Miyako Kitagawa (E1 to B2): Good to You
((OOC: PC Control approved by Rianne. I didn't get approval for the other character in the flashback, though, 'cause she's dead & for the sake of time, so I'm hoping that there aren't any issues with that, yarrrr... Oh, and forgot to add if it wasn't obvious - this post happens before the last Kazuhiro post takes place. XD))
As she watched him drift off to sleep, Miyako let the silence spread throughout the room the same way she'd felt falling asleep in his arms: content, loving, and, although incredibly fragile, absolutely comfortable. She wanted it to stay that way forever, for the lights to just turn black and that would be that - they'd be alone in their park again, but she knew that no one would let her have that kind of peace that easily.
Miyako would have to fight for it, and fight for it she would, with him by her side. His gun, his shield; she would play her role to the best of her ability with all the strength she had left and more. Her resiliency had gotten her this far. And now, with him so close, it was bound to get them both even further.
When Kazuhiro had told her that he wanted either her or Kenji to win, that he would be happiest if it were one of them pulling the trigger on him to finish him off, her shock hit her in waves. There was no way she could do something like that, let alone stand back and watch him die for that scenario to possibly take place. The thought of losing him that way - in any way, for that matter - horrified her more than anything that might happen to her in the waning hours they had left.
To get to him, they'd all have to get through her, as dead as she already seemed. They, meaning the eight people standing between Kaz and her and first and second place. The game runners had equipped her with the Taurus 608 for a reason, she figured, and that reason was sleeping next to her, his chest rising slightly every time he breathed in. Quiet moments like these, with her watching over him, were exactly what she needed to protect.
She held his notebook close to her chest, pressing it up against her pounding heart. Whatever was written within those pages was something so heavily important that he couldn't say out loud. It was amusing to think of him as being too shy to say what he had to say, especially now when their hour glasses were running close to empty.
Maybe, inside the book was some special secret that he was hiding, one that would turn his face bright red if he were to admit it. She could picture him stuttering, all unsure of himself when he shouldn't've been. Miyako, as guarded as she was, was beginning to grow tired of keeping secrets. It wasn't like she had anything to lose when it came to herself. All she had left in this game was him. He was what kept her pushing forward, passed all of the pain, both physical and mental.
All throughout her young life - sixteen years and nothing more, she had had days, weeks, months where she literally just wanted to give up on everything. Whenever she toyed with those haunting thoughts of surrendering, she made sure to think of him to make all of the pressure stop. Here, it wasn't any different, so thinking of him as her only reason to go on wasn't new for her in the slightest. It might have been depressing to have to rely on someone so much, but...it never was for her.
She knew Kiku Mori as one of Kazuhiro's friends at his school and someone that was showing up more and more frequently whenever they hung out. Miyako didn't like her the moment she met her. Not because she was mean or anything. It was more-so that she was smiling too much the day Kaz introduced them to one another. No one could be that happy. The girl had such an effortless, carefree way of going about everything that she made Miyako's skin crawl.
When Kazuhiro texted her saying that he had something important to tell her in person, she hadn't expected Kiku to be there when she showed up at the park. She wouldn't admit it because it would have made her look like a little kid, but she had ran all the way from her house to get there, full of so much excitement that she thought her heart might explode.
Maybe, Miyako thought, Kaz had brought Kiku there for some moral support. Last year, during her second year of junior high (she was fourteen and in the beginning of her third year now), some worthless guy had approached her looking for a date and had brought a bunch of his friends with him when he asked. It was odd that Kazuhiro would have that Kiku girl to back him up instead of one of his guy friends like Eiji, but it wasn't so weird that it rang alarms in her head.
Miyako might have been keeping a cool face as she stood before the two of them, but, on the inside, she was going mad. She exhaled slowly. Having gone silent after her arrival, no one had spoken for a long time other than to awkwardly say hi. To say the least, the situation was extremely nerve-wracking. She hadn't been this nervous since - okay, actually, everyday with her sister made her nervous, so, ignoring Ayane, she hadn't been this nervous since her last flower arrangement showcase.
She had won the competition with flying colors - best overall, even better than the highschool girls that had participated - for her beautiful Lenten roses. She hoped that she'd have the same result here with whatever Kazuhiro had to say.
"Hey, Miyako," he started. "You got here pretty fast."
"Well, your text sounded urgent." Miyako replied. "Although, I'm curious as to why Kiku is here. In fact, I'm more surprised than curious."
"Is that pleasantly surprised or...?" Kazuhiro asked, trailing off slightly so she could fill in the blank.
"Pleasantly, yes," she nodded to reassure them both. "I hold no ill will towards you. You have nothing to worry about," she said directly to the other girl.
"That's good." Kiku said, looking relieved. It went without saying that there was a smile on her face, albeit one tinged with a touch of worry. Miyako was good at picking up details like that. "Um, you know why Kaz told you to come here, right? We thought it would be good to tell you face to face, since we're going to be hanging out a lot and all. We don't want it to be awkward."
"That makes sense. You can see my honest reaction better this way." Miyako agreed. It was hard to hug someone and feel their heart beat with yours through a text message, after all. "But, no, I can only guess what he's going to say."
"I don't really know how to say it." Kazuhiro scratched the back of his neck, glancing off to the side. If they had been alone, Miyako might have laughed at him for how childish he looked.
Why do you look as nervous as I feel? You know I'm going to say yes.
"You don't have to know how to say it. Just start talking to me like you know you do." She smirked. "Ever head of fake it until you make it?"
"Alright...me and Kiku, we're together now." He said.
Miyako drew in a breath. "You're what now? What do you mean?" Together could mean anything.
"We're going out." Kiku grabbed his hand, as if their words weren't enough to slap Miyako with. They had to rub it in her face, too. Complete clarification.
"B-but - wow, the two of you, you're - Kaz and you - ah, um..."
What she wanted to say was that they didn't make any sense together. Kiku was the kind of girl that got dirt smeared on her shirt and didn't bother to clean it off. She ran after Kaz in her skirt at paces far too quick for its length. She laughed at all of Kazuhiro's jokes without volume control, showing all of her teeth instead of giggling softly behind a hand like ladies were supposed to. Kiku acted like getting wet in the rain didn't matter as long as it meant she'd get dry in his arms. She hugged Kazuhiro when she said hello as if personal space wasn't a bother. And, and, her speech patterns were thoroughly immature and undignified.
Kiku Mori wasn't right. She was wrong for him. So why her? Why Kiku Mori?
The truth of the matter tore into her as real as the happy couple in front of her. He liked her because she's everything that you're not.
"I'm happy for you. You're a lucky girl, Mori. A really, really lucky girl." Miyako finished finding the right words to say. She was happy for Kiku, sure, that wasn't a total lie, but she'd be even happier if she was in her place. "Kazuhiro, be good to her. She deserves only the best from you. Congratulations, friend."
Friends. That's all they were. Her vision shook from the jarring realization that, not only were they friends, but that that was all they ever could be.
Even though it was out of character for her, she reached up and patted him on the shoulder. It was the closest that she could get to him.
"Thanks," he said with a small, friendly smile.
Those feelings that she had for him, they weren't the feelings that best friends were supposed to have, so she tucked them far, far away with everything else that she couldn't show to anyone. When Kiku dumped him sometime after Miyako transferred to their junior highschool, Miyako didn't bother hiding how glad she was. She just masked the reasoning for her all of her sixty second long smiles as being part of her comedic attitude.
Miyako glanced over at Kazuhiro, her eyes resting on his sleeping face for a moment. She still hadn't opened his notebook, her fingers absently tracing the characters to his name on the cover.
This business party was another one in a long series of them, meant to help boost the Kitagawa restaurant's status. Men in sharp suits and women in gorgeous dresses lined the halls, using words too big for Miyako's eleven year old mind to wrap her baby-faced head around. Later in life, she would realize that all of their conversations and "friendships" were mere transactions, exchanges for connections worth only as much as their respective businesses (not at all) and nothing deeper than that. She would eventually recognize how fake everything was, but at her age and in that moment, she bought into all of it and missed all of its artificiality.
It had taken her hours to choose the right dress to wear. Not only did she have to impress all of her parents' potential business partners, but she also had to wear something that would make her shine bright in their eyes, too. As the night wore on and her older sister got more and more attention as their golden child, Miyako started regretting her choice in dress equally as much. If she knew that she wouldn't have gotten anything for it, she wouldn't have stayed up until midnight trying to make a decision.
It was like she was following along in Ayane's shadow; seen, not heard. It was disappointing that no one seemed to care about her dress, but she didn't totally mind it. Miyako survived nights like that one with hope. Her hope was that, eventually, everything that she went through - including all of the times her sister punished her to keep her in line - would pay off and her parents would love her as much as they loved Ayane. One day, it would happen. She counted on that happening - it had to happen.
Miyako sat through the dinner, taking polite bites every now and then as she listened to the grown-ups' discussions. While she barely understood them, she reveled in the opportunity to learn how to pattern herself after their same stilted rhythm. Whenever she had to converse with one of her parents' friends, they always commented on how advanced she seemed, and hearing compliments like that made her have to struggle to hide her smile.
After the meal, Miyako's parents went off to talk with the parents of another family, leaving her and her sister to wander. Of course, Ayane left her to go chat with one of her friends, the daughter of a successful toy retailer. To busy herself, Miyako stared up at paintings on the wall of the dining hall, making sure she brought the least amount of attention to herself as possible. Like her mother said, being an attention-seeker was a poor reflection on one's self.
"Hi."
She looked over to her right, in the direction of the small voice. Miyako wasn't sure how long he had been standing next to her, but she recognized him as that talkative Tsukino lady's son. He was about her age, and what stuck out the most about him was that he was grinning shamelessly at her. If her parents didn't seem like they were getting along so well with his, she might have ignored him out right, but, to please them, she said, "hi," right back to the little boy.
"You're Miyako Kitagawa, right? I'm Kazuhiro Tsukino, hello." He casually said. "I really like your dress."
"You do? Really?" Her eyes lit up at the compliment. Maybe, it was a good thing that she had spent so long picking out which dress to wear.
"Mmhm. It's pretty." And the way that he said that made her cheeks turn so pink that she had to look away from him and back at the landscape painting. "Do you like that picture a lot? You've been staring at it for ten minutes straight now."
"Yes," she regained her composure. "The river looks wonderfully serene. What do you think of it?"
"Well, I think that it's missing something."
"Like what?"
"People," Kazuhiro replied. "Where are the people?"
"They're not there." Miyako said. "And, if they were there, they'd ruin it."
"Not if they were the right people."
The conversation took off from there, and her and Kazuhiro, they just clicked. She didn't know another way to explain it. Talking to him had been so easy and free of the pretentiousness that she was so used to - the same kind that she would later spend part of her life running away from. The trouble with that was that doing something like that was close to impossible when she had spent so long trying to fit herself into such a
(always stay straight-faced, never reveal your emotions, just look away, keep looking away - don't look at ANYONE like THAT)
priceless, respectable image. Whomever that dull-eyed girl was, she seemed so far away in comparison. Miyako could see her, her without any traces of a smile on the other side of the chasm within herself. That girl had fooled herself into thinking she was a grown-up, something special, when she wasn't. And the sad part of it was that she was always vaguely aware of that. She'd just swallow back all of her tears and sinking feelings - she forced herself to sacrifice her own happiness in the process of gaining her parents' approval.
She told them that she was okay with watching all of the other kids on the playground playing in the sandbox. They played while she watched, rolling her eyes whenever one of them ran over to her wanting so badly to be the first ones to put a smile on her face. Miyako created the divide, the distance between her and everyone else. She wasn't one of them, and she made sure of that. She was better, because Kitagawa girls had to be better than grass stains and jeans ripped at the knees.
Placing herself so far above them, she had to wall herself from all of the people around her. Friends were temporary objects. Steel thoughts like those were why she was able to let go of Tsukiko so easily when the girl had truly been her only best friend in junior high. For a while, Miyako had even duped herself into thinking that living that way was worth it. The further away she was from being one of them (idiotic, naive, knowing NOTHING at all), the closer it was supposed to bring her to her parents' arms. Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to.
She thought she could be happy if she pretended to be one of those smiley girls that she'd detested so much. Miyako camouflaged herself among a big laughing group of them, hiding herself away as an annoying loudmouth. As a nice girl, she played her part well. No one seemed to suspect a thing, unless they were digging beneath the surface, and they rarely ever did because she only allowed herself to act as deep as a two inch cup of water.
The more she thought about it, the more her eyes stung, having gone dry from crying so much earlier. No matter who she was or who she became...she couldn't run from herself. Where was she supposed to go when not even her own head was a safe place?
Kazuhiro turned in his sleep, mumbling something.
Miyako sighed to herself, finally deciding to open up the notebook. She flipped through some random pages before she got to the one with his letter. Barely through the first paragraph, she nearly cried again. So much for having no more tears to spend. He was right. In a way, it was a good thing that they hadn't gone out. She would have hated it if they'd broken up. It would have ruined everything. Honestly, if she thought about it, she probably wouldn't have been able to survive through losing him like that.
He tried to explain to her that he wasn't any better than she was, but he couldn't be more wrong. There were too many differences between them for him to say that. No point in arguing, though. She didn't want to fight with him ever again. There wasn't time for that when there was barely enough time for anything else. Miyako moved herself closer to Kazuhiro, setting the notebook aside with trembling hands as soon as she was done reading it.
"Me, too, Kaz." She whispered in response to the last line in his letter. It didn't matter that he couldn't hear her. He didn't have to. Her voice got softer as she went on. "I've always seen you that way, probably since the day we first met. My closest friend, I..."
Miyako leaned down over him, her face so close to his that they were nearly touching noses. She forget how to breathe for a second there, her heart heavily - painfully - hammering in her chest. Never having been this close, she marveled at every detail of his face in quiet agony, from the easy arch to his eyebrow to the count of all of his eyelashes. His eyes beneath closed lids, she had to imagine peering into their dark brown color and their normally serious expression.
She placed her hand on his cheek, waiting to see if he woke up before sliding it upwards and into his soft hair. There was something relaxing about being able to do all of this so discreetly. It was soothing. He was sleeping soundly enough that he'd probably never know, and that calmed her even more, her hand moving back down in a gentle caress. What got her attention the most were his lips, a warm invitation for her to move in if she dared.
There was a stab of wanting that hit her square in the heart, that made her shudder from the shock of it. Confidence; time for a display of it. She mustered up some more and tilted her head a little for smoother access. Slowly, slowly, she brushed her lips across his, unsure of herself. It felt like she had been waiting forever to do this, she needed it that much. The intimacy, the contact. Something spurred her onward from there, her mouth softly pressing into his. Her fears disappeared as she gave him a third kiss, this one she held with him longer than the others so she could commit it to heartwarming memory.
The fourth kiss, she placed on his throat, above the collar that didn't belong there to tell him that whatever happened next, things would turn out okay. She'd watch out for him, she promised. Then, the fifth was directly for his lips again. Barely able to contain herself, this kiss was more forceful than the others - more passionate if he'd been awake to reciprocate - as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip.
She had to stop herself there while she still had some control over herself. Besides, it would have been awkward if he suddenly woke up in the middle of everything. How would she explain it? She slipped and her tongue just happened to get in his mouth. He would have been so surprised, not that she would blame him for it. Miyako laughed to herself, butterflies tickling her stomach as she realized that there was a part of her that might not have minded if he did catch her.
Minutes later, he woke up without her having to shake him, seemingly oblivious to what had just went on. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Seeing him do that made her wish for a future where he was the husband waking up after working all night on business proposals for the restaurant they managed together and she was the doting wife, ready with his morning cup of ginseng tea.
"I read your letter," Miyako said. Instead, in the present, all she was was his best friend, ready with a smile and a giggle. He really did have no idea.
"What's so funny? ...You didn't like it?"
"Of course, I liked it, you idiot." She grinned to show him she was joking about the idiot line. "Just because I'm not crying like a certain person here," she coughed, "doesn't mean I didn't like it. Jeez, sometimes you think too much."
"If you weren't crying, then why is your face so red?" Kazuhiro stared at her quizzically.
"From laughing at you. See, when you sleep, you snore like an elephant," she lied. "I'm glad we never went out. I don't think I'd ever be able to stand how loud you are. You know what? You're not an elephant. You're a freakin' tank engine - underwater. You so should've gotten that checked out." Miyako stuck her tongue out at him. "And crying? Don't get me started on how lame that is."
"Okay, I'm glad you liked it..." He ignored most of what she was saying, for good reason.
"Yeah, I really did." She looked into his eyes. "You have no idea how much I did. You know, you've been my closest friend all along, too. I don't know if I told you that already or not, but I mean it."
"Thanks. I mean everything that I wrote in there. Sorry, I didn't just say it out loud," Kazuhiro said. "I thought it would be better if you just read it."
"Don't worry about it. It's cool." Miyako replied. "Kaz, I think the ninth report's coming up soon."
"I'll write everything down. You don't have to move."
"Thank you."
If that saying about things too easily gained being too easily lost was true, then that put their friendship at risk, something natural and so right and one of the only things in her life she didn't have to pretend to be somebody else for. She could lose that as easily as she had gotten it, and their friendship was all she had left now. Miyako held her arms out to him.
"What are you doing?" Kaz asked.
"A hug. I want one, dummy. Here I was, thinking you were such a smart boy." She laughed.
"Well, I don't want to hurt you." He glanced down at her wound.
She shook her head. "You can't. It's impossible. Nothing you can do or say can hurt me now."
Without saying more, he wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her close, careful not to agitate her injury. She could feel his heart beating as calmed and worried as hers.
The hugs, the joking, the laughter...
(Kazuhiro, my closest friend, I...)
she'd miss them the most when she was gone.
(...have always, always...)
Miyako hugged him back tighter. She swore to herself she wouldn't let him go.
"Did you say something, Miyako?"
"...Nope. Nothing. Must've been your imagination."
(...loved you.)
As she watched him drift off to sleep, Miyako let the silence spread throughout the room the same way she'd felt falling asleep in his arms: content, loving, and, although incredibly fragile, absolutely comfortable. She wanted it to stay that way forever, for the lights to just turn black and that would be that - they'd be alone in their park again, but she knew that no one would let her have that kind of peace that easily.
Miyako would have to fight for it, and fight for it she would, with him by her side. His gun, his shield; she would play her role to the best of her ability with all the strength she had left and more. Her resiliency had gotten her this far. And now, with him so close, it was bound to get them both even further.
When Kazuhiro had told her that he wanted either her or Kenji to win, that he would be happiest if it were one of them pulling the trigger on him to finish him off, her shock hit her in waves. There was no way she could do something like that, let alone stand back and watch him die for that scenario to possibly take place. The thought of losing him that way - in any way, for that matter - horrified her more than anything that might happen to her in the waning hours they had left.
To get to him, they'd all have to get through her, as dead as she already seemed. They, meaning the eight people standing between Kaz and her and first and second place. The game runners had equipped her with the Taurus 608 for a reason, she figured, and that reason was sleeping next to her, his chest rising slightly every time he breathed in. Quiet moments like these, with her watching over him, were exactly what she needed to protect.
She held his notebook close to her chest, pressing it up against her pounding heart. Whatever was written within those pages was something so heavily important that he couldn't say out loud. It was amusing to think of him as being too shy to say what he had to say, especially now when their hour glasses were running close to empty.
Maybe, inside the book was some special secret that he was hiding, one that would turn his face bright red if he were to admit it. She could picture him stuttering, all unsure of himself when he shouldn't've been. Miyako, as guarded as she was, was beginning to grow tired of keeping secrets. It wasn't like she had anything to lose when it came to herself. All she had left in this game was him. He was what kept her pushing forward, passed all of the pain, both physical and mental.
All throughout her young life - sixteen years and nothing more, she had had days, weeks, months where she literally just wanted to give up on everything. Whenever she toyed with those haunting thoughts of surrendering, she made sure to think of him to make all of the pressure stop. Here, it wasn't any different, so thinking of him as her only reason to go on wasn't new for her in the slightest. It might have been depressing to have to rely on someone so much, but...it never was for her.
She knew Kiku Mori as one of Kazuhiro's friends at his school and someone that was showing up more and more frequently whenever they hung out. Miyako didn't like her the moment she met her. Not because she was mean or anything. It was more-so that she was smiling too much the day Kaz introduced them to one another. No one could be that happy. The girl had such an effortless, carefree way of going about everything that she made Miyako's skin crawl.
When Kazuhiro texted her saying that he had something important to tell her in person, she hadn't expected Kiku to be there when she showed up at the park. She wouldn't admit it because it would have made her look like a little kid, but she had ran all the way from her house to get there, full of so much excitement that she thought her heart might explode.
Maybe, Miyako thought, Kaz had brought Kiku there for some moral support. Last year, during her second year of junior high (she was fourteen and in the beginning of her third year now), some worthless guy had approached her looking for a date and had brought a bunch of his friends with him when he asked. It was odd that Kazuhiro would have that Kiku girl to back him up instead of one of his guy friends like Eiji, but it wasn't so weird that it rang alarms in her head.
Miyako might have been keeping a cool face as she stood before the two of them, but, on the inside, she was going mad. She exhaled slowly. Having gone silent after her arrival, no one had spoken for a long time other than to awkwardly say hi. To say the least, the situation was extremely nerve-wracking. She hadn't been this nervous since - okay, actually, everyday with her sister made her nervous, so, ignoring Ayane, she hadn't been this nervous since her last flower arrangement showcase.
She had won the competition with flying colors - best overall, even better than the highschool girls that had participated - for her beautiful Lenten roses. She hoped that she'd have the same result here with whatever Kazuhiro had to say.
"Hey, Miyako," he started. "You got here pretty fast."
"Well, your text sounded urgent." Miyako replied. "Although, I'm curious as to why Kiku is here. In fact, I'm more surprised than curious."
"Is that pleasantly surprised or...?" Kazuhiro asked, trailing off slightly so she could fill in the blank.
"Pleasantly, yes," she nodded to reassure them both. "I hold no ill will towards you. You have nothing to worry about," she said directly to the other girl.
"That's good." Kiku said, looking relieved. It went without saying that there was a smile on her face, albeit one tinged with a touch of worry. Miyako was good at picking up details like that. "Um, you know why Kaz told you to come here, right? We thought it would be good to tell you face to face, since we're going to be hanging out a lot and all. We don't want it to be awkward."
"That makes sense. You can see my honest reaction better this way." Miyako agreed. It was hard to hug someone and feel their heart beat with yours through a text message, after all. "But, no, I can only guess what he's going to say."
"I don't really know how to say it." Kazuhiro scratched the back of his neck, glancing off to the side. If they had been alone, Miyako might have laughed at him for how childish he looked.
Why do you look as nervous as I feel? You know I'm going to say yes.
"You don't have to know how to say it. Just start talking to me like you know you do." She smirked. "Ever head of fake it until you make it?"
"Alright...me and Kiku, we're together now." He said.
Miyako drew in a breath. "You're what now? What do you mean?" Together could mean anything.
"We're going out." Kiku grabbed his hand, as if their words weren't enough to slap Miyako with. They had to rub it in her face, too. Complete clarification.
"B-but - wow, the two of you, you're - Kaz and you - ah, um..."
What she wanted to say was that they didn't make any sense together. Kiku was the kind of girl that got dirt smeared on her shirt and didn't bother to clean it off. She ran after Kaz in her skirt at paces far too quick for its length. She laughed at all of Kazuhiro's jokes without volume control, showing all of her teeth instead of giggling softly behind a hand like ladies were supposed to. Kiku acted like getting wet in the rain didn't matter as long as it meant she'd get dry in his arms. She hugged Kazuhiro when she said hello as if personal space wasn't a bother. And, and, her speech patterns were thoroughly immature and undignified.
Kiku Mori wasn't right. She was wrong for him. So why her? Why Kiku Mori?
The truth of the matter tore into her as real as the happy couple in front of her. He liked her because she's everything that you're not.
"I'm happy for you. You're a lucky girl, Mori. A really, really lucky girl." Miyako finished finding the right words to say. She was happy for Kiku, sure, that wasn't a total lie, but she'd be even happier if she was in her place. "Kazuhiro, be good to her. She deserves only the best from you. Congratulations, friend."
Friends. That's all they were. Her vision shook from the jarring realization that, not only were they friends, but that that was all they ever could be.
Even though it was out of character for her, she reached up and patted him on the shoulder. It was the closest that she could get to him.
"Thanks," he said with a small, friendly smile.
Those feelings that she had for him, they weren't the feelings that best friends were supposed to have, so she tucked them far, far away with everything else that she couldn't show to anyone. When Kiku dumped him sometime after Miyako transferred to their junior highschool, Miyako didn't bother hiding how glad she was. She just masked the reasoning for her all of her sixty second long smiles as being part of her comedic attitude.
Miyako glanced over at Kazuhiro, her eyes resting on his sleeping face for a moment. She still hadn't opened his notebook, her fingers absently tracing the characters to his name on the cover.
This business party was another one in a long series of them, meant to help boost the Kitagawa restaurant's status. Men in sharp suits and women in gorgeous dresses lined the halls, using words too big for Miyako's eleven year old mind to wrap her baby-faced head around. Later in life, she would realize that all of their conversations and "friendships" were mere transactions, exchanges for connections worth only as much as their respective businesses (not at all) and nothing deeper than that. She would eventually recognize how fake everything was, but at her age and in that moment, she bought into all of it and missed all of its artificiality.
It had taken her hours to choose the right dress to wear. Not only did she have to impress all of her parents' potential business partners, but she also had to wear something that would make her shine bright in their eyes, too. As the night wore on and her older sister got more and more attention as their golden child, Miyako started regretting her choice in dress equally as much. If she knew that she wouldn't have gotten anything for it, she wouldn't have stayed up until midnight trying to make a decision.
It was like she was following along in Ayane's shadow; seen, not heard. It was disappointing that no one seemed to care about her dress, but she didn't totally mind it. Miyako survived nights like that one with hope. Her hope was that, eventually, everything that she went through - including all of the times her sister punished her to keep her in line - would pay off and her parents would love her as much as they loved Ayane. One day, it would happen. She counted on that happening - it had to happen.
Miyako sat through the dinner, taking polite bites every now and then as she listened to the grown-ups' discussions. While she barely understood them, she reveled in the opportunity to learn how to pattern herself after their same stilted rhythm. Whenever she had to converse with one of her parents' friends, they always commented on how advanced she seemed, and hearing compliments like that made her have to struggle to hide her smile.
After the meal, Miyako's parents went off to talk with the parents of another family, leaving her and her sister to wander. Of course, Ayane left her to go chat with one of her friends, the daughter of a successful toy retailer. To busy herself, Miyako stared up at paintings on the wall of the dining hall, making sure she brought the least amount of attention to herself as possible. Like her mother said, being an attention-seeker was a poor reflection on one's self.
"Hi."
She looked over to her right, in the direction of the small voice. Miyako wasn't sure how long he had been standing next to her, but she recognized him as that talkative Tsukino lady's son. He was about her age, and what stuck out the most about him was that he was grinning shamelessly at her. If her parents didn't seem like they were getting along so well with his, she might have ignored him out right, but, to please them, she said, "hi," right back to the little boy.
"You're Miyako Kitagawa, right? I'm Kazuhiro Tsukino, hello." He casually said. "I really like your dress."
"You do? Really?" Her eyes lit up at the compliment. Maybe, it was a good thing that she had spent so long picking out which dress to wear.
"Mmhm. It's pretty." And the way that he said that made her cheeks turn so pink that she had to look away from him and back at the landscape painting. "Do you like that picture a lot? You've been staring at it for ten minutes straight now."
"Yes," she regained her composure. "The river looks wonderfully serene. What do you think of it?"
"Well, I think that it's missing something."
"Like what?"
"People," Kazuhiro replied. "Where are the people?"
"They're not there." Miyako said. "And, if they were there, they'd ruin it."
"Not if they were the right people."
The conversation took off from there, and her and Kazuhiro, they just clicked. She didn't know another way to explain it. Talking to him had been so easy and free of the pretentiousness that she was so used to - the same kind that she would later spend part of her life running away from. The trouble with that was that doing something like that was close to impossible when she had spent so long trying to fit herself into such a
(always stay straight-faced, never reveal your emotions, just look away, keep looking away - don't look at ANYONE like THAT)
priceless, respectable image. Whomever that dull-eyed girl was, she seemed so far away in comparison. Miyako could see her, her without any traces of a smile on the other side of the chasm within herself. That girl had fooled herself into thinking she was a grown-up, something special, when she wasn't. And the sad part of it was that she was always vaguely aware of that. She'd just swallow back all of her tears and sinking feelings - she forced herself to sacrifice her own happiness in the process of gaining her parents' approval.
She told them that she was okay with watching all of the other kids on the playground playing in the sandbox. They played while she watched, rolling her eyes whenever one of them ran over to her wanting so badly to be the first ones to put a smile on her face. Miyako created the divide, the distance between her and everyone else. She wasn't one of them, and she made sure of that. She was better, because Kitagawa girls had to be better than grass stains and jeans ripped at the knees.
Placing herself so far above them, she had to wall herself from all of the people around her. Friends were temporary objects. Steel thoughts like those were why she was able to let go of Tsukiko so easily when the girl had truly been her only best friend in junior high. For a while, Miyako had even duped herself into thinking that living that way was worth it. The further away she was from being one of them (idiotic, naive, knowing NOTHING at all), the closer it was supposed to bring her to her parents' arms. Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to.
She thought she could be happy if she pretended to be one of those smiley girls that she'd detested so much. Miyako camouflaged herself among a big laughing group of them, hiding herself away as an annoying loudmouth. As a nice girl, she played her part well. No one seemed to suspect a thing, unless they were digging beneath the surface, and they rarely ever did because she only allowed herself to act as deep as a two inch cup of water.
The more she thought about it, the more her eyes stung, having gone dry from crying so much earlier. No matter who she was or who she became...she couldn't run from herself. Where was she supposed to go when not even her own head was a safe place?
Kazuhiro turned in his sleep, mumbling something.
Miyako sighed to herself, finally deciding to open up the notebook. She flipped through some random pages before she got to the one with his letter. Barely through the first paragraph, she nearly cried again. So much for having no more tears to spend. He was right. In a way, it was a good thing that they hadn't gone out. She would have hated it if they'd broken up. It would have ruined everything. Honestly, if she thought about it, she probably wouldn't have been able to survive through losing him like that.
He tried to explain to her that he wasn't any better than she was, but he couldn't be more wrong. There were too many differences between them for him to say that. No point in arguing, though. She didn't want to fight with him ever again. There wasn't time for that when there was barely enough time for anything else. Miyako moved herself closer to Kazuhiro, setting the notebook aside with trembling hands as soon as she was done reading it.
"Me, too, Kaz." She whispered in response to the last line in his letter. It didn't matter that he couldn't hear her. He didn't have to. Her voice got softer as she went on. "I've always seen you that way, probably since the day we first met. My closest friend, I..."
Miyako leaned down over him, her face so close to his that they were nearly touching noses. She forget how to breathe for a second there, her heart heavily - painfully - hammering in her chest. Never having been this close, she marveled at every detail of his face in quiet agony, from the easy arch to his eyebrow to the count of all of his eyelashes. His eyes beneath closed lids, she had to imagine peering into their dark brown color and their normally serious expression.
She placed her hand on his cheek, waiting to see if he woke up before sliding it upwards and into his soft hair. There was something relaxing about being able to do all of this so discreetly. It was soothing. He was sleeping soundly enough that he'd probably never know, and that calmed her even more, her hand moving back down in a gentle caress. What got her attention the most were his lips, a warm invitation for her to move in if she dared.
There was a stab of wanting that hit her square in the heart, that made her shudder from the shock of it. Confidence; time for a display of it. She mustered up some more and tilted her head a little for smoother access. Slowly, slowly, she brushed her lips across his, unsure of herself. It felt like she had been waiting forever to do this, she needed it that much. The intimacy, the contact. Something spurred her onward from there, her mouth softly pressing into his. Her fears disappeared as she gave him a third kiss, this one she held with him longer than the others so she could commit it to heartwarming memory.
The fourth kiss, she placed on his throat, above the collar that didn't belong there to tell him that whatever happened next, things would turn out okay. She'd watch out for him, she promised. Then, the fifth was directly for his lips again. Barely able to contain herself, this kiss was more forceful than the others - more passionate if he'd been awake to reciprocate - as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip.
She had to stop herself there while she still had some control over herself. Besides, it would have been awkward if he suddenly woke up in the middle of everything. How would she explain it? She slipped and her tongue just happened to get in his mouth. He would have been so surprised, not that she would blame him for it. Miyako laughed to herself, butterflies tickling her stomach as she realized that there was a part of her that might not have minded if he did catch her.
Minutes later, he woke up without her having to shake him, seemingly oblivious to what had just went on. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Seeing him do that made her wish for a future where he was the husband waking up after working all night on business proposals for the restaurant they managed together and she was the doting wife, ready with his morning cup of ginseng tea.
"I read your letter," Miyako said. Instead, in the present, all she was was his best friend, ready with a smile and a giggle. He really did have no idea.
"What's so funny? ...You didn't like it?"
"Of course, I liked it, you idiot." She grinned to show him she was joking about the idiot line. "Just because I'm not crying like a certain person here," she coughed, "doesn't mean I didn't like it. Jeez, sometimes you think too much."
"If you weren't crying, then why is your face so red?" Kazuhiro stared at her quizzically.
"From laughing at you. See, when you sleep, you snore like an elephant," she lied. "I'm glad we never went out. I don't think I'd ever be able to stand how loud you are. You know what? You're not an elephant. You're a freakin' tank engine - underwater. You so should've gotten that checked out." Miyako stuck her tongue out at him. "And crying? Don't get me started on how lame that is."
"Okay, I'm glad you liked it..." He ignored most of what she was saying, for good reason.
"Yeah, I really did." She looked into his eyes. "You have no idea how much I did. You know, you've been my closest friend all along, too. I don't know if I told you that already or not, but I mean it."
"Thanks. I mean everything that I wrote in there. Sorry, I didn't just say it out loud," Kazuhiro said. "I thought it would be better if you just read it."
"Don't worry about it. It's cool." Miyako replied. "Kaz, I think the ninth report's coming up soon."
"I'll write everything down. You don't have to move."
"Thank you."
If that saying about things too easily gained being too easily lost was true, then that put their friendship at risk, something natural and so right and one of the only things in her life she didn't have to pretend to be somebody else for. She could lose that as easily as she had gotten it, and their friendship was all she had left now. Miyako held her arms out to him.
"What are you doing?" Kaz asked.
"A hug. I want one, dummy. Here I was, thinking you were such a smart boy." She laughed.
"Well, I don't want to hurt you." He glanced down at her wound.
She shook her head. "You can't. It's impossible. Nothing you can do or say can hurt me now."
Without saying more, he wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her close, careful not to agitate her injury. She could feel his heart beating as calmed and worried as hers.
The hugs, the joking, the laughter...
(Kazuhiro, my closest friend, I...)
she'd miss them the most when she was gone.
(...have always, always...)
Miyako hugged him back tighter. She swore to herself she wouldn't let him go.
"Did you say something, Miyako?"
"...Nope. Nothing. Must've been your imagination."
(...loved you.)