[fic] MH: A Tangential Affair [Fujino Shizuru]
Title: A Tangential Affair
Fandom: Mai HiME
Rating: Hard PG-13/Soft R
Words: ~9700
Spoilers: Entire series
Tie-ins: Shizuru-Natsuki drabble cycle and "Orbiting"
Featured Character: Fujino Shizuru
Disclaimer: SUNRISE's. Not mine.
Notes: A possible sequel, of sorts, to the events in the Drabbles with a tie-in to Orbiting. Reading them is not necessary, but it'll make a lot of the characterization here make sense. A heartfelt thank you to nemesisjk8, ifuritka, and shigan for being my litmus test readers and a special thank you to Nemi especially for prodding me to keep writing this. If you see any typos, please let me know.
A Tangential Affair
“But can we still be friends?” she asked.
Her voice, in the cold air, sounded very small.
- Part One -
“You belong on canvas.”
Shizuru didn’t know how to respond to the obviously crazy woman who had appeared at their tableside and was now leaning unnervingly close into her personal space. It wasn’t the eye-stabbing bright colors of the woman’s clothing, the slightly disheveled state of her hair, or even the random statement that Shizuru was trying to process that warned her that this woman was crazy, but the way she looked at her, eager and hungry, eyes moving over Shizuru’s body in quick movements.
“Excuse me?” Shizuru managed just as another figure dressed in somber colors appeared and grabbed the first woman’s arm.
“Sena,” this new woman said in a low, stern voice. As she turned to focus on Shizuru, the disapproving line of her lips wavered into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. My friend is an artist, with an eye for beauty. She’s always looking for new models-”
“Yes, yes,” the crazy woman-Sena-agreed with enthusiasm, punctuating each word with a nod of her head.
“-and she came over here to ask you if you’d like to model for her,” the other woman finished. The crazy woman continued to nod in agreement while her hands scrabbled in her purse. When they emerged, Shizuru found a small card thrust in her face.
“Call me.”
Shizuru stared at the card and then at the so-called artist, but it was the other woman’s strained but indulgent smile that finally made her take it. She held it gingerly as if it might bite.
“Can we go now?” the other woman asked with something like exasperation and relief.
“Call me,” the artist said again, gazing intently at Shizuru.
“Let’s go,” the other woman said, taking firm hold of her friend and leading her away. She nodded at Shizuru and her friend. “I’m sorry we bothered you.”
Shizuru watched them until they were out the door, heads close together in conversation, and then turned back to her friend, Risa, who was looking at her intently.
“That was strange,” Shizuru said lightly.
“You just got scouted,” Risa pointed out.
Shizuru flipped the card over to read the name: Kihara Sena. A second later when Risa reached out to grab it, Shizuru slipped it into her jacket pocket. “Not by anyone important, it seems,” she said. “You were saying something about Professor Nakamura?”
Risa treated her to a mild glare but continued with her story about the historian’s latest lecture. By the time they left the café Shizuru had forgotten about the card.
*
Shizuru made a mental note about Risa’s taste in art-really, what was it about artists and the nude body?-and resolved to make up an excuse the next time her friend asked her to accompany her to a gallery. The halls were abuzz with the chatter and excitement of opening night. Not knowing the featured artists or any of the attendees besides her friend and finding she didn’t really have an interest in knowing anyone, Shizuru did her best to shuffle into a corner and look interested in one of the more innocuous pieces. She nursed a cup of water, mindful that Risa was off somewhere getting tipsy on the champagne and wine. One of them had to be able to get them home.
“Hello,” said a soft voice from behind her. Shizuru turned and had to hide her surprise and confusion at the sight of the stranger addressing her. It was a woman dressed simply in slacks and a button-down shirt. She was bowed slightly at the waist and leaning towards Shizuru as if she were trying to get a better look at Shizuru’s face in the poor light.
“Hello,” Shizuru said politely.
The woman straightened up and smiled, slipping her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Do you know one of the artists?”
“No, I don’t,” Shizuru answered slowly. The woman’s familiar tone irked her, especially since Shizuru couldn’t place her face. “I’m with a friend who has an interest in art.”
The woman watched Shizuru’s face, smile growing wider. Abruptly she said, “I’m Yamane Aki.”
“Fujino Shizuru,” Shizuru offered hesitantly but with a neat bow. “Nice to meet you.”
“We met a few weeks ago, actually,” Yamane said as they both straightened up, timing it so that Shizuru couldn’t hide her blink of bafflement. “We didn’t get to introduce ourselves but you might remember my friend Kihara Sena.”
It took a moment. Shizuru just managed to stifle the “Oh” that bubbled up in her throat. She covered her surprise by turning to look at the nearest painting, which happened to be of a buxom, nude woman reclining on a sofa. It was done in neon colors that made her eyes ache. “Is this Sena-san’s work?”
Yamane followed her gaze. “No, she’s not showing tonight. I do know this artist, though, if you’d like to meet him.”
“No, that’s fine,” Shizuru said too curtly. Yamane didn’t comment, but rocked back on her heels.
“Sena’s still waiting for your call,” Yamane said after a moment, voice a bit hesitant but straining for light and amused.
“Is her work . . . like this?” Shizuru hedged.
“Nudes? Only if you’re comfortable posing for it.”
Shizuru couldn’t fight her look of shock or the warmth that rushed to her cheeks. Yamane smiled, an expression that tried to appear kind but looked uneasy. “I mean that Sena does paint nudes but that usually depends on her mood and the comfort level of her subject. Sena’s work is more . . .” She pulled a hand out of her pocket and gestured vaguely. “. . . out there. Some call it fantasy or sci-fi, but really Sena just lives in her own world. She’s very good, though, and she’ll compensate you for your time. If you’re interested.”
Shizuru crossed her arms and swirled her cup of water. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time . . . .”
Yamane nodded. They stood gazing unseeingly at the painting for another moment.
“You would look . . . very good on canvas,” Yamane said softly, not looking at her. Shizuru turned, struggling to form a polite and neutral answer, when someone bumped into her. Shizuru stumbled, reaching out blindly for something to catch herself on, and grasped onto the arm that caught her just under her ribs. She gazed at Yamane in a mixture of surprise and gratitude while the person who bumped into her began to apologize profusely.
“I’m so sorry!” The offender used her fingers to dab ineffectually at the spot where she’d spilled champagne onto Shizuru’s blouse. Shizuru waved off her apology and her useless efforts. Thankfully, the woman’s friends pulled her away before she could make more of a spectacle of herself. After that, the stares they had attracted quickly lost interest and Shizuru took a moment to assess the damage. Her blouse was stained dark from shoulder to breast, noticeable and embarrassing but not bad.
“Here,” Yamane said, holding up a handkerchief.
Shizuru hesitated before taking it. “Thank you.”
Yamane stepped back and nodded. “There’s a washroom at the end of the hall if you’d like to clean up.”
Shizuru nodded. “I-yes. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
But when she stepped out of the bathroom, hardly drier though smelling a bit less of alcohol, she was ambushed by Risa, who grabbed her arm, babbling about a party, and began to drag her off.
“Wait, I have to-” Shizuru objected, pulling her arm free. Risa raised an eyebrow. “Can you wait a moment?”
A minute later, though, handkerchief clutched in her hand, she hadn’t found Yamane and Risa was tired of waiting. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, Shizuru told herself, and reluctantly let herself be led away by her friend.
*
Shizuru pulled her keys out of her pocket, having stuffed them into her jacket when she thought better of bringing her purse for an impromptu late-night joyride with Natsuki, and spilled an assortment of other junk onto the carpet. Natsuki reached down and picked up the objects, stuffing the trash into her own pocket and handing back the other things to Shizuru.
“That’s nice,” she commented on the handkerchief, white and lacey, as Shizuru took it from her.
“It’s not mine,” Shizuru said absently, barely glancing at it before she stuffed it back into her pocket. She sifted through her keys to find her dorm key.
Natsuki rubbed at the back of her neck. “Is it one of your friends'?”
“Hm? Oh,” Shizuru said as she turned the key. “Yes.” She leaned on the door, still closed but unlocked. “Do you want to come in? I can make some tea before you go.”
“Nah,” Natsuki said, shaking her head. “It’s late already and I have to get up early for practice tomorrow.”
They stood awkwardly in the hall for a little bit and then Shizuru reached out and gave Natsuki’s hand a little tug. “Thank you for the drive. I needed to clear my head after that exam.”
Natsuki smiled and then let it fade in favor of a shrug. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Shizuru let the silence slide into the territory of being too long, predicting the exact moment Natsuki’s gaze would drift away. She waited a second more, taking in the sight of Natsuki unobserved, and then said, “Good night, Natsuki.”
“Good night.”
Shizuru opened her door without taking her eyes off of her friend, stepped inside, and closed it slowly, waving before the door shut completely. The last sight she caught was of Natsuki raising her hand in a small reciprocal wave. Shizuru leaned against the door and then raised her eye to the peephole. Natsuki was already gone.
With a small sigh, Shizuru flipped the lock and went to get ready for bed.
*
It was the third time that Shizuru pulled the handkerchief out of her pocket that she thought maybe she should try to return it. Risa, who was quickly making herself at home on Shizuru’s sofa to study for her history midterm, looked up at Shizuru sitting quietly puzzled and contemplative over the lace handkerchief.
“Where’d you get that?” Risa asked.
“It’s not mine.”
Risa raised an eyebrow. “Whose is it?”
Shizuru shook her head to dismiss the line of questioning. “Want some tea?”
Risa paused long enough to let Shizuru know that she was being gracious before accepting. Shizuru set the handkerchief aside and disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back to serve the tea, Risa was examining the handkerchief.
“I hope this belongs to a woman,” she said.
Shizuru smirked as she poured. “I’m sure you can name at least five men who might own something like that.”
Risa pursed her lips in affronted acknowledgement, not because Shizuru was right but because Shizuru was implying that Risa was being judgmental. “Three, maybe.”
“See?” Shizuru murmured softly as she held out a cup. Pinching a corner of the handkerchief with her right hand, Risa dragged it through the fingers of her left and then deposited it back onto the coffee table. She took the cup and sipped.
“Does it belong to a woman?” Risa asked.
“Shouldn’t you be studying?”
Risa smiled behind her cup but relented. Half an hour later, Risa, never looking up from her notes, asked, “Is she pretty?”
Shizuru smiled to herself, as if in possession of a secret, and calmly buried herself in her own notes. Risa made an exasperated sound but didn’t ask again. Shizuru, for her part, still hadn’t decided if she was grateful or regretful to have a friend who knew more about her than most-and didn’t have to almost die to learn that knowledge.
*
The answer to Risa’s question was that Shizuru didn’t really care if Yamane Aki was pretty or not. She did care that Yamane Aki wasn’t listed in the phonebook. She closed the massive volume with a sigh and gazed balefully at the small business card in front of her. She had been hoping to avoid this.
She picked up the card and dialed carefully. The line rang so many times that Shizuru was sure she’d be bumped to voicemail, but then a voice demanded, “Hello?”
“Hello,” Shizuru said, slipping into her phone voice. “Is this Kihara Sena?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
Shizuru hesitated before saying, “Kihara-san, I’m calling because your friend Yamane Aki . . . left something in my possession that I’d like to return to her, but I don’t have her number.”
Kihara was quiet. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
Shizuru held her breath. She really didn’t want to explain.
“Hello?”
Shizuru covered her face with a hand. “My name is Fujino Shizuru. Some time ago you gave me your business card and asked me to call you.”
“Describe yourself.”
After a moment, Shizuru did.
“Yes, I remember you. Yes. You’ll model for me?”
Shizuru winced, knowing Kihara couldn’t see it. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t have the time, but if you could just give me-”
“Aki-chan can wait until you’re interested,” Kihara said with delight and then hung up. Shizuru pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it. Well, she thought as she picked up the handkerchief and tucked it away in the corner of a desk shelf, she’d tried.
*
When the strange number showed up on the caller ID of her cell phone, Shizuru had forgotten about the handkerchief. She answered cautiously. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Fujino Shizuru-san?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, casting Natsuki an apologetic look as she left the table and ventured outside of the café to hear better. Just before she walked out the door she caught sight of Tokiha raising an eyebrow of askance at Natsuki.
“Fujino-san, this is Yamane Aki.”
“Oh. Hello, Yamane-san.”
“Hello,” was the reply. Shizuru thought she could hear a smile in the voice. “Sena told me that you called her a while ago, saying that you had something of mine?”
“Yes. Your handkerchief.”
“My-oh.” There was a laugh. “You didn’t have to trouble yourself. You can keep it if you want. I have a few others.”
Shizuru didn’t want to admit that she had been going to. “Now that you’ve called me back, I’d like to return it if I could.”
“Yes, well, normally I’d say let’s meet for a cup of coffee or something, but Sena only told me you had called by making me promise that I’d meet you here, at her studio, if you were going to return something to me.”
“She’s . . . persistent.”
“She likes the way you look.”
Shizuru shook her head. Into her silence, Yamane said, “Keep the handkerchief, Fujino-san. It was nice-talking to you.”
“Wait,” Shizuru said quickly, sensing Yamane was going to hang up.
“Yes?”
“Where’s-can you give me the address of the studio?”
The address Yamane provided was in one of the less savory parts of town. After Shizuru repeated it back to her, Yamane added, “You don’t have to come. Sena is just stubborn.”
Shizuru smiled. “In that respect she reminds me of someone I know.”
“Then you know how it is,” Yamane said, but her tone was fond. “Anyway, it was nice speaking to you, Fujino-san. Goodbye.”
Shizuru said goodbye and then rushed back inside. Back at the table, Shizuru dug in her purse for paper and a pen and jotted down the address before she could forget it. Natsuki, glimpsing what she was writing, said, “What’s there?”
Shizuru smiled at the concern in Natsuki’s voice. She folded up the piece of paper and tucked it into her purse. “Just some place I need to send something.”
Both Natsuki and Tokiha looked curious but neither asked any more questions, Natsuki because she wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable knowing more, Tokiha because she didn’t know Shizuru well enough to ask.
*
The next time Yamane Aki called, her name appeared on Shizuru’s caller ID. Risa and a few of her other friends who had come over to watch a movie looked up curiously as she disappeared into her bedroom to take the call.
“I - Sena got your package,” Yamane said after pleasantries. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Shizuru said warmly. “Thank you for lending me your handkerchief.”
“Of course. I hope it was useful. Oh, and the chocolates were wonderful. I didn’t eat them, but they looked delicious.”
“You don’t like chocolate?” Shizuru asked.
“I gave them to Sena. They seemed to console her. A little bit.”
Shizuru settled into her desk chair and smiled. “That sounds like it was a smart idea.”
“You were pretty clever yourself. I hadn’t thought of just sending the handkerchief back.”
“Actually,” Shizuru said, not sure where the words were coming from, “I would have liked to meet you for coffee.”
There was a pause. “Really?”
Shizuru stared at the corner of her desk. “Really.”
She heard Yamane take a breath. “There’s no reason we can’t meet for coffee.”
Shizuru pressed her lips together and then said, “I’d like that.”
“When are you free?”
“Some time this week?” Shizuru suggested.
“What’s your schedule like around noon?”
“I can do Thursday.”
“Thursday, at the café where we first met?”
Shizuru tapped her desktop with a finger. “Yes. That sounds fine.”
“Thursday, then. I’ll-I’ll see you then, Fujino-san.”
They said their goodbyes, after which Shizuru closed her phone slowly. She sat quietly in her room for another minute before trailing back out into the living room.
“What did I miss?” Shizuru whispered as she reclaimed her spot on the sofa.
“Kuga-chan?” Risa asked.
“No,” Shizuru answered. “Just some business I had to take care of.”
Shizuru ignored Risa’s glance at the clock and helped herself to the bowl of popcorn.
*
On the following Wednesday, Shizuru paid a visit to Fuuka Academy. Natsuki, seeing her approach, got up from the secluded picnic spot she was sharing with Tokiha, Tate, and Mikoto and intercepted her.
“Shizuru!”
”Tea?” Shizuru said by way of greeting, holding up a thermos.
Natsuki managed to look confused and exasperated at the same time. “Come on.”
They trekked back together toward the small group. The others greeted Shizuru with varying degrees of reserve. Mikoto warmed to her once she produced some sweets and then promptly forgot her once she began to eat them. This wasn’t the first time Shizuru had shown up on campus without warning to share a lunch with them.
For once, Shizuru was glad she didn’t get Natsuki alone. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Instead she spent the hour or so listening to the others, sneaking looks at Natsuki when she could, even knowing that Tokiha and possibly even Tate caught her looks.
At the end of the hour, Natsuki lingered behind while the others headed back to class. She knew better by now than to ask Shizuru why she had come-“I wanted to see you”-and simply said, “Thanks for coming. I know you’ve been really busy lately.”
“We’re both busy,” Shizuru amended.
“Yeah,” Natsuki said, looking a little apologetic. “I should probably get back to class.”
Shizuru smiled, musing on how the once truant girl was worrying about being late. On an impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Natsuki’s cheek. Natsuki stumbled back with a squawk.
“What was that for?”
“Because you’re so cute,” Shizuru said simply, feeling her lips tingle.
The blush that reddened Natsuki’s cheeks took the edge off her scowl. “I should really go. I’ll see you later.”
Shizuru smiled indulgently as Natsuki scooped up her book bag and sprinted back into the building just as the bells began to chime. Only when the younger girl was out of sight did Shizuru touch her lips. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to recapture the softness of Natsuki’s skin, and then left the campus, heart heavy and thoughts full.
*
The first thing Thursday taught Shizuru about Yamane Aki was that she was punctual. They arrived within seconds of each other, meeting just outside the door. Shizuru felt a little underdressed next to Yamane’s pantsuit, but Yamane didn’t seem to mind. She complimented Shizuru’s skirt and turtleneck as she held the door open for her. After they ordered their drinks and sat down, Shizuru prompted several other revelations through some quick questions. She learned that despite her choice of friends, Yamane was not an artist but an architect; that she dabbled in amateur photography, mostly taking pictures of landscapes and buildings, which had led to her meeting Sena as the artist was painting in a square; and that she’d been living in Fuuka for several years longer than she had intended, working on a project that had yet to end.
When Yamane managed to sneak in a question, she learned in turn that Shizuru was a student at Fuuka University. Conversation briefly stopped.
“You’re a student?” Yamane asked slowly. “A graduate student?”
“No, an undergraduate. Is that a problem?”
Yamane licked her lips. “I’m sorry, but how old are you?”
Shizuru considered lying but said, “Nineteen.”
Yamane sat back and stared at the tabletop. “Wow.”
“That is a problem, isn’t it?” Shizuru asked softly.
Yamane raised her eyes to meet Shizuru’s. “I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . older.” At Shizuru’s amused expression, Yamane quickly added, “I don’t mean you look old, but you just carry yourself in a very-mature manner.”
She looked slightly panicked. Shizuru felt a twinge of pity for her but not enough not to lean in closely and say in a low voice, “Am I right, then, in thinking that you’ve been flirting with me?”
That quickly recaptured Yamane’s attention. She met Shizuru’s eyes, forehead furrowed in confusion. “Haven’t you been flirting with me?”
“I’m not sure,” Shizuru confessed.
“You’re not sure that you’ve been flirting with me or you’re not sure that I’ve been flirting with you?”
“Both,” Shizuru said after a second’s thought.
Yamane looked more confused but said, “Before today I hadn’t been flirting with you. At least, not intentionally. Have I-” She crossed her arms tightly around herself. “Have I completely misinterpreted this situation?”
“No, not completely,” Shizuru said. She sighed and covered her face. “I’m sorry. Usually I’m much more . . . confident than this.”
“Confident in flirting?”
Shizuru stifled a giggle. “Yes.”
“Flirting with other women?”
“Yes,” she affirmed, but with more weariness.
Now Yamane looked really confused. “So what’s different about this?” She freed one hand from gripping her side and gestured between the two of them.
Shizuru considered the question, stalling for time by sipping at her tea. The answer came as a surprise to her. This was different, but only because Shizuru was used to being pursued by the assertiveness of others’ flirtations on one hand and pursuing someone she couldn’t have on the other.
“I guess I’m more used to . . . others being more assertive.” It wasn’t the whole story but it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh,” Yamane said, wrapping her arms around herself again and huddling over slightly. “I’m not very good at that.” She smiled feebly, prompting a smile from Shizuru. But then Yamane shook her head. “I’m sorry. I keep thinking about how young you are.”
Shizuru propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “You can’t be much older than I am.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“That’s only eight years.”
“It’s eight years between nineteen and twenty-seven,” Yamane clarified.
Shizuru shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Yamane laughed. “You will in eight years.”
With the HiME Festival looming close in her memories, Shizuru sometimes felt ancient. But she only said, “Does that mean you’re not . . . interested anymore?”
Yamane opened her mouth to answer but inhaled sharply instead. She had a remarkably open face. There was a struggle behind her pinched eyes and furrowed eyebrows, but about what, Shizuru couldn’t tell. She wasn’t too surprised, though, when Yamane simply said, “Tell me about what you’re studying.”
It was the defeated look that accompanied those words that restrained Shizuru from pressing the issue, but as she started speaking about business and political science, she made a mental note that Yamane hadn’t said yes or no either way.
- Part Two -
While it was clear that she and Yamane weren’t dating, they began to meet every now and again for lunchtime drinks. Shizuru discovered she liked being able to be the younger, less experienced one in a relationship, though in some respects she felt older than Yamane (flirting being one of them). Their relationship wasn’t anything like what Shizuru had with Natsuki-the teasing, the physicality, or the length of history between them-which was what made it nice. Even being with Risa gave her the sense of being with a peer, but Yamane was a new circle of influence.
The age difference kept things platonic between them for the most part. It helped that Yamane was somewhat socially awkward. She seemed to hold herself apart, literally, often hugging her arms tightly around herself. She and Shizuru rarely touched aside from coincidental contact, like passing the sugar or cream. Yet she was full of gallant gestures, holding doors open, helping Shizuru into and out of her jacket, or offering to pay for drinks and meals. Shizuru had a hard time determining if Yamane was trying to be sweet or simply was sweet.
It was quite a bit of time before Shizuru got to see Yamane’s apartment. It was small and felt even smaller because of the drafting table that dominated one corner of the living room, but had been made homey and personal by the many pictures and sketches plastered on the walls. The night she visited, Yamane made dinner that wasn’t bad but wasn’t great. Shizuru noticed that Yamane didn’t offer her any of the alcohol that she saw sitting on the kitchen counter. It was a quiet comment on her age, which, as time went by, seemed to come between them both more and less.
Shizuru spent hours and several visits asking about the pictures and sketches. Sometimes she slyly tried asking again about several that Yamane had been reticent on and sometimes it worked, though more often it didn’t. There was one of a young woman sitting in a field of flowers that Shizuru liked to return to in particular. The fourth or fifth time Shizuru asked about it, Yamane finally said, “Do you like talking about your exes?”
Shizuru considered the wisdom of saying her next words before admitting, “I don’t have an ex.”
Yamane stared at her and then got up and muttered, “Nineteen.” She went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Shizuru suspected she wanted something to do that wasn’t sitting still because when she returned she simply stood next to the table.
“You haven’t started dating,” Yamane said matter-of-factly, if uneasily.
“Are you surprised?” Shizuru asked.
“Not really.”
“Really?”
Yamane sat back down. “I didn’t start dating until college.” She pointed at the picture. “She was my first girlfriend.”
“She’s pretty,” Shizuru said.
Yamane nodded and smiled ruefully.
“What happened?” Shizuru asked.
“She dumped me around finals time.”
It sounded so horrible that Shizuru had to swallow a laugh. Yamane watched her face. “It is kind of funny now, but back then . . . I was lucky I didn’t fail half my classes that semester.” She met Shizuru’s eye. “When you’re ready to start dating, try not to be that cruel.”
But Shizuru couldn’t find a way to tell her that she already knew what that type of heartbreak felt like, in small doses everyday.
*
That conversation marked a small turning point in her relationship with Yamane. More than her age, the revelation that Shizuru hadn’t dated any women yet made Yamane distantly wary around her. Conversely, Shizuru started feeling more comfortable asking questions she didn’t have anyone to ask. She treated it like a game, a hypothetical one, where she pretended that the questions she asked had nothing to do with her and Yamane answered as if they really didn’t.
She started with an easy one over strawberry cake and tea at a small sweet shop closer to the university than it was to the downtown office that Yamane worked at. Yamane picked at a cup of mousse, looking slightly disheveled from a day working late hours.
“What would you do if you had a crush on a friend?”
Yamane’s eyebrows lifted in surprise but then lowered to complement the thoughtful line of her lips. She swirled her spoon through the mousse, cleaving a small trench through the middle. “How close am I to this friend? Have we known each other long? Are we more acquaintances or are we more friends?”
“Let’s say you’re more acquaintances.”
“Okay. Is she my friend or is she a friend of a friend and we just hang out because of our mutual friend?”
“That’s really going into detail,” Shizuru admired, crossing her legs.
“It matters,” Yamane said.
“Does it?”
Yamane took a bite and stared into the chocolately confection. “Well, maybe what really matters is if you’re willing to ask her out. It helps to know if she, you know, likes women.”
Shizuru opened her mouth to ask the logical follow-up question but lamely said, “What if you’re close friends?”
Yamane made a face. “That’s always tricky.”
“You think it’s harder to have a relationship with a close friend?”
“I think dating someone you know well and dating someone you barely know is each difficult in different ways.”
Shizuru smiled. “Did you study poly sci in college?”
“Ha ha. No, I’m serious,” Yamane said, hunching over in that way of hers. “I’ve known people who could date their friends without any problems-some preferred to date their friends, in fact.”
Shizuru speared a strawberry with her fork. At length she asked, “Do you have problems with dating your friends?”
Yamane smiled feebly. “I have trouble dating anyone.” She avoided Shizuru’s eyes, for which Shizuru was secretly thankful. She wasn’t sure what she might have looked like in the wake of the sudden rush of mixed and confused feelings that made her stomach flip.
*
Yamane was better than a guilty secret because, unlike a guilty secret, Shizuru felt no compulsion to share the knowledge of her with anyone else. This was made surprisingly easy by the fact that Shizuru had managed her social life into separate spheres. There was rarely any overlap between these spheres, aside from an occasional meeting between Natsuki and Risa in which Natsuki tried her best not to give curt and awkward answers to Risa’s questions and Risa enjoyed the sadistic pleasure of flustering Natsuki under the protective and demanding aegis of being Shizuru’s friend. But although Risa was a friend who knew more than Shizuru might have wanted her to-which, really, was inevitable considering that they’d met when Risa was trying to get Shizuru’s number for an interested girl friend that Shizuru had no interest in-she wasn’t close enough to pry and pester Shizuru about the phone calls she’d been receiving that weren’t from “Kuga-chan.” It helped, too, that Shizuru had begun cultivating moods of selective solitariness early into her university career, which she used as an excuse to make her lone (or “lone”) adventures meandering about to think or to study in obscure places seem normal rather than worrisome.
It was, she realized, how she’d always lived her life.
*
The reality, though, was that sometimes a part of her life liked to intrude on another, without much regard to Shizuru’s feelings. Over tea and coffee one late afternoon, Yamane, listening to Shizuru describe her hometown, suddenly focused on a point just beyond Shizuru’s shoulder and sat up straighter with an expression of wary curiosity. Seeing the odd expression, Shizuru turned just as a breathy, excited voice exclaimed, “Fujino-san!”
There must have been something about the tone or pitch of the voice, but Shizuru felt a controlled, relaxed smile turn up the corners of her lips, her shoulders pull back and straighten in a deceptively lax manner, and her eyelids droop just a bit. By the time she finished turning around to greet the small group of girls in Fuuka Academy uniforms, she was ready to receive them. During the next five minutes, Shizuru deflected compliments, politely laughed at something inconsequential, and gently flirted to the delighted giggles of girls at least two years younger than herself. They left flushed and excited, casting furtive glances back at her. Shizuru raised a hand in a benevolent wave.
Turning back to Yamane, though, Shizuru caught the older woman’s curious and penetrating gaze, spreading through her like the jolt of waking from a dream.
*
Sometimes, though, Shizuru purposefully brought her disparate worlds together. Sitting at her low table, Yamane browsed through the small stack of photographs Shizuru had brought with her. She’d also brought mochi, but they had put that aside for later.
“These are good,” Yamane commented after seeing about half of them. “You said your friend took these?”
“Yes,” Shizuru said, warming at the compliment to Natsuki. “Most of them are from a trip we took last summer.”
Yamane nodded. “Is she considering a career in photography?”
Shizuru laughed. “I don’t think the idea has entered her mind yet. Do you think she should, though?”
Yamane made the face that indicated she was holding back a grimace. “I’d never say ‘should’,” she said, features relaxing into a pleasanter countenance, “but she has a good eye for color and contrast. I don’t think she’s at a professional level yet, but with a little work, studying, and experience-and a better camera-I don’t see why she couldn’t become a skilled photographer. Is she outgoing and determined?”
Shizuru contemplated the question and phrased her answer carefully. “She can be very goal-oriented.”
“That’s good. She’ll need to be if she wants to make it in the photography industry. It’s a tough market to break into successfully.”
Shizuru crossed her arms on the table. “Have you sold any of your photographs?”
“Just a few. Mostly to travel magazines.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
Yamane flipped through the last picture. “Only for work, really.” She held out the stack of photos to Shizuru. “What’s your friend studying now?”
Shizuru took the stack and slipped them back into their packet sleeve. “Oh, she’s not a student at the university. She’s a third year at Fuuka Academy.” Yamane nodded and for no reason, really, Shizuru added, “But she’s not like the other girls-like the ones you saw.”
Yamane smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Shizuru spun her tea cup between her thumb and middle finger and studied the bits of leaves at the bottom. “Were you surprised when you saw them the other day? The girls, I mean.”
“Surprised about what? That you were popular in high school? No, I think it’s pretty easy to see why you would be.”
But Shizuru only smiled weakly, even a little sadly. That wasn’t what she had meant but the real question she wanted to ask sounded like a pathetic grasp for approval even in her mind.
After a moment, though, Yamane drew a sharp breath and said, “It did-explain a few things.”
“Like what?” Shizuru asked, her voice coming off softer than usual.
“Like why you seemed so much older when we first met.”
Shizuru puzzled through that statement. “Are you saying I don’t seem old anymore?” she asked with returning energy and amusement.
“Not old, older,” Yamane corrected with exasperation, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them.
“Older, then,” Shizuru conceded. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Yamane turned to look out the window. “Sometimes you make me feel old.”
Shizuru laughed, short and softly. “Should I apologize? Even if you’re really not that old.”
“I turned twenty-eight last month,” Yamane said in an offhand manner.
Caught off guard, Shizuru said, “I didn’t know. Happy birthday.”
Yamane laughed. “Now that sounded like an apology for my age.” Shizuru looked dangerously close to actually scowling so Yamane held up a hand to ward off any reply. “I know you were just apologizing for missing my birthday-which you couldn’t help anyway since I didn’t tell you. Besides,” she added, stretching out her legs and leaning her weight back on her hands, “I like it when you seem like you’re acting your age.”
Shizuru raised one eyebrow.
Yamane shrugged. “Do you know how unfair and sad it would be if someone your age had the whole world figured out?”
*
Shizuru needed no other lesson but the HiME Festival to teach her that she didn’t have the world-or even herself-figured out. And there was always Natsuki, of course.
Natsuki who didn’t pull away when Shizuru trapped one of her hands between her own while they sat watching TV and who didn’t subtly scoot down the couch when their shoulders brushed. She stiffened sometimes, but would eventually relax if Shizuru kept still, and though she voiced complaints on occasion, Shizuru had long ago learned to ignore them. Natsuki withdrew with her eyes and strained smiles, with noncommittal grunts and murmurs as answers. Somehow Shizuru’s touch was losing its power to scare Natsuki off and in coming to realize this, Shizuru tried not to feel guilty for taking advantage of this development to satiate her growing need to touch not necessarily Natsuki but anyone who wouldn’t immediately jerk away as if burned.
Perversely, Natsuki’s quiet-if forced-acceptance made Shizuru’s heart swell all the more heavy in her chest.
*
“What would you do if you fell in love with someone who was straight?”
Shizuru hadn’t meant to ask the question in the car, especially not so bluntly, but there it was, between strains of talk radio and the blast of the heaters. Yamane was quiet, the light off the dash and streetlights highlighting her slight frown. She shifted her grip on the steering wheel.
“I’d try very hard to pretend I didn’t have those feelings.”
Shizuru stared at her own ghostly reflection in the passenger window. “Why?”
“Because it’s never worked out for me.”
Shizuru exhaled long and slow.
“But,” Yamane said a heartbeat later, glancing over at her, “that doesn’t mean that-others can’t make it work. I’m sure there are people who have.”
Despite herself and because she was the younger one in that small, anxious car, Shizuru let herself hope for the belief that maybe Yamane really was speaking about her.
*
“I love you.”
Natsuki gave a small start and turned wide eyes on her. In the tense second following her confession, Shizuru took in the sight of her-the shock, the confusion, the fear, the unreadiness-and then she smiled and laughed, throwing her arms around the younger girl. “You’re so cute,” she sang at just the right note of teasing delight. After a moment, Natsuki gave a short laugh. She reached up and gripped Shizuru’s arms. “Jeez, Shizuru.”
In response, Shizuru pressed her face into Natsuki’s shoulder, eyes shut tight, until she felt Natsuki’s hesitant touch on the crown of her head, compelling Shizuru to pull away as surely as if Natsuki had pushed her.
*
The night air was heavy with the possibility of snow. Yamane huddled in her coat, breathing out in small puffs, ears already red from the cold. Around them, strung lights threw cheer onto the streets and stores, making downtown Fuuka feel welcoming and safe. Shizuru had proposed the idea of enjoying the lights before the rush of the Christmas crowds later in the week, but they’d ventured out around the time diners were finishing their dinners and as a result the streets were still more populated than either had expected. It improved her mood, though, to see so many people enjoying the night, like the pockets of friends chatting excitedly and the couples holding hands.
Shizuru glanced at Yamane who was staring up at the Christmas tree in the middle of the shopping mall. Her phone had rung four times in the past half hour and when it began to vibrate again, Yamane took it out of her pocket, glanced at the display, flipped it open and then shut it with a snap. Right after she flipped it open again and shut the phone off entirely. The phone disappeared back into her pocket without a comment, but Shizuru had been wondering who was calling her so persistently since the third time Yamane had ignored its ringing.
After consideration Shizuru rethought saying “You’re popular tonight” and opted for asking, “Solicitors?”
“No. It’s Sena.”
Shizuru looked puzzled. She debated how entitled she was to more information before saying, “Is there something she needs?”
Yamane’s face took on an exasperated quality. “You, actually.”
The answer was so unexpected that Shizuru fell a step behind and had to quicken her pace to catch up. Yamane glanced at her and explained, “She found out that I’ve been-meeting with you. Now she’s trying to get me to convince you to come to her studio.”
“How did she find out?”
“She was going through the contacts on my phone.”
Shizuru must have looked surprised-and she was, a bit, as she hadn’t imagined Yamane and Sena as being close friends-because Yamane said, “She was trying to get someone else’s number when she saw your text, the one you sent earlier tonight.” Yamane shook her head wistfully. “She recognized your name pretty quickly. I don’t think she’s gotten over being outsmarted by your little trick.”
“It wasn’t a trick,” Shizuru murmured in her defense, eying a sweater she saw in a display window. “Yamane-san, is Kihara-san . . .” She trailed off, suddenly mindful of the people around them.
Yamane waited, puzzled, before understanding dawned in her eyes. “No. She’s just crazy.” She tilted her head back. “I’m not even sure she considers people as worth as much of her time as her artwork.”
“Are you good friends?” Shizuru asked, sidestepping someone’s eagerly curious dog.
“Sena and I? I’m not sure if anyone can be good friends with Sena. She lives so much in her own world . . . . Still, she’s so crazy,” Yamane continued, saying the word with affection, “that she attracts a crowd. Spending time with Sena is never dull.”
“What about your . . . other friends?”
“What about my other friends?”
“You don’t talk about them much,” Shizuru pointed out.
Yamane gave her a sideways look. “You don’t talk about your friends much.”
Shizuru was quiet for a breath. “I guess I don’t.”
Yamane burrowed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and exhaled loudly through her nose. “My friends are a mix of school friends and work acquaintances and people you just happen to meet. Some live here in Fuuka but my closer friends live farther away. Does that answer your question?”
Shizuru nodded but didn’t want to admit that she had been wondering if Yamane had other friends besides herself and Sena. Sometimes she found it hard to imagine what Yamane was like-might be like-with other people. Was she different than how she was with Shizuru? Just as Yamane had never met Shizuru in a setting of her friends, she’d never met Yamane in the context of the architect’s friends. It had begun to feel surreal between them, as if she retreated from the real world-the one with school, responsibilities, and expectations-when she met with Yamane.
Shizuru clasped her hands behind her back and stared ahead at the backs of a pair of girls laden with shopping bags. “Are we friends?”
Yamane’s eyes pinched with confusion. “I . . . hope so. Do you consider us friends?”
Shizuru stopped walking. “It’s my birthday today.”
Yamane pulled up short in surprise, both at the sudden news and the change in topic. “Happy birthday. And congratulations.” She was referring to Shizuru’s reaching the age of majority. Shizuru nodded, looking into Yamane’s eyes as the older woman added, “You should have told me. Though if you want, we can-”
Shizuru kissed her, right there, stepping into the space that divided them and reaching up to cup Yamane’s cheek with a hand. There was a moment, their lips meeting, of stillness, and then Yamane leaned back, almost stumbling, shoulders hunched and hands jammed into her pockets.
“Fujino-san-”
“Why are you so uncomfortable when we touch?” Shizuru asked, the words leaving her with a force that surprised her.
“I don’t know what you’re-”
“You know you are,” Shizuru said softly.
“Fujino-san, please, there are people around,” Yamane whispered earnestly.
Shizuru suddenly remembered that they were standing in a very public place. Several people had stopped to watch the sudden spectacle, some looking plain confused while others seemed to sense something more scandalous in the air. Shizuru forced herself to relax. Her heart hammered at a rate that was almost painful and she could hear the rush of her pulse in her ears.
Shizuru looked down at her shoes. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to touch you,” Yamane said quietly, sounding pained. Shizuru raised her head and found Yamane looking trapped and helpless.
“But?” Shizuru asked just as quietly.
Yamane struggled to form an answer.
In the hollow silence Shizuru’s cell phone rang. Two short rings. A message.
Shizuru stood staring into Yamane’s eyes for another second and then fished her cell phone out of her purse. She had a message from Risa, saying that she and a few others would meet Shizuru at her dorm in fifteen minutes.
“I have to go,” Shizuru murmured.
“Fujino-san . . .” Yamane said her name with such strangled sadness that Shizuru couldn’t meet her eye, feeling her heart leap into her throat. She shook her head and waved Yamane off. By the time she reached her dorm, she wasn’t sure if she was angrier that she hadn’t stayed and forced the issue or that Yamane had let her go.
*
The alcohol flowed fast and hard. Since Shizuru was the “baby” of the group, her friends were doing their damnedest to get her nice and legally drunk. But it didn’t take much for them to get caught up in the revelry and help themselves along the same path. After buckling down and enduring the first few furious rounds of drinks, including a tequila shot that sat like liquid fire in her stomach, Shizuru was content to slow her pace and nurse a daiquiri.
As the night wore on, she let Gurio-kun take her out onto the dance floor and even had to be rescued from an overly interested man who tried to cut in. It was fun, but more fun, she suspected, for her friends.
In the early hours of the next day they piled into cabs and stumbled out when they reached campus, digging the fare out of their pockets and practically throwing it at the drivers. As they stood outside the dorms, Risa leaned heavily on her arm, head lolling on her shoulder.
“See?” her friend murmured in her ear. “Isn’t it nice to loosen up a little?”
Shizuru made small sounds of agreement, not so much because she actually agreed but because Risa needed to hear some kind of answer.
“I’ll take her back to her room, Fujino-san,” offered a boy named Kondo, but Shizuru didn’t want to leave Risa in the hands of someone who had had his eye on her friend for a while now. She was glad, then, when Yuuki offered to help Risa make it back to her dorm room since they lived just down the hall from each other.
“What about you, Fujino?” Gurio asked. “Do you need any help to your room?”
“No,” Shizuru said. “I think I need a little air.”
The boys exchanged looks. “You shouldn’t be out alone,” Gurio said.
“I’ll be fine,” Shizuru said before he could offer to keep her company. “I’ll probably just take a little walk around the dorms and then go in.”
“Are you sure?” someone else asked and Shizuru reassured all of them that she’d be fine. After some more reluctance there were goodbyes and thank yous and final “happy birthday”’s before everyone drifted away, in ones and twos and threes. Shizuru watched them go and then set out for someplace that wasn’t just around the dorm, wanting the cold to take the bite off the lightness in her head. She wandered off campus and onto a street that housed a few late-night establishments, some bars, some restaurants that catered to the university crowd.
At the end of the street was a twenty-four hour café, a small independent business that tried to look as if it had been transplanted from somewhere West. Shizuru stepped in, enticed by the thought of a cup of tea. She ordered and then sat down at one of the many empty tables. Without really consciously doing so, she observed the few other customers, finding herself staring at one in particular two tables over. After a minute she realized why. The woman had her hair up in a bun and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. In addition to a laptop, notes littered the table. Just as Shizuru recognized her, the woman looked up and met her eye.
“Do you find something interesting?” she asked Shizuru.
Shizuru, feeling slower as sobriety crept back up on her, opened her mouth soundlessly. Then, because the woman was staring at her, Shizuru said, “Are you Professor Nakamura?”
The woman sat up straighter. “Yes. Are you one of my students?”
“No,” Shizuru said. “I have a friend who is taking one of your classes.”
The woman nodded. “What did you say your name was?”
“Fujino Shizuru,” Shizuru supplied hastily.
“Nice to meet you, Fujino-san.” Shizuru echoed her sentiments but Nakamura was eying her attire. “Long night?”
Shizuru smiled a little sheepishly. “I was at a birthday celebration.”
“Yours?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Oh. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you escape the party? Is that why you’re here alone?”
Shizuru laughed. “No. The party is over.”
“Is it?” Nakamura looked at her over her glasses. “Even so, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be alone.”
Shizuru blinked, unsure how to take the statement. While she processed the comment, Nakamura hesitated and then said, “Would you like to join me?”
Now Shizuru hesitated before moving to a seat at Nakamura’s table.
“Why are you up so late, Professor?” Shizuru asked as she settled down, discreetly moving a small pile of papers to make room for her saucer and cup.
“I needed to get out of my house so that I could-” Nakamura motioned at the assorted mess. “-get some writing done.”
“Are you working on a project?” Shizuru asked, sipping at her tea.
“My next book,” Nakamura answered. She was looking at Shizuru with an intensity that made Shizuru uneasy. Without warning Nakamura reached out and brushed Shizuru’s cheek. Shizuru pulled back, startled.
“There was a hair stuck to your lip,” Nakamura explained, eyes steady on Shizuru’s.
“Oh. Thank you,” Shizuru said, feeling warmth rush to her cheeks.
“How old did you turn tonight?”
“Twenty,” Shizuru said but it seemed to come out barely more than a whisper. The air felt warm and it wasn’t the heating.
“That’s a momentous age,” Nakamura said with a nod. “I remember what it felt like to turn twenty.”
“What did it feel like?” Shizuru asked. Her voice seemed to come from a far off place.
Nakamura had never stopped looking her in the eye. “Like becoming an adult.” With slow deliberateness, she placed her hand on Shizuru’s thigh and because Shizuru knew the rumors about Nakamura that the whole school seemed to know and because she was tired and a little heartsick, because she could still feel the moment that Yamane pulled away and the memory of how Natsuki had only kissed her once, like a compensation prize, and because Yamane wouldn’t touch her and Natsuki wouldn’t touch her in the same way that Shizuru touched her, and maybe just because-Shizuru didn’t move away.
*
Shizuru hadn’t woken up the morning of her twentieth birthday with the resolve to lose her virginity, but it was happening anyway. In that moment she realized she had no idea what she was doing, only that her hands seemed to find curves and buttons and zippers with equal ease, that her hand splayed nicely across the expanse of another’s stomach and could span a waistline beneath her palms. Her lips had never been bruised like this, with the sheer number of kisses, fast and languid, exploring and teasing together. She hadn’t been sure, until that moment, that the sight of a body other than Natsuki’s would excite her, but Nakamura was younger than Shizuru had gathered from Risa’s stories of her and was slender, hard and soft to her touch.
Nakamura. Nakamura, patient and slow, even gentle, as if she had been lying in wait with prescient knowledge of this day, safeguarding this last gift to mark the end of Shizuru’s childhood.
When Nakamura made her moan, Shizuru didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice.
*
Nakamura held her for a long time afterward, quietly and without questions. It wasn’t really a romantic gesture but Shizuru was thankful for it. Then, when Shizuru was sure she could go and that she should, Nakamura quietly handed her her clothes before slipping into her own undergarments and venturing off to find a bathrobe. It took Shizuru two tries to dress properly and in that time it became clear from their conversation that this would be a one time thing between them. The terms weren’t laid out meanly, but with a frankness that was almost fond, so that when Nakamura kissed her goodbye, Shizuru kissed her back lightly, surprised at the smell of her: roses and sex and something else that might have been Shizuru herself.
Before she left the bedroom, Shizuru caught sight of a framed picture on one of the nightstands. She wondered what games Nakamura was trying to escape herself.
*
For a time immediately afterwards, the time between leaving Nakamura’s home and returning to her dorm, Shizuru was fine, excited, elated. But then she got home and thought to check her messages and everything quietly fell apart.
*
“Fujino-san . . . This is Yamane. I thought I needed-to explain myself. What you said tonight . . . wasn’t wrong. I am uncomfortable touching you-but not because you aren’t beautiful or because I don’t want to touch you but because . . . I’m afraid to touch you. I’m afraid I’ll want more than I should want-or more than you’re ready to give. I can’t let myself cross that line knowing-knowing that maybe you’re just trying to work through whatever it is you’ve been trying to work through. I know that this is hard and I know that-now that you know this-that you might not want to see me anymore, but at least call me back. I don’t want things to end like this between us.
“Call me . . . call me when you’re ready.”
*
Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, the message ended and Shizuru cried. Loudly, wrenchingly, she cried. She cried because she had gone with Nakamura to run away from her problems, because her heart still ached for the love she felt for Natsuki, because she had ruined the sedate, easy way she had come to love Yamane with a kiss born of impatience, because she had nightmares about killing people, because she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to be able to forgive herself. For the first time, she let herself face all of it.
So she cried.
When she finished crying, she lay still, and while she lay still, she accepted it, that these were her problems, that whatever she was doing wasn’t working, and that she would have to find a way-a new way-that did.
But not at that moment. At that moment Shizuru closed her eyes and slept, dreamless and deep.
*
Shizuru waited at least a week to call Yamane. When she had woken up late in the afternoon the day after her birthday, her life hadn’t magically changed and she didn’t suddenly have answers about how to change it. But in a week she had put herself more or less back together and she knew it was time to start searching for solutions.
Yamane met her in a park with a cup of tea. Christmas had come and gone and now people were getting excited for New Year’s. Yamane had sent her a text message Christmas day that Shizuru hadn’t replied to, but now seeing Yamane’s hesitant, questioning look, she smiled. Yamane smiled back but looked at her at long and hard. In silence they found a bench and sat down, keeping a respectable amount of space between them.
“How are you?” Yamane asked.
Shizuru nodded slowly and chose her words. “I’m fine. I’m doing better, I think.”
“When you say you’re doing better . . .”
“I mean I’m-getting started on trying to work things out.”
Yamane nodded and stared down at the lid of her coffee cup.
“I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” Shizuru said.
Yamane lifted her head and met her eyes. “And I’m sorry if you felt-rejected because of my reaction. I was-surprised.”
“It was unfair of me to put you on the spot like that,” Shizuru said, keeping her gaze steady.
“You were right, though.” Yamane inhaled deeply. “I’m not-ready to be comfortable with you in that way without wanting . . . something more.” She gazed earnestly into Shizuru’s eyes. “I don’t think either of us is ready for something like that.”
Shizuru sighed, feeling sad, relieved, and tired. “I think you’re right.” She licked her lips. “But can we still be friends?”
Yamane smiled and Shizuru thought she saw some of the same sadness, relief, and exhaustion reflected in her expression. “I hope so.”
Then, tentatively, Yamane reached out and took Shizuru’s hand, squeezing gently. And Shizuru smiled and squeezed back.
- Fin -
As an end note, I realized too late that Shizuru's "dorm room" is much more like an "apartment." We'll just pretend that Fuuka University shells out money for the comfort of its students. =)
Fandom: Mai HiME
Rating: Hard PG-13/Soft R
Words: ~9700
Spoilers: Entire series
Tie-ins: Shizuru-Natsuki drabble cycle and "Orbiting"
Featured Character: Fujino Shizuru
Disclaimer: SUNRISE's. Not mine.
Notes: A possible sequel, of sorts, to the events in the Drabbles with a tie-in to Orbiting. Reading them is not necessary, but it'll make a lot of the characterization here make sense. A heartfelt thank you to nemesisjk8, ifuritka, and shigan for being my litmus test readers and a special thank you to Nemi especially for prodding me to keep writing this. If you see any typos, please let me know.
A Tangential Affair
“But can we still be friends?” she asked.
Her voice, in the cold air, sounded very small.
- Part One -
“You belong on canvas.”
Shizuru didn’t know how to respond to the obviously crazy woman who had appeared at their tableside and was now leaning unnervingly close into her personal space. It wasn’t the eye-stabbing bright colors of the woman’s clothing, the slightly disheveled state of her hair, or even the random statement that Shizuru was trying to process that warned her that this woman was crazy, but the way she looked at her, eager and hungry, eyes moving over Shizuru’s body in quick movements.
“Excuse me?” Shizuru managed just as another figure dressed in somber colors appeared and grabbed the first woman’s arm.
“Sena,” this new woman said in a low, stern voice. As she turned to focus on Shizuru, the disapproving line of her lips wavered into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. My friend is an artist, with an eye for beauty. She’s always looking for new models-”
“Yes, yes,” the crazy woman-Sena-agreed with enthusiasm, punctuating each word with a nod of her head.
“-and she came over here to ask you if you’d like to model for her,” the other woman finished. The crazy woman continued to nod in agreement while her hands scrabbled in her purse. When they emerged, Shizuru found a small card thrust in her face.
“Call me.”
Shizuru stared at the card and then at the so-called artist, but it was the other woman’s strained but indulgent smile that finally made her take it. She held it gingerly as if it might bite.
“Can we go now?” the other woman asked with something like exasperation and relief.
“Call me,” the artist said again, gazing intently at Shizuru.
“Let’s go,” the other woman said, taking firm hold of her friend and leading her away. She nodded at Shizuru and her friend. “I’m sorry we bothered you.”
Shizuru watched them until they were out the door, heads close together in conversation, and then turned back to her friend, Risa, who was looking at her intently.
“That was strange,” Shizuru said lightly.
“You just got scouted,” Risa pointed out.
Shizuru flipped the card over to read the name: Kihara Sena. A second later when Risa reached out to grab it, Shizuru slipped it into her jacket pocket. “Not by anyone important, it seems,” she said. “You were saying something about Professor Nakamura?”
Risa treated her to a mild glare but continued with her story about the historian’s latest lecture. By the time they left the café Shizuru had forgotten about the card.
*
Shizuru made a mental note about Risa’s taste in art-really, what was it about artists and the nude body?-and resolved to make up an excuse the next time her friend asked her to accompany her to a gallery. The halls were abuzz with the chatter and excitement of opening night. Not knowing the featured artists or any of the attendees besides her friend and finding she didn’t really have an interest in knowing anyone, Shizuru did her best to shuffle into a corner and look interested in one of the more innocuous pieces. She nursed a cup of water, mindful that Risa was off somewhere getting tipsy on the champagne and wine. One of them had to be able to get them home.
“Hello,” said a soft voice from behind her. Shizuru turned and had to hide her surprise and confusion at the sight of the stranger addressing her. It was a woman dressed simply in slacks and a button-down shirt. She was bowed slightly at the waist and leaning towards Shizuru as if she were trying to get a better look at Shizuru’s face in the poor light.
“Hello,” Shizuru said politely.
The woman straightened up and smiled, slipping her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Do you know one of the artists?”
“No, I don’t,” Shizuru answered slowly. The woman’s familiar tone irked her, especially since Shizuru couldn’t place her face. “I’m with a friend who has an interest in art.”
The woman watched Shizuru’s face, smile growing wider. Abruptly she said, “I’m Yamane Aki.”
“Fujino Shizuru,” Shizuru offered hesitantly but with a neat bow. “Nice to meet you.”
“We met a few weeks ago, actually,” Yamane said as they both straightened up, timing it so that Shizuru couldn’t hide her blink of bafflement. “We didn’t get to introduce ourselves but you might remember my friend Kihara Sena.”
It took a moment. Shizuru just managed to stifle the “Oh” that bubbled up in her throat. She covered her surprise by turning to look at the nearest painting, which happened to be of a buxom, nude woman reclining on a sofa. It was done in neon colors that made her eyes ache. “Is this Sena-san’s work?”
Yamane followed her gaze. “No, she’s not showing tonight. I do know this artist, though, if you’d like to meet him.”
“No, that’s fine,” Shizuru said too curtly. Yamane didn’t comment, but rocked back on her heels.
“Sena’s still waiting for your call,” Yamane said after a moment, voice a bit hesitant but straining for light and amused.
“Is her work . . . like this?” Shizuru hedged.
“Nudes? Only if you’re comfortable posing for it.”
Shizuru couldn’t fight her look of shock or the warmth that rushed to her cheeks. Yamane smiled, an expression that tried to appear kind but looked uneasy. “I mean that Sena does paint nudes but that usually depends on her mood and the comfort level of her subject. Sena’s work is more . . .” She pulled a hand out of her pocket and gestured vaguely. “. . . out there. Some call it fantasy or sci-fi, but really Sena just lives in her own world. She’s very good, though, and she’ll compensate you for your time. If you’re interested.”
Shizuru crossed her arms and swirled her cup of water. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time . . . .”
Yamane nodded. They stood gazing unseeingly at the painting for another moment.
“You would look . . . very good on canvas,” Yamane said softly, not looking at her. Shizuru turned, struggling to form a polite and neutral answer, when someone bumped into her. Shizuru stumbled, reaching out blindly for something to catch herself on, and grasped onto the arm that caught her just under her ribs. She gazed at Yamane in a mixture of surprise and gratitude while the person who bumped into her began to apologize profusely.
“I’m so sorry!” The offender used her fingers to dab ineffectually at the spot where she’d spilled champagne onto Shizuru’s blouse. Shizuru waved off her apology and her useless efforts. Thankfully, the woman’s friends pulled her away before she could make more of a spectacle of herself. After that, the stares they had attracted quickly lost interest and Shizuru took a moment to assess the damage. Her blouse was stained dark from shoulder to breast, noticeable and embarrassing but not bad.
“Here,” Yamane said, holding up a handkerchief.
Shizuru hesitated before taking it. “Thank you.”
Yamane stepped back and nodded. “There’s a washroom at the end of the hall if you’d like to clean up.”
Shizuru nodded. “I-yes. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
But when she stepped out of the bathroom, hardly drier though smelling a bit less of alcohol, she was ambushed by Risa, who grabbed her arm, babbling about a party, and began to drag her off.
“Wait, I have to-” Shizuru objected, pulling her arm free. Risa raised an eyebrow. “Can you wait a moment?”
A minute later, though, handkerchief clutched in her hand, she hadn’t found Yamane and Risa was tired of waiting. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, Shizuru told herself, and reluctantly let herself be led away by her friend.
*
Shizuru pulled her keys out of her pocket, having stuffed them into her jacket when she thought better of bringing her purse for an impromptu late-night joyride with Natsuki, and spilled an assortment of other junk onto the carpet. Natsuki reached down and picked up the objects, stuffing the trash into her own pocket and handing back the other things to Shizuru.
“That’s nice,” she commented on the handkerchief, white and lacey, as Shizuru took it from her.
“It’s not mine,” Shizuru said absently, barely glancing at it before she stuffed it back into her pocket. She sifted through her keys to find her dorm key.
Natsuki rubbed at the back of her neck. “Is it one of your friends'?”
“Hm? Oh,” Shizuru said as she turned the key. “Yes.” She leaned on the door, still closed but unlocked. “Do you want to come in? I can make some tea before you go.”
“Nah,” Natsuki said, shaking her head. “It’s late already and I have to get up early for practice tomorrow.”
They stood awkwardly in the hall for a little bit and then Shizuru reached out and gave Natsuki’s hand a little tug. “Thank you for the drive. I needed to clear my head after that exam.”
Natsuki smiled and then let it fade in favor of a shrug. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Shizuru let the silence slide into the territory of being too long, predicting the exact moment Natsuki’s gaze would drift away. She waited a second more, taking in the sight of Natsuki unobserved, and then said, “Good night, Natsuki.”
“Good night.”
Shizuru opened her door without taking her eyes off of her friend, stepped inside, and closed it slowly, waving before the door shut completely. The last sight she caught was of Natsuki raising her hand in a small reciprocal wave. Shizuru leaned against the door and then raised her eye to the peephole. Natsuki was already gone.
With a small sigh, Shizuru flipped the lock and went to get ready for bed.
*
It was the third time that Shizuru pulled the handkerchief out of her pocket that she thought maybe she should try to return it. Risa, who was quickly making herself at home on Shizuru’s sofa to study for her history midterm, looked up at Shizuru sitting quietly puzzled and contemplative over the lace handkerchief.
“Where’d you get that?” Risa asked.
“It’s not mine.”
Risa raised an eyebrow. “Whose is it?”
Shizuru shook her head to dismiss the line of questioning. “Want some tea?”
Risa paused long enough to let Shizuru know that she was being gracious before accepting. Shizuru set the handkerchief aside and disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back to serve the tea, Risa was examining the handkerchief.
“I hope this belongs to a woman,” she said.
Shizuru smirked as she poured. “I’m sure you can name at least five men who might own something like that.”
Risa pursed her lips in affronted acknowledgement, not because Shizuru was right but because Shizuru was implying that Risa was being judgmental. “Three, maybe.”
“See?” Shizuru murmured softly as she held out a cup. Pinching a corner of the handkerchief with her right hand, Risa dragged it through the fingers of her left and then deposited it back onto the coffee table. She took the cup and sipped.
“Does it belong to a woman?” Risa asked.
“Shouldn’t you be studying?”
Risa smiled behind her cup but relented. Half an hour later, Risa, never looking up from her notes, asked, “Is she pretty?”
Shizuru smiled to herself, as if in possession of a secret, and calmly buried herself in her own notes. Risa made an exasperated sound but didn’t ask again. Shizuru, for her part, still hadn’t decided if she was grateful or regretful to have a friend who knew more about her than most-and didn’t have to almost die to learn that knowledge.
*
The answer to Risa’s question was that Shizuru didn’t really care if Yamane Aki was pretty or not. She did care that Yamane Aki wasn’t listed in the phonebook. She closed the massive volume with a sigh and gazed balefully at the small business card in front of her. She had been hoping to avoid this.
She picked up the card and dialed carefully. The line rang so many times that Shizuru was sure she’d be bumped to voicemail, but then a voice demanded, “Hello?”
“Hello,” Shizuru said, slipping into her phone voice. “Is this Kihara Sena?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
Shizuru hesitated before saying, “Kihara-san, I’m calling because your friend Yamane Aki . . . left something in my possession that I’d like to return to her, but I don’t have her number.”
Kihara was quiet. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
Shizuru held her breath. She really didn’t want to explain.
“Hello?”
Shizuru covered her face with a hand. “My name is Fujino Shizuru. Some time ago you gave me your business card and asked me to call you.”
“Describe yourself.”
After a moment, Shizuru did.
“Yes, I remember you. Yes. You’ll model for me?”
Shizuru winced, knowing Kihara couldn’t see it. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t have the time, but if you could just give me-”
“Aki-chan can wait until you’re interested,” Kihara said with delight and then hung up. Shizuru pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it. Well, she thought as she picked up the handkerchief and tucked it away in the corner of a desk shelf, she’d tried.
*
When the strange number showed up on the caller ID of her cell phone, Shizuru had forgotten about the handkerchief. She answered cautiously. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Fujino Shizuru-san?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, casting Natsuki an apologetic look as she left the table and ventured outside of the café to hear better. Just before she walked out the door she caught sight of Tokiha raising an eyebrow of askance at Natsuki.
“Fujino-san, this is Yamane Aki.”
“Oh. Hello, Yamane-san.”
“Hello,” was the reply. Shizuru thought she could hear a smile in the voice. “Sena told me that you called her a while ago, saying that you had something of mine?”
“Yes. Your handkerchief.”
“My-oh.” There was a laugh. “You didn’t have to trouble yourself. You can keep it if you want. I have a few others.”
Shizuru didn’t want to admit that she had been going to. “Now that you’ve called me back, I’d like to return it if I could.”
“Yes, well, normally I’d say let’s meet for a cup of coffee or something, but Sena only told me you had called by making me promise that I’d meet you here, at her studio, if you were going to return something to me.”
“She’s . . . persistent.”
“She likes the way you look.”
Shizuru shook her head. Into her silence, Yamane said, “Keep the handkerchief, Fujino-san. It was nice-talking to you.”
“Wait,” Shizuru said quickly, sensing Yamane was going to hang up.
“Yes?”
“Where’s-can you give me the address of the studio?”
The address Yamane provided was in one of the less savory parts of town. After Shizuru repeated it back to her, Yamane added, “You don’t have to come. Sena is just stubborn.”
Shizuru smiled. “In that respect she reminds me of someone I know.”
“Then you know how it is,” Yamane said, but her tone was fond. “Anyway, it was nice speaking to you, Fujino-san. Goodbye.”
Shizuru said goodbye and then rushed back inside. Back at the table, Shizuru dug in her purse for paper and a pen and jotted down the address before she could forget it. Natsuki, glimpsing what she was writing, said, “What’s there?”
Shizuru smiled at the concern in Natsuki’s voice. She folded up the piece of paper and tucked it into her purse. “Just some place I need to send something.”
Both Natsuki and Tokiha looked curious but neither asked any more questions, Natsuki because she wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable knowing more, Tokiha because she didn’t know Shizuru well enough to ask.
*
The next time Yamane Aki called, her name appeared on Shizuru’s caller ID. Risa and a few of her other friends who had come over to watch a movie looked up curiously as she disappeared into her bedroom to take the call.
“I - Sena got your package,” Yamane said after pleasantries. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Shizuru said warmly. “Thank you for lending me your handkerchief.”
“Of course. I hope it was useful. Oh, and the chocolates were wonderful. I didn’t eat them, but they looked delicious.”
“You don’t like chocolate?” Shizuru asked.
“I gave them to Sena. They seemed to console her. A little bit.”
Shizuru settled into her desk chair and smiled. “That sounds like it was a smart idea.”
“You were pretty clever yourself. I hadn’t thought of just sending the handkerchief back.”
“Actually,” Shizuru said, not sure where the words were coming from, “I would have liked to meet you for coffee.”
There was a pause. “Really?”
Shizuru stared at the corner of her desk. “Really.”
She heard Yamane take a breath. “There’s no reason we can’t meet for coffee.”
Shizuru pressed her lips together and then said, “I’d like that.”
“When are you free?”
“Some time this week?” Shizuru suggested.
“What’s your schedule like around noon?”
“I can do Thursday.”
“Thursday, at the café where we first met?”
Shizuru tapped her desktop with a finger. “Yes. That sounds fine.”
“Thursday, then. I’ll-I’ll see you then, Fujino-san.”
They said their goodbyes, after which Shizuru closed her phone slowly. She sat quietly in her room for another minute before trailing back out into the living room.
“What did I miss?” Shizuru whispered as she reclaimed her spot on the sofa.
“Kuga-chan?” Risa asked.
“No,” Shizuru answered. “Just some business I had to take care of.”
Shizuru ignored Risa’s glance at the clock and helped herself to the bowl of popcorn.
*
On the following Wednesday, Shizuru paid a visit to Fuuka Academy. Natsuki, seeing her approach, got up from the secluded picnic spot she was sharing with Tokiha, Tate, and Mikoto and intercepted her.
“Shizuru!”
”Tea?” Shizuru said by way of greeting, holding up a thermos.
Natsuki managed to look confused and exasperated at the same time. “Come on.”
They trekked back together toward the small group. The others greeted Shizuru with varying degrees of reserve. Mikoto warmed to her once she produced some sweets and then promptly forgot her once she began to eat them. This wasn’t the first time Shizuru had shown up on campus without warning to share a lunch with them.
For once, Shizuru was glad she didn’t get Natsuki alone. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Instead she spent the hour or so listening to the others, sneaking looks at Natsuki when she could, even knowing that Tokiha and possibly even Tate caught her looks.
At the end of the hour, Natsuki lingered behind while the others headed back to class. She knew better by now than to ask Shizuru why she had come-“I wanted to see you”-and simply said, “Thanks for coming. I know you’ve been really busy lately.”
“We’re both busy,” Shizuru amended.
“Yeah,” Natsuki said, looking a little apologetic. “I should probably get back to class.”
Shizuru smiled, musing on how the once truant girl was worrying about being late. On an impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Natsuki’s cheek. Natsuki stumbled back with a squawk.
“What was that for?”
“Because you’re so cute,” Shizuru said simply, feeling her lips tingle.
The blush that reddened Natsuki’s cheeks took the edge off her scowl. “I should really go. I’ll see you later.”
Shizuru smiled indulgently as Natsuki scooped up her book bag and sprinted back into the building just as the bells began to chime. Only when the younger girl was out of sight did Shizuru touch her lips. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to recapture the softness of Natsuki’s skin, and then left the campus, heart heavy and thoughts full.
*
The first thing Thursday taught Shizuru about Yamane Aki was that she was punctual. They arrived within seconds of each other, meeting just outside the door. Shizuru felt a little underdressed next to Yamane’s pantsuit, but Yamane didn’t seem to mind. She complimented Shizuru’s skirt and turtleneck as she held the door open for her. After they ordered their drinks and sat down, Shizuru prompted several other revelations through some quick questions. She learned that despite her choice of friends, Yamane was not an artist but an architect; that she dabbled in amateur photography, mostly taking pictures of landscapes and buildings, which had led to her meeting Sena as the artist was painting in a square; and that she’d been living in Fuuka for several years longer than she had intended, working on a project that had yet to end.
When Yamane managed to sneak in a question, she learned in turn that Shizuru was a student at Fuuka University. Conversation briefly stopped.
“You’re a student?” Yamane asked slowly. “A graduate student?”
“No, an undergraduate. Is that a problem?”
Yamane licked her lips. “I’m sorry, but how old are you?”
Shizuru considered lying but said, “Nineteen.”
Yamane sat back and stared at the tabletop. “Wow.”
“That is a problem, isn’t it?” Shizuru asked softly.
Yamane raised her eyes to meet Shizuru’s. “I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . older.” At Shizuru’s amused expression, Yamane quickly added, “I don’t mean you look old, but you just carry yourself in a very-mature manner.”
She looked slightly panicked. Shizuru felt a twinge of pity for her but not enough not to lean in closely and say in a low voice, “Am I right, then, in thinking that you’ve been flirting with me?”
That quickly recaptured Yamane’s attention. She met Shizuru’s eyes, forehead furrowed in confusion. “Haven’t you been flirting with me?”
“I’m not sure,” Shizuru confessed.
“You’re not sure that you’ve been flirting with me or you’re not sure that I’ve been flirting with you?”
“Both,” Shizuru said after a second’s thought.
Yamane looked more confused but said, “Before today I hadn’t been flirting with you. At least, not intentionally. Have I-” She crossed her arms tightly around herself. “Have I completely misinterpreted this situation?”
“No, not completely,” Shizuru said. She sighed and covered her face. “I’m sorry. Usually I’m much more . . . confident than this.”
“Confident in flirting?”
Shizuru stifled a giggle. “Yes.”
“Flirting with other women?”
“Yes,” she affirmed, but with more weariness.
Now Yamane looked really confused. “So what’s different about this?” She freed one hand from gripping her side and gestured between the two of them.
Shizuru considered the question, stalling for time by sipping at her tea. The answer came as a surprise to her. This was different, but only because Shizuru was used to being pursued by the assertiveness of others’ flirtations on one hand and pursuing someone she couldn’t have on the other.
“I guess I’m more used to . . . others being more assertive.” It wasn’t the whole story but it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh,” Yamane said, wrapping her arms around herself again and huddling over slightly. “I’m not very good at that.” She smiled feebly, prompting a smile from Shizuru. But then Yamane shook her head. “I’m sorry. I keep thinking about how young you are.”
Shizuru propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “You can’t be much older than I am.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“That’s only eight years.”
“It’s eight years between nineteen and twenty-seven,” Yamane clarified.
Shizuru shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Yamane laughed. “You will in eight years.”
With the HiME Festival looming close in her memories, Shizuru sometimes felt ancient. But she only said, “Does that mean you’re not . . . interested anymore?”
Yamane opened her mouth to answer but inhaled sharply instead. She had a remarkably open face. There was a struggle behind her pinched eyes and furrowed eyebrows, but about what, Shizuru couldn’t tell. She wasn’t too surprised, though, when Yamane simply said, “Tell me about what you’re studying.”
It was the defeated look that accompanied those words that restrained Shizuru from pressing the issue, but as she started speaking about business and political science, she made a mental note that Yamane hadn’t said yes or no either way.
- Part Two -
While it was clear that she and Yamane weren’t dating, they began to meet every now and again for lunchtime drinks. Shizuru discovered she liked being able to be the younger, less experienced one in a relationship, though in some respects she felt older than Yamane (flirting being one of them). Their relationship wasn’t anything like what Shizuru had with Natsuki-the teasing, the physicality, or the length of history between them-which was what made it nice. Even being with Risa gave her the sense of being with a peer, but Yamane was a new circle of influence.
The age difference kept things platonic between them for the most part. It helped that Yamane was somewhat socially awkward. She seemed to hold herself apart, literally, often hugging her arms tightly around herself. She and Shizuru rarely touched aside from coincidental contact, like passing the sugar or cream. Yet she was full of gallant gestures, holding doors open, helping Shizuru into and out of her jacket, or offering to pay for drinks and meals. Shizuru had a hard time determining if Yamane was trying to be sweet or simply was sweet.
It was quite a bit of time before Shizuru got to see Yamane’s apartment. It was small and felt even smaller because of the drafting table that dominated one corner of the living room, but had been made homey and personal by the many pictures and sketches plastered on the walls. The night she visited, Yamane made dinner that wasn’t bad but wasn’t great. Shizuru noticed that Yamane didn’t offer her any of the alcohol that she saw sitting on the kitchen counter. It was a quiet comment on her age, which, as time went by, seemed to come between them both more and less.
Shizuru spent hours and several visits asking about the pictures and sketches. Sometimes she slyly tried asking again about several that Yamane had been reticent on and sometimes it worked, though more often it didn’t. There was one of a young woman sitting in a field of flowers that Shizuru liked to return to in particular. The fourth or fifth time Shizuru asked about it, Yamane finally said, “Do you like talking about your exes?”
Shizuru considered the wisdom of saying her next words before admitting, “I don’t have an ex.”
Yamane stared at her and then got up and muttered, “Nineteen.” She went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Shizuru suspected she wanted something to do that wasn’t sitting still because when she returned she simply stood next to the table.
“You haven’t started dating,” Yamane said matter-of-factly, if uneasily.
“Are you surprised?” Shizuru asked.
“Not really.”
“Really?”
Yamane sat back down. “I didn’t start dating until college.” She pointed at the picture. “She was my first girlfriend.”
“She’s pretty,” Shizuru said.
Yamane nodded and smiled ruefully.
“What happened?” Shizuru asked.
“She dumped me around finals time.”
It sounded so horrible that Shizuru had to swallow a laugh. Yamane watched her face. “It is kind of funny now, but back then . . . I was lucky I didn’t fail half my classes that semester.” She met Shizuru’s eye. “When you’re ready to start dating, try not to be that cruel.”
But Shizuru couldn’t find a way to tell her that she already knew what that type of heartbreak felt like, in small doses everyday.
*
That conversation marked a small turning point in her relationship with Yamane. More than her age, the revelation that Shizuru hadn’t dated any women yet made Yamane distantly wary around her. Conversely, Shizuru started feeling more comfortable asking questions she didn’t have anyone to ask. She treated it like a game, a hypothetical one, where she pretended that the questions she asked had nothing to do with her and Yamane answered as if they really didn’t.
She started with an easy one over strawberry cake and tea at a small sweet shop closer to the university than it was to the downtown office that Yamane worked at. Yamane picked at a cup of mousse, looking slightly disheveled from a day working late hours.
“What would you do if you had a crush on a friend?”
Yamane’s eyebrows lifted in surprise but then lowered to complement the thoughtful line of her lips. She swirled her spoon through the mousse, cleaving a small trench through the middle. “How close am I to this friend? Have we known each other long? Are we more acquaintances or are we more friends?”
“Let’s say you’re more acquaintances.”
“Okay. Is she my friend or is she a friend of a friend and we just hang out because of our mutual friend?”
“That’s really going into detail,” Shizuru admired, crossing her legs.
“It matters,” Yamane said.
“Does it?”
Yamane took a bite and stared into the chocolately confection. “Well, maybe what really matters is if you’re willing to ask her out. It helps to know if she, you know, likes women.”
Shizuru opened her mouth to ask the logical follow-up question but lamely said, “What if you’re close friends?”
Yamane made a face. “That’s always tricky.”
“You think it’s harder to have a relationship with a close friend?”
“I think dating someone you know well and dating someone you barely know is each difficult in different ways.”
Shizuru smiled. “Did you study poly sci in college?”
“Ha ha. No, I’m serious,” Yamane said, hunching over in that way of hers. “I’ve known people who could date their friends without any problems-some preferred to date their friends, in fact.”
Shizuru speared a strawberry with her fork. At length she asked, “Do you have problems with dating your friends?”
Yamane smiled feebly. “I have trouble dating anyone.” She avoided Shizuru’s eyes, for which Shizuru was secretly thankful. She wasn’t sure what she might have looked like in the wake of the sudden rush of mixed and confused feelings that made her stomach flip.
*
Yamane was better than a guilty secret because, unlike a guilty secret, Shizuru felt no compulsion to share the knowledge of her with anyone else. This was made surprisingly easy by the fact that Shizuru had managed her social life into separate spheres. There was rarely any overlap between these spheres, aside from an occasional meeting between Natsuki and Risa in which Natsuki tried her best not to give curt and awkward answers to Risa’s questions and Risa enjoyed the sadistic pleasure of flustering Natsuki under the protective and demanding aegis of being Shizuru’s friend. But although Risa was a friend who knew more than Shizuru might have wanted her to-which, really, was inevitable considering that they’d met when Risa was trying to get Shizuru’s number for an interested girl friend that Shizuru had no interest in-she wasn’t close enough to pry and pester Shizuru about the phone calls she’d been receiving that weren’t from “Kuga-chan.” It helped, too, that Shizuru had begun cultivating moods of selective solitariness early into her university career, which she used as an excuse to make her lone (or “lone”) adventures meandering about to think or to study in obscure places seem normal rather than worrisome.
It was, she realized, how she’d always lived her life.
*
The reality, though, was that sometimes a part of her life liked to intrude on another, without much regard to Shizuru’s feelings. Over tea and coffee one late afternoon, Yamane, listening to Shizuru describe her hometown, suddenly focused on a point just beyond Shizuru’s shoulder and sat up straighter with an expression of wary curiosity. Seeing the odd expression, Shizuru turned just as a breathy, excited voice exclaimed, “Fujino-san!”
There must have been something about the tone or pitch of the voice, but Shizuru felt a controlled, relaxed smile turn up the corners of her lips, her shoulders pull back and straighten in a deceptively lax manner, and her eyelids droop just a bit. By the time she finished turning around to greet the small group of girls in Fuuka Academy uniforms, she was ready to receive them. During the next five minutes, Shizuru deflected compliments, politely laughed at something inconsequential, and gently flirted to the delighted giggles of girls at least two years younger than herself. They left flushed and excited, casting furtive glances back at her. Shizuru raised a hand in a benevolent wave.
Turning back to Yamane, though, Shizuru caught the older woman’s curious and penetrating gaze, spreading through her like the jolt of waking from a dream.
*
Sometimes, though, Shizuru purposefully brought her disparate worlds together. Sitting at her low table, Yamane browsed through the small stack of photographs Shizuru had brought with her. She’d also brought mochi, but they had put that aside for later.
“These are good,” Yamane commented after seeing about half of them. “You said your friend took these?”
“Yes,” Shizuru said, warming at the compliment to Natsuki. “Most of them are from a trip we took last summer.”
Yamane nodded. “Is she considering a career in photography?”
Shizuru laughed. “I don’t think the idea has entered her mind yet. Do you think she should, though?”
Yamane made the face that indicated she was holding back a grimace. “I’d never say ‘should’,” she said, features relaxing into a pleasanter countenance, “but she has a good eye for color and contrast. I don’t think she’s at a professional level yet, but with a little work, studying, and experience-and a better camera-I don’t see why she couldn’t become a skilled photographer. Is she outgoing and determined?”
Shizuru contemplated the question and phrased her answer carefully. “She can be very goal-oriented.”
“That’s good. She’ll need to be if she wants to make it in the photography industry. It’s a tough market to break into successfully.”
Shizuru crossed her arms on the table. “Have you sold any of your photographs?”
“Just a few. Mostly to travel magazines.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
Yamane flipped through the last picture. “Only for work, really.” She held out the stack of photos to Shizuru. “What’s your friend studying now?”
Shizuru took the stack and slipped them back into their packet sleeve. “Oh, she’s not a student at the university. She’s a third year at Fuuka Academy.” Yamane nodded and for no reason, really, Shizuru added, “But she’s not like the other girls-like the ones you saw.”
Yamane smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Shizuru spun her tea cup between her thumb and middle finger and studied the bits of leaves at the bottom. “Were you surprised when you saw them the other day? The girls, I mean.”
“Surprised about what? That you were popular in high school? No, I think it’s pretty easy to see why you would be.”
But Shizuru only smiled weakly, even a little sadly. That wasn’t what she had meant but the real question she wanted to ask sounded like a pathetic grasp for approval even in her mind.
After a moment, though, Yamane drew a sharp breath and said, “It did-explain a few things.”
“Like what?” Shizuru asked, her voice coming off softer than usual.
“Like why you seemed so much older when we first met.”
Shizuru puzzled through that statement. “Are you saying I don’t seem old anymore?” she asked with returning energy and amusement.
“Not old, older,” Yamane corrected with exasperation, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them.
“Older, then,” Shizuru conceded. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Yamane turned to look out the window. “Sometimes you make me feel old.”
Shizuru laughed, short and softly. “Should I apologize? Even if you’re really not that old.”
“I turned twenty-eight last month,” Yamane said in an offhand manner.
Caught off guard, Shizuru said, “I didn’t know. Happy birthday.”
Yamane laughed. “Now that sounded like an apology for my age.” Shizuru looked dangerously close to actually scowling so Yamane held up a hand to ward off any reply. “I know you were just apologizing for missing my birthday-which you couldn’t help anyway since I didn’t tell you. Besides,” she added, stretching out her legs and leaning her weight back on her hands, “I like it when you seem like you’re acting your age.”
Shizuru raised one eyebrow.
Yamane shrugged. “Do you know how unfair and sad it would be if someone your age had the whole world figured out?”
*
Shizuru needed no other lesson but the HiME Festival to teach her that she didn’t have the world-or even herself-figured out. And there was always Natsuki, of course.
Natsuki who didn’t pull away when Shizuru trapped one of her hands between her own while they sat watching TV and who didn’t subtly scoot down the couch when their shoulders brushed. She stiffened sometimes, but would eventually relax if Shizuru kept still, and though she voiced complaints on occasion, Shizuru had long ago learned to ignore them. Natsuki withdrew with her eyes and strained smiles, with noncommittal grunts and murmurs as answers. Somehow Shizuru’s touch was losing its power to scare Natsuki off and in coming to realize this, Shizuru tried not to feel guilty for taking advantage of this development to satiate her growing need to touch not necessarily Natsuki but anyone who wouldn’t immediately jerk away as if burned.
Perversely, Natsuki’s quiet-if forced-acceptance made Shizuru’s heart swell all the more heavy in her chest.
*
“What would you do if you fell in love with someone who was straight?”
Shizuru hadn’t meant to ask the question in the car, especially not so bluntly, but there it was, between strains of talk radio and the blast of the heaters. Yamane was quiet, the light off the dash and streetlights highlighting her slight frown. She shifted her grip on the steering wheel.
“I’d try very hard to pretend I didn’t have those feelings.”
Shizuru stared at her own ghostly reflection in the passenger window. “Why?”
“Because it’s never worked out for me.”
Shizuru exhaled long and slow.
“But,” Yamane said a heartbeat later, glancing over at her, “that doesn’t mean that-others can’t make it work. I’m sure there are people who have.”
Despite herself and because she was the younger one in that small, anxious car, Shizuru let herself hope for the belief that maybe Yamane really was speaking about her.
*
“I love you.”
Natsuki gave a small start and turned wide eyes on her. In the tense second following her confession, Shizuru took in the sight of her-the shock, the confusion, the fear, the unreadiness-and then she smiled and laughed, throwing her arms around the younger girl. “You’re so cute,” she sang at just the right note of teasing delight. After a moment, Natsuki gave a short laugh. She reached up and gripped Shizuru’s arms. “Jeez, Shizuru.”
In response, Shizuru pressed her face into Natsuki’s shoulder, eyes shut tight, until she felt Natsuki’s hesitant touch on the crown of her head, compelling Shizuru to pull away as surely as if Natsuki had pushed her.
*
The night air was heavy with the possibility of snow. Yamane huddled in her coat, breathing out in small puffs, ears already red from the cold. Around them, strung lights threw cheer onto the streets and stores, making downtown Fuuka feel welcoming and safe. Shizuru had proposed the idea of enjoying the lights before the rush of the Christmas crowds later in the week, but they’d ventured out around the time diners were finishing their dinners and as a result the streets were still more populated than either had expected. It improved her mood, though, to see so many people enjoying the night, like the pockets of friends chatting excitedly and the couples holding hands.
Shizuru glanced at Yamane who was staring up at the Christmas tree in the middle of the shopping mall. Her phone had rung four times in the past half hour and when it began to vibrate again, Yamane took it out of her pocket, glanced at the display, flipped it open and then shut it with a snap. Right after she flipped it open again and shut the phone off entirely. The phone disappeared back into her pocket without a comment, but Shizuru had been wondering who was calling her so persistently since the third time Yamane had ignored its ringing.
After consideration Shizuru rethought saying “You’re popular tonight” and opted for asking, “Solicitors?”
“No. It’s Sena.”
Shizuru looked puzzled. She debated how entitled she was to more information before saying, “Is there something she needs?”
Yamane’s face took on an exasperated quality. “You, actually.”
The answer was so unexpected that Shizuru fell a step behind and had to quicken her pace to catch up. Yamane glanced at her and explained, “She found out that I’ve been-meeting with you. Now she’s trying to get me to convince you to come to her studio.”
“How did she find out?”
“She was going through the contacts on my phone.”
Shizuru must have looked surprised-and she was, a bit, as she hadn’t imagined Yamane and Sena as being close friends-because Yamane said, “She was trying to get someone else’s number when she saw your text, the one you sent earlier tonight.” Yamane shook her head wistfully. “She recognized your name pretty quickly. I don’t think she’s gotten over being outsmarted by your little trick.”
“It wasn’t a trick,” Shizuru murmured in her defense, eying a sweater she saw in a display window. “Yamane-san, is Kihara-san . . .” She trailed off, suddenly mindful of the people around them.
Yamane waited, puzzled, before understanding dawned in her eyes. “No. She’s just crazy.” She tilted her head back. “I’m not even sure she considers people as worth as much of her time as her artwork.”
“Are you good friends?” Shizuru asked, sidestepping someone’s eagerly curious dog.
“Sena and I? I’m not sure if anyone can be good friends with Sena. She lives so much in her own world . . . . Still, she’s so crazy,” Yamane continued, saying the word with affection, “that she attracts a crowd. Spending time with Sena is never dull.”
“What about your . . . other friends?”
“What about my other friends?”
“You don’t talk about them much,” Shizuru pointed out.
Yamane gave her a sideways look. “You don’t talk about your friends much.”
Shizuru was quiet for a breath. “I guess I don’t.”
Yamane burrowed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and exhaled loudly through her nose. “My friends are a mix of school friends and work acquaintances and people you just happen to meet. Some live here in Fuuka but my closer friends live farther away. Does that answer your question?”
Shizuru nodded but didn’t want to admit that she had been wondering if Yamane had other friends besides herself and Sena. Sometimes she found it hard to imagine what Yamane was like-might be like-with other people. Was she different than how she was with Shizuru? Just as Yamane had never met Shizuru in a setting of her friends, she’d never met Yamane in the context of the architect’s friends. It had begun to feel surreal between them, as if she retreated from the real world-the one with school, responsibilities, and expectations-when she met with Yamane.
Shizuru clasped her hands behind her back and stared ahead at the backs of a pair of girls laden with shopping bags. “Are we friends?”
Yamane’s eyes pinched with confusion. “I . . . hope so. Do you consider us friends?”
Shizuru stopped walking. “It’s my birthday today.”
Yamane pulled up short in surprise, both at the sudden news and the change in topic. “Happy birthday. And congratulations.” She was referring to Shizuru’s reaching the age of majority. Shizuru nodded, looking into Yamane’s eyes as the older woman added, “You should have told me. Though if you want, we can-”
Shizuru kissed her, right there, stepping into the space that divided them and reaching up to cup Yamane’s cheek with a hand. There was a moment, their lips meeting, of stillness, and then Yamane leaned back, almost stumbling, shoulders hunched and hands jammed into her pockets.
“Fujino-san-”
“Why are you so uncomfortable when we touch?” Shizuru asked, the words leaving her with a force that surprised her.
“I don’t know what you’re-”
“You know you are,” Shizuru said softly.
“Fujino-san, please, there are people around,” Yamane whispered earnestly.
Shizuru suddenly remembered that they were standing in a very public place. Several people had stopped to watch the sudden spectacle, some looking plain confused while others seemed to sense something more scandalous in the air. Shizuru forced herself to relax. Her heart hammered at a rate that was almost painful and she could hear the rush of her pulse in her ears.
Shizuru looked down at her shoes. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to touch you,” Yamane said quietly, sounding pained. Shizuru raised her head and found Yamane looking trapped and helpless.
“But?” Shizuru asked just as quietly.
Yamane struggled to form an answer.
In the hollow silence Shizuru’s cell phone rang. Two short rings. A message.
Shizuru stood staring into Yamane’s eyes for another second and then fished her cell phone out of her purse. She had a message from Risa, saying that she and a few others would meet Shizuru at her dorm in fifteen minutes.
“I have to go,” Shizuru murmured.
“Fujino-san . . .” Yamane said her name with such strangled sadness that Shizuru couldn’t meet her eye, feeling her heart leap into her throat. She shook her head and waved Yamane off. By the time she reached her dorm, she wasn’t sure if she was angrier that she hadn’t stayed and forced the issue or that Yamane had let her go.
*
The alcohol flowed fast and hard. Since Shizuru was the “baby” of the group, her friends were doing their damnedest to get her nice and legally drunk. But it didn’t take much for them to get caught up in the revelry and help themselves along the same path. After buckling down and enduring the first few furious rounds of drinks, including a tequila shot that sat like liquid fire in her stomach, Shizuru was content to slow her pace and nurse a daiquiri.
As the night wore on, she let Gurio-kun take her out onto the dance floor and even had to be rescued from an overly interested man who tried to cut in. It was fun, but more fun, she suspected, for her friends.
In the early hours of the next day they piled into cabs and stumbled out when they reached campus, digging the fare out of their pockets and practically throwing it at the drivers. As they stood outside the dorms, Risa leaned heavily on her arm, head lolling on her shoulder.
“See?” her friend murmured in her ear. “Isn’t it nice to loosen up a little?”
Shizuru made small sounds of agreement, not so much because she actually agreed but because Risa needed to hear some kind of answer.
“I’ll take her back to her room, Fujino-san,” offered a boy named Kondo, but Shizuru didn’t want to leave Risa in the hands of someone who had had his eye on her friend for a while now. She was glad, then, when Yuuki offered to help Risa make it back to her dorm room since they lived just down the hall from each other.
“What about you, Fujino?” Gurio asked. “Do you need any help to your room?”
“No,” Shizuru said. “I think I need a little air.”
The boys exchanged looks. “You shouldn’t be out alone,” Gurio said.
“I’ll be fine,” Shizuru said before he could offer to keep her company. “I’ll probably just take a little walk around the dorms and then go in.”
“Are you sure?” someone else asked and Shizuru reassured all of them that she’d be fine. After some more reluctance there were goodbyes and thank yous and final “happy birthday”’s before everyone drifted away, in ones and twos and threes. Shizuru watched them go and then set out for someplace that wasn’t just around the dorm, wanting the cold to take the bite off the lightness in her head. She wandered off campus and onto a street that housed a few late-night establishments, some bars, some restaurants that catered to the university crowd.
At the end of the street was a twenty-four hour café, a small independent business that tried to look as if it had been transplanted from somewhere West. Shizuru stepped in, enticed by the thought of a cup of tea. She ordered and then sat down at one of the many empty tables. Without really consciously doing so, she observed the few other customers, finding herself staring at one in particular two tables over. After a minute she realized why. The woman had her hair up in a bun and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. In addition to a laptop, notes littered the table. Just as Shizuru recognized her, the woman looked up and met her eye.
“Do you find something interesting?” she asked Shizuru.
Shizuru, feeling slower as sobriety crept back up on her, opened her mouth soundlessly. Then, because the woman was staring at her, Shizuru said, “Are you Professor Nakamura?”
The woman sat up straighter. “Yes. Are you one of my students?”
“No,” Shizuru said. “I have a friend who is taking one of your classes.”
The woman nodded. “What did you say your name was?”
“Fujino Shizuru,” Shizuru supplied hastily.
“Nice to meet you, Fujino-san.” Shizuru echoed her sentiments but Nakamura was eying her attire. “Long night?”
Shizuru smiled a little sheepishly. “I was at a birthday celebration.”
“Yours?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Oh. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you escape the party? Is that why you’re here alone?”
Shizuru laughed. “No. The party is over.”
“Is it?” Nakamura looked at her over her glasses. “Even so, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be alone.”
Shizuru blinked, unsure how to take the statement. While she processed the comment, Nakamura hesitated and then said, “Would you like to join me?”
Now Shizuru hesitated before moving to a seat at Nakamura’s table.
“Why are you up so late, Professor?” Shizuru asked as she settled down, discreetly moving a small pile of papers to make room for her saucer and cup.
“I needed to get out of my house so that I could-” Nakamura motioned at the assorted mess. “-get some writing done.”
“Are you working on a project?” Shizuru asked, sipping at her tea.
“My next book,” Nakamura answered. She was looking at Shizuru with an intensity that made Shizuru uneasy. Without warning Nakamura reached out and brushed Shizuru’s cheek. Shizuru pulled back, startled.
“There was a hair stuck to your lip,” Nakamura explained, eyes steady on Shizuru’s.
“Oh. Thank you,” Shizuru said, feeling warmth rush to her cheeks.
“How old did you turn tonight?”
“Twenty,” Shizuru said but it seemed to come out barely more than a whisper. The air felt warm and it wasn’t the heating.
“That’s a momentous age,” Nakamura said with a nod. “I remember what it felt like to turn twenty.”
“What did it feel like?” Shizuru asked. Her voice seemed to come from a far off place.
Nakamura had never stopped looking her in the eye. “Like becoming an adult.” With slow deliberateness, she placed her hand on Shizuru’s thigh and because Shizuru knew the rumors about Nakamura that the whole school seemed to know and because she was tired and a little heartsick, because she could still feel the moment that Yamane pulled away and the memory of how Natsuki had only kissed her once, like a compensation prize, and because Yamane wouldn’t touch her and Natsuki wouldn’t touch her in the same way that Shizuru touched her, and maybe just because-Shizuru didn’t move away.
*
Shizuru hadn’t woken up the morning of her twentieth birthday with the resolve to lose her virginity, but it was happening anyway. In that moment she realized she had no idea what she was doing, only that her hands seemed to find curves and buttons and zippers with equal ease, that her hand splayed nicely across the expanse of another’s stomach and could span a waistline beneath her palms. Her lips had never been bruised like this, with the sheer number of kisses, fast and languid, exploring and teasing together. She hadn’t been sure, until that moment, that the sight of a body other than Natsuki’s would excite her, but Nakamura was younger than Shizuru had gathered from Risa’s stories of her and was slender, hard and soft to her touch.
Nakamura. Nakamura, patient and slow, even gentle, as if she had been lying in wait with prescient knowledge of this day, safeguarding this last gift to mark the end of Shizuru’s childhood.
When Nakamura made her moan, Shizuru didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice.
*
Nakamura held her for a long time afterward, quietly and without questions. It wasn’t really a romantic gesture but Shizuru was thankful for it. Then, when Shizuru was sure she could go and that she should, Nakamura quietly handed her her clothes before slipping into her own undergarments and venturing off to find a bathrobe. It took Shizuru two tries to dress properly and in that time it became clear from their conversation that this would be a one time thing between them. The terms weren’t laid out meanly, but with a frankness that was almost fond, so that when Nakamura kissed her goodbye, Shizuru kissed her back lightly, surprised at the smell of her: roses and sex and something else that might have been Shizuru herself.
Before she left the bedroom, Shizuru caught sight of a framed picture on one of the nightstands. She wondered what games Nakamura was trying to escape herself.
*
For a time immediately afterwards, the time between leaving Nakamura’s home and returning to her dorm, Shizuru was fine, excited, elated. But then she got home and thought to check her messages and everything quietly fell apart.
*
“Fujino-san . . . This is Yamane. I thought I needed-to explain myself. What you said tonight . . . wasn’t wrong. I am uncomfortable touching you-but not because you aren’t beautiful or because I don’t want to touch you but because . . . I’m afraid to touch you. I’m afraid I’ll want more than I should want-or more than you’re ready to give. I can’t let myself cross that line knowing-knowing that maybe you’re just trying to work through whatever it is you’ve been trying to work through. I know that this is hard and I know that-now that you know this-that you might not want to see me anymore, but at least call me back. I don’t want things to end like this between us.
“Call me . . . call me when you’re ready.”
*
Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, the message ended and Shizuru cried. Loudly, wrenchingly, she cried. She cried because she had gone with Nakamura to run away from her problems, because her heart still ached for the love she felt for Natsuki, because she had ruined the sedate, easy way she had come to love Yamane with a kiss born of impatience, because she had nightmares about killing people, because she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to be able to forgive herself. For the first time, she let herself face all of it.
So she cried.
When she finished crying, she lay still, and while she lay still, she accepted it, that these were her problems, that whatever she was doing wasn’t working, and that she would have to find a way-a new way-that did.
But not at that moment. At that moment Shizuru closed her eyes and slept, dreamless and deep.
*
Shizuru waited at least a week to call Yamane. When she had woken up late in the afternoon the day after her birthday, her life hadn’t magically changed and she didn’t suddenly have answers about how to change it. But in a week she had put herself more or less back together and she knew it was time to start searching for solutions.
Yamane met her in a park with a cup of tea. Christmas had come and gone and now people were getting excited for New Year’s. Yamane had sent her a text message Christmas day that Shizuru hadn’t replied to, but now seeing Yamane’s hesitant, questioning look, she smiled. Yamane smiled back but looked at her at long and hard. In silence they found a bench and sat down, keeping a respectable amount of space between them.
“How are you?” Yamane asked.
Shizuru nodded slowly and chose her words. “I’m fine. I’m doing better, I think.”
“When you say you’re doing better . . .”
“I mean I’m-getting started on trying to work things out.”
Yamane nodded and stared down at the lid of her coffee cup.
“I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” Shizuru said.
Yamane lifted her head and met her eyes. “And I’m sorry if you felt-rejected because of my reaction. I was-surprised.”
“It was unfair of me to put you on the spot like that,” Shizuru said, keeping her gaze steady.
“You were right, though.” Yamane inhaled deeply. “I’m not-ready to be comfortable with you in that way without wanting . . . something more.” She gazed earnestly into Shizuru’s eyes. “I don’t think either of us is ready for something like that.”
Shizuru sighed, feeling sad, relieved, and tired. “I think you’re right.” She licked her lips. “But can we still be friends?”
Yamane smiled and Shizuru thought she saw some of the same sadness, relief, and exhaustion reflected in her expression. “I hope so.”
Then, tentatively, Yamane reached out and took Shizuru’s hand, squeezing gently. And Shizuru smiled and squeezed back.
- Fin -
As an end note, I realized too late that Shizuru's "dorm room" is much more like an "apartment." We'll just pretend that Fuuka University shells out money for the comfort of its students. =)