the baseball bat from the bully himself, who was using it to terrorize the first year.
He got other delinquents as enemies. He was first challenged by the same bully, who used one of Kashiwagi's classmates to lure him. It was known that the school's sports grounds were all brawls were done. It was some sort of a known fact—delinquents fought there for dominance, and the students marveled at, gambled for, and feared the outcoming winner. The rich, influencial students were entertained, the rest of students would be momentarily amazed but later dreaded if the new victor would be worse.
(Yuuki knew this tradition, but it made sense that when he was there, it was not occuring frequently than in Suguru's time because the champion himself was not often challenged.)
His reputation preceded him even in high school. During his second year, he was taken in as the treasurer's apprentice, but was not present in council meetings as he should be. There, he was known as the rival of the school's prince—Touma Ryu. He was in the student council, acting as the apprentice of the president then. He was Kashiwagi's only batchmate who could be three feet near him without pissing his pants.
(Yuuki often wondered how this information was not even told to him before. He knew nothing about Kashiwagi's past because no one dared to talk about him. But what surprised him was his relationship with Touma Ryu. Now, that's the reason why Touma Ryu's name was very familiar the moment he saw it from Ogasawara Sachiko's wedding invitation years ago—he was the reigning student council president during Yuuki's first high school year.)
Kashiwagi Suguru was the bloodhound of the student council. The one who did the dirty works. It might not be a glaring resposibility of the student council, but two of its jobs were to maintain peace within the school's community and apprehend those who disobeyed the rules. Suguru was there as the unofficial leader of the disciplinary tribunal. The shadow the student council had been hiding.
By the time Yuuki entered the highschool division, he was taken in by Suguru, who happened to be the vice-president for Touma's presidency. The Missing Vice-President, members of the council used to call him, still was the head of the tribunal. During Touma's reign, the tribunal received less delinquents, making Suguru (and Yuuki, one of his apprentices) having less jobs, and was reduced to heavier and physical tasks such as purchasing materials for the school festival and other activities. Suguru was never present in the minutes of the council assembly, yet he knew everything that transpired there (Yuuki discerned this as Suguru's henchman). Afterall, Suguru was the shadowy extension of the council, always receiving and giving orders beyond the walls of the council room.
(Yuuki once volunteered to be his proxy at the council meetings but Kashiwagi-san assigned another member of the disciplinary tribunal instead. The sempai just told him that he'd learn more on the streets than inside the cloistered room.)
(It could be the reason Yumi was surprised that Kashiwagi was a member of the Hanadera council, because she did not meet Suguru when Lillian Private Academy for Girls had their culture festival during her first year. So why did she claimed to Yoshino at Kyoto that she did not know Touma Ryu until she saw the wedding invitation? Did she not meet Touma during her days as Sachiko's petit soeur?
He asked Yoshino about Touma Ryu being in the Hanadera student council, and she said that she had known him by formal introduction during one of their practice for the Yamayurikai play, and remembered him that she was a pleasant sort of man, amidst Sachiko's general dislike for men.)
Until his graduation came, he was of the top students of the graduating class. He received a ladder acceptance at Hanadera University and was about to take it, but at the end of the term, he went away for Kyoto. The possible reason was that he was devastated when his old parents both died in an accident before graduation.
He was able to avail a scholarship at a university at Kyoto, skipped several general courses because of his professors' recommendations, and pursued Economics as his major. He graduated earlier than most of his batchmates; afterwards, he was off the record.
Then, three years later, he went back to Kyoto and already had his own acquisitions. It was a fast recovery. He bought the Kinomoto compound and since then it became his home. Year by year, his worth rose; he became one of the prominent business players at Kyoto, Tokyo and Osaka.
Yuuki was sitting at his desk after he reread the information that he gathered. So much have changed from his delinquent days. What motivation made him excel?
And where did his addiction for the Kinomoto family came from?
That night, Sachiko couldn't sleep. Ryu was already slumbering deeply beside her—his strong, muscular arms wrapped around her waist, unable to shift in his hold. Her head was rested on his other arm, his folded arms served as a pillow. Lately, he seemed to need her more than before, his touch lingering, and his hold around her was more possessive, sometimes childish. He was devastatingly gentle. In appreciation, she reciprocated the attention. Now, as she budged away from him, he would usually mumble in protest and even in sleep, he gently pulling her closely again.
She wanted to weep silently at nights like this.
She could not atone for her sins, not until she could tell Yumi the truth. She knew what she had done, the consequences of her harsh words, her lies, her cowardice, and she wanted to make amends. She had sinned against Yumi, and she would not repeat the same mistake anymore.
She let her husband hold her tightly as she shifted position to embrace him too.
Rei called once more.
Should she believe what Yoshino have told Rei?
That night at the party, he looked at her with loathe; the anger his body was emanating was visible in the night's downpour. She took no mind of such gesture—many people hated the Ogasawara family as many people loved them, but when he stared at her, his eyes twinkled when he took Yumi by his arms and placed her inside. It was as if Yumi was the bait. She hated that feeling.
When his limousine drove off, she felt a pang in his heart that something was dreadfully wrong. And she felt it the moment that man laid his eyes on her.
She decided: firstly, it was better to keep an eye on Yumi. And on Kashiwagi Suguru.
When she knew that Kashiwagi Suguru was a student of Hanadera Academy and was Ryu's batchmate, and the next day, she asked him about her.
"Kashiwagi Suguru?" Ryu repeated as he sipped his morning coffee.
Sachiko replied, "Yes, that person."
"Kashiwagi-san. Why; he's my classmate at Hanadera." He smiled as he openly remembered his youth and continued talking after putting down his newspaper. He folded the newsprints neatly and handed it over to Sachiko, who would read it secondly. "He was called 'The Missing Vice-President' back in the student council. It was hard to let him stay, though. To get him into my party and win, his attendance would not be compulsory. Instead, one of his apprentices at the disciplinary committee would substitute for him."
"He sounds so irresponsible to me."
"Oh, Sachiko, he wasn't." Ryu grinned as put all his attention to his wife. "I remembered him having few but very close, trusted friends. He keeps them close. More so with his enemies, because was the head of the student disciplinary force, needing to keep tabs with them all the time. He always seems to know where to get things, very useful during cultural festivals. When most Hanadera students were interested on leading and directing, and hated doing the dirty jobs, Kashiwagi-san knew how to do both. He's intelligent as well as streetwise."
Sachiko smiled at Ryu's indulgence. "You seem to know him well."
"I envy that guy. He used to be my rival." Then, he looked at him quizzically, and raised his brow, asking humorously. "Why did you bring up another man besides your husband so early in the morning?"
She cleared the possible misconception right away, with a glare. "I remembered that he was Fukuzawa Yumi-san's date during the last party we had at Hinomura-san's gallery. As a host at that time, I overlooked him. He left early that I haven't had the time to make an avenue for your reunion. I suppose you haven't been able to talk to him that night?"
"I haven't. I suppose he still couldn't stand parties. I really want to know what that chap's up to lately."
Sachiko smiled at him. He returned the gesture with a grin.
"I think you should give him a call."
"It's finished."
It was already close to midnight.
She expected no reply from the person about the doors of her workroom. Kashiwagi, on his black slacks and crisp white button-down shirt, was sitting on the wooden floor of the corridor. The full moon was very bright, setting a luminiscent glow upon the gardens, the koi pond, and reaching even the painter's room. He looked away from the gray orb above and looked inside the workroom.
"What is?" He asked, as he took a quick gulp from his small cup.
Yumi pointed out, then shifted the painting near the door to let the Kinomoto be basked by the moonlight. "This is much better to look at during nighttime."
Kashiwagi awed at the painting for longer moments that Yumi gave him the privacy to marvel at Hinata's work, therefore went outside to get herself sake. She found two cups sitting on the wooden circular tray and she snatched the unused one and filled it with clear acerbic fluid. In most occassions that she found his employer before her rice-door watching the skies, she dared not join him in his drinking, but whenever he was around, a cup was spared for her. She always took this as an indication that he wanted to share his rice wine.
She went inside and looked at him still fixed upon the painting. She always thought that he has a strong, angular face and his features were perfect to draw, but she never realized that he was—without any reference to the standards of visual aesthetics that she learned art school—beautiful. He was not at all projected as if he was a fashion model in front of a flashing camera, sensuality dripping upon every smooth movement. She was magnetized to the image of his calloused posture, of the way he sat on the stool, his sharp elbows resting on his thighs, his rough fingers linked before his face as his sharp eyes scrutinized the Kinomoto. She could see how she would paint him—vivid colors of blues, browns and greens, unblended in thick oil-based paints. Pictures of ordinary life, inspired by impressionism. Him sitting in front of a painting, engrossed to the picture before him. An image of nothing heroic, mystified, or regal, but a remarkable "ordinary" image all the same.
Without thinking, she admitted, "I always get the impression that you're not born in this world wearing a crown on your head and covered with jewelry," as she turned her attention to the finished product.
"I was from a middle-class family."
Their conversations were always like this. There was never a question voiced, just an assumption or impression to the person's character. It was not obligatory to affirm or oppose, or to tell a story.
"I managed to get to Hanadera because of their hardwork, but you see: they're already old to support me to such an exclusive school. They insisted, still." He said quietly as he stood from the stool and walked out of the room to dispense himself another helping of sake.
"We lived comfortably, my brother and I." A story for a story. "Our parents were very lucky and skilled living off their art, very unlikely from what they expect from a couple with art degree. Thinking about that, it boosted up my morale knowing that my parents were a living proof that artists are not doomed to become hobos or hipsters."
Somehow, Yumi had spilled more than Kashiwagi, but it did not concern her a bit—she always knew that in every conversation, she was the one always having postscripts on every sentence.
"I have a different reason why I pursued Economics. It was something I needed to learn."
"Power, money, influence." She supplied.
"Many people think Economics is limited to those." He raised a brow, not liking what he was hearing.
"Is it not?" The painter snatched the bottle and filled her cup.
"Imprudents think that way."
She conceded silently, and sat on the wooden floor of the corridor and looked at the stars. "Like how ignorant and inappreciable people think of art."
He said arrogantly, without breaking his blank expression. "I know your art; do you know my economics?"
She snorted and recited nonchalantly, "Like how it concerns the production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services? Just a little."
"You were not sleeping in your Econ class."
"I became a Nihonga artist because I foresaw that I could live comfortably off of it, because someone appreciates my work, and gladly pay to see it. Some artists live most of their lives off their art but stay unappreciated, but when they choose to draw pornography, they earn millions. That's how I could relate them. My art is bound to your economics like people who believe that economics is the most important element in a society. I used to be attentive, you see."
With that last sentence, she felt gloomy all of a sudden, torn of the memories that she made her know such things. Years might have gone ever since she graduated from college, but she would not forget how most of her life there revolved around two things: Sachiko and her art. They used to go to the main library of the university, separate when they looked for their desired books because the theory of line and free-market economics were extreme ends of the shelves. Still they would gather in a table, and together, they studied. She would sometimes take a peak to Sachiko's notes and read.
How far off was the course of their discussion?
"How often you change facial expressions." He observed, looking at her intently, as if she were a lab rat drugged with caffeine. Stupefied.
She grunted. "Gee, thanks." Hearing it a million times . . .
They ended their discussion in by chugging their drinks in one gulp.
Kashiwagi did not leave his post until Yumi told him that she would retire for the night. And that was an hour later after midnight.
On the next night, when she was now starting her work for the second Hinata painting, she found the yukata-clad Kashiwagi once more at the doors of her workroom, watching the dark sky. She looked a little longer, more than she usually did, and she found him unmoving. She tried not to disturb his seemingly private moment with the stars.
Afterwards, Shimata came along, bringing tea. His master accepted, and quickly, he dismissed him for the night. He gladly excused himself. They were, once again, just like the recent nights, alone under the stars.
Yesterday, it was sake; now, it's tea. She wished that Shimata-san remained there to join them. For the first time, she seeked not for solitude but for a crowd. Shimata, Kashiwagi and she could be a crowd. If there was one thing that she was afraid of, it would be being with a stranger often, to be forced to talk to him (Kashiwagi was very indulging; he seemed to have the skill to provoke her into speaking), until she realized that she already knew bits about him, and at the same time, spilled her own.
She remembered how she failed to keep her mouth shut yesterday; she was the first to acknowledge his company by talking.
(Who would start this time?)
She shrugged and proceeded with her work.
"Would you like tea?" He asked, but he was still immobile from his seat at the hallway. She assumed that he wasn't that cordial in sharing tea that was most like made by his butler. She made a bet with herself if she said yes.
"I'd love to." She said, not turning her eyes from her work; her one hand, covered with paint, was holding a pallete, the other a large brush.
She heard motions from outside—the flow of liquid and a trickling sound afterwards, the shuffling of kimono and the wearer moved, the dull tapping sound of feet against hardwood. She noticed herself stopping just to dissect every sound she heard. Soon, she felt a towering presence beside her and an extended hand holding a cup of steaming tea. She settled her brush and palette at the table near her and accepted the tea offered with her paint-covered hand.
"Thanks."
Two meters away from her and the little marred painting, Kashiwagi sat upon the tatami mat. Yumi took her time finishing her drink, and when she was done, she settled her cup on her table (with the rest of her materials, some emitting odious odors, some containing harmful chemicals) and resumed working.
She still felt that Kashiwagi was not removing himself from his position. A little self-conscious, she hid it by remarking, "Did you get tired from watching the stars?" She looked at him tediously.
He said nothing, just shifted his legs to cross them. With both hands, he brought his cup near his lips and sipped. Yumi was sure that he knew the underlying meaning of her question a while ago but he chose to ignore it. Had he not realized that she preferred to be alone while working? She tolerated before because he was outside the room, gawking at whatever lies beyond. She continued to warn him with her glare.
He stood and looked down at her, containing the staring contest. Then he asked, extending his hand, "Where is your cup?"
She turned away, got the cup from the table, and gave it to his extended hand. He took it but he looked at her a little longer than was appropriate. She frowned at this, realizing how familiar, heady, and dangerous the atmosphere was. Maybe, Sei was right?
"Thank you." He formally replied.
Then, he went out to his former spot outside, and continued enjoying his tea. She heard another pour from the teapot.
When she realized that it was already midnight, Kashiwagi was not there anymore. Neither was the tea set.
She remarked to herself, as she turned off the lights and closed the doors of her workroom, that Shimata's blend of tea was delicious.
Every night seemed to be like a series of déjà vu, with slight variations. They could be the drink that Kashiwagi would bring with him as he watched the stars, the topics that they briefly talked about, and the duration their staring game would be. At first she would not care, but lately, every move that she took, every respond she made, was already deliberate, intentional, and calculated. She felt that Kashiwagi was doing the same.
She'd play. If he were as Sei had suggested, she'd play along, pretending to be indulging at moments like this. Would she play along, seemingly enjoying the ride? And see how things lead to another?
It continued for the few consecutive nights. This time, he went there with tea again.
With all the days that she found Kashiwagi liking too much this arrangement, Yumi had no patience to keep her curiosity to herself, thus she spoke first (this shall not repeat again).
Sitting on her stool in front of the second Hinata piece, "I know that stars are worth gazing at, but don't you have anyone to spend nights with? You know, a girlfriend or a lover, perhaps?" She asked ascerbically.
"Tea?"
"Yeah, thanks. But," she inhaled, "don't you have better things to do?"
"You don't like my company?" His eyes looked at her with amusement, yet his face tensed. Yumi inwardly rolled her eyes at Kashiwagi's attempt to drop the topic. He dispensed tea to another cup and was about to stand to come inside her workroom.
"Oh," Yumi wheezed. "Never mind."
(Maria-sama, this is hard.)
"Yes, I have nothing else to do." He handed her the hot drink. She scowled, not satisfied with the answer. He continued, "I'm home. When you're at home, it means that you have nothing else to do, a very remarkable woman once said."
He offered the tea once more, clasping it nearer to her, "Tea." She wanted to counter that with an incredulous retort, but she felt tired for it. She accepted.
Then, there was silence as they sipped their tea. Yumi remarked, "Did Shimata-san prepare this? The tea, I mean."
He nodded, then, she said, rather a little embarrassed, "It's very good." She could not remember the last time she openly complemented someone she barely knew.
"I'll make sure Shimata-san would hear that." He smiled warmly at her.
Silently, Yumi could not discern the sudden affection. Then the woman snickered at the first thing that came to her when the smile finally sunk in. (A lover, proud of his partner's work?) She eyed him coyly. He raised a brow. "So that's why you won't answer my first question."
"Your imagination runs wild." He rejected.
She put the cup on the table, and resumed working. She mumbled, "I mean, that's nothing to be ashamed of," as she dabbed the tip of his brush to the wet paint at her palette.
"True. But should you ask your employer personal matter so casually?" His eyes darted through her eyes like swords.
"It was a joke. I'm sorry if I offended you." She meant every word, but she did not falter. "This is all a joke. What are we, really? I clearly remembered the first time we had sake here. Forget employer-employee relationship, you remember? The informal conversations? Oh, wait, did I mention when you hit on me first back at your hotel? You saved me, and thank you; I am really grateful of that. But after I realized that it was probably a time that you were not yourself, the jokes stopped and I steered clear. But, since we came back from Musashino, this has been the arrangement. I don't know where to place myself. It's an endless cycle. Sir," she breathed as she kept her temper in check, "I hope you won't take offence on my questions."
She was still sitting on her stool, holding her palette and brush. He was still standing, boring her eyes down to her.
"Fair enough." He said; his voice deep and businesslike. "I like you. I don't know how to act properly towards a person I'm interested to, particularly to someone as difficult, erratic, and baffling as you are. Grumpy at one time, then coy the next moment. You, which of those are you?"
He stood straight and aimed for Yumi's cup, reaching over Yumi's shoulders. "I'll take this," he said.
Then, he went out to his usual spot outside. He settled their two cups at the wooden tray and poured another helping on his own. Then he drank as he was looking at the stars.
Yumi still watched his every move until now, flabbergasted. Wait, what the fuck was that?
A confession or an insult?
A call reached Yoshino. When she asked who it was, it was Touma Sachiko on the other line. She braced herself, as Yuuki used another phone to let him hear the conversation.
"Yes, Touma Sachiko-san?"
/ Good day, Shimazu-san, I'm sorry I called on such short notice, but I want just to ask . . . eto . . . about Yumi-san. If you happened to talk to her lately. /
Yuuki glared at his partner, unknown of what was going on, but Yoshino just glared back, and mouthed (Calm down! Explain later.) to the detective and immediately went back on replying to the caller, "Touma-san, I was able to meet her recently, when I was in Kyoto."
/ I see. Is she . . . is she doing well? /
Yuuki continued glaring. Yoshino ignored him, and answered in a very saddened voice, "Well . . . I wouldn't say that she's all right, but she's still there for work, you see. It was taking most of her time. Her current employer, Kashiwagi Suguru-san was—"
/ I'm sorry, Yoshino-san, but . . . /
Yoshino narrowed her eyes, as she picked her words carefully, "Sachiko-sama, what's wrong?" She took a moment, then: "You can tell me anything . . . as a friend; I'd like to help too, not just to find her painting, but to protect Yumi too."
/ I'm just worried about her. /
"What about her?"
/ It's nothing. When you mentioned her employer's name, I just remembered that he was my husband's classmate at Hanadera . . . /
It was now Yoshino's turn to raise a brow and look at Yuuki. The latter quickly get a memopad and a pen and rapidly wrote: [ Just let her talk about Kashiwagi. ]
"Yes?"
/ Keep a very keen eye on Yumi? Please. I'm very sorry to be asking too much of you. /
"Don't worry, Sachiko-san. We are on the same team." Yoshino pronounced assuringly.
/ Thank you, Yoshino-san. /
They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. There was a huge sigh from the receiver of the call.
"Protect. That's your bait." Yuuki deadpanned. "What were you trying to pull this time?"
Yoshino settled the phone away from her. "She's on the move."
Yuuki replied. "She seemed to be worried greatly when you mentioned Kashiwagi Suguru . . ."
"Possible business rivals? It would make sense on the surface, but it makes no sense to me. Why was she concerned about Yumi's safety? The only thing that connects Kashiwagi to Sachiko was her husband. I found nothing wrong with that. Those two don't connect. Could she know something we don't about Kashiwagi? And she was making sure if we found something about him that would worry us or concern Yumi."
"You still haven't answered my first question. What are you up to?"
"Before, no one in our three names is moving, that's why things are getting stale. Stagnant. Sachiko is now moving. It won't be far long for others to join her. I'm expecting for Kashiwagi Suguru, to be the first. Few knew of his past reputation. Yet, her main concern was Yumi. She won't ask someone like me to protect Yumi; she'll do it personally. But still, I need more."
"Kashiwagi? How would you say that?"
Yoshino frowned. "The night when at the party? We all just focused of Sachiko's exhibition but never the people who were present. Nobody noticed Yumi walked out. But I saw them."
Yuuki eyes were fixed at her. "Saw who?"
Yoshino leaned back on her seat, speaking dramatically, as if reading from a book, "Yumi's redemption-in-the-rain moment, and Kashiwagi's prince-like rescue of Yumi from the apparently evil-witch Sachiko. His vengeful stare against the enemy; her challenging glare. All centered for the sake of the princess. You get what I mean?"
Then she found officers, uniform and not, staring at her from their tables. One guy even had his jaw suspended as he was about to drink his coffee. "Maria-sama. I just made a fool out of myself, didn't I?"
"You don't say." The detective was not amused. "How could you relate that to the painting?"
"It was always about the painter, not the painting's worth." Yoshino looked at Yuuki with determined eyes. "Soon, it will show up. Someone will let it appear right before our eyes."
Touma Sachiko was very intimidating—a person that no one could trifle with. Yet, there's another person, much powerful than her; her Grandfather, who was the head of the family's powerful empire. He could only serve one, yet, when the grandfather demanded that he should be informed of what her granddaughter had been up to, should he obey? Because he already had orders from her.
The agent was sitting on a lone table at a coffeeshop at downtown Kyoto. At the Kinomoto compound, this was purchased by a businessman named Kashiwagi Suguru years ago, currently and temporarily resided Fukuzawa Yumi, who has been his target for several days. He was asked a very close surveilance on her. Thus far, nothing ordinary had been happening. She was there in her workroom, her doors wide open, working until midnight. His employer seemed to take a liking for her, for he frequently was staying outside her room until she finished. They talked from time to time. They shared tea or sake, depending on what the man brought.
"He could pay you thrice of what the young Ogasawara had offered." The man wearing a fedora in front of him said.
"I tell you, even with such large sum you offer, it would be a waste of money to buy me off, because she just ordered me to watch over her." The agent replied.
"What I want is the information you're giving her about Fukuzawa Yumi."
The agent gritted. "Fine. For old time's sake. You want information? Here's one: the grandfather is paranoid over his grandchild. I am just watching over her." Then, he snorted, "We work for the same family, have the same rank, yet here we are, intercepting one another for each family member. It's no wonder they don't get along."
The fedora man drank his coffee. "Last question. After that, we'll part ways, and forget this whole thing. I'll just report that I personally investigated." When the agent gave his approval, the fedora guy lowered his voice, and asked, "Did Touma Sachiko contact Fukuzawa Yumi recently?"
The agent replied, concluding that his answer would be no harm to both his employer and target, said, "No, not at all."
The man below the fedora sighed. "Then, that's fine with me." He stood from his seat, put bills on the table, and left the table.
"Next time, do your own sleuthing." The agent drank the contents of his cup and sighed. The esspresso suddenly tasted bland.
The man with fedora, after walking several blocks away from the café, picked his phone from his pocket and dialed.
"Yes, Touma-sama has her in close watch."
"He called me."
She pretended not to hear anything, and intended to stay quiet for the rest of the evening. Even with Kashiwagi's puzzling statement, Yumi was determined not to let her guard down once more, not after what happened yesternight. She decided not to let that memory stick too much to her brain because she learned her lesson. She was not fond of confessions, in ways that a normal person would. She felt very old whenever she would hear something like that from someone, ever since she started to have little distractions here and there, after she felt that she got over Sachiko. She knew the price she paid for that: her old self. Confessions for her were a distant experience, a sort of thing that was usually done by teenagers still entrapped with their own fairy-tale version of love.
In all those years, she intended to remain alone, but those who come and even chase after her was not under her control. She remembered Touko saying that people always have affinity for her, that she always attracts people, no matter what she does. For a while, she bitterly denied that, when she was still angry of herself and Sachiko. But as time went by, she can't help it anymore. Somehow, the old habits rose up from their graves, and periodically, she had a lover or two. They would always come and go. There were no silly confessions, just the work of intuition then action. Lust explodes, and when the aftermaths dissipate, they went on separate ways. Some remarkable, some just to past the time.
She laughed quietly; how cruel she was to herself, living along that pathetic circle, after she experienced the bitterness of a failed first love.
She continued with her work.
He continued to look at the stars; a cup full of tea in one hand and a tea set beside him.
"Touma Ryu," he spoke again. "Have I mentioned that he's my high school classmate?"
No, he never mentioned that. Not in their sporadic conversations. She remained quiet.
"I guess I didn't. You see, he and his wife will be in Kyoto. They will leave tomorrow."
She tried not to flinch at the mention of Touma's wife.
"And they will stay here, because he wanted to see his old friend, Touma said. That bastard always has excuses for everything. Just because I was not able to meet him at that stupid party, it was now my obligation to be hospitable."
He stayed outside, and for the painter, the distance from her stool to the wooden floor he was sitting at and the paper doors the separated them was some sort of a barrier that made him cocky enough to push her limits. The reason he was telling her this, she did not know, and had no reason to. She could stay inside her workroom all day long, painting for hours until midnight, going out to the dining area to eat, then retreat back to her bedroom, without even knowing that Sachiko and his husband were even there. With such a large compound, of course, there is a high chance of never encountering them. It will be all too easy. But still, how fate surprised her.
She could not bite her tongue. "Then, I will not be in you or your visitors' way."
The painter continued to work. She was glad that she was not working on a very delicate portion of the Hinata, but she still kept her head cool. She heard a low chuckle.
"He mentioned you. He wanted to meet you. He was one of your fanboys."
"What a depreciating term." (Work. Work. Work. Where is that aquamarine that I blended a while ago? Where is it? Goddammit. Oh, there, just right in front of me.)
"I want you to be there with me."
(Aquamarine. Aquamarine. No, use the smaller brush for that. No, not that one; that one. Hey, clean it first, idiot.) "No, that won't be possible."
"I will not repeat myself."
(Had anyone ever notice how everything seemed so vivid and loud and clear—the sounds of birds chirping in the night, the periodic sharp clash of bamboo against a rock, the minute clumps of paint in that stupid aquamarine pigment, the coldness of the air that could almost tell its exact temperature by Celcius—when totally pissed off?)
She inhaled deeply, then released it all out. "As much as people underestimate me, I read my contracts, Kashiwagi-sama. I don't remember agreeing in following orders from you aside from restoring your work."
"You want to get over Touma Sachiko, don't you? I know you'll be brave and face her. You don't deserve being so pathetic, cowering and running whenever she is around. Well now is the right moment to do so."
"What are you thinking?"
"You." He said it almost like a question. "As much as I like your spunk, it would be very interesting how you'll survive your greatest weakness."
True, she wasn't able to hide her fear from Kashiwagi, and for that she momentarily regretted him saving her that night at the party. She spat, "Megalomaniac." She stood from her stool and went outside, her hands balled to fists. "Now, where was this man who confessed to me last night? Using insults to describe how interesting I am?" She taunted. But sarcasm did not reach her eyes.
Kashiwagi looked up. "What I said yesterday was true. I do like you. I want to treat you as an equal. But you hate being pitied. No matter how I try not to pity you, hearing you opposing to face her again makes me do so. It's tiring to be angry all the time, isn't it? And yet, anger is not entirely what you feel about her. It is more of a . . . collage of emotions. It makes you feel tired, doesn't it? It makes you do something you are not. It makes you a coward."
Coward. She flinched visibly. She became that when she decided to end her old self.
"Show me how strong you are."
He poured tea to another cup, solely reserved for Yumi. "Tea."
Sachiko called. Her husband and Kashiwagi Suguru, those former classmates at Hanadera Private Academy for Boys, would meet at Kyoto. They will reside at the Kinomoto compound for the rest of couple's stay there.
Yoshino sighed. She would really pull her heir out if nothing would change after that.
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: I really hope you did not skip anything above, no matter how long the chapter was. This chapter is not beta-ed. Now, for the clarifications:
(1) I told you before (in the second chapter) that Kashiwagi was not known to Yumi and Sachiko during their high school days. Gingkgo prince, which he was known to be in the Marimite canon, did not exist. Therefore, he was not the reason why Yumi and Sachiko were brought close together.
(2) When Sachiko was the en bouton petit souer, Kashiwagi was the dragon/shadow member of the student council; therefore, they did not meet.
(3) Touma Ryu was then the president of the Hanadera council the time when Sachiko was the Rosa Chinensis en bouton. Sachiko was known to boycott the Hanadera boys ever since she was a first year but stopped when Yumi became her petit souer in her second year. Do you want a retelling of how Yumi and Sachiko met? I tell you, they knew each other since that same Lillian festival and Yamayurikai play. I have a pretty clear idea how they met, and it was a bit closer to the canon, but I can't just put in the regular chapters. If you want it, tell me, and I'll provide.
(4) *ya-chan: short for yakuza. That term is somewhat like the term Voldemort in Harry Potter; it's bad to openly say it.
These notes were made to inform you about the situation of the past because I could not even include this in the narration. Sorry for being lame; I just could not type it down.
Please review! I reread the comments, all of them were quite detailed and personal, and I can't help but thank those who constantly commented and read. I was quite away from the site for a while, but seeing your comments was very inspiring. I treasure every review!