CHAPTER FIVE: SUNNY SIDE UP EGGS
"I really like this one, Tendou. New inspiration?"
Nabiki and her friend Kozue were in one of the Art school's private studios deciding on their pieces for the Naka-Meguro Winter arts festival taking place the coming week. Presently, the other girl had locked her scrutinizing eye on Nabiki's newest watercolor. The painting depicted the anonymised silhouettes of a pair of open hands held open to one another over a body of water reflecting an image of sunrise. Despite the cliche subject, Nabiki prided herself for the composition's bold juxtaposition of blue against red, orange, and black, which she felt still managed to convey a warm, hopeful sentimentality.
"Something like that," Nabiki replied with a knowing smile.
"Looks like some antithesis to the 'Hands of God'(1). Truly worthy of a genuine self-respecting Heathen."
"Well, then, woe be upon little Heathen me."
Secretly, Nabiki delighted in hearing her inner Bohemian described as a "heathen." Her relationship with Faith and the Divine had always been tortured and strained anyway. Why should she believe that the Divine would bother to have sufficient interest to preside over such trivialities of humanity as hope and good fortune? After all, this was the same alleged Providence that could hardly be bothered to give a damn about her dead mother and their dysfunctional family. Morality was hardly proprietary for Angels and Believers. The differences between herself and one of those — if such things even existed — were perceptions far more reflective of the beholder than any actual Providential order. After all, might always ultimately determined who got the final say about what was right or otherwise.
Kozue leaned in with a playful, conspiratorial smirk. "The road to Hell is more colorful and interesting anyway, isn't it?"
"Naturally."
Kozue Ishikawa was a blunt and plain-spoken Kobe girl who Nabiki had befriended through an art interest group that they both joined shortly after starting at Komaba. While Ishikawa could be brutally honest when asked for her opinions, she was also discrete about when and where she stuck her nose into things. Nabiki appreciated those traits about the girl.
Most of the time.
"Care to share?" the Kansai girl asked.
"Share?"
"Your inspiration?"
"A thousand yen," Nabiki replied coolly, holding out her hand.
Kozue studied Nabiki's right hand before glancing back at the painting. In the end, she laughed. "That's crap, Tendou. You should be compensating me."
"For?"
"Giving you honest feedback on your road to Hell, of course."
"I don't follow."
"Yeah, right. Behind that pretty smile of yours, Tendou, I know you know exactly what I'm talking about. You're too smart not to know."
"I think not. Enlighten me."
"Well then," Kozue said as she reached over and took Nabiki's right hand by the wrist and held it up to the painting. "I'd say here's at least half the story."
Nabiki smiled knowingly. Kozue was a sculptor. She would notice such things. "Not exactly like I had the actual subject available to me for a sitting. I needed a proxy."
"Yeah. Sure. However, that," Ishikawa pronounced as she eyed the details of the other hand in the portrait up close, "definitely belongs to a man. A strong one too with some really nice forearm muscles that certainly caught your eye — which is why you're planning to hold onto this one, aren't you. Not like all the others."
"No, I think this one could fetch a really good price." Kumi would benefit from a new scarf and some new gloves, and Takashi needed new shoes. She needed the money too for other no less meaningful agendas.
"I meant the guy, Tendou. It must be wonderful to feel hands like that on your body."
Nabiki laughed. Of course, her friend had no idea what she was saying. "Gutter brain."
Kozue laughed now in kind. "How am I the gutter brain? That," she said, again pointing at the painting, "is not a product of my imagination."
Nabiki sighed. Her skin was far too thick for her to be scandalized. The pragmatist in her, however, calculated that ending the game at the expense of her pride for one brief moment was the better part of valor. "If you must know, my sister finally agreed to a date with the guy she's had her eye on for years."
"Oh! The one with the secret crush on the doctor who can't think straight when she's around?"
"No. The other one," Nabiki answered dryly.
She never discussed the arranged Tendou-Saotome engagement with any of her Todai friends. Instead, she described Akane merely as her boy-hating tomboy younger sister with a bad temper. The compound embarrassment of how they came from a family so old-fashioned that it still subscribed to such an outdated convention of misogyny and how difficult such a simple little thing as a date had proven to arrange would have killed Nabiki. The engagement could hardly be considered a real one anyway given the state of things.
Ranma proved right about needing her help. The past month had seen her respect for him only grow. Even together, they had needed that much time to work out the details. Convincing Akane that Ranma's interest in going on dates had no basis in secret perverted intentions or any other nefarious ulterior motives had been a tour de force of persuasion. Arranging to have the fathers, fiancées, and rivals indisposed at the right time on the right day had been a logistical matter of multivariable calculus.
"You must be really happy for your sister," Ishikawa said.
"We'll see. It's just a painting."
"Whatever you say, my dear sinister Heathen (2). Just remember that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Having hands like that on your body would be amazing."
"We need to get you a boyfriend."
"Too cumbersome. Just introduce me to your model some time."
Nabiki laughed again. "Fine, but look only. No touching. My sister's a martial artist, you know."
"You had the actual guy as the model?!"
"Yeah. Something like that."
"I take it back. You're not smart. You're crazy."
"You're concluding that on the basis of a hand?"
"Correction. Your depiction of a hand."
"You're hopeless."
"When's the date?"
"Today."
"Sounds like fun. Seriously, though, Tendou."
"What?"
"You really want to sell this one off?"
# # # # #
Following Nabiki's advice, Ranma had bought tickets for a performance of a two-character play titled "The Folly of Devotion." Ranma had been skeptical of the venue, but then Nabiki reminded him of the starstruck wonder that had overcome Akane that time she had been cast as Juliet in the Furinkan Drama Club's interpretation of the Shakespearean classic. Akane's long-standing love affair with the theater was a guarded secret known only to a few people, her sisters being among those few.
"She knows I'm facilitating your setup anyway," Nabiki had pointed out. "Personally, I think bringing out this side of her would be a good thing for her self-esteem."
"I don't get it though. Why would someone like Akane have self-esteem issues? Everyone at school loves her."
"Yeah. Why is that? Why does anyone?"
"I, uh, dunno."
"Tell you what, Saotome," Nabiki said with her trademark Cheshire cat's smirk. "If you figure this one out with her, it will go a long way toward advancing your relationship. In fact, I'll dare say that your window to her heart lies in that direction. Start with the play."
That was how Ranma ended up buying the tickets. The story was about a newlywed couple whose world is turned upside down by a car accident that leaves the woman a quadriplegic. The man is steadfast in his commitment to his wife – at least initially. He showers her with affection and attention, and he spares no effort or price in his desire to protect her. He does everything for her, and he keeps things from her which he believes would only be stressful and burdensome.
The man's love, however, inadvertently leads to mutual resentment over time. The woman feels he has smothered what remains of her identity; he is betrayed by her resentment. The story ends with the bittersweet sting of their divorce. They go their separate ways not because they do not love one another, but because they do.
"Ya sure about this?" Ranma had asked uneasily after hearing the synopsis.
"You don't like the story?"
"No, it ain't that. I see where ya get that's an interesting concept. Even thought-provoking. It's just that — "
"On my mother's grave, trust me, Saotome," she assured him. "You'll have lots to talk about after. It'll be a perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate to Akane some of the brains and sensibilities you've revealed to me these last few weeks."
That was the conversation they had the day Nabiki created the water color of the hands for which Kozue had been giving her grief earlier. Ranma had actually been modeling his right hand over Nabiki's hand mirror per her direction as they had chatted. She did have to concede that his hand was, objectively speaking, a very good anatomic specimen. His years of training in the Art had resulted in clean, elegantly defined lines of individual muscles, tendons, and bones so clear that even an untrained eye could pick them out. Perhaps even Michelangelo would have been intrigued by such a hand.
Now, the hour had come up just shy of six. She had not heard from either him or Akane for the entire day. Either the date had been an apocalyptic disaster or had gone amazingly well.
# # # # #
"Well?"
Ranma, who, true to form, had been inhaling the sunny side up eggs and toast on his plate, paused to look up across the table at Nabiki. "Huh? What?"
"Ranma-kun," she warned as she put her fork down and leaned back crossly into the dingy booth's dated vinyl upholstery. Well-engineered hand or otherwise, her patience was running thin. "We're the only 2 people sitting at a 24/7 Denny's at 1 on a Sunday morning because you dragged me here. Either talk to me, or I'm going back home to sleep."
Ranma had come to do the expected debrief of his date with Akane. His timing did not surprise Nabiki. His only opportunities to slip out undetected came either late at night or early in the morning when everyone back home was still asleep.
He intercepted Nabiki just after midnight as she was coming back from drinks and billiards with Kozue and some of the other art club kids. Par for the course for a Saturday evening, they had gone to one of the off-campus dives. On account of some guys from another nearby university with long sticks, loose pockets, and a poor understanding of how to work odds, she had been in a rather good mood when Ranma got to her. Her profit margin from the ensuing drunken turkey shoot had been one of her best. She herself had personally delighted in killing off more than one presumptuous narcissist asshole on a single turn at 9-ball, which she found to be a rather trivial physics problem with such basic geometric solutions.
"Sorry. Didn't get a chance to eat earlier."
"Really…?" Nabiki asked incredulously.
"Yeah. We, uh, actually kinda lost track of time." When he and Akane had finally realized the hour, only bars and convenience stores remained open. Kasumi's leftovers had been sufficient for Akane, but not him.
"That good, huh."
"Yeah. Ya were right. Play was really good."
"I was referring to my sister's company."
"Yeah, that's what I'm tryin' to tell ya. She loved it, just like ya said she would. Had tons to say after." It was probably the most normal thing they had ever done together.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Did you learn anything useful about my sister?"
He smiled. "Yeah, I — "
"You don't have to tell me," she said, cutting him off. "I just wanted to know that your time was well spent."
"I…. Thanks, Nabiki," he said, bowing his head to her. "Thank you."
"Don't be so dramatic," she said, waving him off with her left hand. "I'm happy it went well, but it's still just a first date."
He nodded to let her know that he understood. "Have ya also seen it?"
"The play?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. "They had a showing here at Komaba early last term. The writer is a recent alum."
"What were your thoughts?" He asked. "Do ya believe in love?"
She laughed. "Here I am losing beauty sleep on a Sunday morning over buttered toast, sunny side up eggs, and bacon trying to sort out your relationship with your fiancée. What do you think?"
"I think the truth is that ya like sunny side up eggs too when no one else is lookin'. Just like fried chicken."
"Now you're just being obnoxious."
He laughed back at her. "Fine. Ya sent us to see a play portraying devotion as a folly and 'happily-ever-after' as just a fantasy."
"No, I didn't," she smirked as she shoved a forkful of ketchup-lathered eggs into her mouth. "I sent you to see a play talking about how expecting to be rewarded for devotion itself is a folly. There's no judgment in there about whether two people who love one another can or can't be happy."
"Okay. But ya still ain't answered the question."
"Come on. I just did."
"How so?"
"You remember that line that the guy has towards the end as he's reflecting with his best friend?"
"The one about the truest measure?"
"Yes," she nodded before reciting the line aloud. "'Sometimes, the truest measure of devotion is the strength to turn away from the thing you want the most.' It means that love isn't necessarily about whether or not you're with someone, but about being able to hold their interests alongside or even before your own."
"High standard."
"It is," Nabiki agreed. "And it should be."
"You're hoping I can give that to Akane one day?"
"Whoever Akane ends up with, I'm hoping he can give her that. I hope you also end up with someone who'll do the same for you."
"I see."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. I do." The confident, cocky grin he gave her was classic Ranma Saotome. She thought about saying something smart to cut him down to size, but then he preempted her with a question. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Whaddaya hope to have for yourself?"
Nabiki started to answer, but surprised herself with the realization that she did not really have anything to tell him. Society tended to expect that if a girl was considered attractive, she could not and should not be by herself. She never fully understood why.
To be fair, she understood that men tended to notice her, and she did occasionally amuse herself with the knowledge that she knew how to tease quite well if she wanted. She certainly had eyes and hands of her own too. In high school, she had accepted the company of one or two boys on a few occasions. Since arriving at Komaba, she had been on a few additional one-off dates: a pair of European ambassador's sons, a local print artist, a student chef in culinary school, and one university dropout who drove for Uber nowadays.
Still, Nabiki invariably came away with the feeling of not needing or even really wanting more from anyone. If anything, she usually ended up annoyed or even disappointed for one reason or another. Unsurprisingly, the European boys had proved to be that elitist asshole type that she secretly despised of self-centered, "have-all" with no actual regard or appreciation of people who were not of a certain background. The local print artist lacked basic foresight and planning skills; he had been late by a considerable margin. The university dropout had "forgotten" to bring his wallet. As for the student chef, Nabiki did not even like his cooking, which had been too superficially faddish for her taste.
Consequently, she could only simply say to Ranma, " I don't know."
"You're kidding, right?" he deadpanned incredulously. "Nabiki Tendou always has an answer for things."
She laughed. "No, I don't, Ranma."
"That's a bold admission. Especially coming from you. Ya feelin' okay?"
She laughed. "What's the point of telling you otherwise now? You've already seen through to my fried-chicken-licking, canned-beer chugging, sunny-side-up egg side."
"So you're trying to say that ya think of us as friends."
"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not."
"God!" he groaned. "Getting a confession of amiable sentiment from ya is almost as rough as pulling one outta Ryoga."
"I'm not going to ask for the details."
"Don't."
"To answer your question," Nabiki said as she studied the last remaining bit of eggs on her plate. "I honestly haven't ever thought about ending up with anyone. I'm more than fine if I don't. My life's busy enough as it is. Love is a good thing for those who find it, but I don't need it."
"But you think Akane does?"
Nabiki nodded. "Akane is not the kind of person who can be alone in life. Most people aren't."
"And me?"
"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "I thought I did, but after really talking to you recently, I realize that you don't know either. Maybe you'll be able to tell me after you get to know Akane a little better."
Ranma leaned back and mulled over her words. "Modern and ballsy," he concluded. "I like it, Nabs."
"Thank you," she replied. The "Nabs" part, however, grated on her nerves. "Don't call me that. Ever."
"Kiki?"
"No."
"Nabi?"
"No!"
"I've got it! Kani!"
"I'm not a fucking crab!" (3)
"Biki?"
"How about just ''Na-bi-ki'!" she gritted through her teeth. "You can manage three syllables. I know because you've already been doing it for years."
"I'm just messin' with ya, 'kay?" he said with a laugh. "Didn't realize ya were sensitive about stuff like that — or really anything."
"Akane's wrong about a lot of things," she grumbled, "but one thing she's not wrong about is that you really can be an annoying jerk sometimes."
"Okay, okay!" he said as he held his hands up to ward off the palpable heat from the stormy aura radiating at him from across the table. "I'm sorry, Nabiki."
"You'd better be."
"Just one last question?"
"What now?"
"Ya gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing his fork at the long-cold remnants of food in front of her.
With a sigh, Nabiki pushed her plate along with the check at him.
"What?!" he called after her back. "Trains stopped hours ago. I gotta run and walk back to Nerima. That takes calories, ya know!"
"Call me when you're ready to talk about your next move with my sister," she replied without looking back.
# # # # #
CHAPTER NOTES:
(1) The "Hands of God" is a famous excerpt from "The Creation of Adam," a fresco painting by Italian artist Michelangelo that forms part of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling in the Vatican. The "hands" are those of Adam and his Creator reaching out and touching one another. Michelangelo painted "The Creation of Adam" between 1508 and 1512.
(2) "Sinister" is the Latin word for left-handed. The term came to have a negative connotation over the centuries because of the unfair advantage that left-handed swordsmen had against right-handed opponents in battle.
(3) "Kani" is the Japanese word for "crab."