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Salad Days
Chapter Twenty-nine
Magnets

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March.
Springtime.

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It was a boy. A boy was standing on front of Keisuke Tachikawa's doorstep, and he brought cake and his guitar with him. He had yellow hair and blue eyes, and he was looking for his daughter.

"Michael?" his eyes narrowed as he examined the blond from top to bottom. His spectacles weren't doing a great job at refining his vision. "You look thinner.."

"N-no.." Yamato stuttered, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was trying his best to not feel irritated. "I told you already, it's Yamato. Ishida Yamato, Tachikawa-san." He was desperately hoping Mimi would show and up save him from this awkward confrontation with her father. It didn't help that Keisuke kept insisting he was Mimi's American friend.

The Lord is testing me.

Keisuke's Protective Dad game was on. He crossed his arms, doubting the credibility of this blond kid on front of him. He did not know anyone named 'Yamato' was a friend of Mimi's. He called in Satoe for help – if Mimi actually ever had a friend named 'Yamato'.

Yamato bit his lip. It annoyed him that Mimi's father didn't remember him – but he couldn't blame him for it. His wife appeared, peeping from Keisuke's shoulders. Yamato noticed her, and thought that she still looked the same eight years ago, as if she didn't age at all. He took a good look at Satoe again – nope, not a wrinkle on her face.

Her mouth gaped upon seeing the blond. "Yamato-kun!"

Great, someone from the Tachikawas remembers me, he thought sarcastically. While still savoring his relief, Satoe had grabbed him by the arm, dragging him inside. Keisuke looked disapprovingly at his wife, but did not protest any further.

"Take a seat, Yamato-kun," welcomed Satoe. "Do you want orange juice? Tea?"

But Yamato can sense Mimi's father's eyes burning holes on his forehead. It made him really uncomfortable. "I-it's fine, Tachikawa-san,"

"Oh yeah, I brought cake." Yamato handed the cake over to Satoe, who was more than delighted to receive it. He didn't really know why he brought one, especially when he's not even formally meeting Mimi's parents as something. He just felt like it was the right thing to do. Now realizing this gesture, he went red. Maybe I overdid it a bit.

"Ishida-san," Mimi's father started. The kid had a guitar. He's blond and he claims not to be 'Michael', and insists to be 'Yamato'. Keisuke remembers not a Yamato, but a Yoshio. And if ever this kid turned out to be Yoshio – tracking Mimi down even here in Japan – he would immediately call his 'special' friends. He did very well in handling the asshole back then, after all.

His paranoia overtook him. "Are you my daughter's American boyfriend?"

"N-no!" he abruptly answered, wiping his forehead out of fear. He would have slipped in that he's French by a quarter but he was too nervous. "Actually, Mimi's boyfriend is a friend of mine."

Satoe was in her thinking pose. Her daughter has a lot of friends, in Japan or in America. Since there were a lot, she could not remember all of them, except for the special seven children that her daughter always mentioned about. And frankly, she preferred them over Mimi's other friends. And yes, unlike her husband, she definitely remembered a 'Yamato' among the seven. But Yamato was definitely not Mimi's boyfriend, thought Satoe, for she always found him too distant around their daughter. "Is it Taichi-kun?"

"Y-yes.."

"Well, tell Mimi to bring him over. I always liked Taichi-kun, he's very…" replied Satoe as she sashayed her way back to the kitchen. Keisuke followed her from behind, his voice agitated as he talked to his wife about their daughter's love life.

Yamato instantly blocked the compliments that he was hearing about Taichi and focused on the thought of Mimi. He stood stiffly, cursing her over and over under his breath. Where the hell are you, Tachikawa? Leaving him with her parents alone – it certainly was a very torturous thing for her to do. He was fuming in red. How could you, how could you, how could you?!

And as if by magic, a door near the kitchen swung open.

"Yamato-kun!" she stood there in her pink fluffy bathrobe, her hair damped, and her skin was moist and dewy. He instantly turned his head to another side, out of irritation and uneasiness.

"You're late." He spat.

Mimi frowned, turned her head away as she dried her hair. "Well it's nice seeing you too," she smiled dryly. "How can I be late in my own home? It's not like we're going anywhere,"

"Just get dressed."

"Let's go upstairs then," she said, already at the foot of the stairs.

He shot her a deadly look, staring at her from top to bottom, in utter disbelief how this girl could be so carefree and liberated. Is she even aware of the situation? His mind was panicking, but he still managed to fake some coolness – "If you get dressed."

"Gosh Yamato, you've seen me countless of times in my swimsuit and I bet your phone has photos of me in it," she teased, unable to resist the temptation of making him uncomfortable. Plus, the expressions he made when he is are always priceless. She grinned. "So what difference does it make if I'm in my underwear?"

He blushed madly, and he was angry, his mouth was gaping, like a carp out of the water. Mimi knew she won. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he spat, his nostrils flaring.

She burst into laughter. She loved that expression. It was rare for it to come by. "Oh come on, you know I was just joking,"

She had caught him again. He rolled his eyes, tried to gain some control back. "Your sense of humor is terrible," he said calmly, trying to ride with her. His cheeks were still warm. "I'm going to tell Taichi what you just did to me."

Mimi leaned on the handle of the stairs, pouted. "Buzzkill, Ishida. I was going to make you wait outside my room.." she pouted. "Dummy."

She turned back around, started climbing up. Yamato watched her for a while, trying to shake off the thoughts and feelings he shouldn't be having, before following her to her room.

The door came wide open, much to Yamato's surprise. The pinkness of the room, as far as he could remember, was blinding.

"You can come in now," she said, grinning from the door. Yamato grimaced and stepped into her room. It was the first time, ever. He looked around, getting less and less excited by the things he was seeing. It was exactly what he had expected. The biggest surprise was her bookshelf, in which Yamato never expected her to be obsessed over self-help titles. So Mimi actually reads…

The girl, now in her loose dungarees with a bandeau underneath, rushed to her bed and sat down on it as she motioned him to sit with her. He gulped, gave her a stern glare, hoping that she would understand what his eyes were trying to say. Mimi doesn't anyway as she just shouted back at him to stop hesitating and just sit with her. He eventually did, but it didn't stop him from visualizing scenarios that involved her pink and white bed sheet. Yamato swore he would never forget this day, when he crossed personal boundaries of a pretty young girl who wasn't his girlfriend.

And it just had to be Mimi, of all people..

"Do you want to eat something, Yamato-kun?" she asked, crawling nearer to him as he was sitting at the very edge of her bed.

"N-no," he retorted, as he could feel her breath on his neck. He wiped some small beads trickling down his forehead, before facing her. He just blushed madly again. "Maybe later."

"Okay."

"Okay, so where's your guitar?" he asked, looking for a nice, acoustic guitar that may be lying around. Mimi bent down and grabbed a ukulele under her bed, held it to him proudly.

"That's not a guitar, Mimi."

"I know it isn't, dummy. But it's basically the same thing."

"It's not the same thing," he argued. "You said you wanted me to teach you to play guitar, so I brought my own guitar,"

"But I want to play this," she insisted as she pressed the instrument to him. "Taichi-kun gave it to me for Christmas." For a second he was paralyzed upon hearing Taichi's name. It had been almost a year now, and even though he supported Taichi and Mimi, he was yet to feel genuinely about them, for reasons he himself does not know. "So Taichi gave it to you, huh,"

"Yeah," she said, grinning and blushing like a school girl. "He said he would have bought me a guitar, but it was too expensive."

"It is," said Yamato. Picking the ukulele from her, he examined it the furnishing and checked the brand. With all of this in mind, Yamato wondered if Taichi really picked this out for Mimi or if he just took one randomly. The debate in his head went on for a while, until settling for the thought that maybe it was actually Hikari who picked the gift. He handed it back to her.

"Okay Mimi, let's start. It's pretty easy, actually."

She followed him by example. Yamato would demonstrate first, and he'd give her back her ukulele for her to try the notes. Surprisingly she was a fast learner, having already played the chords of the ukulele in an hour. With this new achievement, she insisted she should try out on his guitar.

It was at that momentary silence which made him realize his situation.

Teaching Tachikawa Mimi in her bedroom made him feel things that border between discomfort and longing. He could instantly feel the electricity run through his entire body as he touches her fingers, her hands, guiding them to the right chords and strokes.

"My hand is too small, it won't reach," she complained, as she tried to play the F major. Unwantedly, he took her by the arm and adjusted her in a more comfortable position. His hands brushed down from her arms to her hands, then to her fingers. With a brief whiff of her hair, his mind had gone blank.

Warmth rushed to Mimi's cheeks, could feel his light breath on her nape, the sensation of his touch felt like the wind tickling her. She became more conscious, as she suddenly felt the heat on her back that was against his arm and shoulder.

His hand remained on top of hers, stiffened. It was there when Mimi remembered that Yamato was a boy. A man. "Yamato-kun?"

"S-sorry," he apologized, snapping back to reality. "I just remembered something. Anyway.." Yamato tried to regain focus, but words had failed him.

Mimi wondered over the peculiar connection earlier. It was as if their nerves were being magnetized. What was that all about…

"Let's take a break," she insisted, stretching out her worn out arms as she placed his guitar by her bedside and lied down. Without even thinking, he followed lied down beside her. Stealing a glance, the distance between their faces overwhelmed her a bit, enough for blood to rush through her cheeks.

"Hey Mimi,"

She turned her head to face him, studied the profile of his face. "What?"

"I have a wild idea,"

She realized he has a really nice nose, too. "What is it?"

"You and me. Band."

She blinked a couple of times, then prodded nearer to him with excitement and disbelief, tugging the sleeve of his white shirt. "You meant you and me? Just you and me? A band, Yamato-kun?"

"Yes. You and me. A band," he echoed out of sarcasm. "I'm just repeating what I said now."

But Mimi couldn't seem to grasp on the idea fully. Without thinking she retreated from her position, slightly lying on the very tip of his shoulder. "Me.."

The feeling of her very scented head and hair on his shoulder was eerily comfortable. Her hair was everywhere. He lifted his left hand, then lightly brushed locks of her hair to look finer.. 'You."

"Me?"

"Mimi..." And he ended up brushing her hair, as if hypnotized.

She giggled and looked straight back at him, catching him off-guard. "You're kidding me,"

"I shit you not."

"But what are we going to do? Are we going to be like the hipster duos Takeru listens to?" she said, laughing. She inched closer to him, liking the light pats on her head..

"Well, I thought of you being the main vocalist while I'm the one who plays the instrument."

"So we're an acoustic duo."

"Something like that."

"What do we call ourselves?"

"I don't know. I don't really care right now," he replied nonchalantly while still stroking her hair. "I just want to know if you're in this. So… yes or no?"

"What about Mimi and the Wolf?"

I guess that answers my question. "That's really sexist of you."

"Mimi and Blondie."

"…"

"Mimi and the Lonely Hearts Club."

"When you say Lonely Hearts Club, you're only actually referring to me."

"It sounds nice.. You are lonely, after all."

"Foul."

"What about Mimi and the Moon?"

"Why does it always have to have your name on it?"

"Because my name makes it special and fun,"

"And Yamato doesn't?"

"Yamato is such a serious name. A name for buzzkills. Mimi and Yamato? Come on. The latter kills it."

"What does that even mean?!" he exclaimed, his hand also stopping from stroking her hair.

"That the name Yamato is too serious of a name, Yamato-kun!" she answered, looking back up at him. Only then did she realize how intimate they actually were, but the first thing that came into her mind wasn't about how wrong it was – rather how weird it was that it felt natural. It felt effortless. It felt right. And Yamato looked extra handsome from her angle.

He was paralyzed as well, unable to tear his eyes from hers. He was looking down at Mimi, completely coddled beneath him. Her hair – her hair was everywhere again - all flared at him. Completely blanked, he lifted his finger and traced her face, from the bone of her brows, to her cheeks, down to her chin. His fingers ached to brush them against her lips, but only until she pulled him by the collar to press hers against his.

It was as if tongues knew how to yearn for each other, and unite with passion. Fucking hormones.

But neither thought about it, and he kissed her back, completely forgetting that she belonged to someone else until she mentions her boyfriend's name; said something about how she never felt this way with him. But even so, it didn't stop him from taking the opportunity to end his craving. It never did.

She pulled away, her face looking completely lost and confused. Confused, but guiltless. "Ahh. I'm sorry, Yamato-kun."

Without a word or apology, Yamato went out of the room, out of her house, with his guitar on his back. His heart was aching. Though it wasn't because she is confused; it's because he is. He thought that maybe kissing Mimi would finally shake off the permeating sexual tension between them, actually thinking that doing it once would end the rush of his nerves –but he's now more than ever convinced that it's no longer just his teenage hormones taking over. What made him feel worse was that it felt good and right.

Guilty and confused, he pulled out his phone and called someone to talk to. "Takeru. Where are you right now?"