2.45: Our Bonds

Aoi-chan didn’t let go of my hand until the very last second.

We stopped at the gate of my house, my bike angled toward my front gate. Tokyo’s evening light was soft, warm and orange.

Aoi-chan leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we’d been doing this for years instead of however long it had actually been. I wasn’t completely sure anymore.

More than a month, at least.

But how long had we really been friends?

How long had we actually been lovers?

Maybe… since the very start.

Her lips pressed to mine, unhurried.

It wasn’t a dramatic kiss. It was almost domestic in nature, very casual. Like something we did every day, and we almost did! Her kiss was relaxed, and yet still full of heat as on day one. Possessive, but in the gentlest way.

When she pulled back, she looked directly into my eyes, close enough that I could count her eyelashes.

My heart skipped.

“Don’t stare at me like that, Susu,” she murmured, like I was the one doing something unfair. She absolutely was!

That little voice inside me flinched, curling up instinctively, half-expecting her to suddenly decide this was a teaching moment and she’d start drilling me on throws or falls right here in my own front yard.

“I’m not staring,” I lied poorly.

I was deeply in love. Of course I was staring at her. I wanted to memorize her… every single detail of her face, every expression, as if I hadn’t already done so a hundred times before.

Aoi-chan’s mouth twitched. “Mm.”

She gave my hand one last soft squeeze, then stepped back, still watching me, like she was committing the way I stood there to memory.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” I echoed, and it came out softer and more thick with emotion than I meant it to be.

Aoi-chan waved and walked down the street, graceful without conscious effort, unhurried, her ponytail flicking behind her like a ribbon tied to the shaft of a spear. She had her usual plain black hair tie. I stood outside my gate watching until she disappeared around the corner and then I realized I was still rooted in place like an idiot.

…I should buy her a ribbon.

One that wouldn’t try to change how she saw herself. Something subtle, steel blue, just like her beautiful eyes, light enough to flutter in the breeze… just a little. Enough that it added decoration without softening the strength I so much admired and loved.

It would look stunning on her.

My thoughts went hazy as I pictured it, imagining how the ribbon would move whenever she turned her head… assuming I could even find a ribbon that suited her.

I made up my mind right then.

I’d get her a present as soon as I could.

With that settled, I hurried my bike through the gate.

The front door slid open before I even reached it and I froze and turned pink.

Did they see or hear us?

My mother was there, her apron on, her hair clipped back. Behind her, my father was peeking from the living room like he’d been assigned some kind of lookout duty. My little brother Haru hovered in the hallway, wearing casual clothes, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm.

Sleepy as always. I smirked, but it slipped off my face as mom spoke, “Welcome home,” Mom said, warm and bright. “How was your trip to Shirasuna?”

“It was… amazing,” I said, and my voice cracked slightly. I cleared my throat and finished wheeling my bike to where I usually left it, somewhat protected from the elements. “The trip felt longer than it actually was.”

Mom stepped aside to let me in. For a moment, I braced myself, half-expecting her to chew me out for whatever she might have seen.

Had I ever told my parents that I like girls?

…Nope.

Who knows how they’d react if they found out?

Dad leaned closer as I slung my bag over my shoulder, stage-whispering to Mom, “Hm… Sumire looks a little different.”

“Yes, she does. Her knees and elbows are a little scuffed and that subtle tan looks nice.” Mom whispered back, studying me with a knowing smile. “Did anything interesting happen?”

I very deliberately did not think about all the kisses, although I couldn't help turning sunset pink. Especially about our shared futon. Especially where her face ended up when I woke up the first morning. Thinking about that drove me wild and filled my head with vivid fantasies.

“...The usual beach trip kind of stuff,” I said lamely.

Mom’s face lit up, even though she knew I was holding back. “Tell us everything! Did you enjoy wearing the swimsuit I bought for you? Did you eat well? Did you make new friends?”

I pulled off my shoes in our genkan, the familiar scent of our home washing over me. The faint scent of laundry soap, cooking rice, and the faint notes of citrus from the kitchen cleaner Mom used. Beneath it all was something warmer drifting out from the kitchen, soft and savory, with the mellow sweetness of vegetables and the richer smell of broth settling deep into the air. Whatever she was cooking smelled very familiar, but I couldn’t guess it. Everything around me felt like home.

“We swam,” I said. “And played volleyball on the beach. And there was… beachside cave that we explored… and yes, I made a lot of new friends.”

“I guess the swimsuit I chose for you helped.” Mom beamed and laid a hand on my hair as though she was proud.

“Yeah… although it was something else….”

Mom tilted her head and smiled faintly. Whether she was going to say anything else, Dad cut in, “A cave?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Just some light spelunking,” I added quickly, before Mom and Dad’s imagination could decide I’d been bitten by vampire bats or grabbed by a giant squid. “It was supervised and we were very careful.”

Mom clasped her hands dramatically. “Ahh… The beach, a hot bath, and an adventure in a beachside cave! That sounds amazing!”

“The bath at the hostel was really great,” I said. The memory made my shoulders relax all by itself. “It was ridiculously nice, hot and big! The design was really natural with big rocks and plants… The food was really good too! There was a buffet in the mornings and at night we ate at the restaurant.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed at Dad in a way that meant, I have an idea and you’re in trouble if you don’t do what I say.

Dad immediately raised his hands, seeing it. “Oh…”

“It’s been a while since we had a real vacation,” Mom said sweetly.

Dad coughed. “We went on a vacation just last year.”

“That was just a day trip,” Mom corrected, still smiling, although her eyes were dead serious. “...to a roadside ramen shop.”

Dad flushed and looked away. “It was a very reputedly delicious ramen shop, and it turned out to be as good as everyone said.”

Mom’s smile sharpened. “We’re overdue for something more romantic than that, Anata.”

Dad’s face softened as he looked at her. He stepped closer and, in a moment that made me want to dissolve into the floor, he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek affectionately, like he couldn’t help himself.

Mom’s ears turned pink.

Haru made a sound of utter disgust from behind them. “Ugh.”

I stared at them, frozen between horror and fondness. “You two...”

Dad cleared his throat and stepped back like he’d been caught stealing snacks. Mom pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Then his gaze landed fully on me.

Haru was in middle school, always a little belligerent towards me. We’d never really seen eye to eye, his eyes sharp in the way kids his age sometimes were, especially whenever he looked at me.

But some of that was absent tonight. He stared at me for a long moment instead of ignoring me.

Weird… What does he want?

Mom smiled. “Get upstairs and put your bag away and change out of your uniform into something more comfortable. Dinner’s ready!”

After dinner, we talked more. Mom had made nikujaga, and the whole table still felt wrapped in warmth. The rice had been fluffy and steaming, the broth rich and a little sweet from the onions and carrots, the potatoes almost falling apart against my tongue, and the thin slices of beef had soaked up all of it. There had been miso soup too, gentle and salty, and a little dish of greens dressed with sesame that left a nutty taste after each bite. It was so good that for a little while I could almost forget how strange everything had started to feel. My weird little brother was staring at me nonstop the whole time.

“You look… different after that trip to the beach,” Mom said, frowning. “I’m not sure I buy that the only things you did were spelunking in a cave and playing some volleyball. Something obviously changed inside you.”

Haru nodded sleepily for some strange reason.

“Did you spend time with a boy?” Mom asked, and Dad’s eyes, which had been mostly focused on his nikujaga, bored into me.

I flinched, but managed to shake my head. “No. I didn’t. I’m not interested in any boy right now.”

Mom looked at me for a long moment with her lips pursed, and Dad kept staring. They all did.

“Honestly,” I added, looking down at my food. I hadn’t lied, though I wasn’t sharing my real feelings. I wasn’t sure I was ready to mention that I’d fallen deeply in love with a girl, so much that I fantasized about spending my life with Aoi. They still hadn’t said anything about seeing us.

“... I believe you,” Mom said, smiling faintly. “I can tell that you’re very happy. But we’ve started noticing that you move differently now, with more grace and confidence.”

My eyes widened.

So that’s what it was? Can they tell at a glance what I’ve gone through?

“I’m tired,” I said, automatically evading as I ate. I didn’t want to tell them any more about what really happened. It might be dangerous. I was too happy to trust myself.

Dad said with deep, unnecessary seriousness, “Our weary warrior returns.”

“Huh?” I blinked.

After we finished eating and I helped Mom wash up and put away the leftovers, Haru stepped forward, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and looked up at me like he was appraising a suspicious package.

“Do you want to play some Tekku?”

I blinked. “Now?”

He shrugged again, trying to act like he didn’t care. “Sometime.”

I looked at his eyes. They were weirdly evasive. There was something in how he was acting that made my heart soften so quickly it caught me off guard. Even though I still had homework tonight and was exhausted, still a little wobbly from training, my arms carrying the faint ache of multiple strikes, blocks, and that game of volleyball that I’d played with everything I had, my legs feeling like they’d been poured full of wet sand, it still sounded like fun.

He was looking at me like he was hoping for an immediate response, despite what he said.

“Okay,” I said. “A few matches. Then I need to do my homework, take a bath, and then I’m going to bed.”

His eyes brightened, just a flicker of excitement, and he turned immediately like he’d never wanted anything in his life more. “Then hurry up.”

I followed him down the hall.

His room was exactly what it always was like. There were gaming posters on the walls, a pile of manga in the corner, a tangled nest of console wires and other miscellaneous cables that he pretended weren't a total hazard. He dropped onto the floor in front of his TV and powered on his Gamestation 5 with the ceremonial reverence of its priest.

Tekku’s opening theme blared through the room.

My brother picked his usual character wearing a smug, overpowered sword fighter with too many tools and a ridiculous ultimate. I recognized him immediately. It was his favorite. The one he always used to wipe the floor with me. The character even threw out a sideways smirk on the select screen, like he knew what was going to happen.

Feels like bait and switch… Acting weirdly cute to pull me in just to give me another beatdown.

“You’re gonna lose again,” he said, grinning.

“Obviously,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I scrolled to my own favorite character.

Her name was Asuna, a cool-looking fighter that was introduced in this version. She had some smooth movements and nice animations. I always chose her. Looking at her now, I realized why.

She reminded me a little of Aoi-chan.

He pushed a series of buttons and the first match began.

He came at me the way he always did, his patterns fast, aggressive and confident. Zero hesitation.

I didn’t hesitate either, dodging.

It wasn’t because I planned to in advance. I hadn’t actually put any thought into how to beat him, because I never had.

The action I took was completely on reflex.

His opening combo tore through the space where I should have been.

He blinked.

I didn’t mash buttons like usual. My fingers moved in a clean, deliberate sequence. I knew exactly which button did what, even though I’d never known how to string those moves together coherently before. Block, step, strike… it all felt so natural it startled me even as it happened. It felt absurdly similar to timing a defense into a counter. The connection to my recent training with Aoi hit me immediately.

Ooops… I countered…

His health bar dipped.

His smirk vanished.

“What—” he started, then cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he leaned closer to the screen. His fingers went wild, hammering buttons as he tried to overwhelm me the way he always did.

I tilted my head. His strategy just wasn’t working.

It’s not like I was suddenly an amazing gamer, and it wasn’t me pulling off frame-perfect nonsense or playing like a pro exactly, but the rhythm of the fight, the spacing, the patience, the way I waited for him to commit before answering, that all clicked in my head in a way it never had before.

I wasn’t fighting to attack anymore.

I was fighting to choose when to.

All those lessons about knowing when to move and when not to move had shifted something in my head in a weird way. The game suddenly felt much easier to wrap my head around. Like it followed a martial-arts rhythm I hadn’t quite been able to grasp before, but now felt within reach.

The fight dragged on. He landed some hits on me and at those times I took damage.

But my instincts kept guiding me back into a position of control… instincts that Aoi had drilled into me without my realizing it.

And then… I won.

The words YOU WIN flashed across the screen.

Haru stared at those words on the screen and his console like it had betrayed him.

“You won’t get me this time!” he declared, jabbing the button to start the rematch.

The second fight felt different immediately because he changed his strategy.

He slowed down and waited for me.

What a little copycat! I laughed. He learns quickly too. I couldn’t help smiling fondly at him.

He smirked challengingly. “Now what are you going to do?”

I thought it out. That meant that I’d have to make the first move or this match would be really boring. It might end as a tie.

My thoughts turned inevitably to Aoi-chan… to how she was always in motion even when she wasn’t attacking, how her body never froze, never committed without reason.

I tested the space between us, throwing a few safe punches. A kick or two just outside his range. I still had a lot to learn about how Asuna really fought. My movements had no real intention to hit behind them yet, just gathering information.

I nodded to myself after trying out a series of her moves that wouldn’t slide me to his side of the screen.

“I see… if it’s like that… then…” I mumbled as I went on the offense.

He smirked and sidestepped like I had, as though he was waiting for the moment to turn the tables on me.

But I expected that he would do that.

I flipped back as his counterattack cut through the space I’d abandoned, then surged forward with a quick string of strikes. He staggered, but I didn’t chase.

I waited at this point.

His face flushed as he lashed out again, trying to undo what I did, his frustration destroying his attempt at being patient and cool. And just like that, the rhythm from the first fight returned.

Moments later the words flashed on the screen as his character dramatically collapsed.

K.O.

The room went quiet.

He stared at the screen, then at me.

I stared too.

Then I slowly turned toward him.

“…Huh.”

He snapped his head around. “What happened to you, Nee?! Did you binge Tekku matches for the last month or something without saying anything about it?!”

I lifted my chin, trying to imitate Aoi-chan’s deadpan authority. “Again. And calm down.”

His face went red. “Don’t talk like that to me! You’re not a gaming guru or anything!”

I laughed, really laughing, and it came out bright and a little mean, I admit. “You’re just mad, Haru.”

“I’m not!” he snapped, instantly going tsundere, and triggered a rematch so hard I thought he might break the button.

We played again.

He tried different tactics, adapting to my new playstyle. He stopped underestimating me and worked hard, but I still won… just barely.

By the third match, he was sweating.

By the fourth, he finally took one off me, slamming his fist lightly against the floor like he’d just reclaimed his manhood.

“Yes!”

“Tch. Rematch!”

“You’re on!” he crowed, but then caught himself, clearing his throat, and huffed. “Whatever.”

We played a few more rounds after that.

By the time we finally stopped, my finger joints ached the way the rest of me did.

Used up, tired, but satisfied. 

But my eyes felt lighter, less weighed down than they had all evening.

Haru was staring at me again.

This time it wasn’t suspicious.

It was something closer to being impressed. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with the idea that I could change, that I wasn’t fixed in the role he’d assigned me, his useless older sister.

“Goodnight,” I said, pushing myself up from the floor. “I should get started on my homework and bath.”

He hesitated before calling after me, a little too quietly, “Cool.”

I paused, having heard it, looking over my shoulder at him with a tiny smile.

His cheeks went faintly pink, and he looked away so fast it was almost comical, like it was embarrassing to have let that slip.

“What was that? Praise me more,” I said, grinning.

“Don’t be weird,” he muttered.

“You’re the one being really weird,” I said, smiling.

I left as he threw something at me.

Homework felt unreal after playing Tekku with my little brother.

This was the work they wanted us to finish at Shirasuna, at least on paper.

My jaw creaked as I yawned my way through it. I sat at my desk with my pencil moving across the page, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the glitter-covered poster. The bright colors. All that glitter. All the excited shouting while it was being taped up. The classroom had felt like it was already halfway to total chaos.

My stomach tightened every time I imagined the class calling out names for parts. The laughter. The cheering. The teasing that would follow no matter who got picked for which role.

What exactly was I hoping would happen?

The role of the Princess sounded terrifying. Acting princessly, lying still for a good part of it, and finally getting kissed by someone. I couldn’t help fantasizing about Aoi getting the prince part and kissing me right there on stage.

Oh Kami!

I wasn’t sure how many lines each role would have at this point, but I knew at least roughly how it should go. Being the center of attention like that felt like standing under a spotlight with nowhere to hide.

The Prince’s role sounded… also terrifying in its own way.

Then I’d have to kiss whoever ended up as the princess.

That triggered a fantasy about Aoi as the princess, although her face changed to Yuna’s and Riko’s just before I kissed her… and then to Daichi-san’s, and I got a headache and clutched my head.

He would look absolutely awkward in a dress if that somehow happened.

Either way, I was doomed.

If it really ended up being Aoi-chan, it might turn into one of those kisses… too intense, too passionate, and right in front of everyone.

Absolute doom!

I nearly fell out of my chair, staggered by my fantasy going very wrong.

And not being picked at all sounded like the safest route.

Technically safe… but also incredibly boring.

Ugh…

I could already imagine it, getting assigned some nonsense role. There were any number of pointless parts that seemed to exist just to humiliate the unlucky actor. A rock. A bush. A tree. Comic relief through total irrelevance. Whatever I ended up as, at least it wouldn’t be the wicked witch. Yuna had basically been elected by universal acclaim. I could help with the sets. That would be fun, but it would take too much time away from my training. Painting sets, moving props around, fading into the background.

That would be the most sensible route to take.

And yet… I’d completely miss out.

All the excitement. Part of me craved being a central part of this play. Everything hinged on whatever was about to happen tomorrow.

That little voice inside me quavered, caught somewhere between fear and wanting more too.

I chewed the end of my pencil, practically destroying the eraser, and stared at the homework page until the letters blurred.

Eventually I forced myself through everything, piece by piece, treating it like my training… one repeated movement at a time.

When my eyelids started drooping and my shoulders began to slump, I pushed my chair back and stood.

Bath time!

Our family bath was already ready to use, the way it always was at night. The tub sat full beneath its insulated cover, the reheated water still holding its heat. The mirror over the wash area had gone faintly cloudy, and the air was thick with steam. The floor was cool under my bare feet. The moment I stepped through the door with my towel wrapped around me, the world narrowed to the quiet of the room, the steam in the air, and the tile beneath me.

I hung my towel neatly in the changing area, then stepped into the wash space and sat down on the little bathing stool in front of the faucet and shower hose. I rinsed myself and started soaping up without thinking too hard about anything, especially not about who might be voted prince or princess.

What surprised me was how little I hesitated.

There was no tight coil of embarrassment just from not wearing clothes. I had no idea why that little voice inside me had cared so much before, but it didn’t seem to care anymore. It was strange how guilty I’d felt whenever I bathed alone before Shirasuna. I washed my hair, scrubbed my arms and legs, reached behind myself to wash my back, and did it all on autopilot. When my hands passed over my breasts, butt, thighs and crotch, I still tensed for a moment or went a little still. That voice inside me flopped and twisted in protest. I barely thought about what I was doing. There was a flicker of sensitivity whenever I washed, but nothing more, because I didn’t let myself focus on any of it. It helped that this was something I’d done almost every day for my whole life. I remembered sharing baths with my parents when I was little, and even with my brother when he was younger.

I rinsed quickly, breathing in the familiar scent of my rose body wash with a quiet, contented sigh. That smell meant a lot of things to me now. Aoi-chan, yes, but also cleanliness and comfort. The feeling of being soft, elegant, and simply... me.

A month ago, no, even less than that, every movement had felt too complicated. Like I had to negotiate with my own body before I was allowed to do certain things with it. Every gesture carried a second set of thoughts, a constant awareness hovering just behind the action.

Now it was just my body.

Me.

I stood, wiped the fog from the mirror with my palm, and looked at my reflection.

That face was beautiful, still a little too cute. The small voice inside me twitched, but not with rejection. Not with fear. I smiled, and my eyes looked calm, finally settled.

Whatever complaints that voice had once carried, they felt distant now. Faint. Like echoes that no longer had anything to grab onto.

I rinsed one last time, then lowered myself into the tub. A soft sound slipped out of me as the heat wrapped around my body, something between a sigh and a happy hum, before the water closed over my shoulders.

The water hugged me and my muscles loosened.

My eyes drifted shut. I floated there, almost asleep...

The door slid open. I barely registered the sound and I didn’t react at all.

…

“ONEE-CHAN?!”

“HEY!”

My eyes flew open.

“Who… what…?” …OH!!

Haru’s head poked in. Just his head, thankfully. His eyes were wide, like I was the one doing something suspicious.

“You fell asleep,” he accused.

“I didn’t.” I rubbed my eyes. “I was just resting my eyes.”

“You were going to,” he insisted. “Wake up, baka. Don’t sleep in there. You’ll drown.”

“I won’t,” I hissed, swallowing a yawn and sinking a little lower out of pure spite, even though the water already covered everything important. “Go away.” I mumbled, my lips partially submerged in the bathwater.

He made a face. “I’m telling Mom if you don’t go to bed right now.”

“Get out!”

Haru vanished immediately, the door sliding shut with a decisive clack.

I stared up at the drifting steam for a moment, then laughed quietly to myself, a warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with enjoying my bath.

When I finally got out and dried off, I padded down the hall with my towel wrapped tightly around me.

Then I noticed my brother.

He was waiting outside.

He stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded to himself and silently slunk back into his room. I watched him close the door behind him, then walked into my own room, shut the door firmly, and finished toweling off. I had already blow-dried my hair in the bathroom, section by section, brushing it the way Mom taught me once it had grown past my shoulders. I was eager to slip into my pajamas. The mirror caught me as I turned.

My cheeks were faintly flushed, and my eyes looked soft and sleepy, the way Haru’s sometimes did.

But there was something else there now.

A strange sense of confidence.

“Different,” Mom had said.

She was right.

Dad was too.

The Self-Improvement Club was working.

Outside my window, the evening had deepened. The yard was dark, and the streetlight painted the fence and the street a pale orange.

I didn’t notice the way the shadow on the other side of the street seemed to hold a shape.

It was a tall silhouette with the suggestion of a brim.

Something was watching me.