As I began heading on the road out of Osaka, I reflected on what just happened.
"I shouldn't have reacted like that. I was just crabby from the shitty amount of sleep. Six hours would make anyone feel crappy, am I right? No! That's stupid! Just because I didn't sleep much doesn't mean I should yell at my own parents! I'm just so sick of them always saying that my dreams are destined for failure. I want to do what I want to do. Not what others want for me to do. I want to achieve my own dreams. I don't want to have to have my children achieve my dreams for me."
I groan as I lament having that angry outburst with my parents. How could I have been so stupid?
"I'll call them later. As soon as I get to Kyodai, I'm going to apologize for my outburst. It was uncalled for. But I was so angry. When one has what is their passion being called childish and useless constantly, it starts grating on you. You start feeling like you're wrong but you know you aren't. I don't want that. I feel terrible. I need to relax. Get my mind on better things. Maybe some nice music will help me relax a little."
I turn on the car's music player. Some doujin music plays. The track sounded familiar but not quite. Some circle playing a rearrangement of a soundtrack from a doujin game, I think. I bought this CD in a store one time on a date. It sounds nice. I turn up the volume, drowning out the gentle hum of the car engine and the sounds of other cars speeding past. It was a pleasant day out, the sun shining, but not quite high in the sky yet over the skyscrapers of Osaka. I wouldn't be getting to Kyoto for a while. I'm in the mood for something to drink anyway. My left hand, I take off the steering wheel and rummage through the glovebox and grabbed a tiny can of coffee. Putting the tiny can which is about the size of my fist in my lap between my legs, I pull the tab with my left hand. Hearing the loud hiss, I grab the can and drink from it. I take a swig and put the can down in the cup holder.
How long is the car ride to Kyoto anyway? It's about an hour, I would gather. I guess. You know what? I pull out my phone with my left hand and pull up Google Maps on it. Inputting the destination of the apartment building that I am now going to live in with one hand, I got the information I wanted. It was indeed going to take an hour. Well, I can contemplate some things at least.
After about an half of hour of driving, I stop looking at the sights. There wasn't much to see. I've been on the same road for almost an hour and the scenery hasn't changed significantly to warrant my attention. I look down absentmindedly and I notice one thing. The fuel gauge. The needle is pointing close to empty. That is incredibly odd. I could have sworn that I have refueled the car recently. I haven't been driving that much today or recently to have used up the fuel this quickly. Mom rarely uses the car and dad mostly uses the other car or the train. So what gives? Maybe I did forget to refuel the car. Who knows. Whatever. I merge lanes and take a exit ramp. I turn right, hoping to find a petrol station.
Seeing a sign for a service station, I slowed down and pulled into the station. An employee dressed in blue and white vertically striped coveralls walks over, gesturing me to slow down. I step on the brake pedal, looking around as I do so. There is no other car at this service station. That's extremely odd. After all, it's only about half past ten. There should at least be one other person refueling their car or something. The car finally slows to a halt and the employee walked over. She had a strange appearance as she had blonde hair. Not many people in Japan have blonde hair. If they do, it's probably hair dye or cosplay. The woman wore hers short. It contrasted nicely with her uniform and the dark blue cap she was wearing. She was very mature looking with her curves showing nicely despite the bagginess of her coveralls. I blushed a little as she came over to the window. I rolled it down using the crank. She took the fuel nozzle pump in her hand and asked, "How much petrol do you want?"
Caught off guard by certain… portions of her beautiful and elegant appearance, I stammered, replying as quickly as I could, "Fill… Fill the tank." Promptly, she asks as soon as I finished my sentence, "What type?", with a bored attitude as if she has done this numerous times. I respond quickly, "Regular." She then heads over to the fuel pump itself and tapped the button for the regular grade fuel. Taking the nozzle, she latches it to the car with its signature click. Hearing the hiss of the fuel rushing through the tubing, the refueling process began. She waited, tapping on the hood of the car. I was still in the driver's seat of the car admiring her… Okay. Let's get real here. I was trying to admire her rack but I didn't want to look like a complete pervert. Then, she walked over to a nearby bin with soapy water, a squeegee, and a rag. She took the window squeegee and dipped it into the soapy water. The lady walked back to the car, dripping water from the squeegee on the concrete as she walked. Something about this is a bit weird. Isn't there usually another employee that does the window wiping? I look around to see if there are any other employees. Sure enough, there were none. No one else besides her. I was the only other person here. Weirded out, I decide to try to ignore it. Maybe one person just takes the morning shift? I start rolling up the window as she finishes with the windshield.
"There is no need to do that, sir.", she says. I stop rolling. She continue cleaning the car exterior with the window squeegee and the rag. As she does this task, she makes conversation with me.
"Do you believe in the supernatural?"
Bewildered by the strange choice of topic that the woman started off with. I responded, "No.", in a hesitating tone. I definitely have considered this question. I concluded that I only believe in what I can observe or what has been scientifically proven. So far, no one has proven that the supernatural indeed exists. Therefore, my answer would be a "No." She gives me a strange look, furrowing her right eyebrow as she heard my reply, but then smiles quickly.
"Do you believe those old folk tales that your parents used to tell you? The ones about the youkai?" She stared at me, her pupils dilating in a manner reminiscent of a fox, as she continued wiping the windows with the squeegee. I tried convincing myself that it was my imagination, but my eyes weren't fooling me. She did just dilate her eyes. The fuel nozzle made a loud thunk, signalling that the refueling was done. As she bent over, unlatching the nozzle and pulling it off, her cap fell to the ground. I saw fox ears for a moment before she quickly picked up her hat and put it back on. The lady gave me an angry, murderous look and hissed, "You didn't see that!" I recoil in shock, scared of her sudden change in her demeanor. She quickly closed her eyes and smiled, saying sweetly, "The fee is 7700 yen. I hoped you enjoy the service her. Please come again." I quickly paid her the money out of fright and she went back into the gas station. I swear I saw a definite bulge resembling a tail. Or several tails. The ears and the tails. Is she actually some sort of fox youkai? I rev up the engine and head back onto the main road and back onto the highway.
I speak out loud, "Don't be ridiculous. Youkai don't actually exist. She's probably some sort of pervert, furry, or cosplayer. It's my imagination. I'm probably just overreacting and she's just trying to screw with my head. Whatever the case is, I'll arrive in Kyoto in about half an hour if anything else doesn't happen. Wait… Is that a traffic jam up ahead?"
As the car ends up in the back of a traffic jam extending as far as I can see, I shout, "You have got to be shittin-"
Author's Note: Doing this rewrite with more research has made me a bit more aware of Japanese customs and I'm quite excited to see where this fanfic will take me. I will be revising quite a lot and I'm still working out how he should meet Shou due to getting rid of the dorms. I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. As always, please rate and review so I can improve my stories!
-Kaito Sekozawa