Chapter Nine
Ms. Ieri left after she detangled and washed my now-short hair, the white locks brushing against the tops of my shoulders. Across my forehead, just above my eyebrows, my bangs are even and light. In fact, everything feels light. I feel refreshed, and my mind feels clearer. I have energy.
Satoru lingers to talk to me. "Toge is out on a mission on the outskirts of Tokyo," he informs me as he walks over. I'm still sitting in the highchair, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "He asked if you wanted anything from the city."
Toge.
I play with the ends of my softened hair. "Anything?" I ask.
"Anything," he parrots. "If you want a mansion, I'll just tell him to 'figure it out.'" He braces a hand on the back of the chair, his other as a fist on his hip.
To his surprise, I smile. It isn't small, but it isn't broad either. It's…full of quiet content. That kind of smile. He sees it, does a double-take, and grins back.
I reach up and finger his blindfold, and he lets me tug it up, his sky-blue eyes dancing with light as they fix on me. "Takoyaki," I request. "I want Takoyaki."
Take care of your brother.
I will, Mama.
His grin softens. "Takoyaki it is," he announces, then pulls out his phone to text it to Inumaki. "Anything else?" I shake my head.
"He'll probably be late coming back, so you've still got time to kill. What do you want to do?" he asks, pocketing his phone. He eyes the bed, probably wondering if I even want to do anything other than sleep again. Or stare at nothing again.
I, however, look towards the bathroom door. "Could you get Maki?" I request, hopping down from the highchair and heading towards the bathroom. "I'm going to shower."
"You want her to shower with you?" he asks incredulously.
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I glare at him. Once more, he looks surprised at the amount of reaction he's getting from me. I'm surprised as well. "No," I answer rather dryly. "But I do need her help."
Maki lets out a whistle once she sees me exit the bathroom. "Looking good," she compliments. "I figured those clothes would look best on you. They bring out your eyes, obviously."
I had called Maki over through Satoru solely for this purpose: picking an outfit, since I have never, in my life, worn modern clothes. She hadn't said anything about the random request, other than commenting on my haircut, saying I looked "different, but in a good way." I braided a small section of it on the side, letting it blend in with the rest of my free-falling hair. "Thank you," I reply. "They're comfy."
She raises a brow. "Is this really your first time wearing something other than a yukata?"
I stand in front of the mirror and scan myself over. A necklace of sky-blue cloth wraps around my neck, simply a prelude to the white and blue striped long-sleeved shirt that compliments my torso, the sleeves of it slightly flaring out as they travel down my arms, all the way to my wrists. Flattering my slim waist is a white skirt that stop just above my knees, then give way to white stockings that crawl up to my calves.
"My clan was traditional in that regard," I answer turning to face her. I fold my hands in front of me. "Am I missing anything?"
She looks me over. "Quite a bit, actually." When I angle my head curiously, she reaches into her pocket and comes up to me. I don't know what she's doing until she secures something onto the breast of my long-sleeved shirt. "It's just a pin for now. But hopefully it'll be a button later on." She steps back, and I turn back to the mirror to view it.
That's when I stop.
I see Maki cross her arms behind me. "You're one of us now, Yuna. Always."
I brush a finger over the black and yellow spiral on the pin. "…this means a lot to me."
It's her turn to angle her head. "What made you change your mind? About…well, everything. I mean, just a few days ago, you were ready to give up on life."
It isn't meant as an insult. It's the stark, brutal truth. I like Maki for that, for being honest with me.
I consider her question. "Many things," I admit. "But someone once told me that I can live as who I am. It was implied that I should." I look towards the wooden hairbrush on the bedside table. "That I should love myself and not feel guilty for it."
A half-smile graces her features. "They sound like a wise being."
I look down with a secret smile of my own. "He is."
It's around 10 at night when Inumaki knocks on my door. He comes in looking weary, but fresh, like he took a shower before coming here. Indeed, his hair is straightened out and slightly damp. I find myself…liking it better that way.
He's not in his uniform, for once. Instead, he wears grey sweatpants and a sea-green sweater. A light blue bandana covers his mouth.
He stops in his tracks when he sees my outfit, blinking a few times. I hadn't changed out of it yet, the idea of it still a bit taxing. His eyes then crinkle up at the corners, indicating the smile underneath the mask, and waves. I find myself wanting the bandana off, to see the smile bare.
I don't respond from where I once again sit on the floor by the glass sliding doors. Not because I'm depressed, but because it's nice there. My eyes drift to the plastic bag in his hand.
Most likely sensing what my attention is now on, he lifts the plastic bag up and walks over, crouching in front of me and pulling a cardboard box out of it. He holds it out, and I slowly take it from his gentle hand. When I open the lid, a steam carrying the scent of Takoyaki hits my nostrils. I find myself smiling. "Takoyaki," I murmur, then look at his surprised eyes, which are fixed on my mouth. "Thank you."
He recovers from his shock enough to sit where he's crouched, both of his legs folded under him. I take a moment to bite into a Takoyaki, relishing how it practically melts into my mouth. The joy is short-lived, however, when the heat of it burns my tongue. I hiss and open my mouth, trying to force breaths out in an attempt to cool off the food.
Inumaki's shoulders shake with the force of a silent laugh. I'm about to glare at him when he holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait, and disappears out of the room. He's back a few minutes later, a glass of water in his hand. I gulp it down greedily, and he resumes his position on the floor across from me. I wonder if he's been looking forward to this during his mission. These moments we have to ourselves late at night. The silence of us, the peace we carry and the ease of our interactions. I know I do. I think. I don't know what to think when it comes to him anymore. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.
Once again, I can see how the moonlight sets his amethyst eyes sparkling, and before I know it, I'm nudging the box of Takoyaki between us. "We can share," I say softly. Inumaki-kun, I think to myself, how do I thank you?
His eyes seem to…light up in a way that has me staring at him. He carefully bites into one, but even that doesn't stop him from hissing as well. All I hear in the next few seconds are, "Tuna, tuna, tuna," with his hand coming up to cover his mouth.
I laugh.
His eyes snap up to me, catching on how I use the back of my hand to try and stifle the sound. His own comes up and gently captures my wrist. He wants to hear it, raw and unmuffled. I wipe away a tear and look at him, still smiling from what I still feel. My heart is dancing, and I can't stop it. I don't want to. His own small one blooms again.
Inumaki-kun…
I hand him the glass of water I had drunken out of, half of it still remaining. He seems to hesitate but then lets go of my wrist to take it from me. His lips warp around the spot mine had just been on, and I feel my cheeks heat up at the indirect kiss.
I take the glass back from him when he's done and set it aside. "Maybe we should let them cool off first," I suggest, and he nods in agreement, though he makes no move to put his bandana back over his mouth. I like it that way. I can't help but steal glances at the corners, tracing the tattoos with my eyes. I find myself asking, "Were you born with them?" I tap a corner of my mouth when he looks at me curiously. "The markings," I clarify.
Before I know it, he's sliding his phone over to me. I pick it up and read the typed-out words.
Yes, and it was very hard for me to learn where I belong because of it.
"But you have," I finish for him, my eyes flicking to his, which are already fixed on me. "Here. You're going to tell me you belong here, at Jujutsu High."
He tilts his head from side to side, as if to say, "More or less."
I can feel myself bristle. Why does that irk me? Maybe it's because Jujutsu High was somehow good enough to steal my brother away from me. Maybe because it had me watching his back fade away from me. Maybe it's because Jujutsu High didn't take me too. It didn't save me like it did with him.
Or maybe it's because Inumaki is looking at me like he hopes I share truth with his words, and I don't want to let him down.
I slide the phone back, words distant again. Yes, I've dealt with the past, but how do I manage the present now? How do I prepare for the future, now that I believe it's possible?
Silence hangs over us for about 15 long minutes before Inumaki suddenly types something and has me read it.
I would like to take you somewhere tomorrow, if you will allow it. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine and give you a tour of where he lives. I promise that it will be worth it.
He's giving me a choice, asking for my permission. He's being kind.
Inumaki-kun…
"Where?" I ask.
You'll see if you comply.
Now he's bribing me. I look at him warily. "I don't know," I admit. He angles his head. Why? "Because I've never been outside," I answer. "Except to move here. I've never been outside the school grounds or the estate. Not for exploring reasons."
Understanding glimmers in his eyes. I can ask Gojo-sensei to come with us, he types.
I hesitate, and he carefully adds, I won't let anything hurt you. Or anyone. A pause. You'll be safe if you're with me.
I wonder if this is stretching the whole "friend" thing between us, but his words resonate within me. The fact that I find myself believing him was me wondering if he's stolen my morales and shaken them up, like you would with a snow globe.
"Okay," I say softly.
Inumaki-kun…
"I suppose…one day won't hurt," I relent.
Thank you.
His answering smile makes my heart flutter.
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He doesn't understand it. Aomine Daiki, a high school friend of yours, doesn't understand how jumping up and hitting a ball can be fun. But what he can understand is the passion in your eyes when you take on an opponent, or the joy in your tone when you ramble about your desire to defeat even tougher opponents. It goes both ways. You don't understand how bouncing a ball, or watching it fall through a hoop, could be fun, but you understand him as an athlete. As a person with a dream, a thing they love with all of their heart. And because of that, he likes you. He stays after school to watch you practice, he hides in the stands to watch your matches, and he secretly loves hearing you ramble about your passion. And seeing such life in your eyes when your teammates high-five you, or give you a fist-bump during those matches... You walk home together, something that's becoming more frequent, though he doesn't comment on it. Neither do you. He asks you quietly, as if his morals have been shaken, "Does it ever get boring for you? Winning all the time?" What keeps you going? is what he wanted to say.
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