12. Yukino Yukinoshita Can Turn Dreams Into Reality
Many people would like to turn their dreams into reality. I belong to the small minority who generally would prefer to avoid such a thing. Most of my dreams are monotonous, but that doesn't make them any less realistic or less haunting for my mind. They often involve the few people I've personally killed in my short life, and those who died while I was powerless to help them. And, of course, Sergeant Hitomi, who fits into both categories at once. But you're already familiar with her. My dreams are based on real crap that happened in my life. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat the experience of Mindanao.
There is, of course, a smaller portion of dreams, just some strange, surreal moments that dream interpreters love to describe in their books. Unfortunately, they have no relation to the future.
And then, there are the very rare dreams where I am happy. And it's not some happiness pulled out of the depths of marvelous images like a mysterious deep-sea fish of an unknown species. No, it's the ordinary, banal happiness of a lovesick teenager. Sometimes, very rarely, I dream that I'm with Yukino Yukinoshita. And though I know it's impossible to make those dreams real, deep down, I would risk it. If I were given the chance to pull a gacha from the incarnations of my dreams, and told that 999 attempts would be nightmares and one would be the dream where we are together and happy, I would risk it. The nightmares are always with me, but Yukino is not.
I had just such a dream. Yukino stood in the doorway of my apartment, dressed in a dark blue, almost black suit and a white blouse. Her long hair was adorned with two red ribbons like those I had once given her. But something in this dream felt wrong.
Well, yes, Yukino was also 28. I used to dream of us only as schoolchildren. I wonder how accurately my subconscious was able to reconstruct Yukino's image? I haven't dared to search for any recent photos of her in these years. Most likely, the mistake is significant. Yukino in that dream looked too much like the teenage Yukino. Yuigahama has changed much more in these years.
"How long are you going to keep me standing in the doorway, Hikigaya? Seems like the only exam you passed in police school was on how to behave rudely toward ordinary citizens without getting sued."
Yeah, that sounds like something Yukino would say. This is not virtual reality or a chatbot; it's my own memory of her. In my dreams, Yukino is always the most authentic and real.
"Very realistic dream. Even in it, you're rude while being a guest."
Genuine surprise flashed in Yukino's blue eyes.
"Hachiman, are you drunk? What dream are you talking about?"
"A good one. About one in a thousand. It doesn't have airstrikes, Filipino partisans, rifle butts from guards in a filtration camp, and Sergeant Hitomi isn't ordering me to join my fallen comrades. It only has Yukino Yukinoshita and happiness."
Yukino blushed slightly. Not much, mind you. But it was still noticeable on her very pale skin, which, as usual, was untouched by the sun.
"Hachiman! What's wrong with you?"
"So this isn't a dream, it's a hallucination. Well, fine, at least it's a pleasant one. Last week, I thought I was hallucinating when Sergeant Hitomi appeared to me in broad daylight. But I had just been sleeping after a night shift. I suppose I won't go to the doctor until she visits again. Maybe you'll come again before that."
What I didn't expect from a hallucination was a slap. A light one, but enough to make me question the illusory nature of what was happening.
"Yukino…" I mumbled, completely lost. "Come in, sorry for keeping you at the door."
No tour of the apartment was needed. It was still twelve tatami big, and most of it was visible from the entrance. The smaller part was also visible; I'd forgotten to close the bathroom door.
"Hachiman. You won't have enough of the rest of your life to apologize for everything you should. Standing here for a couple of minutes at the threshold of your little den is nothing."
I had no retort. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the room and bowed as low as my back allowed. The judo practice was only a few days ago, so my dogeza was proper.
"Your pose is awakening sadistic tendencies in me."
"Have they faded over the years?"
"All tendencies have faded in me. A complete emptiness. Defending the interests of the humiliated and downtrodden fills a very small portion of the cosmic void in my soul."
"Returning what was stolen, books, and alcohol as for me. But they have a strong rivalry. Ghosts of the past."
"Of ours? There are no ghosts there. We're both alive."
"No, my personal ghosts. A small cemetery. Some I killed, some died beside me."
Yukino's beautiful face darkened.
"I heard you went through hell."
"I survived. If you allow it, I can tell you. But I don't want it to sound like an attempt to justify myself."
"Hachiman. You destroyed all my pride when you broke up with me ten years ago. I waited for years, hoping you'd finally get the courage to justify yourself. I was ready to hear any bitter truth, any cloying lie. I just wanted to hear something from you. When I found Komachi a couple of years ago, I regularly consulted with her. I was trying to understand if it would be dangerous to stir up the past. She advised me against it. But now, the cat's out of the bag."
Komachi will face an intense interrogation. Maybe she won't even be able to refer to human rights or appeal to brotherly love. Those don't apply to traitors.
"Did my sister give you the address?"
"Yes. Before that, my mother called and told me that Detective Hikigaya is involved in the investigation of the stolen paintings. She also mentioned that when anyone even hints at my name, his conscience starts to gnaw at him. I convinced Komachi that the time had come. She agreed and promised to warn you. Didn't she call?"
I pulled my personal phone out of my jacket's pocket. Two missed calls from Komachi, three unread messages also from her. A warning that Yukino would come to see me tonight. I typed a short reply: "Thanks, she's here, everything's fine."
"If I forget to take my phone off silent and don't respond for a while, Komachi has a habit of coming to visit me from Tokyo. It can be inconvenient, especially when I can't respond because I'm stuck in a long, tedious meeting where there's no way anyone would be allowed to use their phones. I'm back at your full disposal."
"Finally. I've been waiting for this for years. Sometimes I used to imagine what kind of torment I'd put you through. Then I found out you were a prisoner of war in the Philippines, and I realized that the gods do a better job with that task. It was a very bad thought on my part, I'm sorry."
"I deserved that thought. Back then, I acted selfishly, cowardly, and mean toward you. I caused you a lot of pain, Yukino, and I'm not sure I deserve a chance to make up for it, even a little."
"You deserve the chance to impress me again. To remind me why I was the first to confess to you."
"Don't twist things! You weren't the first. I confessed to you first."
"You forgot the magic word. As a result, it sounded like a proposal of a marriage for convenience. Funny. but that suited me."
"You're something else. Only Yukinoshita could confess to first love while laboring over accounting."
"Exclusively because of you. You organized a prom night for two schools in a rented hall without a budget."
Yukino smiled, remembering the crazy spring of our second year of high school. I smiled along with her.
"Will you have coffee? Or maybe something stronger?"
"Coffee will do. Even instant."
"How did you guess?"
"You don't have a coffee machine. And you're too lazy and inattentive to brew real ground coffee in a cezve. It would boil over and burn every time."
Ashamed, I took a few steps to the kitchen and set the kettle on. This woman could see right through me. And I liked it.
"Have you come to appreciate coffee with age?"
"Not at all. The first few years, I couldn't drink it. And seeing the yellow MAX cans would stir unpleasant feelings in me. Truly, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
Yukino. The woman who taught me, a lifelong coffee addict, to drink tea every day. So well-read that she could quote lines from old English plays, while most people would butcher them. My first and only love.
I placed two cups of coffee and a plate with daifuku filled with hazelnut cream on the table. The rice cakes were of quite good quality, from a bakery near the monorail station. I made myself very sweet coffee with cream.
"Will you have black?"
"Make it like yours, but please limit it to one spoon of sugar. My pancreas isn't ready for such a challenge."
We sipped our coffee in awkward silence. At the same time, I was surprised to notice that everything about it felt right. Yes, even in the best of times, we might not have understood each other. The difficulties in interpersonal communication were what brought us together. Or rather, it was our homeroom teacher and school counselor Hiratsuka-sensei, who brought us together. It was her brilliant idea to put two smart, introverted teenagers with social issues into the same club and give them one difficult task after another.
"Do you know how Hiratsuka-sensei is doing?" I asked.
"Three years ago, she worked at a private school here in Chiba. She wrote a book on pedagogy, about the specifics of career counseling in high schools. In the preface, she mentioned you as her main failure in this area."
"She tried to convince me to become a school teacher. I refused even to consider it. I'd have to deal with idiots like myself," I smiled.
"Do you keep in touch with anyone from school?"
"Of course, quite often. With Komachi!"
"Your sister doesn't count."
"She absolutely does. She was your successor as the president of the Service club."
"And seriously?"
"A few times a year, I see Tsurumi. I go to judo practice every week at the city police HQ, and her uncle is the deputy chief of CCPD. Sometimes we run into each other when she visits him. Also, that fat otaku Zaimokuza, who for some reason still considers me his friend. He's a manager at a bookstore I visit from time to time. I also met Yuigahama recently during an investigation, we chatted for a bit."
"I know. She wrote to me five minutes after you left. She tried to be very careful, as if walking on broken glass."
"So, you still talk to... the others?"
"No, just Yui. She drops by a few times a year hoping I'll bake her some sweets. I bake. We drink tea and chat about trivial things, not saying a word about anything important. How's Tsurumi?"
"She's studying to be an artist and doing well as a lone wolf. She had her first solo exhibition. She paints decent portraits. By the way, your father's friend, Takahara-san, is running a seminar at her university."
"He's my father's friend, not mine. In recent years, I've tried not to communicate with my family unless necessary, though it's impossible to completely get away from Haruno."
"Is she still as nasty, deceitful, and manipulative as she was in college?"
"I might be offended by that description of my sister if it weren't the absolute truth. The higher Haruno rises in the company, the worse her character gets. How's your family?"
"Komachi's fine, and my niece and nephew too. My sister says my parents and grandmother are okay. No reason not to trust her."
"You don't talk to them?"
"I was officially listed as missing in action for just over four months. When I came home, there was already an ihai with my name on it. Not even a year had passed, and they'd already preferred to strike me off. I think my parents were more concerned about the fact that they'd now have to go to the temple and order a purification ritual, which would raise a lot of questions from the neighbors. Coming back from the dead in Japan is very inconvenient. It's much easier for everyone if you're just a name on a tombstone."
Yukino touched a sore spot. At the embassy, at the military prosecutor's office, when they formally charged me with desertion (which was later overturned because it was caused by unavoidable external factors), and even when I signed my discharge papers from the Self-Defense Forces, my return caused problems. It would have been much easier for everyone if Corporal Hikigaya's corpse had just rotted somewhere near Cotabato.
"You know, Hachiman, the only time in these ten years that I was glad we weren't together was when I found out you were listed as MIA and then came back. I would have gone mad wondering what had happened to you. Or no, I would have just thrown it all away and flown to the Philippines to look for you."
"Good thing you didn't fly. Some local field commanders executed all women they caught with their faces uncovered. Even if the unfortunate women followed a religion that didn't have such rules."
"Beasts…" Yukino hissed through her teeth.
"Some of them strangled prisoners with belts made of pigskin, knowing it would make the bodies unclean in the eyes of their co-believers. Some sold children and young girls to human traffickers in exchange for weapons. Some deliberately burned fields to increase hunger and discontent in the territories controlled by another faction. One army captain, right before my eyes, let go of a captured guerilla fighter in exchange for a packet of drugs. Mindanao was just another proof that Hobbes was right. The war of all against all is the natural state of humanity."
"Hobbes meant something else. Have you ever read Leviathan?"
I averted my eyes in shame. Alas, the days when I could outread Yukino were long gone.
Yukinoshita finished her cold coffee and looked at me with a gaze I could never have imagined earlier that day. It was filled with warmth, compassion, and a promise of help. And in her dark blue eyes, there was also a clear intention to shake me out of my PTSD, to pull me out of the mire and push me toward my main purpose in life: to make her, Yukino Yukinoshita, happy. Or at least, that's what I thought I saw.
"I came to you with a selfish goal, Detective Hikigaya. I need your help. But instead, I found someone deeply scarred by the hell on Earth, someone dear to me. You need help too, Hachiman. I feel it in my heart and understand it with my mind, but I need to find the right method."
"What you're doing already helps a lot. When I'm near you, all these memories seem distant and unimportant. I'm ready to help you."
"There's some kind of intrigue against my family. You know, the thieves didn't care about the paintings themselves, right?"
"Yes. Someone decided to play with your parents' nerves. I've heard about the smear campaign against you, and that a stalker has been following Haruno. It's unlikely these are coincidences."
"My sister and I think the same. Father has big political ambitions, and lately, there've been many enemies within his own party. He's hoping that connections in the PSIA will ensure his and our safety."
Sure they would. The Japanese police have a flawless reputation, but the Ministry of Justice's Public Security Intelligence Agency has a terrible one. They might be good at intelligence work, but when it comes to law enforcement, they're useless.
"I specialize in labor law, but I know quite a bit about law enforcement agencies. I have some sources in the local police department and the National Police Agency. By the way, I know that the burglars were caught only because of your work with informants. Thank you."
Yukino bowed slightly. I blushed like a schoolboy. I'd need a lifetime to deserve the right to receive her gratitude.
"Please, keep an eye on what's going on around our family through your unofficial channels. At least warn me if you find anything suspicious. I know this might bring trouble for you if you use official resources for personal matters, but the Hachiman I knew and loved was never one to be stopped by such things."
"Yukino. I promised you my life, as it is. Then I broke that promise. It's time to make things right."
We both fell silent awkwardly, our faces turning red.
"Agreed. We've wasted a third of our lives."
"We won't catch up quickly."
"Then we'll catch up slowly, with style."
I couldn't believe my ears. There were playful notes in Yukino's voice. Even in our happiest times, during our first love experiments, that had been rare. More often, she was content with a specific tone of sarcasm.
"Do you... have anyone in your life?"
"No, and never have. Do you?"
"No, and never have."
"You haven't forgotten...?"
"Nothing. And you?"
"Nothing. Including things that inexperienced lovers always forget. A nearly thirty-year-old woman can hope and has every right to come prepared." Yukino said, her smile simultaneously stunning and audacious.
Smart people turn into complete fools when it comes to love. And it doesn't matter at all when they're alone together. Source: me.