[fic] ShizNat Drabble Cycle #51-96, "97"-"98"
This is not a true update. This is an apology, of sorts. Please read the notes preceding the drabbles.
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
-Mad World, Tears for Fears
Foreword
First and foremost, I must apologize. I have been saying for a long time that I intended to continue the drabbles, specifically to finish this very arc posted here. This arc is not finished nor do I think it will be finished. For that reason I apologize and also ask that these are not reproduced elsewhere. Because this arc isn't finished, I'm keeping them to my journal; feel free to tell others if they're interested, but these will not appear on FF.net, nor will I plug them over at the ShizNat comms.
So why am I posting these? Because they were written and I had been intending to finish it all summer. Because I thought you should get something to read after all this time. It just didn't happen and for the most part, I've moved on. My interest in the Drabble Cycle as a project waned and died once the story stopped being thematic one-shot deals. The structure itself was too restrictive and the story wanted to be a story. I couldn't get past it and so my interest has died over time.
The drabbles presented here are, but for the exception of one drabble, the completed drabbles. I apologize if there are repeats; I compiled them very quickly and my original document has a lot of "original" and "trial" drabbles. Also, keep in mind that I haven't shuffled the order of the drabbles; they appear in the order they appear in the original file. It was my intention to shuffle them when I had written all of them, but it became glaringly obvious as I wrote them that trying to place the drabbles in any type of chronological order was going to be painful. It gave me headaches just thinking about it; it has not been done here.
A lot of snippets and fragments are missing. Some of these were no more than "idea markers" or "starters" consisting only of one line to remind myself of things I wanted to write. This becomes really obvious at Drabble #96. Drabbles 51-96 can be read without any problems (though I had always intended to throw more things in there). After #96, things fell apart and many of those drabbles recounting the last night of Shizuru and Natsuki's stay are no more than one liners or simply never written. The incomplete fragment after 96 is included to give a sense of closure to that mini-arc. Because a lot of drabbles were supposed to follow those, "97" and "98" are numbered with quotations. If I had completed, they'd probably be rightfully numbered in the 100s.
The whole arc was really leading up to where "98" leaves off. It was suppose to tie-up a lot of loose ends and resolve a lot of the tensions that appear in this arc and open the door for a better and more open friendship between Shizuru and Natsuki. Um, I did have some crazy plans. Finishing high school for Natsuki, letting her explore options for University, University adventures for Shizuru...
I just got caught up and moored down, I suppose.
Even so, it was my own failing. Despite this, the quality--I would like to think these display better quality--and even the fact that I managed this much must be attributed in large part to the Beta Group. aster_dw, blahzer, elwhyenen, fingersmith7, glazzal, heart1e55m00mba, ifuritka, mercurianangel, and nemesisjk8, thank you so much for your help and your time. I greatly valued your opinions, your feedback, your criticisms, and, most of all, your encouragement. I feel like I owe you guys the biggest apology and I hope you can forgive me for not coming through.
Thank you also to everyone who has stuck with the Drabbles, continues to read the Drabbles, has left a comment or has quietly enjoyed them. I'm sorry this couldn't end on a better note. I thought about leaving it at Drabble #50, which ended well in and of itself. But... somehow it didn't feel fair to the readers who have stuck by me. This isn't by any means fair either, but I hope you don't resent me too much for it.
-gw
Previous installments: 1-4, 5-8, 9-12, 13-22, 23-26, 27-31, 32-35, 36-39, 40-45, 41-50
51
"Smile!" Mikoto cried for the hundredth millionth time and Natsuki seriously considered ripping the camera out of her hands (could she even take more pictures?). Even Mai looked like she was teetering on the edge of her patience. But Natsuki didn't want to risk breaking the camera-and, damn it, Mikoto was happy.
"Here!" Mikoto suddenly exclaimed and shoved the camera into her hands. "Take my picture!"
Then she grabbed Mai's arm, snuggled close, and grinned widely. Mai’s smile was tired but affectionate and later Natsuki would regret not clearing any space on the memory card before taking their picture.
52
Under normal circumstances, Natsuki probably wouldn’t have used the camera much once its novelty had worn off, but as it happened, Shizuru suggested that they take a trip together during their summer breaks before Natsuki had to commit to club activities. Natsuki didn’t quite say yes, but she didn’t quite say no, so that when Shizuru brought out a map one day and traced out a small circular route that would take them perhaps a week or less to cover, Natsuki still wasn’t sure how to answer. Later, she could only remember Shizuru softly suggesting, “You should bring the camera.”
53
Shizuru had thought long and hard about proposing the summer trip, anticipating and dreading Natsuki’s response. Yet when the moment came, she wasn’t sure what scared her more: the rejection she thought she’d receive or Natsuki’s unresponsive silence. So she tried to force Natsuki’s decision by actually planning the trip-knowing what she was doing, hating herself a little bit for doing it-and met only with that silence beating upon her, those eyes that gazed at her so intensely (and unsurely), those lips that thinned in consternation. So she filled that silence with words, retreating behind their airy familiarity.
54
The more Natsuki thought about the potential trip, the more confused she became. Wanting to go. Not wanting to go. Wanting to believe they would just be two friends spending time together. Not believing it could be that simple.
Or maybe it really was.
She didn’t know. So she stopped thinking about it. She threw herself into studying (cramming) for her final exams and concentrated all her stress into passing them. She went to bed exhausted with random facts and formulae or didn’t sleep at all. Then the exams were over and Natsuki realized she just wanted to get away.
55
It was so quiet and Natsuki was so still, that Shizuru thought that she was asleep. She lay sprawled on the couch, on her stomach, having just about collapsed a few minutes earlier when she’d entered stumbling and mumbling after her exams. One pale arm dangled over the side, knuckles brushing the floor. Her head was turned away, hair fanned across her shoulders, which rose and fell with her every breath.
The sight made Shizuru smile. And yearn. Then reproach herself.
She felt drained.
Then Natsuki suddenly shifted, lifted her head, turned to her, and asked, “When are we leaving?”
56
Let’s take a train, Shizuru suggested.
I can drive, Natsuki assured her.
Shizuru almost objected but didn’t, knowing it was a bad idea for every practical reason and worse for every personal misgiving. But her hesitation only made Natsuki insistent.
“I’ll drive.”
They packed little, strapping their bags to the bike, and set off on a Sunday. Within a few hours Natsuki began to regret her decision, feeling muscles stiffen and the hum of the engine like the pulse of her own body-and always Shizuru’s presence at her back, leaning into her, with her, warm, close… yet far away.
57
They took long breaks-hours-to stretch their legs and enjoy the breeze coming off the coast. By some silent agreement they recognized that following their plans would be near impossible and so disregarded any sense of urgency. They let time move as slowly as the clouds drifting across the sky, as the gulls lazily turning circles in the air. In a small, crowded restaurant where they had to constantly shift to allow people to pass, they ate lunch, leaning close across the table to keep their conversation private. They were strangers here and the realization made them smile freer.
58
They hadn’t made hotel reservations-which was just as well-but when Shizuru asked for two rooms at their first lodgings, Natsuki objected.
“Wouldn’t it be more practical to share a room?”
“Of course,” Shizuru acceded.
So they shared a room with twin beds and while Natsuki showered, Shizuru did not sit on her bed listening to the sound of water cascading through the thin walls, did not imagine it sluicing down Natsuki’s body, did not think about the hours they had just spent being so close. No, she retreated onto the balcony, trying not to wish on every star.
59
Shizuru could hardly believe it, but there was such a thing as holding onto Natsuki for too long. After the first day of driving for hours-even though they had stopped to rest many times-Shizuru dreaded starting out again. If it bothered Natsuki, she didn’t show it, but Shizuru began to think that sweat, cramped muscles, a numbed ass, and the long hours of silence were not worth being able to cling to Natsuki all day.
And it was lonely. Being so close. Hardly ever sharing a word.
So Shizuru would press closer, to assure herself Natsuki was there.
60
At some point during the second day of driving Natsuki stopped thinking about where she was taking them, about where they were going, about why they were going. The signs had stopped making any sense to her a long time ago and she doubted that Shizuru had any better idea.
It wasn’t like they could just pull out a map while they were cruising down the highway.
At a stop, she came back from the bathroom to find Shizuru doing just that and when Shizuru asked, “Where do you want to go?” Natsuki shrugged and answered, “Does it matter now?”
61
By the second night, Shizuru was actually sore and moving less gracefully than usual. Natsuki, either more accustomed to such abuse or too proud to let it show, fared marginally better but still collapsed gratefully onto the bed after they checked into a small motel.
They lay resting for what felt like a long time, saying nothing.
“Wanna order delivery?” Natsuki mumbled.
“Yes” was the quiet response.
So they ate dinner on their beds, sharing the highlights of the sights during the drive, laughing between bites, exclaiming, relaxing.
The next morning Natsuki decided, “Let’s stay here.”
Shizuru couldn’t agree faster.
62
Shizuru whipped a skirt off the rack and held it against Natsuki, who immediately took a step back.
“Hey-!” she began to protest but saw the look in Shizuru’s eyes. And the pout. And where did that top come from?
“Please, Natsuki?”
“No!”
“Please,” Shizuru asked again, pleading without actually pleading because she knew that if she looked just the right amount of pitiful and woebegone that Natsuki would-
“Fine.”
Natsuki snatched the skirt and the top out of Shizuru’s hands. She disappeared into the changing room, scowling, and emerged, scowling, in top and skirt to a grinning Shizuru.
63
They could spend hours just walking through the streets, looking into shop windows filled with clothes, knickknacks, or pastries, and retreating into the especially inviting ones to escape the summer sun. They browsed shelves, racks, and cases with the wonder of little children, trying on sunglasses and outfits, playing with toys, and marveling at puzzling items, sharing the stifled giggles of co-conspirators.
And sometimes, sometimes, Natsuki would find something that intrigued her and would touch Shizuru’s arm with one hand and point with the other and Shizuru’s heart would stop and then flutter and she had to remember to breathe.
64
They didn’t shop to buy (with exceptions like an additional memory card for Natsuki’s camera), always mindful that they were driving back on a motorcycle. Still, when Shizuru saw the small delicate butterfly pendant, she stopped to admire it, holding it in the palm of her hand so that light caught in the swirls of the design.
Natsuki glanced over, said, “Let me see,” and taking it from her by the chain, held it under Shizuru’s chin. Shizuru blinked under Natsuki’s appraising gaze.
“It suits you. Want it?”
“No, that’s alright.”
But Natsuki’s offer and butterfly touch made Shizuru smile.
65
Natsuki always carried the camera with her, slung over a shoulder or clipped onto her jeans, but usually forgot she was carrying it at all. Over dinner one night, Shizuru asked, “Have you taken any pictures yet?” and Natsuki blushed (resenting herself). So she took out the camera right then and pointed it at Shizuru, who laughed. Scowling, Natsuki snapped her picture and then scowled even more when she saw how well it turned out-but the expression faded the longer she studied the image, the familiar sight of Shizuru laughing, and wondered what it was that made her laugh.
66
Now that Natsuki suspected that Shizuru wanted to see her use the camera, she began to take pictures. It started off as an obligatory duty, but the more she took, the more fascinated Natsuki became. There was something about the still images on the little screen, something that was at once both real and personal and utterly alien and removed. Every sight became interesting-it was like looking at the world for the first time, as if she had been dreaming before, obsessed so much with revenge that everything else had been indistinct.
Natsuki wanted to capture all of it.
67
Shizuru didn’t pack any kimonos. This made sense, but when she and Natsuki visited the shrine near the town, Natsuki was suddenly struck with the thought that if she turned to Shizuru right then, she’d see her friend dressed as she did once in a while: in layered robes, the obi tied expertly, beautiful, elegant. But that image was fragile as well, as if there were two Shizurus in her mind: her cheeky school friend and that distant portrait of traditional beauty.
But, turning, Natsuki saw only Shizuru in a summer dress.
When Shizuru wasn’t looking, Natsuki took her picture.
68
Natsuki actually took many pictures of Shizuru. It started, somehow, as a game, a game to see if she could ever catch Shizuru off guard (what did that mean, an “off guard” Shizuru?) and, for some wild impulsive reason, to capture it in a picture, as if she were collecting evidence (of what?). So she watched-studied-Shizuru and learned that Shizuru had many faces: relaxed and smiling faintly, laughing, pouting, thoughtful-and sometimes distant, sometimes sad, sometimes indifferent and cold, her eyes expressionless, reflecting only the sky, the people, and the buildings around them.
Expressions only memory could capture.
69
Shizuru noticed when Natsuki began taking pictures, liked watching Natsuki as she stared intently at the little screen in the digital camera, framing the image she was trying to capture: a sunset, some colorful glass wind chimes hanging from a stall, a dog sitting docilely at its owner’s feet. Shizuru liked being with this quiet Natsuki who focused so entirely on her task, so determined to steal some single moment from time, that she became completely unaware of everything else.
Then Natsuki would catch her watching and would smile that small awkward smile, embarrassed.
Shizuru thought it adorable-and saddening.
70
Shizuru wanted to see the pictures Natsuki took.
Natsuki couldn’t think of an excuse not to show her.
In their room, they sat close together on one of the beds, shoulders touching, Shizuru’s hair brushing against Natsuki’s arm. Natsuki held the camera between them, trying to flip quickly through the pictures, but Shizuru protested and asked her to move slower.
Natsuki’s cheeks burned-why?-but she humored Shizuru.
At some point Natsuki started watching Shizuru, gauging her reactions, the smiles and the looks of surprise. If only somehow she could have taken a picture of them in that very moment.
71
“Where did you take that one?” Shizuru asked, pointing at a picture of herself.
“I think… maybe… at the temple?”
Shizuru giggled. “It’s not very flattering-you mostly see the back of my head. You could have told me you wanted to take a picture.”
Natsuki looked around the room. “Yeah, well, um… I didn’t want to… uh… distract you.”
Shizuru smiled widely. “That’s a cute comment.”
Natsuki blushed and stuttered incoherently. Laughing, Shizuru took the camera from Natsuki’s hands.
“I forgive you, but in exchange, I want to take a picture of you.”
To her surprise, Natsuki actually smiled.
72
At that time, Shizuru had the impression that she was looking through Natsuki’s eyes, that in those pictures Natsuki was recording her world, her thoughts. And yet… Shizuru didn’t always understand what she saw-what Natsuki saw. What made her take a picture of a wind catcher fluttering in the breeze? Or the child eating ice cream? Or the sandcastle half-washed away? When-and why-did Natsuki photograph her like that? What did she think? What did she feel-for these things, towards her?
It was like discovering a new Natsuki-or realizing that maybe she’d never really known her.
73
A trip down to the beach almost always meant an afternoon nap in the warm sun, shaded by a rented umbrella-and protected by sunscreen.
It was stupid, really, that Natsuki felt a little nervous when Shizuru asked her to put sunscreen on her back. Or that she hesitated, hands hovering centimeters above Shizuru’s pale flesh, before laying her palms on Shizuru’s warm skin. She worked quickly and efficiently, mindful of Shizuru’s lazy smile, her back’s curves and valleys. Afterwards, Shizuru offered to do her back and Natsuki couldn’t say no and couldn’t stop herself from tensing under Shizuru’s hands.
74
Shizuru felt Natsuki tense under her hands. It made her want to pull back and maybe apologize. It made her want to press her fingers into the knots that she had put there and those she hadn’t, to somehow knead out the tension and uneasiness between them with a gentle but firm touch. It made her want to run her hands all over Natsuki’s back, along her curves, to reach around and pull her close, press a kiss where shoulder met neck. Shizuru did a little bit of each, smiling when she finished, knowing she denied herself the best parts.
75
Seeing her lying stretched out and sunbathing, it was hard not to notice how beautiful Shizuru was. Really beautiful. Stop-you-in-your-tracks-and-make-you-take-a-second-look beautiful. Fill-out-a-swimsuit-and-make-you-jealous beautiful. It-just-isn’t-fair beautiful.
That beautiful.
And a little bit of Natsuki would probably always be jealous next to a figure like Shizuru’s, always feel a little… lacking (not “small”)… a little… self-conscious… a little… insecure. But it made it a little easier (maybe) knowing Shizuru’s personality, that she was beautiful but strange; confident but not arrogant in the knowledge that others thought her beautiful; and even knowing, though maybe not exactly understanding, that Shizuru thought she was beautiful.
76
For all her prudery, Natsuki didn’t seem to have any compunction about wearing a bikini. Not that Shizuru was complaining. She rather enjoyed the view from where she lay sprawled on her stomach, head pillowed on her arms, Natsuki dozing off beside her. There was something peaceful-and alluring-about watching Natsuki breathe, the rise and fall of her breasts, the contrast of the fairness of her exposed skin with the black of her top, the hint of her bone structure just beneath the skin. She was close enough to touch. So Shizuru did-brushing aside a strand of hair.
77
It wasn’t quite true that Shizuru only had eyes for Natsuki. Actually, she liked looking at other people. A lot. All the time. She noticed how people held themselves, their moments of self-consciousness, their little unconscious movements-hand gestures, drifting eyes, tugs at the corner of lips, the twitch of an eyebrow. She studied how people looked at each other-and how they looked at her-curious, wary, hesitant, intimidated, appreciating-interested-eyes assessing, gaze lingering.
It was probably how she looked at pretty girls-and there were many pretty girls here.
Girls that she couldn’t help comparing to Natsuki.
78
When it came down to it, what Natsuki realized, was that any view of the ocean, endlessly extending into the horizon, awash in sunrise or sunset, against a blue sky or in stormy weather, choppy with waves or still-any view of the ocean could remind her of her mother. Without warning. Without mercy.
And it made her so wistfulsadhappyangryconfusedtornfrustratedtiredlongingquiet-
Quiet.
Just quiet. Quiet in an effort to contain it all. Quiet so that she could remember. Quiet so that she wouldn’t.
Feeling herself drown in that quiet until Shizuru’s voice penetrated the silence, saying, “Natsuki? Where did you go?”
79
“What?” Natsuki snapped, not sharply, but in a way that said Shizuru had snatched her back from a very far place-and Shizuru knew she had, seeing… the war? the storm?-yes, the storm in Natsuki’s eyes. One moment they had been sitting on the beach and the next, with one glance at Natsuki’s face, Shizuru had known she was alone.
She’d seen that look before. That time. On the bluff. Before the Festival. When things had been different-between them. This was the same, stubborn silence.
Shizuru hadn’t asked then. Or afterwards.
But today she said, “Where were you?”
80
Where had she been?
Natsuki looked puzzled for a moment-but she’d known immediately exactly what Shizuru was asking in that gentle voice.
“Where were you?” really meant What were you thinking about?-meant Can you tell me?-meant Will you tell me?-meant Do you want to tell me?
And Natsuki, right then and there, could have said, “Thinking about my mother”-could have said, “Remembering the years I spent trying to get revenge”-could have said, “Wondering why the truth is so confusing”-or maybe even, “Why is it so hard to forgive someone?”
But Natsuki said, “Nowhere.”
81
It didn’t hurt. (Much.) It wasn’t a rejection. (Maybe.)
How could it be when Shizuru hadn’t been expecting anything more? (Although maybe a part of her had hoped that today Natsuki would stop shutting her out, like she had for all those years… to “protect” her. Only this had actually made Shizuru feel warm and special before. Now it left her uncertain, almost afraid.)
But Shizuru knew better than to push or prod, knew that she had to let Natsuki go at her own pace, knew that Natsuki needed time. She just hoped she could be patient enough to wait.
82
The nights seemed to revitalize their spirits. It was at night that they would wander out, leaving Natsuki’s bike behind at the hotel if they could, and take long, meandering walks among the stores and booths strung along the shore or wend their way through the streets, sometimes alive with crowds, sometimes having only each other’s conversation as company.
Once they sat on the beach and Shizuru began pointing out the constellations. Natsuki listened quietly, trying to follow Shizuru’s line of vision, thinking about how she’d never looked at the stars with someone before, how she’d never had the time.
83
Clothes-socks, shorts, jeans, bras, panties-littered the floor. Shizuru didn’t know how Natsuki did it but within a few days she had turned her side of the room into a disaster area.
“Natsuki,” Shizuru said, with a slight shake of her head, “how do you live like that?”
After a puzzled second, Natsuki flushed a little and shrugged. “I never really notice it. Good thing we don’t live together, huh?”
Then she froze, looking stricken. Their eyes met. Natsuki opened her mouth but Shizuru, smiling gently and speaking around the lump in her throat, said, “I guess it is.”
84
So this was what it felt like to wake up in the same bed as the person you love: surprising at first, then embarrassing, and then finally filled with a sense of peace-and a little uncertainty. Because she was pretty sure that when she fell asleep last night, the object of her affections had been in the other bed-alone and on the other side of the room.
But Shizuru tried not to think about that. For now she wanted to just lie here, looking at Natsuki, feeling her near, sharing her warmth… wishing she woke to this everyday.
85
She woke up at the sound of the sliding door closing. She raised her head, blinking blearily in the general direction of the door, and then buried her face into the pillows with a groan.
Weird… the pillows kind of smelled like Shizuru… but that wasn’t right since Shizuru slept… in… the… other…
Natsuki bolted upright.
She was in Shizuru’s bed.
She flung the sheets back to-what?-see if her clothes were still on? (they were)-even knowing-knowing?-that Shizuru wouldn’t have… not after the HiME Festival… and Natsuki still wasn’t sure if…
Stopping there, Natsuki hugged herself.
86
It hit her then. How much it bothered her. How much she didn’t want to think about it (or dream about it, wake up choking on a scream, shuddering until the images faded).
It was the not knowing.
It was the not wanting to know.
It was the wanting to know more than anything else in the world.
It was the unconscious fear-the unconscious knowing-that back then, at that time, a part of her hadn’t trusted Shizuru-and had believed the worst.
And she wanted to believe she could believe in Shizuru.
She could.
She could.
She would.
87
The sound of the sliding door opening startled Shizuru out of her thoughts. Turning, she watched Natsuki approach her.
“Did I wake you?” Shizuru asked.
Natsuki flushed and in that moment they both knew that the other knew exactly what had happened-and that they weren’t going to talk about it. Or so Shizuru thought until a heart-stopping moment later when Natsuki gazed at her intensely, parted her lips and said-
Nothing.
Instead she turned away, a little embarrassed, and mumbled, “Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
And then turned back with a smile that assured Shizuru that nothing had changed.
88
On the final day of their planned stay, they woke to the sound of rain. Listening to the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops, lulled into that state between waking and dreaming, they languished in bed. When her heavy eyelids weren’t drooping shut, Natsuki lay on her side and stared through a gap in the curtains where she could see an endlessly gray sky cascading to the earth in sheets. In her own bed, Shizuru studied Natsuki, that surprisingly small back, wanting to somehow reach across the wide space separating them, to touch the exposed skin at the base of her neck.
89
They could stay like this forever, in this quiet space, in these warm beds, separate but not uncomfortable. They could lie here saying nothing and-almost-wanting nothing, content with the sound of the rain, their breathing, the leisurely beat of their hearts.
It would be easy. Not moving, not thinking, just being. No worries, no questions, no doubts-just her, being Natsuki, just Shizuru, being Shizuru.
And who were they?
Natsuki suddenly felt very tired.
When she finally sat up, it was still raining. When she turned to check on Shizuru, she found a smile.
“Good morning,” Shizuru said.
90
They didn’t have an umbrella but they were hungry and the rain was warm. Wearing their bathing suits underneath their clothing, they passed beneath one protective awning to the next, dashed laughingly across open streets-Natsuki shielding herself with her hands, Shizuru with the morning newspaper-and made a beeline for a line of restaurants. By the time they chose one, they were drenched to the bone, dripping onto the restaurant floor, and grinning at each other like children. But the silence turned into surprise when, after being seated, Shizuru reached out and gently dried Natsuki’s cheeks with her napkin.
91
The waiter, aside from giving them strange and annoyed looks for their waterlogged state, had a tendency to glance considerably below their eyes. Shizuru really couldn’t blame him, glancing at Natsuki herself, appreciating the way the tank top now clung to her curves or the way water drops beaded on her skin. In contrast, when Natsuki noticed the waiter’s eyes wandering on Shizuru, she involuntarily followed his gaze, blushed, hastily looked away, and then gripped her menu tightly. It was only Shizuru’s amused smile and one questioningly arched eyebrow that kept Natsuki from yelling at the waiter-or punching him.
92
They lingered for a long time in the restaurant, talking about their trip, about going home, about their plans for the rest of summer break. It was warm enough that they weren’t unduly uncomfortable and had dried somewhat by the last drop of tea.
“I can’t believe it’s over already.” Natsuki sighed, swirling the leaves at the bottom of her cup. She made a face. “Now I’ll have to go back and run all summer.”
“But you like it, don’t you?” Shizuru prodded gently.
Natsuki blinked, looked a little surprised, then faintly blushed.
“Yeah,” she said, almost wonderingly. “I do.”
93
“Anyway,” Natsuki continued, dropping her gaze to the tabletop, “What are you going to do when we get back, Shizuru?”
Shizuru stretched, arching her back, before gracefully settling back into her seat, elbows on the table, hands folded so that she could perch her chin on them. She smiled lazily. “I don’t know. I don’t have any clubs or committees to keep me busy over break.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, it feels a little strange.”
“Do you miss high school?”
“No,” Shizuru replied with a little laugh, thinking, Only being able to see you.
94
“Maybe we should buy an umbrella,” Shizuru suggested, stretching out a hand beyond the restaurant’s protective awning, palm up as if to catch the raindrops.
Natsuki snorted. “It won’t make a difference-we’re already wet. Come on!” She grabbed Shizuru’s outstretched hand and dashed into the rain, dragging the older girl behind her. Shizuru gasped and stumbled, then gasped again as the rain swept over her, just as Natsuki’s laughter did a moment later, uninhibited and light, sounding as warm as her hand felt wrapped around Shizuru’s own. And then Shizuru was laughing too, tightening her grip on Natsuki, clinging.
95
As they neared the hotel, Natsuki, still leading, suddenly stopped, without a word or warning, so that only their joined hands kept Shizuru from running past, pulling her up short, and leaving her gasping for air. She turned towards Natsuki, her name on her lips, only to hold her next breath.
Eyes closed, Natsuki stood with her face tilted towards the sky, still, expressionless, yet relaxed… and a little distant… and so very beautiful.
Shizuru was drawn to her-helplessly. Stepping closer, she reached up to touch her (cheek?)-stopped, stared, exhaled-and gently laid her hand on Natsuki’s arm.
96
It was strange but in that moment, even though she wanted to tell Shizuru every thought bubbling up within her,-that it had been raining those days, that it always seemed to rain on the bad days, but that today it felt different, that today she could stand here in the rain and even remember and not hurt so much-Natsuki couldn’t. When Shizuru touched her arm, Natsuki could only meet her eyes and smile, feebly at first, then more confidently, as if to say, I’m alright. It’s okay. Shizuru smiled back, squeezed her hand: I’m here.
Offering; asking nothing.
(Mostly complete but not complete fragment-I have no idea how this was to end)
Natsuki let the warm spray of the shower wash over her, as if she hadn’t had enough of the rain today. She felt tired again, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like drained, as if she’d run all day and was now coming down from a runner’s high.
It had been a good day.
It had been a good trip.
She and Shizuru were… good friends.
Best friends.
Still.
But best friends didn’t hesitate around each other. Best friends didn’t have to pick and choose their words.
And today had felt so good.
(More fragments go here-last night stuff)
“97”
This was it. They were checked out, packed up, and ready to go.
They were heading home.
The engine roared into purring life and Natsuki grinned, even as she felt Shizuru sigh against her back.
“What’s wrong?” Natsuki asked, twisting around and flipping up her visor.
Shizuru actually looked surprised before slowly shaking her head. “Nothing. Just… it’s going to be a long drive.”
“Oh.” Natsuki looked away. “Well, we can take a train next time if you want.” Their eyes met briefly and then Natsuki turned back around. She’d seen enough: first shock, then a smile in those eyes.
“98”
It happened here.
Everything, it seemed.
The accident. Her mother, her, Dhuran-hazy with sharp sensations-it felt so far away now.
The incident. Nao, her, Shizuru-surreal, unreal, a dream, a nightmare, but undeniable, so undeniable it hurt.
Countless days, months, years… revolving around this spot. Here.
How could one place hold so many memories for her? Witness so many ends? So many beginnings? So many thoughts and emotions?
Fear, anger, hope, distress, love-
So much love.
And hate.
And forgiveness.
It was time, it would be now.
To step away from the past.
Towards the future.
Natsuki spoke.
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
-Mad World, Tears for Fears
Foreword
First and foremost, I must apologize. I have been saying for a long time that I intended to continue the drabbles, specifically to finish this very arc posted here. This arc is not finished nor do I think it will be finished. For that reason I apologize and also ask that these are not reproduced elsewhere. Because this arc isn't finished, I'm keeping them to my journal; feel free to tell others if they're interested, but these will not appear on FF.net, nor will I plug them over at the ShizNat comms.
So why am I posting these? Because they were written and I had been intending to finish it all summer. Because I thought you should get something to read after all this time. It just didn't happen and for the most part, I've moved on. My interest in the Drabble Cycle as a project waned and died once the story stopped being thematic one-shot deals. The structure itself was too restrictive and the story wanted to be a story. I couldn't get past it and so my interest has died over time.
The drabbles presented here are, but for the exception of one drabble, the completed drabbles. I apologize if there are repeats; I compiled them very quickly and my original document has a lot of "original" and "trial" drabbles. Also, keep in mind that I haven't shuffled the order of the drabbles; they appear in the order they appear in the original file. It was my intention to shuffle them when I had written all of them, but it became glaringly obvious as I wrote them that trying to place the drabbles in any type of chronological order was going to be painful. It gave me headaches just thinking about it; it has not been done here.
A lot of snippets and fragments are missing. Some of these were no more than "idea markers" or "starters" consisting only of one line to remind myself of things I wanted to write. This becomes really obvious at Drabble #96. Drabbles 51-96 can be read without any problems (though I had always intended to throw more things in there). After #96, things fell apart and many of those drabbles recounting the last night of Shizuru and Natsuki's stay are no more than one liners or simply never written. The incomplete fragment after 96 is included to give a sense of closure to that mini-arc. Because a lot of drabbles were supposed to follow those, "97" and "98" are numbered with quotations. If I had completed, they'd probably be rightfully numbered in the 100s.
The whole arc was really leading up to where "98" leaves off. It was suppose to tie-up a lot of loose ends and resolve a lot of the tensions that appear in this arc and open the door for a better and more open friendship between Shizuru and Natsuki. Um, I did have some crazy plans. Finishing high school for Natsuki, letting her explore options for University, University adventures for Shizuru...
I just got caught up and moored down, I suppose.
Even so, it was my own failing. Despite this, the quality--I would like to think these display better quality--and even the fact that I managed this much must be attributed in large part to the Beta Group. aster_dw, blahzer, elwhyenen, fingersmith7, glazzal, heart1e55m00mba, ifuritka, mercurianangel, and nemesisjk8, thank you so much for your help and your time. I greatly valued your opinions, your feedback, your criticisms, and, most of all, your encouragement. I feel like I owe you guys the biggest apology and I hope you can forgive me for not coming through.
Thank you also to everyone who has stuck with the Drabbles, continues to read the Drabbles, has left a comment or has quietly enjoyed them. I'm sorry this couldn't end on a better note. I thought about leaving it at Drabble #50, which ended well in and of itself. But... somehow it didn't feel fair to the readers who have stuck by me. This isn't by any means fair either, but I hope you don't resent me too much for it.
-gw
Previous installments: 1-4, 5-8, 9-12, 13-22, 23-26, 27-31, 32-35, 36-39, 40-45, 41-50
51
"Smile!" Mikoto cried for the hundredth millionth time and Natsuki seriously considered ripping the camera out of her hands (could she even take more pictures?). Even Mai looked like she was teetering on the edge of her patience. But Natsuki didn't want to risk breaking the camera-and, damn it, Mikoto was happy.
"Here!" Mikoto suddenly exclaimed and shoved the camera into her hands. "Take my picture!"
Then she grabbed Mai's arm, snuggled close, and grinned widely. Mai’s smile was tired but affectionate and later Natsuki would regret not clearing any space on the memory card before taking their picture.
52
Under normal circumstances, Natsuki probably wouldn’t have used the camera much once its novelty had worn off, but as it happened, Shizuru suggested that they take a trip together during their summer breaks before Natsuki had to commit to club activities. Natsuki didn’t quite say yes, but she didn’t quite say no, so that when Shizuru brought out a map one day and traced out a small circular route that would take them perhaps a week or less to cover, Natsuki still wasn’t sure how to answer. Later, she could only remember Shizuru softly suggesting, “You should bring the camera.”
53
Shizuru had thought long and hard about proposing the summer trip, anticipating and dreading Natsuki’s response. Yet when the moment came, she wasn’t sure what scared her more: the rejection she thought she’d receive or Natsuki’s unresponsive silence. So she tried to force Natsuki’s decision by actually planning the trip-knowing what she was doing, hating herself a little bit for doing it-and met only with that silence beating upon her, those eyes that gazed at her so intensely (and unsurely), those lips that thinned in consternation. So she filled that silence with words, retreating behind their airy familiarity.
54
The more Natsuki thought about the potential trip, the more confused she became. Wanting to go. Not wanting to go. Wanting to believe they would just be two friends spending time together. Not believing it could be that simple.
Or maybe it really was.
She didn’t know. So she stopped thinking about it. She threw herself into studying (cramming) for her final exams and concentrated all her stress into passing them. She went to bed exhausted with random facts and formulae or didn’t sleep at all. Then the exams were over and Natsuki realized she just wanted to get away.
55
It was so quiet and Natsuki was so still, that Shizuru thought that she was asleep. She lay sprawled on the couch, on her stomach, having just about collapsed a few minutes earlier when she’d entered stumbling and mumbling after her exams. One pale arm dangled over the side, knuckles brushing the floor. Her head was turned away, hair fanned across her shoulders, which rose and fell with her every breath.
The sight made Shizuru smile. And yearn. Then reproach herself.
She felt drained.
Then Natsuki suddenly shifted, lifted her head, turned to her, and asked, “When are we leaving?”
56
Let’s take a train, Shizuru suggested.
I can drive, Natsuki assured her.
Shizuru almost objected but didn’t, knowing it was a bad idea for every practical reason and worse for every personal misgiving. But her hesitation only made Natsuki insistent.
“I’ll drive.”
They packed little, strapping their bags to the bike, and set off on a Sunday. Within a few hours Natsuki began to regret her decision, feeling muscles stiffen and the hum of the engine like the pulse of her own body-and always Shizuru’s presence at her back, leaning into her, with her, warm, close… yet far away.
57
They took long breaks-hours-to stretch their legs and enjoy the breeze coming off the coast. By some silent agreement they recognized that following their plans would be near impossible and so disregarded any sense of urgency. They let time move as slowly as the clouds drifting across the sky, as the gulls lazily turning circles in the air. In a small, crowded restaurant where they had to constantly shift to allow people to pass, they ate lunch, leaning close across the table to keep their conversation private. They were strangers here and the realization made them smile freer.
58
They hadn’t made hotel reservations-which was just as well-but when Shizuru asked for two rooms at their first lodgings, Natsuki objected.
“Wouldn’t it be more practical to share a room?”
“Of course,” Shizuru acceded.
So they shared a room with twin beds and while Natsuki showered, Shizuru did not sit on her bed listening to the sound of water cascading through the thin walls, did not imagine it sluicing down Natsuki’s body, did not think about the hours they had just spent being so close. No, she retreated onto the balcony, trying not to wish on every star.
59
Shizuru could hardly believe it, but there was such a thing as holding onto Natsuki for too long. After the first day of driving for hours-even though they had stopped to rest many times-Shizuru dreaded starting out again. If it bothered Natsuki, she didn’t show it, but Shizuru began to think that sweat, cramped muscles, a numbed ass, and the long hours of silence were not worth being able to cling to Natsuki all day.
And it was lonely. Being so close. Hardly ever sharing a word.
So Shizuru would press closer, to assure herself Natsuki was there.
60
At some point during the second day of driving Natsuki stopped thinking about where she was taking them, about where they were going, about why they were going. The signs had stopped making any sense to her a long time ago and she doubted that Shizuru had any better idea.
It wasn’t like they could just pull out a map while they were cruising down the highway.
At a stop, she came back from the bathroom to find Shizuru doing just that and when Shizuru asked, “Where do you want to go?” Natsuki shrugged and answered, “Does it matter now?”
61
By the second night, Shizuru was actually sore and moving less gracefully than usual. Natsuki, either more accustomed to such abuse or too proud to let it show, fared marginally better but still collapsed gratefully onto the bed after they checked into a small motel.
They lay resting for what felt like a long time, saying nothing.
“Wanna order delivery?” Natsuki mumbled.
“Yes” was the quiet response.
So they ate dinner on their beds, sharing the highlights of the sights during the drive, laughing between bites, exclaiming, relaxing.
The next morning Natsuki decided, “Let’s stay here.”
Shizuru couldn’t agree faster.
62
Shizuru whipped a skirt off the rack and held it against Natsuki, who immediately took a step back.
“Hey-!” she began to protest but saw the look in Shizuru’s eyes. And the pout. And where did that top come from?
“Please, Natsuki?”
“No!”
“Please,” Shizuru asked again, pleading without actually pleading because she knew that if she looked just the right amount of pitiful and woebegone that Natsuki would-
“Fine.”
Natsuki snatched the skirt and the top out of Shizuru’s hands. She disappeared into the changing room, scowling, and emerged, scowling, in top and skirt to a grinning Shizuru.
63
They could spend hours just walking through the streets, looking into shop windows filled with clothes, knickknacks, or pastries, and retreating into the especially inviting ones to escape the summer sun. They browsed shelves, racks, and cases with the wonder of little children, trying on sunglasses and outfits, playing with toys, and marveling at puzzling items, sharing the stifled giggles of co-conspirators.
And sometimes, sometimes, Natsuki would find something that intrigued her and would touch Shizuru’s arm with one hand and point with the other and Shizuru’s heart would stop and then flutter and she had to remember to breathe.
64
They didn’t shop to buy (with exceptions like an additional memory card for Natsuki’s camera), always mindful that they were driving back on a motorcycle. Still, when Shizuru saw the small delicate butterfly pendant, she stopped to admire it, holding it in the palm of her hand so that light caught in the swirls of the design.
Natsuki glanced over, said, “Let me see,” and taking it from her by the chain, held it under Shizuru’s chin. Shizuru blinked under Natsuki’s appraising gaze.
“It suits you. Want it?”
“No, that’s alright.”
But Natsuki’s offer and butterfly touch made Shizuru smile.
65
Natsuki always carried the camera with her, slung over a shoulder or clipped onto her jeans, but usually forgot she was carrying it at all. Over dinner one night, Shizuru asked, “Have you taken any pictures yet?” and Natsuki blushed (resenting herself). So she took out the camera right then and pointed it at Shizuru, who laughed. Scowling, Natsuki snapped her picture and then scowled even more when she saw how well it turned out-but the expression faded the longer she studied the image, the familiar sight of Shizuru laughing, and wondered what it was that made her laugh.
66
Now that Natsuki suspected that Shizuru wanted to see her use the camera, she began to take pictures. It started off as an obligatory duty, but the more she took, the more fascinated Natsuki became. There was something about the still images on the little screen, something that was at once both real and personal and utterly alien and removed. Every sight became interesting-it was like looking at the world for the first time, as if she had been dreaming before, obsessed so much with revenge that everything else had been indistinct.
Natsuki wanted to capture all of it.
67
Shizuru didn’t pack any kimonos. This made sense, but when she and Natsuki visited the shrine near the town, Natsuki was suddenly struck with the thought that if she turned to Shizuru right then, she’d see her friend dressed as she did once in a while: in layered robes, the obi tied expertly, beautiful, elegant. But that image was fragile as well, as if there were two Shizurus in her mind: her cheeky school friend and that distant portrait of traditional beauty.
But, turning, Natsuki saw only Shizuru in a summer dress.
When Shizuru wasn’t looking, Natsuki took her picture.
68
Natsuki actually took many pictures of Shizuru. It started, somehow, as a game, a game to see if she could ever catch Shizuru off guard (what did that mean, an “off guard” Shizuru?) and, for some wild impulsive reason, to capture it in a picture, as if she were collecting evidence (of what?). So she watched-studied-Shizuru and learned that Shizuru had many faces: relaxed and smiling faintly, laughing, pouting, thoughtful-and sometimes distant, sometimes sad, sometimes indifferent and cold, her eyes expressionless, reflecting only the sky, the people, and the buildings around them.
Expressions only memory could capture.
69
Shizuru noticed when Natsuki began taking pictures, liked watching Natsuki as she stared intently at the little screen in the digital camera, framing the image she was trying to capture: a sunset, some colorful glass wind chimes hanging from a stall, a dog sitting docilely at its owner’s feet. Shizuru liked being with this quiet Natsuki who focused so entirely on her task, so determined to steal some single moment from time, that she became completely unaware of everything else.
Then Natsuki would catch her watching and would smile that small awkward smile, embarrassed.
Shizuru thought it adorable-and saddening.
70
Shizuru wanted to see the pictures Natsuki took.
Natsuki couldn’t think of an excuse not to show her.
In their room, they sat close together on one of the beds, shoulders touching, Shizuru’s hair brushing against Natsuki’s arm. Natsuki held the camera between them, trying to flip quickly through the pictures, but Shizuru protested and asked her to move slower.
Natsuki’s cheeks burned-why?-but she humored Shizuru.
At some point Natsuki started watching Shizuru, gauging her reactions, the smiles and the looks of surprise. If only somehow she could have taken a picture of them in that very moment.
71
“Where did you take that one?” Shizuru asked, pointing at a picture of herself.
“I think… maybe… at the temple?”
Shizuru giggled. “It’s not very flattering-you mostly see the back of my head. You could have told me you wanted to take a picture.”
Natsuki looked around the room. “Yeah, well, um… I didn’t want to… uh… distract you.”
Shizuru smiled widely. “That’s a cute comment.”
Natsuki blushed and stuttered incoherently. Laughing, Shizuru took the camera from Natsuki’s hands.
“I forgive you, but in exchange, I want to take a picture of you.”
To her surprise, Natsuki actually smiled.
72
At that time, Shizuru had the impression that she was looking through Natsuki’s eyes, that in those pictures Natsuki was recording her world, her thoughts. And yet… Shizuru didn’t always understand what she saw-what Natsuki saw. What made her take a picture of a wind catcher fluttering in the breeze? Or the child eating ice cream? Or the sandcastle half-washed away? When-and why-did Natsuki photograph her like that? What did she think? What did she feel-for these things, towards her?
It was like discovering a new Natsuki-or realizing that maybe she’d never really known her.
73
A trip down to the beach almost always meant an afternoon nap in the warm sun, shaded by a rented umbrella-and protected by sunscreen.
It was stupid, really, that Natsuki felt a little nervous when Shizuru asked her to put sunscreen on her back. Or that she hesitated, hands hovering centimeters above Shizuru’s pale flesh, before laying her palms on Shizuru’s warm skin. She worked quickly and efficiently, mindful of Shizuru’s lazy smile, her back’s curves and valleys. Afterwards, Shizuru offered to do her back and Natsuki couldn’t say no and couldn’t stop herself from tensing under Shizuru’s hands.
74
Shizuru felt Natsuki tense under her hands. It made her want to pull back and maybe apologize. It made her want to press her fingers into the knots that she had put there and those she hadn’t, to somehow knead out the tension and uneasiness between them with a gentle but firm touch. It made her want to run her hands all over Natsuki’s back, along her curves, to reach around and pull her close, press a kiss where shoulder met neck. Shizuru did a little bit of each, smiling when she finished, knowing she denied herself the best parts.
75
Seeing her lying stretched out and sunbathing, it was hard not to notice how beautiful Shizuru was. Really beautiful. Stop-you-in-your-tracks-and-make-you-take-a-second-look beautiful. Fill-out-a-swimsuit-and-make-you-jealous beautiful. It-just-isn’t-fair beautiful.
That beautiful.
And a little bit of Natsuki would probably always be jealous next to a figure like Shizuru’s, always feel a little… lacking (not “small”)… a little… self-conscious… a little… insecure. But it made it a little easier (maybe) knowing Shizuru’s personality, that she was beautiful but strange; confident but not arrogant in the knowledge that others thought her beautiful; and even knowing, though maybe not exactly understanding, that Shizuru thought she was beautiful.
76
For all her prudery, Natsuki didn’t seem to have any compunction about wearing a bikini. Not that Shizuru was complaining. She rather enjoyed the view from where she lay sprawled on her stomach, head pillowed on her arms, Natsuki dozing off beside her. There was something peaceful-and alluring-about watching Natsuki breathe, the rise and fall of her breasts, the contrast of the fairness of her exposed skin with the black of her top, the hint of her bone structure just beneath the skin. She was close enough to touch. So Shizuru did-brushing aside a strand of hair.
77
It wasn’t quite true that Shizuru only had eyes for Natsuki. Actually, she liked looking at other people. A lot. All the time. She noticed how people held themselves, their moments of self-consciousness, their little unconscious movements-hand gestures, drifting eyes, tugs at the corner of lips, the twitch of an eyebrow. She studied how people looked at each other-and how they looked at her-curious, wary, hesitant, intimidated, appreciating-interested-eyes assessing, gaze lingering.
It was probably how she looked at pretty girls-and there were many pretty girls here.
Girls that she couldn’t help comparing to Natsuki.
78
When it came down to it, what Natsuki realized, was that any view of the ocean, endlessly extending into the horizon, awash in sunrise or sunset, against a blue sky or in stormy weather, choppy with waves or still-any view of the ocean could remind her of her mother. Without warning. Without mercy.
And it made her so wistfulsadhappyangryconfusedtornfrustratedtiredlongingquiet-
Quiet.
Just quiet. Quiet in an effort to contain it all. Quiet so that she could remember. Quiet so that she wouldn’t.
Feeling herself drown in that quiet until Shizuru’s voice penetrated the silence, saying, “Natsuki? Where did you go?”
79
“What?” Natsuki snapped, not sharply, but in a way that said Shizuru had snatched her back from a very far place-and Shizuru knew she had, seeing… the war? the storm?-yes, the storm in Natsuki’s eyes. One moment they had been sitting on the beach and the next, with one glance at Natsuki’s face, Shizuru had known she was alone.
She’d seen that look before. That time. On the bluff. Before the Festival. When things had been different-between them. This was the same, stubborn silence.
Shizuru hadn’t asked then. Or afterwards.
But today she said, “Where were you?”
80
Where had she been?
Natsuki looked puzzled for a moment-but she’d known immediately exactly what Shizuru was asking in that gentle voice.
“Where were you?” really meant What were you thinking about?-meant Can you tell me?-meant Will you tell me?-meant Do you want to tell me?
And Natsuki, right then and there, could have said, “Thinking about my mother”-could have said, “Remembering the years I spent trying to get revenge”-could have said, “Wondering why the truth is so confusing”-or maybe even, “Why is it so hard to forgive someone?”
But Natsuki said, “Nowhere.”
81
It didn’t hurt. (Much.) It wasn’t a rejection. (Maybe.)
How could it be when Shizuru hadn’t been expecting anything more? (Although maybe a part of her had hoped that today Natsuki would stop shutting her out, like she had for all those years… to “protect” her. Only this had actually made Shizuru feel warm and special before. Now it left her uncertain, almost afraid.)
But Shizuru knew better than to push or prod, knew that she had to let Natsuki go at her own pace, knew that Natsuki needed time. She just hoped she could be patient enough to wait.
82
The nights seemed to revitalize their spirits. It was at night that they would wander out, leaving Natsuki’s bike behind at the hotel if they could, and take long, meandering walks among the stores and booths strung along the shore or wend their way through the streets, sometimes alive with crowds, sometimes having only each other’s conversation as company.
Once they sat on the beach and Shizuru began pointing out the constellations. Natsuki listened quietly, trying to follow Shizuru’s line of vision, thinking about how she’d never looked at the stars with someone before, how she’d never had the time.
83
Clothes-socks, shorts, jeans, bras, panties-littered the floor. Shizuru didn’t know how Natsuki did it but within a few days she had turned her side of the room into a disaster area.
“Natsuki,” Shizuru said, with a slight shake of her head, “how do you live like that?”
After a puzzled second, Natsuki flushed a little and shrugged. “I never really notice it. Good thing we don’t live together, huh?”
Then she froze, looking stricken. Their eyes met. Natsuki opened her mouth but Shizuru, smiling gently and speaking around the lump in her throat, said, “I guess it is.”
84
So this was what it felt like to wake up in the same bed as the person you love: surprising at first, then embarrassing, and then finally filled with a sense of peace-and a little uncertainty. Because she was pretty sure that when she fell asleep last night, the object of her affections had been in the other bed-alone and on the other side of the room.
But Shizuru tried not to think about that. For now she wanted to just lie here, looking at Natsuki, feeling her near, sharing her warmth… wishing she woke to this everyday.
85
She woke up at the sound of the sliding door closing. She raised her head, blinking blearily in the general direction of the door, and then buried her face into the pillows with a groan.
Weird… the pillows kind of smelled like Shizuru… but that wasn’t right since Shizuru slept… in… the… other…
Natsuki bolted upright.
She was in Shizuru’s bed.
She flung the sheets back to-what?-see if her clothes were still on? (they were)-even knowing-knowing?-that Shizuru wouldn’t have… not after the HiME Festival… and Natsuki still wasn’t sure if…
Stopping there, Natsuki hugged herself.
86
It hit her then. How much it bothered her. How much she didn’t want to think about it (or dream about it, wake up choking on a scream, shuddering until the images faded).
It was the not knowing.
It was the not wanting to know.
It was the wanting to know more than anything else in the world.
It was the unconscious fear-the unconscious knowing-that back then, at that time, a part of her hadn’t trusted Shizuru-and had believed the worst.
And she wanted to believe she could believe in Shizuru.
She could.
She could.
She would.
87
The sound of the sliding door opening startled Shizuru out of her thoughts. Turning, she watched Natsuki approach her.
“Did I wake you?” Shizuru asked.
Natsuki flushed and in that moment they both knew that the other knew exactly what had happened-and that they weren’t going to talk about it. Or so Shizuru thought until a heart-stopping moment later when Natsuki gazed at her intensely, parted her lips and said-
Nothing.
Instead she turned away, a little embarrassed, and mumbled, “Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
And then turned back with a smile that assured Shizuru that nothing had changed.
88
On the final day of their planned stay, they woke to the sound of rain. Listening to the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops, lulled into that state between waking and dreaming, they languished in bed. When her heavy eyelids weren’t drooping shut, Natsuki lay on her side and stared through a gap in the curtains where she could see an endlessly gray sky cascading to the earth in sheets. In her own bed, Shizuru studied Natsuki, that surprisingly small back, wanting to somehow reach across the wide space separating them, to touch the exposed skin at the base of her neck.
89
They could stay like this forever, in this quiet space, in these warm beds, separate but not uncomfortable. They could lie here saying nothing and-almost-wanting nothing, content with the sound of the rain, their breathing, the leisurely beat of their hearts.
It would be easy. Not moving, not thinking, just being. No worries, no questions, no doubts-just her, being Natsuki, just Shizuru, being Shizuru.
And who were they?
Natsuki suddenly felt very tired.
When she finally sat up, it was still raining. When she turned to check on Shizuru, she found a smile.
“Good morning,” Shizuru said.
90
They didn’t have an umbrella but they were hungry and the rain was warm. Wearing their bathing suits underneath their clothing, they passed beneath one protective awning to the next, dashed laughingly across open streets-Natsuki shielding herself with her hands, Shizuru with the morning newspaper-and made a beeline for a line of restaurants. By the time they chose one, they were drenched to the bone, dripping onto the restaurant floor, and grinning at each other like children. But the silence turned into surprise when, after being seated, Shizuru reached out and gently dried Natsuki’s cheeks with her napkin.
91
The waiter, aside from giving them strange and annoyed looks for their waterlogged state, had a tendency to glance considerably below their eyes. Shizuru really couldn’t blame him, glancing at Natsuki herself, appreciating the way the tank top now clung to her curves or the way water drops beaded on her skin. In contrast, when Natsuki noticed the waiter’s eyes wandering on Shizuru, she involuntarily followed his gaze, blushed, hastily looked away, and then gripped her menu tightly. It was only Shizuru’s amused smile and one questioningly arched eyebrow that kept Natsuki from yelling at the waiter-or punching him.
92
They lingered for a long time in the restaurant, talking about their trip, about going home, about their plans for the rest of summer break. It was warm enough that they weren’t unduly uncomfortable and had dried somewhat by the last drop of tea.
“I can’t believe it’s over already.” Natsuki sighed, swirling the leaves at the bottom of her cup. She made a face. “Now I’ll have to go back and run all summer.”
“But you like it, don’t you?” Shizuru prodded gently.
Natsuki blinked, looked a little surprised, then faintly blushed.
“Yeah,” she said, almost wonderingly. “I do.”
93
“Anyway,” Natsuki continued, dropping her gaze to the tabletop, “What are you going to do when we get back, Shizuru?”
Shizuru stretched, arching her back, before gracefully settling back into her seat, elbows on the table, hands folded so that she could perch her chin on them. She smiled lazily. “I don’t know. I don’t have any clubs or committees to keep me busy over break.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, it feels a little strange.”
“Do you miss high school?”
“No,” Shizuru replied with a little laugh, thinking, Only being able to see you.
94
“Maybe we should buy an umbrella,” Shizuru suggested, stretching out a hand beyond the restaurant’s protective awning, palm up as if to catch the raindrops.
Natsuki snorted. “It won’t make a difference-we’re already wet. Come on!” She grabbed Shizuru’s outstretched hand and dashed into the rain, dragging the older girl behind her. Shizuru gasped and stumbled, then gasped again as the rain swept over her, just as Natsuki’s laughter did a moment later, uninhibited and light, sounding as warm as her hand felt wrapped around Shizuru’s own. And then Shizuru was laughing too, tightening her grip on Natsuki, clinging.
95
As they neared the hotel, Natsuki, still leading, suddenly stopped, without a word or warning, so that only their joined hands kept Shizuru from running past, pulling her up short, and leaving her gasping for air. She turned towards Natsuki, her name on her lips, only to hold her next breath.
Eyes closed, Natsuki stood with her face tilted towards the sky, still, expressionless, yet relaxed… and a little distant… and so very beautiful.
Shizuru was drawn to her-helplessly. Stepping closer, she reached up to touch her (cheek?)-stopped, stared, exhaled-and gently laid her hand on Natsuki’s arm.
96
It was strange but in that moment, even though she wanted to tell Shizuru every thought bubbling up within her,-that it had been raining those days, that it always seemed to rain on the bad days, but that today it felt different, that today she could stand here in the rain and even remember and not hurt so much-Natsuki couldn’t. When Shizuru touched her arm, Natsuki could only meet her eyes and smile, feebly at first, then more confidently, as if to say, I’m alright. It’s okay. Shizuru smiled back, squeezed her hand: I’m here.
Offering; asking nothing.
(Mostly complete but not complete fragment-I have no idea how this was to end)
Natsuki let the warm spray of the shower wash over her, as if she hadn’t had enough of the rain today. She felt tired again, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like drained, as if she’d run all day and was now coming down from a runner’s high.
It had been a good day.
It had been a good trip.
She and Shizuru were… good friends.
Best friends.
Still.
But best friends didn’t hesitate around each other. Best friends didn’t have to pick and choose their words.
And today had felt so good.
(More fragments go here-last night stuff)
“97”
This was it. They were checked out, packed up, and ready to go.
They were heading home.
The engine roared into purring life and Natsuki grinned, even as she felt Shizuru sigh against her back.
“What’s wrong?” Natsuki asked, twisting around and flipping up her visor.
Shizuru actually looked surprised before slowly shaking her head. “Nothing. Just… it’s going to be a long drive.”
“Oh.” Natsuki looked away. “Well, we can take a train next time if you want.” Their eyes met briefly and then Natsuki turned back around. She’d seen enough: first shock, then a smile in those eyes.
“98”
It happened here.
Everything, it seemed.
The accident. Her mother, her, Dhuran-hazy with sharp sensations-it felt so far away now.
The incident. Nao, her, Shizuru-surreal, unreal, a dream, a nightmare, but undeniable, so undeniable it hurt.
Countless days, months, years… revolving around this spot. Here.
How could one place hold so many memories for her? Witness so many ends? So many beginnings? So many thoughts and emotions?
Fear, anger, hope, distress, love-
So much love.
And hate.
And forgiveness.
It was time, it would be now.
To step away from the past.
Towards the future.
Natsuki spoke.