Yesterday had already begun to blend with the overarching sprawl of 'the past' by the time I wake up in the morning following. I'm in that state where it's hard to tell how rested I actually feel, which is infuriating, but I can tell the sun is out by the leaking light through my bedroom blinds and onto my bed. The only response I can really give to that frustration is to slowly roll myself to look at the other side of the room. As soon as my view is no longer directed at the wall under the window, I look up to my nightstand to see the clock's vague light displaying the morning time. It's seven in the morning, which isn't anywhere close to late but I also don't have any more time to sleep in if I want to walk out of the house feeling awake.
Having accepted I've gotten as much sleep as I'm going to get for the day, I slowly push myself upright and cross-legged on the bed before scooting over to its edge. My first order of business had to be putting on clothes due to my habit of sleeping exclusively in my underwear, but as that greater command sinks into my head, my eyelids start drooping heavily again as a yawn erupts through my airways.
Determined not to let this crap start happening again, I give my head a firm shake and push myself onto my legs, stretching out my arms as my balance catches in the proper places. A light breeze within the room brushes against my torso, almost sending me into a shiver, but not quite reaching a temperature that would jar the senses that much. The sensation that does wind up bothering me is the distinct feeling of a morning erection fighting against the fabric of my underwear.
There's not exactly a lot I can do about waking up in the morning completely stone stiff, so after I brush aside the feeling, I wander over to my dresser and pull out the second drawer under the top row, grabbing a shirt without looking and throwing it over my head. I only spend a good four or five seconds situating my arms through the proper holes and from there getting my head through the top is rather easy. Regardless of the difficulty, though, when my vision is once again clear of that layer of fabric, I realize the door is just barely ajar and, with curiosity sweeping in, I turn to look closer.
I don't see anyone outside the door at first, so I take a couple of steps closer up. That's the moment Miia apparently works up the courage to poke her head in. "Koruto?" she meekly asks, the pupils of her eyes widening drastically to counter the fact that the lights are off despite the sunlight coming in. Almost as soon as she realizes she's staring at me, though, a sudden look like she sees something behind me overcomes her focus. I look over my shoulder for a moment in absolute confusion, but when I look back at Miia I realize she's looking a little bit further down...
It's only then I'm properly reminded I haven't put on pants yet and my morning wood is yet to get the memo that it isn't needed. Her face slowly fills with a modest amount of red, at least in comparison to what I'm assuming my face has given the heat wave that suddenly washes over it. "M-Miia... Sorry, I'm just waking up, I-I was getting-"
My train of thought was cut off by the abrupt slamming of the door, which faded quickly, unlike Miia's repeated apologies. Despite her formal delivery of those apologies, I could hear her tone through the door and it sounds flustered from a different angle than just shame or self-loathing. It certainly raises a few questions that I'm not fond of the prospect of having to address less than five minutes after coming to consciousness, but as Miia's voice calms down, she manages to redirect herself to her original reason for coming in. "I heard you moving around in there and it just slipped my mind, I was just wondering if you could help me with the washing machine here... I'm... Still getting used to reading Kanji and..."
I wait for a beat as she trails off, but she doesn't add anything past that. "Yeah, I can do that, no problem. I'll be out in a minute or two," I tell her, adjusting my tone in an attempt to put what had just happened behind us. Admittedly, I was doing it to put it behind myself, mostly; I'm not sure how much I can stop her from dwelling on it, nor am I sure how much I really want to consider how much she would dwell on it. As soon as I'm done shoving those unwanted considerations out of my head like every therapist I had growing up always told me to do, I rush to get on the rest of my clothes, particularly picking jeans for pants as I let my internal debates get the best of me.
As soon as my clothing predicament is solved, though, I waste no time in going to help Miia, despite how awkward I can only naturally fear it will be. I take maybe five minutes to run her through the most basic functions of the washing machine, partially rushing through it and partially just because it's not that difficult as long as you know where the buttons are. Immediately afterward, though, I work on getting out breakfast before I have to head to class. Today, though, I have many more options to work with in comparison to before. Thankfully, I hadn't forgotten to stock up on grocery goods on my way home yesterday, so I take one of the two bags of unfamiliar cereal I had picked up and set it on the counter for myself.
As I go through the cupboards and then the refrigerator, my mind starts to wander off what I was doing and I find myself humming an old 70's rock tune to myself as I autonomously make breakfast. Admittedly the 'making' part really only applied to one person, but I had to remind myself that after I almost sat down with the pan of various common breakfast meats stirred together with eggs I'd put together for Miia. As soon as I manage to catch myself, I quickly grab out a proper plate for her and transfer the food out of the pan with a few scoops. Almost as I finish emptying the pan, I notice Miia approaching out of my peripheral vision and look up to see her smiling.
"Aww, I didn't expect you making me breakfast was going to be a regular thing," Miia giggles. "I'm not complaining, of course."
"Well, it gives me a much better excuse not to skip breakfast myself," I admit, although it hadn't dawned on me just how much of that has been the reason until being asked.
"Good. In that case, I'll expect it on mornings like this from now on," she counters. Clearly, this girl has a level of charisma that I pale in comparison to, but she also doesn't seem to be waiting for a response because she promptly sits down at the far end of the table. I don't question anything further and, instead, sit down across from her with my simple bowl of cold cereal. "Oh, you have school today, right?" Miia asks, looking back up before getting into her food.
"Yeah, I do," I confirm, "I've gotta leave for it in less than an hour."
"Oh," she vocalizes with some amount of disappointment in her tone.
"I'll be back around 3 in the afternoon, though," I add, suddenly feeling at fault for her shift in tone.
"Oh, really?" she brightens up. "That's a lot shorter than I thought it would be."
"You'd think, but it's two classes back-to-back. one from 9 to 11:30 and one from noon to 3," I explain, leaning back in my chair a little bit. "It's not really as long as it could be but it's still a lot of time for just two different subjects."
"Yeah, that sounds like it would get pretty tiring after a while," she echoes. "I was just wondering 'cause I've only heard about how much time human society's education systems take up."
I can't hide an amused laugh hearing that. "Yeah, it's not as bad as the myths make you expect, but the homework and tests sure make up for that. Still beats public school." I start getting into my bowl of cereal a little faster, although I don't notice it until Miia goes quiet. I still decide to leave it be for the moment in favor of actually acting on the food in front of me before it gets aggressively soggy and texturally unsettling in the mouth and Miia proceeds to quickly do the same, which eases my social nerves considerably.
About halfway through our respective breakfasts, Miia slows down a noticeable amount, although as soon as the question to address it is forming in my head, she speaks up. "Koruto? I'm sorry about this morning, I didn't realize you slept with so little on," she speaks firmly and sincerely, although lacking most of the anxiety I would inspect in someone apologizing about this sort of thing. Her expression still makes me feel like she doesn't regret having walked in but she was being polite about the event anyway, which I certainly appreciate on its own merits.
"It's... It's okay," I force out. I wouldn't say it's not okay if it was an honest mistake, which I also do believe it was, but it's still a lot to think about. I can't say any women around my age have seen my erect dick before, in or out of my underwear, and no amount of reputable fortune telling ability could have convinced me these would have been the circumstances for the first time, but it having been an accident certainly made it easier to absorb in terms of how I'm used to being. That's not a statement intended to garner pity, I've accepted how much of a shut-in I've been over the years and don't regret a lot of it because the latest years of it helped me explain myself a little better.
Of course, I had also arrived in Japan with the concept in the back of my head that maybe this big move was the proper time to put myself out there again and actually attempt to socialize outside whatever bubble I wind up in. Come to think of it, that could be firmly linked to why I gave into that impulse and signed up for this, in retrospect. My train of thought would carry on further if Miia didn't speak up in the wake of what was likely a suspicious silence. "Are you sure?" she pushes, her nerves just barely seeping into the question.
"Yeah," I assure her. "If it was an accident, there's no real reason to be mad about it. You understand what happened. It's okay." Similar to before, telling myself this was just as much to convince me as it was to convince her.
Regardless of how it's settling in my head, Miia smiles and gently bows her head. "Thank you!"
It's hard not to be a little socially stunned at her formal response, but we quickly return to finishing up our food and, to my surprise, as I finish up my unceremonious morning meal, she practically shoos me out the door to get ready for class, insisting on washing up the dishes herself. As much as I want to protest that offer, when my head tilts to look at the clock, I realize that I've got approximately fifteen minutes to leave before I'd have to run to make it in time. I decide I'll thank Miia for that when I get back and rush off to grab my wallet and cell phone as well as the project I need to turn in today. The intense sudden focus on getting out the door actually makes the morning's debacle slowly fade into a haze in my memory, and I ride that wave all the way to campus.
Classes on drawing, at least the ones on the methods I'm learning, are very straightforward, to the point where it's deceptive how much they can matter in the long-term. Despite the fact that it's more or less three straight hours of drawing a still life of whatever objects have been set up with the only interruptions coming from the instructor intervening to provide inspiration or challenges, in addition to telling us about the approaches we're looking at, of course. A class period like that goes by fast if you can get into it and today has been no different, but as everyone starts packing up to leave and putting back various studio supplies, I was called out of that mental quiet zone.
"Koruto-kun!" the professor called out to me. "I'd like to talk to you about your project submission for a moment if you don't mind." I looked up from sliding my pad of newsprint back into my bag to see the unamused expression in my professor's eyes behind his thin glasses. Despite his eyes, he had a faint smile, too, although as he tilts his head back down to look at his desk, it quickly hides under the shadows of his unkempt fringe. I slowly approach to see that he has the project I turned in on the desk. "Give it a moment, I won't keep you long but I want most people to be cleared out first," he adds, not looking up from the drawing.
Awkward moments pass and I fidget nervously in wait, letting my attention drift about until his voice finally signals me out of it. "Okay, so..." he starts, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out. "This project... It's not bad, the proportions are good and you've clearly got an idea… but it's not appropriate for a school project."
My eyes focused through his arms on the page. The two figures I had originally drawn had now been repositioned to be firing handguns at each other, although with no specifics to the weaponry's shape beyond that. A number of jagged outlines added the idea that they had hit each other enough times already, as did the wealth of other various and admittedly random weapons around them. I knew turning this in wasn't going to go over well, but I couldn't convince myself to let it go and so I nod in agreement. "I'm sorry for that, Professor Sakuro, I just... couldn't come up with anything and I got frustrated." Despite it being the truth, it still feels like a very weak excuse.
"You were born in America, right?" Professor Sakuro asks out of seemingly nowhere.
"I-... Yes, I was," I answer with a great deal of confusion. "Why?"
"Well, this stuff is a lot less... aggressively taboo over there," he explains, tapping the paper beneath him. "I mean, if it's anything like it was back when I was touring art colleges around the West coast, it would still probably be too much, but by a way smaller margin. And even with that, historical art gets really violent and intense, too, and that's the kind of thing you're looking to make, isn't it? Painting and drawing things with the old renaissance ideals of surpassing what came before it while still respecting the methods they used?"
"Yeah, mostly, I guess. It's certainly what made me start going to school again," I respond.
Suddenly, Professor Sakuro slides the page across his desk back to me. "Then, just this once, I'll leave this alone and we can say you showed me this for a more personal level of feedback. I'm going to give you another two weeks to redo this project and I want you to do ones that won't make me have to report you to someone."
"I-... Thank you very much, Professor!" I sputter out over the sudden surprise, bowing forward firmly. I can't say if Miia doing it has put it back in my head or if it's something I just had in me, but I decide that either way, it's probably the best response.
"Don't worry about it," he waves off gently. "In fact, I'm just going to put down that you didn't turn in anything and we worked out an extension because of sudden things coming up at home."
"I..." my train of thought flounders as it strikes me how close to the truth that reasoning actually is, but I manage to push past it. "I appreciate that; this time I'll give you something much more developed within the lines," I ensure him.
"However," he stops me, looking up with just the crest of a smug expression on his face. "I think you should keep doing really charged imagery like this in your own time, too, honestly." The look I gave him must have been very puzzled because he lets out a quiet chortle as he sits back down in his seat. "I think this is a good start with that kind of stuff, personally. You'd be surprised how much this stuff is worth out in the world. It challenges the mind, gets people talking and thinking, I think it's very important. I just can't accept this as work for class without also having to professionally have you disciplined for it." I don't really know how to respond to that type of encouragement, so I just give him a firm nod as I take the page from his desk in front of me. "Oh, and by the way, Koruto-kun," he speaks up again.
I look back up at him, trying to hide the last wings of my anxiety that are still pulsing through my system as I slowly deposit the large page into my school bag. "Yeah?"
"Maybe start by thinking of a subject to work with rather than trying to start the drawing first," advises Sakuro. "When you're working from a still life, usually you can start drawing first and worry about making something bigger out of it later, but we're practicing representing iconography and finding your own references, so that might help you this time around."
Hearing that from him makes me feel stupid. I really should have thought of that, but in my defense, it's very hard to abide by a competent pipeline of work when you're constantly adding to your sleep deficit. Still, I give him another nod and quietly say, "That's a good idea." My head shifts to look at the clock and, unfortunately, I don't really have the time to keep standing around. I turn to Professor Sakuro and give him a more shallow polite bow. "Thank you again, Professor Sakuro. I'll see you next class."
"Yeah, next time!" he chimes happily. With that, I turn and leave for my next class, one focused on European art history. As much as I'm ready for the day to be over, the relief I feel right now makes up for it. On my way through the building's pristine hallways towards the next building over, my thoughts drift back to Miia at home, and with the art side of my life on my mind as well, I come up with an idea that might break the ice between us a little better. It has to wait until after class, but that's fine with me because it's an easy push to show her something I'm familiar with, not to mention it's relevant to the homestay goal of introducing her to local societal culture. All it needed was one trip on my way home.
Getting through the trip out of my way while on my way home took a little longer than I had hoped it would take, but as I cross the little bridge to get back to the street the house is on, I've still got what I set out to get. I had gone by a local video rental store, something still strikingly common in Japan despite the fact that video and audio streaming services have been around in the country since the early 2000's. From everyone I've asked about it, it's simply a thing about getting out and renting the physical media; most people just find it oddly satisfying to take home an actual DVD in its case. While I don't necessarily understand it from that angle, I will say it still has its conveniences and charms that media streaming can't touch, even if very few of them are technical.
That also means that there are at least five or ten copies of every Studio Ghibli film to date in a vast majority of video rental stores around here, even the ones that nobody in America ever talked about. I picked out the main one I grew up with, Spirited Away, or in this case Sen and Chihiro's Spiriting Away, as the title's actual Japanese text reads. It's arguably a completely safe and even arguably unoriginal choice of movie, but it's a film I know front to back and, in terms of introductions to culture, it does cover a lot of things that are often brought up in Japanese works of art and storytelling. Having been given a shred of the afternoon to think of a good movie that's easy to follow both in dialogue and in concepts, this is by far the best one I could think of that would actually be playing in its original language here.
That doesn't stop my nerves from welling up in my head and considering the open possibility of something going wrong, but that was also a small part of why I went out of my way to rent a physical copy, it gives me a lot less access to changing my mind at the last minute. The front door of the house eventually comes into view, something I didn't notice right away as I looked over the disc's case again, my eyes shifting around and reading various chunks of the text again and again. When I get within that distance of the door, though, my focus turns to nothing more complicated than getting inside.
Naturally, entering my own house wasn't difficult, and as I slip my shoes off at the door, I call out the customary declaration, "I'm back home!" I'm unused to actually calling that out when I get home, I will admit, but I've been periodically reminding myself that I need to do it today given I don't live alone anymore.
Miia's head pokes out from the doorway into the living room and, upon locking her eyes with mine, she smiles. "Welcome home! How was class?"
Another thing I'm thoroughly not used to is small talk. Not even my parents would ask me how my day was when I got home. Still, I don't leave her question hanging; the least I can do when she's pushing for it is try. "It was alright," I tell her. "I have to redo the project I brought in today, but I've got another two weeks for that."
"Aww, that's too bad," she responds. "At least you get more time."
"Yeah, that's the part I'm thankful for," I laugh, intentionally opting not to mention anything about why the drawing got rejected and instead moving to the other subject that was prevalent. "I did rent a movie on my way back, though. I figured a good start for all the culture stuff might be something we could just do at home that can be stopped at any time." I hold up the DVD case beside me for her to see.
"Oh, really?" she questions, her hands folding together in front of her as an even deeper smile etches onto her face. I swear I can see the edges of a blush creeping onto her face from under her scales again, but she doesn't let the question linger any further. "I'd like that a lot."
"Good, I picked out something that should be pretty easy to get through," I mention, almost as if I still need to sell her on it.
"It looks interesting," she comments further, slithering herself a little closer. Whether it's actually to get a better look at the case is debatable. "Is it all animated?"
"Yeah. In fact, it's actually by one of the most famous animation companies in Japan, and even then it's considered one of their absolute best." I only notice after I say it all out loud just how much I suddenly have to say, which prompts my nerves to wake up again, but the expression Miia gives me shoos them away easily.
Although she already looked excited, now she looks eager in the same way a child would be. "When should we sit down for it? Now?" she eagerly asks, scooting in even closer, enough that I could smell whatever gentle, sweet fragrance she's lightly spritzed herself with.
"If you want to," I relent in a quivering tone, an involuntary blush growing on my face as we're left practically locking eyes. "I don't really have anything that needs to be done tonight specifically, so if you want to watch it now-"
She doesn't even wait for the sentiment to be over before her hand takes a firm grasp of mine and she begins tugging me into the living room. "Yeah! Come on, put it in!"
That's perhaps the worst way she could have stated that out loud as it brings up the image of what had happened this morning but if it had gone done a very different path. I swallow that sudden image flash and, after being practically dragged to the couch in front of the living room's TV, I crack open the disc's case and insert it into the dusty old DVD player I had brought with me. Luckily, the TV was apparently something owned by the... well, the owners of the home, so that was in here when I moved in. It's kind of surprising to me given it's high-definition, flat-screen and at least 50 inches, if not a handful more. I would expect someone who bought this TV to keep it to themselves, but I suppose it's not my place to question it, especially not right now.
I turn the room's lights down and we sit down on the couch across from the wall where the TV is mounted as the DVD player buzzes to life and starts figuring out the disc. It quickly comes to the main menu with the gorgeously colorful art and bittersweet melody of the movie's theme both projecting seamlessly from the screen. Miia gawks at it openly for a moment as I relocate back to the couch, but when I sit down I find her expression has changed to something more expectant, more intentionally captivating, and most noticeably, trained on me very directly. "Is this the kind of thing that made you want to go into art?" she asks, fluttering her eyes slowly as if she's already trying to coax an answer out of me faster.
I swallow my immediate oncoming panic reaction and manage to put together a truthful response, much to the surprise of my internal doubts. "I... not entirely, but there are a lot of traditional influences in it that never really caught my eye in modern stuff as much before this, so..."
"Like paintings from hundreds of years ago kind of traditional?" As she asks that, her look changes a little bit in a way that makes me think she wasn't expecting me to give that nuanced of a response. She doesn't look frustrated, though, just like she needs to reevaluate the angle she's at. I nod silently. Regardless of how she's reacting, that doesn't stop me from feeling a little bad, but she recovers long before that could sink in at any significant level. "How did you get interested in traditional painting and stuff like that, then?"
My gaze slides back to the DVD's idle menu as I try to put together an interesting answer but, from where I am, I can't say the answer feels too compelling. "I just... I always saw really old art and stuff like that, no matter where it was from, and I always found myself thinking 'something made this person spend numerous long hours of their life trying to make this piece look this way and it was made during a time where good-quality materials were brutally valuable' and... I don't know, it just makes me feel like there's a gap in stuff like this now because of that time and resource sink, like nobody thinks if someone honestly put effort and money into some big Expressionist piece or an elaborate cubism painting that it would be worth all it took to make it. But that's not true, 'cause so much of that stuff is a basis for all the stuff that's going on now, the main difference is the technology you can use to make it and the connections you can use to get those materials." As it finishes coming out of me, I can't help feeling like it sounds a lot more interesting in practice than it did in my head, which is a very unique flavor of infuriating.
Her expression changed as I speak in a similar way to how it did for my prior response but significantly more drastically. "Do you think people would understand that stuff now in the same way, though?" she brings up.
"Yeah," I confirm without a thought passing through my head beforehand. "It's paintings. All we have to do is look at it and we have to start making sense of it somehow, that stuff will always mean stuff. No matter how much a piece is made to look strange or to capture something in a special way that hasn't been majorly popular outside of retrospect for generations, I think people will still enjoy it the same way now, if not more. No amount of times changing and trends and new delivery methods, no amount of change will ever devalue traditionally presented art."
Whatever she begins to say gets stopped again by something inside, but before it can turn into another awkward moment she laughs softly. "I don't think I've heard anyone answer a question on what they do like that," she tells me. "I mean, I haven't had many people to ask outside of my home village until recently, but I still think it's great that you're invested this much."
"Heh, that makes two of us," I mutter, only noticing how loud it actually comes out after it's been said. "A-A-I-In terms of being invested in what I'm doing with my life. Or, you know, trying to do... Learning to do."
This time, the giggling Miia breaks out into is much more outward despite the sounds of her trying to hold it back that precedes it. While she's in her fit of laughter, she waves her hand lightly between us as if to try and stop my quickly dissolving train of thought. "I understand, I understand. I'd like you to show me some of the stuff you've seen that makes you think that stuff, though," she finally says as her laughter comes under her control again. "After our movie, of course."
The way she phrased that last bit was no doubt one of the most flirtatious things anyone has ever said to me, which is a stark realization given Miia already topped that list at least twice since arriving here. I can tell by the smug-but-sweet look she gives me that it's purely intentional and she is absolutely messing with me, only to follow up that look by scooting at least a decimeter closer to me, effectively sandwiching me between the left-side arm of the couch and the curves of her hips.
"C'mon! Let's start it!" she spouts, the teasing presentation of her voice being replaced by much more straightforward anticipation. It admittedly brings me out of the repeated realization that this is my life now, so I quickly swipe the remote from its resting place on the arm of the couch and hit confirm on the menu's play option, or at least the two-kanji combinations that are the equivalent on this remote. With a lurch from the machine reading the disc, the picture swiftly faded to black and the movie began.
I will admit that in picking out this movie, I never thought of just how on-point it actually is in the present time, not to mention just how long it actually is. Although it partially depicts the worlds of humans and spirits as existing on the same plane with narrow separations, I'd forgotten just how at odds the two societies were depicted, too, one society of humans that takes and takes without questioning and one society of various gods, spirits and other mythical representations that isn't afraid to basically strip the humanity off of anyone who steps over the line. Maybe it's witnessing the whole thing in its original language for the first time in at least a decade or maybe it's the dichotomy between humans and non-humans being a lot more specifically relevant now, but there's a lot of commentary that goes on that's pretty direct with Japanese tradition.
That wouldn't normally phase me, but given Miia is a part of a species that, up until recently, was regarded as entirely mythical, it overshadowed the experience with a healthy dose of awkwardness. There are a couple of particular moments where these mythical world inhabitants are depicted in a very... ugly light, both figuratively and, on two or three occasions, somewhat literally. During those moments in particular I found myself glancing over to Miia beside me and, while in the earlier sections of the movie she seemed to be enjoying herself in ways that are quite straightforward to read, the longer the story ran, the less and less enthusiastic she seemed to become watching it. It doesn't make me feel very confident about several of the choices I've made, the particular film choice obviously among them.
That slow-rising discouragement manages to make the movie feel significantly longer than two hours, enough that around halfway through I stop paying attention almost entirely to run through the movie's events in my head with some vague hope that it's further along than I remember it being. As the story shifts its tone away from the immense tension in its later stages, it seems to stop wearing on her, and in particular, she seems to get that ecstatic smile during the interactions between the two major characters Chihiro and Haku. Admittedly, the average moviegoer probably can't blame her, but it eases my mind to see it happen regardless.
After two hours that were exponentially more stressful than I had anticipated, though, the movie comes to an end and the credits roll slowly across the screen. Miia's eyes stop fixating on the TV screen without much hesitation and instead she glances over my way with a smile that's a noticeable bit shyer than any of the body language she was putting off before the movie started. It made that horrible, cold feeling of a pulse of anxiety light up inside me, but I manage to maintain a smile in return. "So... What did you think?" I ask her, breaking the silence we had kept almost entirely unbroken for the past two hours.
A sliver of reservation leaves her expression and she nods. "It was really interesting. I didn't expect it would be so intense in so many different ways," she responds, wiggling a little in her seat at the waist. "There was so much to it, too, and it just looked so magical..."
I slowly rise from my seat and make my move to turn on the lights, something that quickly results in Miia shielding her eyes loosely for a few moments. "I'm glad you liked it," I express. "It's, uh..." Something inside me was trying to put out something to express anything in addition, but as soon as I set out to put it together my entire mind is left blank.
"Thank you for showing it to me," interrupted Miia, pushing herself upright as well. I can't tell if she noticed I was struggling or not, but regardless of that, I'm thankful she jumped in.
"I'm glad you liked it," I repeated like a complete nitwit. It's enough to get one of those enthused giggles out of her, at least, but it doesn't help my self-esteem. I look up at the clock hanging on the wall behind me. It's something I probably should have guessed, but it's almost 5:30 in the afternoon. "I should probably get something working for dinner," I mumble to myself vacantly.
Miia doesn't hear my self-musing, but she does speak up again after stretching herself out at the shoulders. "I think I'm gonna go take a bath. I promise I won't take it up too long, though."
"Huh?" I vocalize. "Oh, don't worry about me, take all the time you want to with it." She flashes me that hesitant look of appreciation again, something that I haven't seen since at least yesterday morning, if not the day she arrived. Still, before I can question that, she turns with a sway of her hips and pushes her way out past the stairway up and down the hall towards the bath.
The negative feelings are starting to stack up a lot higher than I'm currently ready for, but as Miia's tail disappears around the corner, I take a few moments for some deep breathing and decide to put my attention on making something to eat. Not only would it maybe be a chance to get past Miia's re-emerged reservations but I also find that when you feel like garbage on an empty stomach it tends to make you feel notably worse. I slip into the kitchen and grab out one of the cheaper, thinner cuts of beef I had acquired when I stocked up on groceries along with an accompanying pan large enough to handle the vague idea that was only just beginning to emerge in my head and started trying to get lost in the simple labor of putting something together to escape the empty void in my head.
It takes about forty-five minutes for Miia to bathe, a little longer than what I was expecting but more than enough time to get something simple and warm prepared to eat in the meantime. Finishing around the time she comes in doesn't mean that her coming in doesn't still scare the crap out of me for a moment, though, although that's mostly my fault for spacing out for a moment with the pan's handle in my hand. "Ooh, I can smell it from the hall!" she announces. I jump, almost flinging the contents of the pan all over myself, and after making sure to put it down safely, I turn around to see Miia with fresh clothes on and hair still just damp enough to see it glistening in the room's lighting. She's still hiding a little bit behind her bright and drying fringe, but she sits down at her typical spot across the table from me eagerly.
"Well, it's basically just cooled off," I say, really just in an attempt to say something here at all as I bring the pan over to the duo of plates I'd set out. I'd also made sure to grab some glasses and fill them with water, partially for the obvious reasons of drinking them but also because it just completed the look of the table, as mediocre and unremarkable as it still is anyway. I load up her empty plate first and as soon as she's able to see what's coming out up close, her expression brightens even further.
After learning Miia has a fondness for eggs, I figured that liberally using those in my cooking while I figure out how to make anything more interesting probably isn't a bad idea. Effectively, what that resulted in tonight was skirt steak and scrambled eggs, but despite it technically being a breakfast dish, Miia almost looks at me like she's ready to knock me over for the whole pan. "It's nothing complicated, but it should at least taste right," I joke anyway. "Did the bath work alright for you, by the way?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, it was fine," she answers as she watches me finish emptying the pan. "A lot smaller than what I'm used to, but it still works!"
"Smaller, huh?" I consider. "I probably should've figured that. I should call Smith and see if there's anything that can be done about that. They're supposed to be sitting on tax money of some kind for that sort of stuff."
"Oh, no, it's okay," assures Miia somewhat timidly.
"No, no, you're living here now and I want to take that into account," I refute, although maintaining softness in my voice. "Besides, bathing for stress relief is something very common in Japan, so forcing you to experience the miniature version of it just feels wrong when you're here on cultural and societal exchange."
Miia gives me a look like hearing that makes her feel good on the inside, but she falls completely silent, too. I switch to the pan where I had added stupid-easy vegetables, ones like onion and mushroom that you can just kinda put into anything getting attacked actively with heat and it usually blends in. That may be the one truly valuable thing in cooking I already know and, frankly, that's just how my mom always made me ramen growing up. As it turns out when you see someone do something enough times you do learn quite a bit from it. As I scrape the contents of the pan onto my plate, though, I notice Miia isn't eating but rather watching me. I figure at first that it's just her trying to be respectful and wait for me to be ready, too, but as I sit down the only thing that changes is she looks off to the side. "Miia?" I ask. "You alright? You're spacing out quite a bit."
"Huh?! Oh, sorry, let's eat!" she switches, flashing me an unphased smile.
"Are… you sure there's not something on your mind?" I press. I don't usually like to push for answers from people like this, but the drastic shift was starting to bother me.
"I mean, it's nothing big," she tries to pass off, "but... can I ask a question that might sound a bit... strange?"
"I... I don't see why not," I answer, my concern mixing with confusion.
"You're an artist and all, so you must have seen a lot of really beautiful people in portraits and stuff," she starts, only losing me more. "So... would you say I'm attractive even with my snake half? Like, by human standards?"
Her smile had slowly faded, as did mine as she finished asking. As usual, this was something I really wasn't ready for, but I can't just say nothing to this; arguably saying nothing is the worst thing I could do right now. That really just leaves my best option as the truth which, while not painful to hear, it's certainly a lot for someone like me to have to say out loud with only a moment's notice.
"Yeah. I... I think you'd actually be surprised," I start, trying to maintain some amount of confidence in my voice as I go on. "I mean, there are so many stories and art pieces out there that specifically hinge on some... mythical half-human princess who's more than attractive enough to captivate onlookers. It's maybe a little bit to get used to seeing in the real world, but I don't think that takes away from it at all, either."
The more I say, the more her expression continues to change, but it shifts back and forth between varying degrees of happiness, confusion, shyness and doubt, all with just the light overtone of collective embarrassment, although that might be me projecting a little. Either way, I try to elaborate more, in part from social panic impulses. "From an art perspective, though, I actually really like your more... reptilian features."
"Wh-, really?" she asks, the mix of emotions being swept aside entirely by the confusion.
"Yeah," I verify with a deep breath. "The bright red colors are really eye-catching, the patterns have that seamless natural charm to them, the amber of your eyes compliments it a lot and the slit pupils make that show up much more often, the scales along your face are..." I trail off as I notice her demeanor has starkly shifted again, this time into a furious fluster. "... Are... Are you alright, Miia? Was that too much?"
"No! no, not at all," she assures me, breaking into an insatiable grin and trying to hide the blush that quickly emerged over her face as her eyes flutter. "That's... I've never heard that much praise to those parts outside my own kind, it's... Thank you..."
"I just... y'know, I don't want you to feel like that makes you some horrible monstrosity 'cause… it doesn't," I try to articulate, feeling my own face heating up quickly the more she bats her eyes at me. Although I feel like I should continue pushing my point, I'm running out of ideas I'm confident in portraying.
"Well, you've certainly done that," she giggles, that completely worry-free excited grin coming back over her. "It's just… There's a lot to think about when you step into a society you're not used to."
"I can only imagine, at least on the level you're going through," I mention. "If my parents weren't Japanese, I'd probably only be a little less confused than you."
"Then it's a good thing I have you here with me," she responds with a tinge of smugness. Yeah, that's definitely broken through whatever was bothering her, although the way she's staring at me right now almost makes it feel like she's trying to read my mind. "Now, sorry for taking us away from dinner. Let's eat!"
Following that, we have a pretty normal meal despite the unshakable feeling of her eyes on me more often than not. Regardless of that, though, it was filling and satisfying to eat a full meal and that eased my stress load a little bit. Miia goes through her meal a little bit faster than I go through mine, but after finishing she patiently waits for me to finish before thanking me formally and abruptly taking her leave to get ready for bed, an idea I'm interested in moving towards myself, but I take the time to clean up the dishware first.
That unfortunately means I have to be alone with my own thoughts for a bit after she leaves the room with excitement in spades in her walk... or slither, I suppose. Either way, I'm both relieved and conflicted. That bothers me up until I manage to remind myself how common that combination has always been for me, at which point I finish up the last of cleaning off the dishes we used and then sit back down at the table for another moment or two.
A slow replay of the day's events progresses through my head as if on a conveyor belt of sorts, but the more events I look back on, the more I get that strange compulsion to laugh in the wake of things that made me go numb in my mind when they were happening, and it only grows with each one until I'm simply laughing to myself alone like a madman. But I can't help it. Despite things going vastly different than I could have ever expected, they weren't going wrong. It forces that feeling of bizarre power and control into me despite everything I've felt and everything I've told myself. I take another deep breath to calm myself out of all those feelings and push myself back up. For the first time in at least a week, I felt properly tired, which is good because tomorrow will be the first time I take Miia out into the world.
I let out another emotionally subverted laugh before heading off to get some sleep. If just living with her at home is going to be this much of an experience, there's no telling what will happen when the outside world gets involved.
A/N: What if you wanted to write something fun and cute and kinda trashy, but God said "NO"?
The answer is to write it anyway because the only true god in writing is yourself.
And I choose to use my god powers for evil.
Remember to Reflect and Repent.