[fic] MH: Crossroads Schemata 3/3
(Return to Part One, Part Two.)
- Part Three -
Shizuru’s summer break began with an unexpected offer from one of her law professors: a position as his research assistant with the promise of some monetary compensation. At the same time, her mother again invited her home, but with the implication that this time she should stay longer.
The choice wasn’t hard. She liked the professor and she wanted to stay in Fuuka and continue to help Natsuki prepare for the entrance exams, even if that meant only remaining a presence on the island city. Not that she mentioned this latter reason when she made her excuses to her mother. Risa, though, called her on it immediately: “Just couldn’t leave Kuga-chan, huh?”
Shizuru smiled in a sly, secretive way when Risa said it, but her actual time with Natsuki was spent in easiness, quiet, and calm. She looked on Natsuki’s diligence with fondness and confronted any slacking with sternness that surprised them both. It was a small thing but Shizuru had begun to notice small changes in the way they treated each other-and the way she felt around Natsuki.
“Natsuki,” Shizuru said one night during a dinner of takeout at the younger woman’s apartment, “I . . . I met this person . . . .”
Natsuki bit off a mouthful of noodles and chewed slowly. Shizuru waited for her to swallow, unsure how to go on. Natsuki licked her lips. “Yeah?”
They sat looking at each other. Shizuru searched her friend’s eyes for a hint, a recognition that she knew what Shizuru was talking about. “Yeah.”
Natsuki pushed around some noodles. “You mean a girl, right?”
“Yes,” Shizuru confirmed around the tightness in her belly.
“Is she nice?”
“Yes, very. At least, I think so.” Shizuru leaned forward, gripping the box of curry rice in one hand and her chopsticks in the other. “Do you . . . mind?”
“Mind?” Natsuki’s face, for once, was remarkably expressionless. Then she smiled and it was a smile Shizuru had never seen. “No.” Natsuki sat up straighter, smile widening. “No, I’m happy for you. I-”
She faltered but Shizuru saw all that she needed in Natsuki’s eyes: relief. She felt sad, then, and happy, and relieved, too. The knot in her stomach eased. She began to laugh. Her laughter made Natsuki hesitate and look at her closely, but whatever she saw in Shizuru’s face made her smile. Then she started laughing and so they were both laughing, laughing at themselves, and it finally felt natural and right.
*
Shizuru drew a circle around a date on the calendar with her finger and listened to her phone ring.
A click, silence, then, “Fujino-san.”
“Hello, Yamane-san,” Shizuru greeted her. “How was your vacation?”
“You mean my trip with Ama-Yuko? It was fine. Good.” Yamane paused. “How were your finals?”
“Good. I didn’t fail any of my classes.”
“That is good,” Yamane agreed.
Shizuru tapped her calendar. “Yamane-san, would you like to go to a play with me? My friend is starring in a play that opens next week and she gave me two tickets.”
Silence answered her. She pictured Yamane’s confused expression. From her brusque greeting, Shizuru had guessed she was preparing to have an uncomfortable talk. An invitation to a play had probably been the last thing Yamane expected.
Shizuru had been counting on it.
At last Yamane asked, “When is it?”
“Next Thursday, at eight o’clock.”
“Where at?”
“The theater on campus. I can give you directions.”
Yamane went quiet again, then asked, “Would you prefer that I meet you there?”
“Whatever’s easiest for you.” Shizuru felt a smile threatening to stretch her lips.
“Why don’t you give me directions, then?” Yamane said softly.
Shizuru allowed the smile to take. “Yes, of course.”
*
Yamane showed up dressed in slacks, boots, and a nice blouse, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. She looked tall and tailored and not immediately recognizable. When Shizuru called her name, Yamane stood a second without reacting and then approached her with an expression that wanted to smile but looked afraid to. Shizuru smiled for her.
“Yamane-san, I’m glad you could make it.” She looked questioningly at the flowers.
“For your friend in the play,” Yamane explained. “An opening night gift.”
Knowing an awkward silence would follow, Shizuru suggested they find their seats and, once seated, they ventured on small topics of conversation to pass the time until the play started. Yamane asked how her summer was going so far and Shizuru explained her new job.
“Do you like it?” Yamane asked.
“I like the law,” Shizuru said, “but I think I wouldn’t mind being able to hire someone else to do my research.”
That brought a small smile of amusement to Yamane’s lips just as the house lights dimmed. The image of that small smile lingered in Shizuru’s mind as the first act unfolded a bizarre plot involving alternate dimensions and a cross-dimensional love affair. Risa had managed to land one of the secondary lead roles and made her startling entrance on stage in a whirl of silks and invectives, looking taller than her average stature, haughty and angry as the hero’s spurned lover. Shizuru watched with awe and discomfort as Risa’s character, unrecognizable from her smart-mouthed friend, spiraled into madness and disillusionment as she threatened revenge on her former lover. Her deranged cackles threw the stage into darkness and echoed in Shizuru’s ears long after the first act ended. .
When Shizuru had blinked past the discomfort of the house lights, she saw Yamane had a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Which one was your friend?” she asked.
“I think her character’s name is Tatala?” Shizuru said, glancing at the program. “The one laughing just now.”
“She acts with a lot of passion,” Yamane said. “Is she a Theater major?”
“No. She’s studying History and Business and takes classes in Theater on the side. But I’m not surprised you thought that she was a Theater major-the stage is her real passion. She might have studied theater more seriously if her parents didn’t think it was a waste of time.”
Yamane nodded. “It’s a hard career. The arts are like that. You need talent and a lot of heart and luck.”
“Like Sena-san?”
Yamane laughed and the smile reappeared. “That’s a name I didn’t expect to hear tonight.”
“Do you have other artist friends who would be better examples?”
Yamane covered her mouth with a hand and leaned away from Shizuru, propping her elbow on the armrest. Moving her hand away, she said, “Yuko jokes that what I really wanted to be was an artist but that I lack creativity and that’s why I became an architect. She says that as a result, I gravitate toward artistic people. Whether that’s true or not, I do have a number of friends who are in the artistic community.”
Shizuru sat stunned into a short silence. Yamane had volunteered more personal information than she usually divulged in answering Shizuru’s questions. She regarded the architect from an angle. “Is it true what Nishiyama-san said about you wanting to be an artist?”
Yamane laughed behind her hand. “Maybe a little, but I love architecture, too-and I’m better at it.”
The house lights came back down but Shizuru held Yamane’s eyes until the dialogue started. She turned away with reluctance and watched as Risa tried to murder her rival and her beloved, only to realize the futility of coming between them and ultimately sacrifice herself to make the fulfillment of their love possible.
The play ended happily as the hero and heroine kissed and were united forever across time and space. But Shizuru felt haunted by the thought of Tatala’s sacrifice and when Risa took her bow, she clapped louder and longer, hearing others share her appreciation in the swell of applause. She glanced at Yamane.
The older woman was smiling.
*
Yamane assumed that they would accost Risa at the backstage door. Risa came flouncing out, eyes fever bright, cheeks straining with the effort to contain her smile, and fielded congratulations, compliments, and well wishes. Shizuru hung back with Yamane until Risa came over and pulled her into a hug.
“Everyone loved you,” Shizuru assured her.
Risa laughed and didn’t even bother to feign humility. Letting Shizuru go, she turned to Yamane and froze, surprised. Yamane held out the flowers. “For you, Kaehara-san. You were wonderful tonight.”
Risa took the flowers with a face full of questions. Her eyes darted in Shizuru’s direction.
“Risa,” Shizuru said, “this is my friend Yamane Aki-san. Yamane-san, this is Kaehara Risa.”
“Nice to meet you,” Yamane said with a dip of her head. She smiled. “You look like you were expecting someone else.”
“I was,” Risa said. “But you’re a nice surprise.”
Risa shot her a look that said, “Who is this and why didn’t you tell me about her?” Shizuru gave her a small shrug that made Risa bristle only because she couldn’t wheedle or strangle Shizuru right there.
“Anyway,” Risa said aloud to Shizuru, “I don’t know if you want to go, but there’s going to be an after party and tons of people still want to meet you. And you said you would come this time.”
“I said ‘maybe,’” Shizuru corrected her. “I don’t want to inconvenience Yamane-san.”
Yamane slipped her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “I wouldn’t want you to break your promise on my account.”
“Yes!” Risa crowed in triumph. “That means you’re coming. We’re all getting together at this bar owned by Takashiro’s friend. It’s just a few blocks down. Give me a minute and I’ll walk over with you.”
Risa disappeared back into the theater before Shizuru could stop her. She turned to Yamane and raised an eyebrow. Yamane looked innocently confused.
“She seems very nice,” Yamane commented.
Shizuru sighed. “You don’t have to come. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”
“Do you want me to come?” In the streetlight, Yamane’s eyes were unreadable.
Shizuru blinked and took a second to consider the question. “They’re Risa’s friends. I don’t plan to stay long.”
Yamane tilted her head. “Is that a yes?”
Shizuru met her eyes. “Yes.”
*
The little bar was already loud and crowded when they arrived. As they stepped through the door Risa pulled her in one direction and Yamane didn’t follow. Instead, the older woman gave her a little wave and a small smile that seemed to say, “Enjoy yourself,” and then headed for the bar. Shizuru wasn’t sure if she should have felt abandoned. She didn’t have much time to think about it before Risa pulled her up to the first table in a whirlwind of introductions to poorly lit faces. Shizuru saw some eyes alight with recognition at the mention of her name, followed by a visual assessment of her face and figure. She endured it politely and traded as much small talk as could be kept to a minimum. Somehow or another, she also ended up with a beer in her hand and joined in several toasts to Risa’s performance.
At some point after her second shot, Risa yanked her down and whispered in her ear, “That Yamane-san . . . I’ve seen her somewhere. Where have I seen her?”
Shizuru answered with an opaque smile.
“Who is she?” Risa asked, sounding only a little bit annoyed.
“I told you, a friend.”
“Uh-huh,” Risa said, nodding her head. “You’re cheating on Kuga-chan.”
Shizuru laughed because it wasn’t far from a skewed truth. Then a new face appeared at Risa’s side and the introductions resumed. After about an hour, Shizuru managed to free herself from Risa and went off to find Yamane. She found her plunked down in a corner, sitting atop a stack of chairs and surrounded by a group of people discussing Japanese productions of Western musicals. When Shizuru stepped into the small circle, Yamane looked up and smiled, as if she had been there waiting for Shizuru-which she had been. But her look in that moment made Shizuru’s skin tingle.
Shizuru offered her hand in a wordless suggestion that they leave and Yamane slipped her hand into hers and let Shizuru pull her to her feet.
“Sorry, everyone,” Yamane said. “Time for me to go.”
A chorus of “Aw” and “Stay!” answered her. Yamane waved a hand, the other already in her pocket. “Sorry. It was nice talking to all of you.”
They let her go without much more protest. Shizuru made sure to say goodbye to Risa, which consisted of a wave from across the room, and then they were outside, ears ringing from the sudden change in decibels.
“All good?” Yamane asked.
Shizuru nodded. “I fulfilled my promise. Even though I didn’t promise to come in the first place.” She began walking back toward campus and Yamane followed suit. She snuck a look at the older woman. “You like musicals?”
Yamane laughed. “They’re fun. Yuko really likes them. She took me to see Takarazuka a few times but that was a while ago. It’s been hard for us to do things together since I moved.”
They went half a block without another word. Shizuru savored the moment, feeling the warmth of the night and the slight buzz of the alcohol, and then she folded her hands behind her back.
“About that night . . .” she said.
Yamane slowed her pace but waited for Shizuru to continue.
“I’m sorry I showed up unannounced and that I behaved the way I did.” Shizuru inhaled deeply. “But I meant everything I said.”
Yamane kicked at a pebble and watched it skitter and bounce away. “I know.”
Shizuru waited. Was that it?
Yamane licked her lips but did not look at her. “You were right. About me wanting to . . . protect you-or ‘coddle’ you, as Yuko would say. I thought that’s what you needed.”
Shizuru bowed her head and hid behind her hair. “I’m not sure you were wrong. Actually, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You’re the first person I could talk to . . . like that.
“But something’s-changed.”
Yamane stopped walking and stared down at her shoes. Shizuru moved to stand in front of her and tried to bend down and crane her neck to catch the older woman’s eye.
“Yamane-san, I-”
Fingers on her lips halted her words. Shizuru went cross-eyed as her gaze darted to Yamane’s hand and then to her face. The older woman looked at her with quiet intensity. She looked pained and sad-and-Shizuru wasn’t sure what-something more in the way those eyes roamed over her face.
They stood there unmoving until Shizuru slowly reached up and took Yamane’s hand between her own and lowered it, clutching her fingers loosely. “You were right when you told Nishiyama-san that I liked someone else.”
“I know,” Yamane said, whispering. “I suspected it for a long time.”
“I still love her,” Shizuru said quietly, wondering where the strength in her voice had gone, “but it’s different now. She’s my best friend-I hope she’ll always be my friend-and that’s finally . . . enough for me. What Nishiyama-san said about me-”
With her free hand, Yamane reached up and cupped her cheek. “She said a lot of things.” Yamane abruptly let her hand fall and looked at the other trapped between Shizuru’s. She gave their joined hands a little swing. “I know you want to talk about this right now, but I have to do something. Something I should have done a long time ago. Will you . . . wait until then?”
Shizuru wasn’t sure if the twisting in her chest was devastation or hope.
“Will it be a long wait?”
Yamane smiled bitterly. “I hope not.” She squeezed Shizuru’s hand and then let it go. “Thank you for being honest with me, but if I’m to be honest with you, I need to take care of this first.”
She looked into Shizuru’s eyes again and this time Shizuru knew that what she saw in Yamane’s gaze was longing but then the older woman turned away and said, “Let’s get you home.”
Shizuru resisted the urge to grab Yamane’s hand again, to pull her back from whatever distant place she had gone, far and remote in that long lonely walk back.
- An Interlude -
“Do you want me to come with you?” Amane had asked.
“Like my date?” Yamane had laughed. The phone had projected Amane’s patient, sad silence.
“No,” Yamane had said at last, soft and serious. “You know I have to do this alone.”
The invitation felt smooth between her fingertips and weighty in her hand. It was printed on heavy cardstock, its elegant calligraphy directing her to this address. Light, voices, and the occasional tinkle of glasses drifted through the open doors, evidence of a party that, according to her invitation, she should have arrived at forty-five minutes ago. But she wasn’t the only one late. Stragglers were still joining the festivities, couples arm-in-arm, singles discreetly straightening their clothing or hair, and groups that joked and chatted their way inside.
Now that she was here, it all felt familiar, the excitement in the air, the sense of anticipation and admiration, and the little whiff of jealousy, all caught up in the smell of money and the snobbery of sophistication. It should have been thrilling.
Yamane frowned and slipped the invitation into her pocket. She didn’t want to be here. She wouldn’t stay long.
The atmosphere enveloped her the moment she stepped inside. The air was warm and heavy and a sea of faces and carefully coiffed hair greeted her, but she ignored the show of fashion and flesh and turned to the walls, forcing herself to look.
It took her a full minute to grasp what she was looking at, the scope and scale so huge that she lost the finer details immediately, but her eyes began to sort through the riot of greens and browns and find the real pictures among the accents of reds, purples, and creams, the hint of bright secrets in dark places, the faces and phantoms that haunted a mind she had never been fully privy to. It was beautiful but Yamane had always known it would be.
“You came.” The voice was soft at her shoulder and the touch light in the crook of her elbow.
“Yes.” Yamane blinked back sudden tears.
“Thank you.” Yamane sensed more than saw her companion turn to the gallery walls. “I had hoped you would come some day. I’ve missed you.”
Yamane nodded. “It’s beautiful, Rin.”
Saying her name, Yamane turned and smiled at the woman by her side, with the heart-shaped face with its alluring scars and hair that fell straight, long and luxurious. She looked dark and impenetrable but the thin lips turned up in an answering smile, eyes dreamy but aware.
“Is this hello or goodbye?” Rin asked. They could have been alone in this room full of people who kept glancing over with frank curiosity at the stranger speaking with the opening artist.
“A little bit of both, I think.”
Rin nodded and looped her arm through Yamane’s. “Can I show you something?”
Yamane let Rin lead the way. People cleared a path for them. This was familiar, too, the way things worked around Rin, as if the outside world moved to accommodate her, she who could be so negligent of it.
They stepped into a back room filled with pedestals, chairs, folded tables, and other junk. Unconcerned at the mess, Rin continued toward a covered object nestled in a cleared space. Disengaging from Yamane, she drew back the drape carefully and threw it aside, revealing the canvas underneath. It was a close up of a building face, an intricate working of glass and living tree trunks and branches. Butterflies rested their delicate wings among the leaves that stretched toward the sunlight. In the shining glass was painstakingly rendered the reflection of a partly cloudy sky, disrupted by three vicious cracks that marred the facade in familiar patterns. It could have been a study of a ruin but for the vibrancy of the art.
Yamane gazed at it, impassive. The technique she recognized; Rin had since evolved away from the bold delicacy of these strong thin lines into the ephemeral strokes that mystified the paintings in the gallery. This was an old work.
“Three years ago this piece was accidentally shown,” Rin explained. “A man offered to buy it. I told him it wasn’t mine to sell. Last year he made another offer. I told him the same thing.” Rin reached into a clever pocket sewn into her dress and drew out a business card. She held it out to Yamane. “It’s yours. If you want to sell it, this is the interested buyer’s contact information.”
Yamane stared hard at the business card and then back at the painting. “How?” she asked.
Rin understood. “You know that I loved the design and the idea when you showed it to me. It wasn’t hard to find the blueprints among your papers. I couldn’t finish it in time before you left for grad school, so I was going to give it to you for your birthday.”
Yamane’s head jerked up. Rin hadn’t, of course, because Yamane had been halfway across the country and they’d broken up by then. Rin knelt down and ran her fingers over the “scars.”
“You should have gotten rid of it,” Yamane said.
Rin shook her head. “I couldn’t. It wasn’t mine to get rid of.”
“Then you should have kept it to yourself,” Yamane whispered.
“I kept it for you.” Yamane looked up at Rin, who was turning the business card between her hands. “Take it. Please.”
Then Yamane understood. Rin had been lugging around the painting during all those years as her success and acclaim had grown. Since then Yamane had received an invitation to every opening Rin had had, which Yamane hadn’t even had the heart to look at during her years in grad school. They had reminded her too much of the exclusive but mutual choices each of them had made. It had taken her until this moment, however, to believe that Rin might have felt the same way. Hello and goodbye.
Yamane shook her head. “I don’t know what I see: us as we were before or us as we are now.”
Rin folded her arms and nodded, eyes distant. “I wasn’t sure what you would see, either. That’s why I didn’t have the heart to send it to you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Yamane shot her a look of surprise.
“I’m not half as oblivious as you always thought I was, Aki,” Rin said matter-of-factly. “Though some days I wished I had been. I missed you.”
“What do you see?”
Rin shrugged and smiled. “I see a painting. I see a meeting of two different worlds in art. I remember you and I remember painting it. I see a reminder and I know that I wanted to see you again, to know that we made the right choices.”
“Did we?” Yamane asked. “Make the right choices?”
Rin held out a hand to the kneeling Yamane. Yamane took it and stood. “I was afraid you would never come. But you have.” Rin touched her cheek. “We made our choices. Seeing you hasn’t shown me they were right, but I know now we have both lived with them and that makes me relieved. Will you stay a little longer?”
Yamane shook her head-in wonder, not in answer to Rin’s question. “You’ve changed, Rin.”
Rin took Yamane’s arm and turned her cheek into the architect’s shoulder. “So have you.”
*
Yamane stayed much longer that night, with Rin playing her personal escort and guide around the gallery, the weight of her arm light on hers, and the far-off look of her eyes tempting only the most curious to approach them. This was different, too, from those times before where she had let Rin woo the crowd with her effortless charm and had thrilled during those moments she would catch the dark beauty’s eye from across the room and receive that smile meant only for her. Tonight she was not Rin’s support but her guest.
“I don’t think I came here to say goodbye,” Yamane said as they gazed on the huge three-canvas piece that had arrested Yamane when she had first stepped into the gallery. “I think I came to say I’m sorry.”
Rin shook her head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We both decided to pursue things other than each other.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Yamane grimaced. “Though I was sorry about that, too, for a long time. No, I’m sorry for things I said at the end, and for ignoring you and not coming sooner.”
Rin patted her arm. “Whoever she is or was, I’m just happy to see you doing well.”
Yamane gazed at her for a long time. “What makes you say that?”
Rin ran her fingers lightly under Yamane’s right eye. “Because you did come here to say goodbye.”
Her touch lingered on Yamane’s skin. Yamane thought pass it, holding Rin’s gaze. “She’s young and impressionable and I shouldn’t.”
“You’re afraid to hurt her,” Rin said lowly. “But, Aki? It wasn’t so bad, breaking my heart against you. I was happy when we were together. That was the most I could have hoped and asked for.”
Yamane turned away. “But I should know better now.”
“I think you do. No one can be perfect for anyone.” Rin rested her head against Yamane’s shoulder. “You’ll take the painting?”
Yamane nodded. “Yes.”
- Part Four -
The call came two weeks after Shizuru had last seen Yamane.
“Fujino-san,” Yamane said, sounding hesitant, even shy, “would you have dinner with me this Saturday?”
Shizuru put her hand over the receiver, as if she had to hide her smile. Natsuki, returning from the kitchen with a can of soda, raised an eyebrow. Shizuru shook her head at her, removed her hand, and answered, “Yes.”
*
There was barbeque and sake, talk about volleyball and student council, of favorite colors and hometowns, and the unfamiliar self-consciousness of her bared shoulders and the way that Yamane followed the line of her neck with her eyes, as if looking at her for the first time and making her feel for the first time looked at, when really it wasn’t anything new. There was the shy way that Yamane held out her hand when they walked out of the restaurant, the surprising warmth that welled up within her when she slipped her hand into hers, the walk to the car that felt too short, the drive that felt meandering, but not in a bad way, just timeless. There was the moon and the stars and, suddenly, an empty lot, dark and filled with the silhouettes of scraggly grasses.
Yamane shut off the engine and stared through the windshield.
“Where are we?” Shizuru asked.
Yamane smiled wordlessly but gently to allay any fear Shizuru felt and climbed out of the car. Shizuru followed more slowly and then crossed to Yamane’s side. The older woman looked down at her and then turned and pointed at the lot.
“This is where they’re going to build what I’ve stayed in Fuuka to design.” Her finger swept across the space and there was her voice weaving the image in Shizuru’s mind, the breadth and the width of the foundation, the curve of the front reaching up like a cresting wave, giving the illusion of a tilt and unevenness in the structure that wasn’t there. And when Yamane was done, she fell silent.
Shizuru looked up at her. Yamane was frowning.
“I have a friend in Europe who has been asking me to come out and work with him and a business acquaintance in Hokkaido who wants to introduce me to a firm. For the past few months I’ve been thinking about moving. Fuuka’s beautiful, but it’s like a fairytale, where you can go to run away, and I thought it was time to move on.” Yamane turned to her. “But now-”
Shizuru leaned up and kissed her, closing her eyes against the softness of Yamane’s lips. She felt the brush of Yamane’s fingers on her cheek, delicate and soft and a little afraid, like the dancing in her stomach, the lightness in her head.
She pulled away and sucked in her breath, as if there weren’t enough air. Yamane’s hand was still on her cheek.
“I still have another year and a half,” Shizuru whispered.
“I know,” Yamane said. “That’s why I’m staying a little longer.”
Then, as Shizuru gaped up at her with lips slightly parted, Yamane kissed her again and there was no fear and no reservations.
FIN
Afterword: I've been working on this fic somewhat steadily after finishing "A Tangential Affair." Nemi requested/demanded Yamane/Shizuru* and I wasn't opposed to the idea, so I'm afraid that's what you get. Writing the Shizuru-Natsuki Drabble Cycle years ago, I had a lot of specific goals that I wanted to reach with each character in her development and with "A Tangential Affair" and now "Crossroads Schemata" I feel that I have finally reached those goals with Shizuru. Could there be more? Maybe. But I feel that I've finally done what I've wanted with Shizuru, gotten her to a place where she can truly begin to heal and move on from the events of Mai HiME. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
*Her exact words were "I just hope you pay me back with lots of Yamane/Shizuru angst smut ;)"
Extra Tidbits:
I fail at making this fic feel any sort of Japanese. =)
Shizuru is 162 cm (5’3.8”) tall. Yamane Aki is 167 cm (5’5.75”). Nishiyama Yuko is 173 cm (5’8.1”). The average height of a woman in Japan in the year 2006 was 158.8 cm (5' 2.6").
From the beginning of "A Tangential Affair" to the end of "Crossroads Schemata," almost a year of time passes.
- Part Three -
Shizuru’s summer break began with an unexpected offer from one of her law professors: a position as his research assistant with the promise of some monetary compensation. At the same time, her mother again invited her home, but with the implication that this time she should stay longer.
The choice wasn’t hard. She liked the professor and she wanted to stay in Fuuka and continue to help Natsuki prepare for the entrance exams, even if that meant only remaining a presence on the island city. Not that she mentioned this latter reason when she made her excuses to her mother. Risa, though, called her on it immediately: “Just couldn’t leave Kuga-chan, huh?”
Shizuru smiled in a sly, secretive way when Risa said it, but her actual time with Natsuki was spent in easiness, quiet, and calm. She looked on Natsuki’s diligence with fondness and confronted any slacking with sternness that surprised them both. It was a small thing but Shizuru had begun to notice small changes in the way they treated each other-and the way she felt around Natsuki.
“Natsuki,” Shizuru said one night during a dinner of takeout at the younger woman’s apartment, “I . . . I met this person . . . .”
Natsuki bit off a mouthful of noodles and chewed slowly. Shizuru waited for her to swallow, unsure how to go on. Natsuki licked her lips. “Yeah?”
They sat looking at each other. Shizuru searched her friend’s eyes for a hint, a recognition that she knew what Shizuru was talking about. “Yeah.”
Natsuki pushed around some noodles. “You mean a girl, right?”
“Yes,” Shizuru confirmed around the tightness in her belly.
“Is she nice?”
“Yes, very. At least, I think so.” Shizuru leaned forward, gripping the box of curry rice in one hand and her chopsticks in the other. “Do you . . . mind?”
“Mind?” Natsuki’s face, for once, was remarkably expressionless. Then she smiled and it was a smile Shizuru had never seen. “No.” Natsuki sat up straighter, smile widening. “No, I’m happy for you. I-”
She faltered but Shizuru saw all that she needed in Natsuki’s eyes: relief. She felt sad, then, and happy, and relieved, too. The knot in her stomach eased. She began to laugh. Her laughter made Natsuki hesitate and look at her closely, but whatever she saw in Shizuru’s face made her smile. Then she started laughing and so they were both laughing, laughing at themselves, and it finally felt natural and right.
*
Shizuru drew a circle around a date on the calendar with her finger and listened to her phone ring.
A click, silence, then, “Fujino-san.”
“Hello, Yamane-san,” Shizuru greeted her. “How was your vacation?”
“You mean my trip with Ama-Yuko? It was fine. Good.” Yamane paused. “How were your finals?”
“Good. I didn’t fail any of my classes.”
“That is good,” Yamane agreed.
Shizuru tapped her calendar. “Yamane-san, would you like to go to a play with me? My friend is starring in a play that opens next week and she gave me two tickets.”
Silence answered her. She pictured Yamane’s confused expression. From her brusque greeting, Shizuru had guessed she was preparing to have an uncomfortable talk. An invitation to a play had probably been the last thing Yamane expected.
Shizuru had been counting on it.
At last Yamane asked, “When is it?”
“Next Thursday, at eight o’clock.”
“Where at?”
“The theater on campus. I can give you directions.”
Yamane went quiet again, then asked, “Would you prefer that I meet you there?”
“Whatever’s easiest for you.” Shizuru felt a smile threatening to stretch her lips.
“Why don’t you give me directions, then?” Yamane said softly.
Shizuru allowed the smile to take. “Yes, of course.”
*
Yamane showed up dressed in slacks, boots, and a nice blouse, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. She looked tall and tailored and not immediately recognizable. When Shizuru called her name, Yamane stood a second without reacting and then approached her with an expression that wanted to smile but looked afraid to. Shizuru smiled for her.
“Yamane-san, I’m glad you could make it.” She looked questioningly at the flowers.
“For your friend in the play,” Yamane explained. “An opening night gift.”
Knowing an awkward silence would follow, Shizuru suggested they find their seats and, once seated, they ventured on small topics of conversation to pass the time until the play started. Yamane asked how her summer was going so far and Shizuru explained her new job.
“Do you like it?” Yamane asked.
“I like the law,” Shizuru said, “but I think I wouldn’t mind being able to hire someone else to do my research.”
That brought a small smile of amusement to Yamane’s lips just as the house lights dimmed. The image of that small smile lingered in Shizuru’s mind as the first act unfolded a bizarre plot involving alternate dimensions and a cross-dimensional love affair. Risa had managed to land one of the secondary lead roles and made her startling entrance on stage in a whirl of silks and invectives, looking taller than her average stature, haughty and angry as the hero’s spurned lover. Shizuru watched with awe and discomfort as Risa’s character, unrecognizable from her smart-mouthed friend, spiraled into madness and disillusionment as she threatened revenge on her former lover. Her deranged cackles threw the stage into darkness and echoed in Shizuru’s ears long after the first act ended. .
When Shizuru had blinked past the discomfort of the house lights, she saw Yamane had a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Which one was your friend?” she asked.
“I think her character’s name is Tatala?” Shizuru said, glancing at the program. “The one laughing just now.”
“She acts with a lot of passion,” Yamane said. “Is she a Theater major?”
“No. She’s studying History and Business and takes classes in Theater on the side. But I’m not surprised you thought that she was a Theater major-the stage is her real passion. She might have studied theater more seriously if her parents didn’t think it was a waste of time.”
Yamane nodded. “It’s a hard career. The arts are like that. You need talent and a lot of heart and luck.”
“Like Sena-san?”
Yamane laughed and the smile reappeared. “That’s a name I didn’t expect to hear tonight.”
“Do you have other artist friends who would be better examples?”
Yamane covered her mouth with a hand and leaned away from Shizuru, propping her elbow on the armrest. Moving her hand away, she said, “Yuko jokes that what I really wanted to be was an artist but that I lack creativity and that’s why I became an architect. She says that as a result, I gravitate toward artistic people. Whether that’s true or not, I do have a number of friends who are in the artistic community.”
Shizuru sat stunned into a short silence. Yamane had volunteered more personal information than she usually divulged in answering Shizuru’s questions. She regarded the architect from an angle. “Is it true what Nishiyama-san said about you wanting to be an artist?”
Yamane laughed behind her hand. “Maybe a little, but I love architecture, too-and I’m better at it.”
The house lights came back down but Shizuru held Yamane’s eyes until the dialogue started. She turned away with reluctance and watched as Risa tried to murder her rival and her beloved, only to realize the futility of coming between them and ultimately sacrifice herself to make the fulfillment of their love possible.
The play ended happily as the hero and heroine kissed and were united forever across time and space. But Shizuru felt haunted by the thought of Tatala’s sacrifice and when Risa took her bow, she clapped louder and longer, hearing others share her appreciation in the swell of applause. She glanced at Yamane.
The older woman was smiling.
*
Yamane assumed that they would accost Risa at the backstage door. Risa came flouncing out, eyes fever bright, cheeks straining with the effort to contain her smile, and fielded congratulations, compliments, and well wishes. Shizuru hung back with Yamane until Risa came over and pulled her into a hug.
“Everyone loved you,” Shizuru assured her.
Risa laughed and didn’t even bother to feign humility. Letting Shizuru go, she turned to Yamane and froze, surprised. Yamane held out the flowers. “For you, Kaehara-san. You were wonderful tonight.”
Risa took the flowers with a face full of questions. Her eyes darted in Shizuru’s direction.
“Risa,” Shizuru said, “this is my friend Yamane Aki-san. Yamane-san, this is Kaehara Risa.”
“Nice to meet you,” Yamane said with a dip of her head. She smiled. “You look like you were expecting someone else.”
“I was,” Risa said. “But you’re a nice surprise.”
Risa shot her a look that said, “Who is this and why didn’t you tell me about her?” Shizuru gave her a small shrug that made Risa bristle only because she couldn’t wheedle or strangle Shizuru right there.
“Anyway,” Risa said aloud to Shizuru, “I don’t know if you want to go, but there’s going to be an after party and tons of people still want to meet you. And you said you would come this time.”
“I said ‘maybe,’” Shizuru corrected her. “I don’t want to inconvenience Yamane-san.”
Yamane slipped her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “I wouldn’t want you to break your promise on my account.”
“Yes!” Risa crowed in triumph. “That means you’re coming. We’re all getting together at this bar owned by Takashiro’s friend. It’s just a few blocks down. Give me a minute and I’ll walk over with you.”
Risa disappeared back into the theater before Shizuru could stop her. She turned to Yamane and raised an eyebrow. Yamane looked innocently confused.
“She seems very nice,” Yamane commented.
Shizuru sighed. “You don’t have to come. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”
“Do you want me to come?” In the streetlight, Yamane’s eyes were unreadable.
Shizuru blinked and took a second to consider the question. “They’re Risa’s friends. I don’t plan to stay long.”
Yamane tilted her head. “Is that a yes?”
Shizuru met her eyes. “Yes.”
*
The little bar was already loud and crowded when they arrived. As they stepped through the door Risa pulled her in one direction and Yamane didn’t follow. Instead, the older woman gave her a little wave and a small smile that seemed to say, “Enjoy yourself,” and then headed for the bar. Shizuru wasn’t sure if she should have felt abandoned. She didn’t have much time to think about it before Risa pulled her up to the first table in a whirlwind of introductions to poorly lit faces. Shizuru saw some eyes alight with recognition at the mention of her name, followed by a visual assessment of her face and figure. She endured it politely and traded as much small talk as could be kept to a minimum. Somehow or another, she also ended up with a beer in her hand and joined in several toasts to Risa’s performance.
At some point after her second shot, Risa yanked her down and whispered in her ear, “That Yamane-san . . . I’ve seen her somewhere. Where have I seen her?”
Shizuru answered with an opaque smile.
“Who is she?” Risa asked, sounding only a little bit annoyed.
“I told you, a friend.”
“Uh-huh,” Risa said, nodding her head. “You’re cheating on Kuga-chan.”
Shizuru laughed because it wasn’t far from a skewed truth. Then a new face appeared at Risa’s side and the introductions resumed. After about an hour, Shizuru managed to free herself from Risa and went off to find Yamane. She found her plunked down in a corner, sitting atop a stack of chairs and surrounded by a group of people discussing Japanese productions of Western musicals. When Shizuru stepped into the small circle, Yamane looked up and smiled, as if she had been there waiting for Shizuru-which she had been. But her look in that moment made Shizuru’s skin tingle.
Shizuru offered her hand in a wordless suggestion that they leave and Yamane slipped her hand into hers and let Shizuru pull her to her feet.
“Sorry, everyone,” Yamane said. “Time for me to go.”
A chorus of “Aw” and “Stay!” answered her. Yamane waved a hand, the other already in her pocket. “Sorry. It was nice talking to all of you.”
They let her go without much more protest. Shizuru made sure to say goodbye to Risa, which consisted of a wave from across the room, and then they were outside, ears ringing from the sudden change in decibels.
“All good?” Yamane asked.
Shizuru nodded. “I fulfilled my promise. Even though I didn’t promise to come in the first place.” She began walking back toward campus and Yamane followed suit. She snuck a look at the older woman. “You like musicals?”
Yamane laughed. “They’re fun. Yuko really likes them. She took me to see Takarazuka a few times but that was a while ago. It’s been hard for us to do things together since I moved.”
They went half a block without another word. Shizuru savored the moment, feeling the warmth of the night and the slight buzz of the alcohol, and then she folded her hands behind her back.
“About that night . . .” she said.
Yamane slowed her pace but waited for Shizuru to continue.
“I’m sorry I showed up unannounced and that I behaved the way I did.” Shizuru inhaled deeply. “But I meant everything I said.”
Yamane kicked at a pebble and watched it skitter and bounce away. “I know.”
Shizuru waited. Was that it?
Yamane licked her lips but did not look at her. “You were right. About me wanting to . . . protect you-or ‘coddle’ you, as Yuko would say. I thought that’s what you needed.”
Shizuru bowed her head and hid behind her hair. “I’m not sure you were wrong. Actually, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You’re the first person I could talk to . . . like that.
“But something’s-changed.”
Yamane stopped walking and stared down at her shoes. Shizuru moved to stand in front of her and tried to bend down and crane her neck to catch the older woman’s eye.
“Yamane-san, I-”
Fingers on her lips halted her words. Shizuru went cross-eyed as her gaze darted to Yamane’s hand and then to her face. The older woman looked at her with quiet intensity. She looked pained and sad-and-Shizuru wasn’t sure what-something more in the way those eyes roamed over her face.
They stood there unmoving until Shizuru slowly reached up and took Yamane’s hand between her own and lowered it, clutching her fingers loosely. “You were right when you told Nishiyama-san that I liked someone else.”
“I know,” Yamane said, whispering. “I suspected it for a long time.”
“I still love her,” Shizuru said quietly, wondering where the strength in her voice had gone, “but it’s different now. She’s my best friend-I hope she’ll always be my friend-and that’s finally . . . enough for me. What Nishiyama-san said about me-”
With her free hand, Yamane reached up and cupped her cheek. “She said a lot of things.” Yamane abruptly let her hand fall and looked at the other trapped between Shizuru’s. She gave their joined hands a little swing. “I know you want to talk about this right now, but I have to do something. Something I should have done a long time ago. Will you . . . wait until then?”
Shizuru wasn’t sure if the twisting in her chest was devastation or hope.
“Will it be a long wait?”
Yamane smiled bitterly. “I hope not.” She squeezed Shizuru’s hand and then let it go. “Thank you for being honest with me, but if I’m to be honest with you, I need to take care of this first.”
She looked into Shizuru’s eyes again and this time Shizuru knew that what she saw in Yamane’s gaze was longing but then the older woman turned away and said, “Let’s get you home.”
Shizuru resisted the urge to grab Yamane’s hand again, to pull her back from whatever distant place she had gone, far and remote in that long lonely walk back.
- An Interlude -
“Do you want me to come with you?” Amane had asked.
“Like my date?” Yamane had laughed. The phone had projected Amane’s patient, sad silence.
“No,” Yamane had said at last, soft and serious. “You know I have to do this alone.”
The invitation felt smooth between her fingertips and weighty in her hand. It was printed on heavy cardstock, its elegant calligraphy directing her to this address. Light, voices, and the occasional tinkle of glasses drifted through the open doors, evidence of a party that, according to her invitation, she should have arrived at forty-five minutes ago. But she wasn’t the only one late. Stragglers were still joining the festivities, couples arm-in-arm, singles discreetly straightening their clothing or hair, and groups that joked and chatted their way inside.
Now that she was here, it all felt familiar, the excitement in the air, the sense of anticipation and admiration, and the little whiff of jealousy, all caught up in the smell of money and the snobbery of sophistication. It should have been thrilling.
Yamane frowned and slipped the invitation into her pocket. She didn’t want to be here. She wouldn’t stay long.
The atmosphere enveloped her the moment she stepped inside. The air was warm and heavy and a sea of faces and carefully coiffed hair greeted her, but she ignored the show of fashion and flesh and turned to the walls, forcing herself to look.
It took her a full minute to grasp what she was looking at, the scope and scale so huge that she lost the finer details immediately, but her eyes began to sort through the riot of greens and browns and find the real pictures among the accents of reds, purples, and creams, the hint of bright secrets in dark places, the faces and phantoms that haunted a mind she had never been fully privy to. It was beautiful but Yamane had always known it would be.
“You came.” The voice was soft at her shoulder and the touch light in the crook of her elbow.
“Yes.” Yamane blinked back sudden tears.
“Thank you.” Yamane sensed more than saw her companion turn to the gallery walls. “I had hoped you would come some day. I’ve missed you.”
Yamane nodded. “It’s beautiful, Rin.”
Saying her name, Yamane turned and smiled at the woman by her side, with the heart-shaped face with its alluring scars and hair that fell straight, long and luxurious. She looked dark and impenetrable but the thin lips turned up in an answering smile, eyes dreamy but aware.
“Is this hello or goodbye?” Rin asked. They could have been alone in this room full of people who kept glancing over with frank curiosity at the stranger speaking with the opening artist.
“A little bit of both, I think.”
Rin nodded and looped her arm through Yamane’s. “Can I show you something?”
Yamane let Rin lead the way. People cleared a path for them. This was familiar, too, the way things worked around Rin, as if the outside world moved to accommodate her, she who could be so negligent of it.
They stepped into a back room filled with pedestals, chairs, folded tables, and other junk. Unconcerned at the mess, Rin continued toward a covered object nestled in a cleared space. Disengaging from Yamane, she drew back the drape carefully and threw it aside, revealing the canvas underneath. It was a close up of a building face, an intricate working of glass and living tree trunks and branches. Butterflies rested their delicate wings among the leaves that stretched toward the sunlight. In the shining glass was painstakingly rendered the reflection of a partly cloudy sky, disrupted by three vicious cracks that marred the facade in familiar patterns. It could have been a study of a ruin but for the vibrancy of the art.
Yamane gazed at it, impassive. The technique she recognized; Rin had since evolved away from the bold delicacy of these strong thin lines into the ephemeral strokes that mystified the paintings in the gallery. This was an old work.
“Three years ago this piece was accidentally shown,” Rin explained. “A man offered to buy it. I told him it wasn’t mine to sell. Last year he made another offer. I told him the same thing.” Rin reached into a clever pocket sewn into her dress and drew out a business card. She held it out to Yamane. “It’s yours. If you want to sell it, this is the interested buyer’s contact information.”
Yamane stared hard at the business card and then back at the painting. “How?” she asked.
Rin understood. “You know that I loved the design and the idea when you showed it to me. It wasn’t hard to find the blueprints among your papers. I couldn’t finish it in time before you left for grad school, so I was going to give it to you for your birthday.”
Yamane’s head jerked up. Rin hadn’t, of course, because Yamane had been halfway across the country and they’d broken up by then. Rin knelt down and ran her fingers over the “scars.”
“You should have gotten rid of it,” Yamane said.
Rin shook her head. “I couldn’t. It wasn’t mine to get rid of.”
“Then you should have kept it to yourself,” Yamane whispered.
“I kept it for you.” Yamane looked up at Rin, who was turning the business card between her hands. “Take it. Please.”
Then Yamane understood. Rin had been lugging around the painting during all those years as her success and acclaim had grown. Since then Yamane had received an invitation to every opening Rin had had, which Yamane hadn’t even had the heart to look at during her years in grad school. They had reminded her too much of the exclusive but mutual choices each of them had made. It had taken her until this moment, however, to believe that Rin might have felt the same way. Hello and goodbye.
Yamane shook her head. “I don’t know what I see: us as we were before or us as we are now.”
Rin folded her arms and nodded, eyes distant. “I wasn’t sure what you would see, either. That’s why I didn’t have the heart to send it to you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Yamane shot her a look of surprise.
“I’m not half as oblivious as you always thought I was, Aki,” Rin said matter-of-factly. “Though some days I wished I had been. I missed you.”
“What do you see?”
Rin shrugged and smiled. “I see a painting. I see a meeting of two different worlds in art. I remember you and I remember painting it. I see a reminder and I know that I wanted to see you again, to know that we made the right choices.”
“Did we?” Yamane asked. “Make the right choices?”
Rin held out a hand to the kneeling Yamane. Yamane took it and stood. “I was afraid you would never come. But you have.” Rin touched her cheek. “We made our choices. Seeing you hasn’t shown me they were right, but I know now we have both lived with them and that makes me relieved. Will you stay a little longer?”
Yamane shook her head-in wonder, not in answer to Rin’s question. “You’ve changed, Rin.”
Rin took Yamane’s arm and turned her cheek into the architect’s shoulder. “So have you.”
*
Yamane stayed much longer that night, with Rin playing her personal escort and guide around the gallery, the weight of her arm light on hers, and the far-off look of her eyes tempting only the most curious to approach them. This was different, too, from those times before where she had let Rin woo the crowd with her effortless charm and had thrilled during those moments she would catch the dark beauty’s eye from across the room and receive that smile meant only for her. Tonight she was not Rin’s support but her guest.
“I don’t think I came here to say goodbye,” Yamane said as they gazed on the huge three-canvas piece that had arrested Yamane when she had first stepped into the gallery. “I think I came to say I’m sorry.”
Rin shook her head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We both decided to pursue things other than each other.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Yamane grimaced. “Though I was sorry about that, too, for a long time. No, I’m sorry for things I said at the end, and for ignoring you and not coming sooner.”
Rin patted her arm. “Whoever she is or was, I’m just happy to see you doing well.”
Yamane gazed at her for a long time. “What makes you say that?”
Rin ran her fingers lightly under Yamane’s right eye. “Because you did come here to say goodbye.”
Her touch lingered on Yamane’s skin. Yamane thought pass it, holding Rin’s gaze. “She’s young and impressionable and I shouldn’t.”
“You’re afraid to hurt her,” Rin said lowly. “But, Aki? It wasn’t so bad, breaking my heart against you. I was happy when we were together. That was the most I could have hoped and asked for.”
Yamane turned away. “But I should know better now.”
“I think you do. No one can be perfect for anyone.” Rin rested her head against Yamane’s shoulder. “You’ll take the painting?”
Yamane nodded. “Yes.”
- Part Four -
The call came two weeks after Shizuru had last seen Yamane.
“Fujino-san,” Yamane said, sounding hesitant, even shy, “would you have dinner with me this Saturday?”
Shizuru put her hand over the receiver, as if she had to hide her smile. Natsuki, returning from the kitchen with a can of soda, raised an eyebrow. Shizuru shook her head at her, removed her hand, and answered, “Yes.”
*
There was barbeque and sake, talk about volleyball and student council, of favorite colors and hometowns, and the unfamiliar self-consciousness of her bared shoulders and the way that Yamane followed the line of her neck with her eyes, as if looking at her for the first time and making her feel for the first time looked at, when really it wasn’t anything new. There was the shy way that Yamane held out her hand when they walked out of the restaurant, the surprising warmth that welled up within her when she slipped her hand into hers, the walk to the car that felt too short, the drive that felt meandering, but not in a bad way, just timeless. There was the moon and the stars and, suddenly, an empty lot, dark and filled with the silhouettes of scraggly grasses.
Yamane shut off the engine and stared through the windshield.
“Where are we?” Shizuru asked.
Yamane smiled wordlessly but gently to allay any fear Shizuru felt and climbed out of the car. Shizuru followed more slowly and then crossed to Yamane’s side. The older woman looked down at her and then turned and pointed at the lot.
“This is where they’re going to build what I’ve stayed in Fuuka to design.” Her finger swept across the space and there was her voice weaving the image in Shizuru’s mind, the breadth and the width of the foundation, the curve of the front reaching up like a cresting wave, giving the illusion of a tilt and unevenness in the structure that wasn’t there. And when Yamane was done, she fell silent.
Shizuru looked up at her. Yamane was frowning.
“I have a friend in Europe who has been asking me to come out and work with him and a business acquaintance in Hokkaido who wants to introduce me to a firm. For the past few months I’ve been thinking about moving. Fuuka’s beautiful, but it’s like a fairytale, where you can go to run away, and I thought it was time to move on.” Yamane turned to her. “But now-”
Shizuru leaned up and kissed her, closing her eyes against the softness of Yamane’s lips. She felt the brush of Yamane’s fingers on her cheek, delicate and soft and a little afraid, like the dancing in her stomach, the lightness in her head.
She pulled away and sucked in her breath, as if there weren’t enough air. Yamane’s hand was still on her cheek.
“I still have another year and a half,” Shizuru whispered.
“I know,” Yamane said. “That’s why I’m staying a little longer.”
Then, as Shizuru gaped up at her with lips slightly parted, Yamane kissed her again and there was no fear and no reservations.
FIN
Afterword: I've been working on this fic somewhat steadily after finishing "A Tangential Affair." Nemi requested/demanded Yamane/Shizuru* and I wasn't opposed to the idea, so I'm afraid that's what you get. Writing the Shizuru-Natsuki Drabble Cycle years ago, I had a lot of specific goals that I wanted to reach with each character in her development and with "A Tangential Affair" and now "Crossroads Schemata" I feel that I have finally reached those goals with Shizuru. Could there be more? Maybe. But I feel that I've finally done what I've wanted with Shizuru, gotten her to a place where she can truly begin to heal and move on from the events of Mai HiME. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
*Her exact words were "I just hope you pay me back with lots of Yamane/Shizuru angst smut ;)"
Extra Tidbits:
I fail at making this fic feel any sort of Japanese. =)
Shizuru is 162 cm (5’3.8”) tall. Yamane Aki is 167 cm (5’5.75”). Nishiyama Yuko is 173 cm (5’8.1”). The average height of a woman in Japan in the year 2006 was 158.8 cm (5' 2.6").
From the beginning of "A Tangential Affair" to the end of "Crossroads Schemata," almost a year of time passes.