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Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 3:33 pm
by Helbereth
Mirage_GSM wrote: What I found more surprising was the combination of "misses" and "sama." Using both seems a bit redundant.
The exact way honorifics are supposed to work escapes me. Honestly, though, Hisao is probably nervous and overcompensating--using both to try and sound extra humble, if that makes sense. I've never claimed to know anything about Japanese culture.
Mirage_GSM wrote:And good job with the H-scene. It's probably one of the best I've read outside of KS itself.
Mader Levap wrote:Yep, it was certainly better than most of scenes that I seen or read. Good work.
Well, that's encouraging at least.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 4:00 pm
by Hoitash
Helbereth wrote:
Mirage_GSM wrote: What I found more surprising was the combination of "misses" and "sama." Using both seems a bit redundant.
The exact way honorifics are supposed to work escapes me. Honestly, though, Hisao is probably nervous and overcompensating
Considering he called her both Mrs. and Lady (as in Lord/Lady) in the same sentence, he probably succeeded in overcompensating.

Sometimes I wonder if even us otaku's understand honorifics.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 4:46 pm
by Joonwoo
Be right back, gettin some tissues for my nosebleed :)

Re: Chapter 31 - Best Laid Plans (part 1) EXPLICIT!

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 6:14 pm
by demonix
Helbereth wrote:Also, if the size of this update breaks your browser... I don't know what to say except, "Whoops!"
The only thing that broke at my end was my log in session which must have expired around the time I got to the end of the first part (or near the end since I think it took me between half and three quarters of an hour to get to the end of the second part).

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 6:23 pm
by Doomish
I think that might have been the funniest sex scene I've ever read. Funniest in the bad way, I mean. I get that you tried to subvert the whole "just throw member, shaft, head in there a few times" but I think that might have been the most pedantic sex scene in anything ever. The whole thing reeks of traditional hentai dialogue including mentioning weird cock smells and how they are intoxicating, which I have never heard a real life person do ever. It doesn't feel rushed or anything, it just seems like the whole thing is verbose just to be verbose. It's no 10,000-word-sex-scene a la FluffandCrunch but it's certainly close. All in all, definitely not your best work.
“Wrph!” he groans, but I manage to draw his tongue inside, and my following sigh of ecstasy encourages him to continue.
Wrph!
Resting for a moment, I kneel and gawk with a wry smirk. Hisao has a look like he did something wrong as I sit up and start to approach, but it's basically what I expected. The fleshy, mushroom-tipped appendage is mostly straight with a slight upward curve, and he apparently keeps it shaved. While it isn't as large as it seemed from below, it's definitely a lot longer and thicker than the fingers I usually use, and I'm reasonably impressed—I'm not giggling, that's for sure. The soft, round sack below it looks weird, but it's actually kind of cute, like a wrinkly peach. As I get closer, I can practically feel the heat radiating from his erection, and I decide it's also definitely the source of the smell.
The loving description of Hisao's ballsack and the musky smell therein is probably my favorite thing about the whole chapter. It was also very unnecessary but I understand why you put it in there. It captures the feel of the whole scene in one paragraph: Unnecessary purple prose.

A lot of the problem I have with your prose is that it's just too verbose for its own good. I know that's a stylistic choice but it can be a bad one when dealing with the wrong atmosphere, and blowjob scenes and beyond are definitely the wrong atmosphere. I'll probably come back and elaborate on specific parts of the chapter later; right now I have chores that need doing.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 6:48 pm
by Mirage_GSM
Helbereth wrote:
Mirage_GSM wrote: What I found more surprising was the combination of "misses" and "sama." Using both seems a bit redundant.
The exact way honorifics are supposed to work escapes me. Honestly, though, Hisao is probably nervous and overcompensating--using both to try and sound extra humble, if that makes sense. I've never claimed to know anything about Japanese culture.
Well, "Kurai-san" is the equivalent of "Mrs. Kurai." The main difference is that it is also used with the first name if the people are a bit friendly with each other like among colleagues at work, so Nomiya might call Mutou "Akio-san" or the students might adress each other like that. Only really close friends drop the honorific completely.
"Kurai-sama" is the same only more deferential, like when you address a superior or a noble. The closest translation would probably be "Lady Kurai."
So what Hisao said was about "Mrs. Lady Kurai."

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Thu Apr 11, 2013 9:27 pm
by Helbereth
Doomish wrote:I think that might have been the funniest sex scene I've ever read. Funniest in the bad way, I mean. I get that you tried to subvert the whole "just throw member, shaft, head in there a few times" but I think that might have been the most pedantic sex scene in anything ever. The whole thing reeks of traditional hentai dialogue including mentioning weird cock smells and how they are intoxicating, which I have never heard a real life person do ever. It doesn't feel rushed or anything, it just seems like the whole thing is verbose just to be verbose. It's no 10,000-word-sex-scene a la FluffandCrunch but it's certainly close. All in all, definitely not your best work.
Followed by more Image
I wrote it this way because of my audience. I had two options. Skip the majority of the scene, write a few paragraphs about the general progress, and probably get lynched by my readers, or have fun injecting a baseline-realistic sexual experience with overwrought descriptions. Personally, I'd prefer option one, and could have saved myself a lot of work by doing that, but there's an imperative about H-scenes around here, and I figured I can get away with a little bit of ridiculousness.

Clinically, they strip, she nearly chokes trying to blow him, then after a little encouragement he restarts by reciprocating her gesture, and she takes over to finish the experience. That was the whole 5000 word section reduced to one sentence. It would have been a little more descriptive than that, and I would probably use a truncated version of their midstream conversation, but it could have been done in two or three paragraphs, a little bit of dialogue, then picked up when they collapse together.

The thoughts leading up to the scene, her preparations, and the scene following, were much more important than the actual sex, at least to me.
Mirage_GSM wrote:
Helbereth wrote:
Mirage_GSM wrote: What I found more surprising was the combination of "misses" and "sama." Using both seems a bit redundant.
The exact way honorifics are supposed to work escapes me. Honestly, though, Hisao is probably nervous and overcompensating--using both to try and sound extra humble, if that makes sense. I've never claimed to know anything about Japanese culture.
Well, "Kurai-san" is the equivalent of "Mrs. Kurai." The main difference is that it is also used with the first name if the people are a bit friendly with each other like among colleagues at work, so Nomiya might call Mutou "Akio-san" or the students might adress each other like that. Only really close friends drop the honorific completely.
"Kurai-sama" is the same only more deferential, like when you address a superior or a noble. The closest translation would probably be "Lady Kurai."
So what Hisao said was about "Mrs. Lady Kurai."
If that's the case, I think it still works and I'll leave it as is. Overcompensating seems like a natural thing for a teenage boy to try doing to placate his girlfriend's mother, especially immediately after deflowering her.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Fri Apr 12, 2013 2:55 am
by Mirage_GSM
Personally, I'd prefer option one, and could have saved myself a lot of work by doing that, but there's an imperative about H-scenes around here,...
Really? So far I've gotten away fine with not writing any h-scenes and I intend to continune without doing so.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Fri Apr 12, 2013 3:42 am
by Helbereth
Mirage_GSM wrote:
Personally, I'd prefer option one, and could have saved myself a lot of work by doing that, but there's an imperative about H-scenes around here,...
Really? So far I've gotten away fine with not writing any h-scenes and I intend to continune without doing so.
Just looking at the other pseudo-routes, and the VN itself, as far as that goes, really.

As a secondary note, I went back over it for some maintenance and cut out some of the more ridiculous references. If I never write another sex scene it will be too soon.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Fri Apr 12, 2013 9:32 am
by Hoitash
Helbereth wrote: If I never write another sex scene it will be too soon.
I'm not too fond of writing them myself, but more for the reason I'm not very good at it.

Except when it comes to lesbian romance; apparently I can do that half-decently.

My theory about erotic literature is if you're good at it and need some money, at least you have a fallback position :). Kinda like summer construction work.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/11/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2013 1:52 am
by Helbereth
Hoitash wrote:My theory about erotic literature is if you're good at it and need some money, at least you have a fallback position :). Kinda like summer construction work.
Perhaps, but I don't think I'm any good at it, and the whole messy idea just makes me cringe. Also, I feel like I'm playing to the lowest common denominator--no offense to literary erotica fans. It's on par with being an artist and getting commissioned to draw nudes or pornography; you either enjoy it or you don't, but you do it anyway, grudgingly if necessary.

As far as this goes, it probably falls under the category of things I should learn how to do properly, just in case. That, unfortunately, probably means writing an additional scene at some point later in the narrative, for comparison sake.

Should I consider that a spoiler, or merely a foregone conclusion?

Sigh...

Chapter 32 - Endorphins (part 1)

Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 8:49 am
by Helbereth
Okay, so apparently I still have some fast writing in me where this tale is concerned, and this chapter is proof. After taking a couple days break following the previous chapter's release, I managed to crack this one out over the course of three days, and I've just been fine-tuning it since Monday night.

That said, I'll let you get on with reading.


Previous|Part 2|Next Chapter
_________________________________________________________________
Chapter 32 – Endorphins

A warm summer breeze flows in through the window, I hear birds singing, and I smell sweet flowers in the crisp, clean air. My shoulders are relaxed, I feel well-rested, I'm confident in myself, I feel energetic, and I'm even academically focused. As I sit half-way through a droning Mutou lecture, I'm wearing a bright smile, and I'm practically dancing in my chair to the rhythm of music only I can hear. Meanwhile, a tiny voice in the back of my mind keeps saying it's just the endorphins coursing through my bloodstream, but I'm too busy feeling good to care. Nothing seems to bother me for now at least, and that's probably what being in love is supposed to feel like—though I'm no expert.

Not all my problems have been solved, and starting to explore each other sexually has added a few new issues to my worry list—our worry list—but it helped me gain some perspective, enough to make a few difficult decisions. Otherwise, I haven't felt this good in years, probably since before middle-school, back when I was just a clumsy little girl following Dad around everywhere, carefree and happy. The context is very different, of course, but the effect is the same. After feeling tense, worried, and self-conscious most of the time for the past month, I'm finally in a good mood, and I'm determined to enjoy myself.

I feel happy, dammit, and I like it!

My logical side keeps telling me that I should slow down, take precautions, and make sure I'm not getting caught up in the euphoria of being in love, but I'm tired of being rational all the time. Loosening my inhibitions feels so much better, quite literally; besides, I'm taking responsibility for my actions. When I woke up this morning, I decided to visit Nurse after class today with the intention of asking about birth control—in drug form, no less. That probably won't be an enjoyable conversation, but Amaya said she got through it, and, according to her, I can count on his confidentiality; her parents still don't know she's on the pill—even I had to see them to believe her.

Ever vigilant, Amaya noticed I was practically walking on air the moment I got back to my dorm. Strangely, when she started asking questions, I didn't feel apprehensive or embarrassed, so I just started answering honestly. As she predicted, I thanked her for the encouragement and understanding, not to mention the condoms. She stopped me when I started getting a little too graphic, but now we can compare notes on a whole new list of experiences. It added a new dimension to our friendship, one she's apparently eager to share. The prospect of hearing about her exploits with Tadao is a little unsettling, mostly because I see him as a brother, but having someone to share mine with, besides Hisao, is worth the discomfort.

I wonder if he told anyone...

Even that thought doesn't really bother me, though I'm definitely keeping the information to myself. It's likely he'd only tell Tadao, and maybe Kenta, but neither of them would risk my wrath by uttering it to anyone else. Besides that, I don't think Hisao is the kind of guy who boasts about his sexual conquests, which is a title I've accepted gracefully. Although, if he looks as happy as I do, someone might figure out he's been getting laid, and he spends the whole day sitting next to Misha and Shizune. Both of them are curious about our exploits, especially Shizune, now that she knows about my disease. If they find out somehow, I'll probably be in for a stern talking-to from Shizune, and likely a dirty questionnaire from Misha, but that's just a slim, terrifying possibility.

For now, I'm resting my chin in my hand, paying attention to Mutou's meandering speech about gravitation, which seems oddly appropriate considering the past couple days. After our first experience together, Hisao and I got distracted by Mom's call, and we parted ways shortly before curfew. Since then, however, we've been drawn together as if by gravity itself. Our morning swim yesterday was less than productive, as we spent most of the time sneaking kisses when Joyce wasn't looking, though we made up for that later. Reconvening in his room after classes, we got our workout by spending a few long, naked hours, using up condoms in some creative ways.

We needed more empirical data...

That's all well and good, but it left my head swimming in a sea of endorphins. It's a great feeling, one I'd recommend to anyone, and I'm eager to get them renewed if Hisao is up for it later—he's worried I may be insatiable, and he might be right. However, those natural, happy chemicals do have a downside. Since I'm in the middle of perhaps the most mind-numbing diatribe on gravitational physics ever uttered, my happy state of mind has dangerous outward implications. Usually, this is a situation where I'm barely able to keep my eyes open to pretend I'm paying attention, never mind sitting up with a bright smile, full of nervous energy, and practically enjoying Mutou's droning—I might get found out.

Would that really be so bad...?

“Can you maybe try to look a little less happy, Swimderella?” Amaya advises in a low whisper, sounding concerned and annoyed, “Or at least stop bouncing your knee.”

Honestly, I don't think I'd care much if people found out, but she's probably right, and I should try to calm down. Unfortunately, trying to frown when you're happy is difficult, and usually just looks weird, so that probably wouldn't be enough. Looking out the window is an option, but that could look equally suspicious. Considering the class is down to ten students, there are a lot less people who might notice, but I can't really count on that. If I'm going to assuage suspicion, then I might have to get creative.

Turning a glance over my shoulder, I notice Tadao's dreary expression, and an idea strikes me. If I can't make myself look unhappy, maybe I can turn my positivity into an advantage—it's so crazy it might just work. Instead of focusing on calming down and trying to wipe the idiotic grin off my face, I'll focus my energy on some clandestine conversation—sign language style. In the process, I might be able to put a smile on my bored friend's face, and I think that's a worthy goal.

I need the distraction either way...

Mutou has been pacing across the front of the class ever since his lecture started, so I just wait for him to walk the other way before turning to ask Tadao, [What are you doing over the break?]

As I finish signing, I silently berate myself for asking such a loaded question. Sometimes I forget he was ever an orphan since he's practically family to me, but family is a complicated subject for Tadao. He doesn't really have one to visit, aside from his incarcerated uncle, and no real home to return to during breaks, unless you count orphanages and foster homes. Watching him react to my ill-conceived question makes me feel all kinds of awful, but it doesn't really seem to bother him, except that he isn't the one answering.

“He's coming home with me,” Amaya whispers, startling me a little.

She understood my question...?

“Since when do you know sign?” I inquire, but she just shrugs.

Tadao silently answers for her, [She's picking it up by osmosis, I think.]

[Finally, you mean,] I reply curtly, and notice Amaya frowning reflexively.

Turning a smirk toward her earns me a quiet little raspberry in response, but I'm more interested in Tadao's reaction to her plans. Of all people, what with all the reading he does, Tadao knows meeting the parents is a storybook cliché, but it definitely has its roots in reality—getting Hisao prepared has been grueling. Add in that Amaya's parents are above average on the protective scale, and it makes his prospects look sketchy at best. As I inspect his expression, I notice he's nodding, but with a bewildered wince, and he looks like he could use a confidence boost.

[That's great!] I sign, smiling emphatically, [They'll adore you, don't worry!]

My encouragement does little to turn his grim expression into anything hopeful, but I really do think Amaya's parents will probably fawn over Tadao. Although he's humble about it, he reads so much it puts Hisao to shame, and writes so eloquently I sometimes think he's plagiarizing unreleased manuscripts from the great writers of the past. There's a bright future for his creative talents, and there are already universities sending him brochures, wanting to add him to their list of accomplished literature majors.

Besides that, he's tall, dark and handsome, smart, funny, and absolutely adores their daughter. Mom may have been trying to set us up together over the winter because she's secretly infatuated with him. Basically, he's a catch, and Amaya's parents would have to abandon reason to find any damnable flaws, or at least that's what I think. Still, that kind of information would probably just over-inflate Tadao's humble ego, so I hold it back and simply add, [Just be yourself.]

“Whatever she said, it's probably right,” Amaya whispers.

With both of us grinning at him, the bewildered expression cracks, and he finally smiles, starting to nod before replying in a low whisper, “I'll be fine, she's been quizzing me.”

While I'm turning a smirk at Amaya, my neighbor raises his lone fist in the air, pumps it lightly and says, “Stay strong, man. Show no weakness.” Rajin usually doesn't poke into our conversations, but Tadao appreciates the unsolicited support.

“Thanks,” he replies, slapping Rajin on his shoulder, “Tell your dad I said hi.”

“Will do,” the one-armed soccer player retorts, his calm, gray eyes never leaving the front of the classroom.

The brotherhood of men prevails...


The conversation soon dries up, and I decide to try feigning disinterest in the droning lecture for a little while longer, though I still find it captivating. My sudden interest in science feels unnatural, but it might just be due to Hisao's love for the subject. Hearing a lot of the same babbling from my science-geek boyfriend has left me prone to enjoy it a little more, although with finals over, it's probably a little too late now. Once Mutou's time is up, Owaku steps in, and reclaims her seat to continue reading. With the change in teacher comes a more lax classroom environment. With only ten students in class today, we end up moving toward the middle of the room, forming a circle of desks, and take turns talking about how we'll be spending the break.

Sora says she'll be visiting her family's ranch up in Hokkaido, but she's less than eager to spend time there as it makes the paralysis seem that much more debilitating. Rajin will be spending the break at home, and probably working at his dad's wood-shop, which sounds like a strange place for a one-armed man to spend much time, but he seems excited. Toru will be working at his cousin's beach-side shop over the break, and he seems more than eager, but I think his excitement has more to do with being around scantily clad women than anything else. Despite the animosity between us, I'm glad to hear Jun will be working with a small orchestra in Kyoto, playing the cello. Evidently the tales of his musical ability aren't exaggerated, and maybe the experience will help him develop some maturity.

Probably not...

Unfortunately, not everyone's news is entirely good, as Kenta reveals he's being picked up and brought home right after classes today. His dad apparently called to tell him just last night, which he admits wasn't really unexpected. With the intention of having his son inherit their family business, some kind of delivery service, Kenta's dad tends to disregard his son's desires in lieu of training him to take over the company. Despite the suddenness, his only real complaint is leaving Yoko behind to fend for herself, but I think she'll be fine. Still, he takes me aside and makes me promise to keep an eye on her, which I would probably do anyway.

The field trip Naoko took Tuesday was apparently productive, and I can't help smiling as she practically dances in her seat while relating her summer plans with excited signing and facial expressions. Apparently, in light of some comments from the admissions officer, her parents decided to plan a few weeks of world travel so their daughter can gain some global perspective. Her talent for sculpture, photography, and graphic arts has always been more of a hobby, but she's looking forward to pursuing them more formally. It's all quite sudden, and she doesn't leave until next week, but it means she won't be around for the summer.

Sitting here watching her gush about all the places she'll be visiting makes me realize my little circle of friends will be dwindling a lot over the break. According to Hisao, Shizune and Misha will be heading to the Hakamichi family home for most of the summer, though Shizune did extend me an invitation to visit. Amaya isn't heading home with Tadao until next weekend, but once Hisao leaves, and they're gone, I'll basically be left here alone with Yoko, whose plans I still don't know. Not that I'm worried about being lonely, as I'll get to see Mom and Midori on most days, but I'll be a little bored without my friends around.

Especially without Hisao here...

Mom will be staying in the city with Midori, and I'll probably spend some nights with them in the hotel. Apparently, in order to justify her extended stay, she talked the faculty at a nearby culinary school into letting her take on some novice students for summer cooking lessons. They'll only meet three times a week for a few hours, so we'll be able to spend a lot of time together, which is actually good because I've missed her a lot lately. With her living so far away, and as I'm nearing the end of high school, the amount of time we have to spend together is starting to shrink, so I'm eager to see her tomorrow night. Amaya and I are planning a shopping trip for later so we can find formal attire to wear at my belated birthday dinner.

As Naoko finishes, Amaya's turn comes up, and she isn't shy about relating her plan to drag Tadao home for the break. What I didn't know is that she hasn't exactly told her parents about his coming along for the visit. She told them she invited a guest, but didn't specify who it is, wanting to surprise them. Most everyone tells her that's probably a bad idea, except Jun, who would likely delight in Tadao's failure, but she's adamant about her plan, and explains she doesn't want her parents to have any preconceptions about Tadao, which I guess makes sense. That's probably why Tadao is so nervous about the meeting, more than anything else, but I think if I had the presence of mind, I would have held back a lot of the things I told Mom about Hisao.

If I built him up too much, and he doesn't live up to the description, she could be disappointed by her own expectations. Glancing at the clock, I realize their plane should be touching down shortly, or did already, so I should be getting a phone call any time now, which is a little unnerving. Still, despite knowing how stressful the visit will be, regardless of whatever she's expecting from Hisao, I feel like I'm ready—we're ready—to face the situation. We agreed to hold back telling her about us becoming lovers, at least until she gets to know Hisao well enough to reconsider murdering him, but I don't think I'm really worried about her disapproval. She isn't exactly a traditionalist, but because she's the only parent I have left, her approval means a lot.

And Dad isn't around to counter her...

When my turn comes up, I'm still lost in thought and it takes a shove from Amaya to regain my senses. Finding everyone's eyes looking my way makes me blush and shrug apologetically as I start to explain, “I'll be in the dorms for most of the summer, but my mom and sister are coming to visit... so, I'll be doing stuff with them... I guess.”

“I didn't know you had a sister,” Sora remarks, and I frown reflexively. “How old is she?”

“Fourteen,” I reply simply, glancing toward Amaya.

Taking my hint, Amaya chirps, “Picture Aiko three years ago... with short hair, blue eyes... and my chest.”

It's not how I picture Midori exactly, but it's close enough, and I'm in a forgiving mood. Her description draws a laugh from most of the group, and gives me a moment to breathe. “Something like that...” I confirm, trailing off as I watch their reactions, “I haven't seen her since winter break—neither of them actually.”

“Aww, that sucks...” Sora remarks sympathetically.

Stretching with a yawn, Rajin runs a hand through his messy, blond mop and asks, “How come?”

Feeling good is apparently making me open up a bit, which is something I've wanted to do for a while. Still, I'm a little nervous talking about stuff like this, especially with Jun sitting there staring at me with an icy expression—he's surprisingly unnerving for a shrimp. Everyone else is still watching, too, so I figure I should probably explain further. Taking a quick breath, I smile casually and find my voice, “Mom moved back to Italy to live with Grammy after Dad... died... and brought Midori—that's my sister—with her.”

That wasn't so bad...

Looking around at their nodding faces gives me the confidence to continue, “They should be landing sometime soon, actually,” I absently look toward the clock as I add, “I'm expecting her to call anytime now.”

[Midori's a little spitfire~!] Naoko signs with a giant grin.

Tadao translates her giddy statement in subdued fashion, and Amaya starts nodding emphatically. “Almost literally—except she doesn't set fire to kitchens, but she can actually cook,” she remarks, turning a smirk at me before looking back at Sora to add, “I'm surprised you haven't met her.”

“Just bad timing, probably,” Sora replies, sighing lightly. After a few moments, she turns a smirk at me and asks, “Is that why you're so happy lately?”

Her innocent question makes me tense my shoulders, and Amaya's eyes widen like saucers. Apparently I've been found out on some level, but her assumption makes sense enough that I'm able to start nodding after only a brief pause. “Yeah... Mom called Tuesday night to say she's flying up early,” I start to explain, smiling and nodding happily, “I'm excited to see her—both of them... I guess it shows?”

Crisis averted.

Nodding, Kenta decides to chime in, “Thought you were about to break into song during Mutou's lecture earlier... wish I could say the same about seeing my dad.”

The depressing comment makes Tadao slap Kenta's leg and scold, “You're just feeling separation anxiety, don't blame it on him.”

His scolding pulls Yoko out of her sleepy state leaning against Kenta's side. “Yeah, don't be mad at him over me,” she says, nudging him with her elbow, “I'll be alright—Aiko will be here...”

That said, she turns a quick smile at me, sighs sleepily, then goes back to leaning. Her trailing comment makes me wonder if she'll be here for the whole summer. Knowing her parents are somewhat affluent, I expected they would fly her home for the break, but unless I'm misinterpreting her melancholy look, I think I was wrong. Asking her in mixed company would probably be a mistake, so I decide to hold my questions for later.

“What about your mom?” Rajin asks, turning everyone's attention back to me, “I think you said she's a cook or something, right?”

“Culinary Instructor these days,” I correct him, smiling at the thought, “I didn't get any of her ability, though.”

“No kidding, you sure you're her kid?” Sora jokes.

“Sometimes I wonder...” I say, smiling to myself.

“Wait, hang on,” Jun interjects, apparently deciding to add his comments, “your grandmother is Italian?”

“Welcome to the conversation, Jun,” Sora replies sardonically, but he ignores her.

Despite the lateness of his question, everyone else seems interested, so I feel like an explanation is in order. “Half, yes... her parents met in World War Two—I think I told you this before,” I say, trying to remember whether that's true or not. Shrugging, I add, “My great granddad was a Japanese soldier, and he met my great grammy while guarding a block of Italian nationals in Singapore... he was in the... uh...” As I trail off, I turn a questioning look at Naoko to ask, [What was the name again?]

Ever the wellspring of historical knowledge, she replies quickly, [Kempeitai~!]

“Kempeitai!” I echo excitedly. “Yeah, they moved back to Italy after the war, but kept ties here with his family, and my grammy ended up attending school in Tokyo. And... things happened, she got married, had my mom, and...” By now, I've probably explained enough, but I'm not uncomfortable, and I feel compelled to finish my rambling. “Anyway, I'm an eighth Italian,” I say, turning to notice Jun's interested expression, “why do you ask?”

My question makes him shift uncomfortably in his chair, and shoot a glare at Toru. “Everyone else was asking questions... I guess I was just curious,” he replies finally with an emphatic shrug.

Undeterred by the glare, Toru elbows his friend and adds, [He's obsessed with your hair.]

“Dude, shut up!” Jun protests, folding his arms and turning away.

“He didn't say anything,” Sora remarks with a snicker.

“Same thing! Besides, he's lying,” he continues protesting, “he's the one obsessed with Two-Tone's hair.”

Whether out of spite or mirth, Kenta perks up and asks, “Can we just all admit we're obsessed with Aiko's hair and be done with it?”

I'll take that as a compliment...

While everyone is laughing, the bells start to chime, announcing the end of the school day. Jun, who's the only one not laughing, bolts upright and swiftly heads for the door with Toru following close behind. Their fast exit causes the laughing to redouble while the rest slowly get to their feet and start heading for the door—except Sora, of course, who wheels herself out, laughing all the way. Leaving the desks rearranged like this wouldn't sit well with Ito, no matter what day it is, so I stay to put them back in place. Soon only the two couples and myself remain—even Owaku slipped out almost immediately—and I'm suddenly the odd one out.

“Your dad is probably here already, right?” Yoko asks of Kenta.

Frowning, he replies, “Yeah, I packed my bag last night—walk me to my room?”

She turns a blush toward Amaya and I, but we're not about to judge. Although I can't say I'm not interested in knowing how far their relationship has gotten, it's their private business.

I like keeping my business private, too...

“No ulterior motive was implied,” Kenta says with a nod toward Yoko, “I was speaking to the group.”

“We'll walk you out,” I say, turning toward Amaya.

She nods assent and takes Tadao by the arm. “I don't think I've met Kenta's dad—I'm curious...” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “whether the apple fell far from the tree.”

She watches too much television...

“Oh, I fell into a different dimension,” Kenta remarks.

Once we're out in the halls, which are frighteningly deserted already, Kenta starts to explain about his dad being a big, burly, curmudgeon—his words. Growing up with a dad who's quicker to point out flaws than strengths probably wasn't the best experience for a kid with cerebral palsy, but it pushed Kenta to strive for excellence. There's probably more to it than that, but I'm not comfortable questioning someone else's upbringing. All I know is Kenta came through it with his sanity and sense of humor intact, and he gets along with his dad despite their differences—or at least that's what he says.

It remains to be seen...

As we're headed through the halls, I happen to glance over my shoulder and see Hisao walking by with Shizune and Misha. He waves, but shakes his head when I gesture for him to join us, then disappears around a corner, shrugging regretfully. He told me they're getting that Student Council work done tonight, so I guess he'll be spending a few long hours in the Council room, filing papers with the dynamic duo. It's probably just as well; I want to see Nurse before we do any more exploration, and the best way to prevent that is by removing temptation.

Following Kenta as far as the boys' common room, Amaya and I decided to wait with Tadao while the parting couple has a moment alone upstairs. There's an uncomfortable silence while we're sitting around in the lounge, waiting for them to reemerge, and my thoughts turn inward. Mom still hasn't called, even though she should have been through the airport almost two hours ago, and it's starting to worry me a little. It's entirely possible she didn't charge her cellphone, or packed it in the wrong bag, or simply forgot to call, but I still feel apprehensive.

The mundane reasons are much more likely, but I'm not comfortable with air travel for a number of mostly irrational reasons, and my imagination runs into a dark place involving a fiery crash somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. In a fit of panic, I reach into my bag, pull out my phone, and start searching for her number, but I realize how silly I'm being before I can hit send. Amaya notices my expression and casts a sympathetic shrug my way, but doesn't say anything. She knows I'm worried, but she harbors a similar distaste for flight, and can probably guess what I'm thinking.

So much for the euphoria...

Soon after, the couple returns, and I notice Kenta is carrying the same little bag he brought for the beach weekend. How guys manage to fit their entire life into such a small bag still baffles me, but he doesn't like carrying much anyway—he really only has one good arm. While we're headed across campus, I realize the shopping trip we're planning might be a good opportunity to cheer Yoko up after her boyfriend leaves. Brushing Amaya's arm so she'll hang back and walk alongside me, I duck down close so only she can hear.

“You mind bringing Yoko with us?” I ask in a low whisper.

She glances at the red-haired girl briefly, then looks back smiling and replies, “Sure, you didn't have to ask, though.”

“Well I know you like keeping Soliloquy a secret,” I retort, though it's a mutual feeling.

“Yeah, so do you, but Yoko's cool... and she's got great taste in clothes,” she pauses and takes another look, “though I can't say I understand her taste in men.” Her comment makes me giggle, which draws a suspicious look from Kenta, but I stifle it quickly and move to catch us up with the crowd.

The afternoon sun is baking the pavement, and with the breeze stilled, the air has become almost oppressively hot, which makes me regret agreeing to walk Kenta out a little bit. As we're walking, I fish out my phone again to check for messages, but Mom still hasn't called, or sent a text. The sound of a distant jet engine overhead makes me look skyward and wonder if their flight got delayed, or held up in the air, but in both of those cases she would have called to tell me they'll be late. When we reach the car park, I'm still looking down at my phone, trying to decide whether or not to call.

Ahead of me, I hear Kenta call out a greeting, “Hey Dad, you weren't waiting too long, were you?”

Looking up, I'm met with a bit of a surprise. The man standing beside the pickup truck looks nothing like the wiry Kenta I know. Actually, it looks like he might have swallowed Kenta. At least a foot taller than my sarcastic friend, his dad leans against the tailgate wearing faded blue jeans and a black tank top, with his thick, muscular arms folded across his chest. Whatever kind of delivery service he runs, it apparently keeps him in shape, and darkly tanned. His salt-and-pepper shock of crew-cut hair is outlined with beads of sweat that seem to hover over his bushy, white eyebrows. Beneath that is a stern pair of hazel-green, searching eyes, a broad nose, and a thick, white, groomed mustache that wraps around the sides of his tightly-shut mouth, and down to frame his cleft chin.

“So, this must be the girl you keep babbling about,” he says gruffly, turning his gaze to scan over Yoko.

“Gushing would be a more accurate word,” Kenta remarks, not missing a beat. Clearing his throat, and smirking at the shy reaction from the girl on his arm, he adds, “This is Yoko Guidot.”

“How d'ya do, Miss?” his dad asks, holding out a leathery hand for her to shake.

Tentatively, she holds out her hand, and the burly man grasps it lightly. After a moment of shock, she replies in her airy tone, “I'm well, Tomiya-Sama,”

“Never mind the damnable formality! Call me Ikaru!” he says with a big, loud belly-laugh, “My son tells me you're Canadian?”

“Raised in Japan,” she says, bowing slightly, “my parents are Canadian...”

“Ah, I wondered why you didn't have an accent...” he says, trailing off to look at Kenta and point at his luggage, “That your only bag, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Kenta replies, his deference surprising me a little—it's odd seeing him play the good little soldier.

“Toss it in the back seat,” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, “then you can introduce me to these other friends of yours, but bear in mind we have a schedule to keep.”

Another dimension, indeed...

It feels a little off-putting that Kenta's dad is probably only meeting us to humor his son, but we spend a short while talking. His questions are few, and we keep our answers brief because he keeps checking his watch, almost like he's timing our answers. The delivery company he runs is apparently focused on transporting fresh meats, which probably explains his physical presence, and that seems like a sore point for his son. Being limited by his condition doesn't usually bother Kenta, but seeing his dad makes him recoil a little, and almost look ashamed. The brief conversation ends with an awkward hug between Kenta and Yoko, followed by a sympathetic pat on her shoulder from Amaya once the truck disappears down the hill.

“Hey, don't look so down,” Amaya says, nudging Yoko's shoulder and grinning, “he'll be back—it's only a month.”

“Besides,” I interject, patting her other shoulder, “we have shopping to do, and you're coming along.”

“What about your mom?” Yoko asks, turning a pensive expression at me, “You keep checking your phone,” she adds, making me frown, “aren't you waiting for her to call?”

“She can bring the phone, silly,” Amaya chides, “you're not getting out of this—I need your help picking out some evening-wear. Aiko isn't much of a fashion diva.”

That's more than true.

The reaction from Yoko is mixed, looking like she wants to refuse, and probably rush up to her room to sulk, but I'm not letting that happen. “Just us girls, no guys,” I say, shooting a quick look at Tadao, “just you, me, Amaya, and our secret shop.”

“Secret shop?” she prompts, but Amaya shushes her.

“Top secret—you have to swear on your life you won't tell anyone~!”

“On pain of death,” I add grimly, reaching up to point straight at her nose and bark, “Swear it!”

“Fine, I swear!” she giggles, “how are we getting there?”

“I can help with that,” a familiar voice answers from behind me.

That's...!

Spinning around, I blink and nearly choke. “Mom!” I blurt.

Before I can even think of how she got here, or why she isn't at a hotel, I leap forward and wrap my arms around her tiny frame. She responds in kind, laughing her high-pitched giggle while I squeeze her tightly. There was no plane crash, and probably no delay unless she practically flew down here—in a car, I mean. They must have landed sometime just after noon for her to have arrived already. It's no wonder she didn't call if she was on the road, but that doesn't matter. For a few seconds I'm her little girl again—even though I'm taller now—cooing, giggling, and hugging her tight enough to make her fake a cough. The sound causes me to regain my senses and step back quickly.
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Previous|Part 2|Next Chapter

Chapter 32 - Endorphins (part 2)

Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 8:49 am
by Helbereth
Previous|Part 1|Next Chapter
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“Hello to you too,” she says with a laugh, reaching up to adjust her oval-framed glasses.

Throwing up a nervous hand in a stilted wave, I shift on my feet and clear my throat. “Er, hi, Mom,” I say in a more subdued fashion, trying to hide my joy, “where's Midori?”

It's probably too late to play it cool...

“Around here somewhere—she ran off for the dorms to look for you... practically leaped out of the car before I could stop,” she explains, standing up on her toes to look toward the school yard, “I went to park the rental, and happened upon your little group here.”

“Uh, well, we were just seeing Kenta off,” I explain, nodding toward Yoko.

“Ah, I'm glad I missed him,” she jokes, smiling brightly, “and who is this lovely young vixen?”

The description makes Yoko blush, and probably ensures she won't be answering. Holding a hand out to the shy girl, I answer for her, “She's the one I mentioned a few weeks ago—this is Yoko... Yoko Guidot.”

“Charmed,” Mom says, stepping forward to hold out a hand. Yoko takes it shyly, but doesn't quite manage a reply. “Not much of a talker, I gather?” she adds, laughing lightly and taking a step back, “French name, but... Irish? Scottish?”

“Canadian,” Amaya corrects, saving Yoko from the inquiry, “her parents are anyway... but we don't hold it against her.”

“And you know Amaya...” I add, rolling my eyes to indicate my irreverent friend.

“How could I forget my third daughter,” she says, stepping forward to wrap Amaya in a hug.

The giddy smile on Amaya's face makes me laugh, and Yoko finally manages to squeak out a greeting, “Hello, Misses Ku-”

“Ina, dear,” Mom interjects, offering a bright grin from over Amaya's shoulder, “Misses Kurai is what it says on my letterhead.”

“Ina-Sama, then?” Yoko asks innocently.

“Just Ina,” Mom corrects, leaning back to look over Amaya's smiling face.

“I'll call you Mom, if you don't mind,” Amaya remarks, making her laugh.

“Not at all, dear,” she replies, turning a smirk at me, “you get my daughter in enough trouble, so you might as well be family.”

Tadao steps up beside Amaya and holds up a hand to wave. “Hello, Ina,” he says, dispensing with the formality, “You look well. The country air out there seems to agree with you.”

“Why thank you, Tadao, I've been trying to lose a few pounds—does it show?” she asks rhetorically.

She can't possibly get any thinner...

Mom walks back with us toward the dorms in search of Midori, and explains that they were both too excited to go to the hotel first. The thought occurs to me that I should probably feel apprehensive about her early arrival, but I'm too overjoyed to care. Deciding not to call me was my devilish little sister's idea, and she's probably beating on my dorm room door by now, annoying everyone in the building. While that thought makes us walk faster, Mom goes on to explain that she heard our conversation, and wasn't kidding about helping with transportation, which Amaya eagerly accepts—I can't get a word in edgewise with them chattering.

Taking a moment to look Mom over, the first obvious difference from our last meeting is that her long, wavy, black hair is tied up in a bun, leaving just her bangs hanging down near her eyes. The restyling is probably because of the air travel, but it's a little weird seeing her without the plume of hair cascading down to frame her triangular face. There's a white cardigan tied around her neck in case she feels cold, she's dressed casually in gray slacks with a red blouse, and the ever-present, over-sized purse, which she keeps filled with with all manner of necessities, hangs across her shoulder.

At thirty-nine, her slender figure still exudes youthful radiance, she wears a big, bright smile wherever she goes, and she walks with a gentle sway in her step. She draws looks from guys half her age and younger, which I should probably find embarrassing, but to her it's just about upkeep, staying healthy, and being ready for anything. It may have been Dad teaching me to swim, but her gentle guidance pushed me to start doing it regularly, even after it started to become depressing.

I should thank her for that.

When we reach the dorm, I'm greeted with an embarrassing, though somewhat expected situation. Evidently Midori got distracted on her way past the common room, long enough that someone inside noticed she was a little bit out of place. As I'm nearing the door, I hear her high-pitched voice echoing into the hallway.

“Who are you to stop me~?” she inquires indignantly, making me sigh.

“Who are we...? Who are you!?” Misha's bellowing reply sounds as though she's relaying a heated question from Shizune. “You can't just barge in here like this~!”

Why they aren't in the Student Council room with Hisao is a question that will have to wait. “She's with me, Misha,” I call ahead before I reach the door, “meet my darling sister, Midori.”

Before Misha can reply, Midori's squeaks, “Aiko!” and I hear her footfalls stomping across the laminate floor.

“Aiko, Aiko, Aiko~!”

Bracing myself for impact, I hold out my arms as she comes barreling around the corner and nearly knocks me flat on the floor with an excited hug. “Got you!” she exclaims, as though I were trying to avoid her, “Now you're my prisoner~!”

Her giggling makes me laugh and hug her back tightly. “Heya, Midi, funny meeting you here~!”

A moment later, Shizune steps out into the hall with a bewildered frown on her face, which quickly turns into a warm smile. [So the little urchin really is with you,] she signs, and I start nodding.

Misha can't hold back her laugh, “Wahaha~!” and bounces a few times in place, sharing our exuberance. Shizune raises an eyebrow as Mom steps up behind me, and I have to turn with Midori to nod toward her.

“My mom, Ina Kurai—call her Ina,” I say, and Misha dutifully translates while my hands are occupied.

“Ooh! This is too much~!” Misha coos and starts giggling girlishly.

When Midori finally lets go, I take a step back to breathe for a moment before starting to shake my head. “As I said; this is Midori—my somewhat overzealous little sister.”

“Pleased to make your ac-quain-tance,” Midori greets them, sounding out the large word.

Mom chirps, “I remember these two, I think.”

“You met them over winter break, Mom,” I reply, then point them out and add, “Shizune Hakamichi, our Class President, and Shiina Mikado, though everyone calls her-”

“Misha~!” Midori yells, then leaps forward to wrap the pink-haired girl in an unexpected hug.

Surprised by the gesture, Misha quickly accepts the embrace, but turns a confused smirk at me.

Shrugging, I start to explain, “I may have told her about... well, most everyone... she's-”

“Ridiculously curious?” Mom finishes my thought, making me laugh.

After breaking the hug with Misha, Midori turns to Shizune and lifts her hands to sign something, sounding it out as she makes the gestures. [Hello, Hakamichi-Sama. Sorry for the intrusion. I like your glasses.]

She's learning a fourth language, I see...

Whether it's the sincerity in Midori's eyes, or the gesture itself, Shizune's terse expression softens and she nods to accept the apology. [Thank you, and don't worry about the intrusion,] she signs, turning toward me, [Family are exceptions,] she turns back to Midori, [just stay with your sister, okay?]

Midori looks a little overwhelmed by Shizune's fast signing, but starts nodding after a few seconds. Meanwhile, I notice Tadao having a brief whispered conversation with Amaya, after which he holds up a hand to wave. “I'll leave you ladies to your plans,” he says, starting to back out the door, “Good to see you Ina... and Midori.”

“Bye Tadao~!” Midori calls after him, waving hurriedly. Tadao smirks and spins on his heel, then disappears into the sunshine.

In the wake of his exit, I turn to ask Shizune, [Where's Hisao?]

[We left him in the Council room,] she replies, smiling at my eager expression, [I could let him take the day off if you'd like. We have a lot of work to finish up before Saturday, though.]

[No,] I reply, shaking my head for emphasis, [He can meet Mom later, I was just curious why you're here.]

[Misha insisted we change into something cooler for the afternoon,] she replies, and I start nodding.

“It gets hot in that cramped room,” Misha complains, looking somewhat puzzled by Midori's renewed, wondrous gaze. Turning to face her, she asks, “Is there something on my face?”

“I'm trying to figure out your hair,” Midori replies, tilting her head, “Mom, can I get my hair done like that?”

Groaning, Mom rebuts her question, “If you think you can wake up at five to see to it every morning, maybe.”

“Five in the morning!?” Midori inquires in disbelief.

Misha starts nodding. “Sometimes earlier... Some mornings I end up falling asleep against the mirror and have to start all over again~!” Pausing to run a hand against the dangling drills, she adds, “I've been thinking about cutting it short, actually. It's a big hassle!”

“No!” Midori balks, slumping her shoulders, “It's too cool to change it~!”

“Wahaha~!” Misha laughs, and starts shrugging with continued giggles, “They are kinda cool, aren't they?”

Midori just starts nodding emphatically, but she's not the only one. Looking around, most everyone else is nodding too, especially Shizune. As I consider her “Drill-Sergeant” moniker, even I start nodding, but Amaya says what I'm thinking.

“I'm not sure if you'd still be Misha without them.”

Her comment causes an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds while Misha considers the statement. Finally she just laughs, “Wahaha~!” and shrugs. Grinning at Midori, she says, “I'd still be Misha either way, but I don't think I can disappoint that face~!”

“Don't let her intimidate you,” I advise, reaching over to pull Midori back and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Ruffling her hair, I add, “Her bark is worse than her bite.”

[We should be going,] Shizune signs, and I nod in response. After a moment she squints and asks, [Should I tell Hisao your mom has arrived?]

The question makes me ponder for a moment, and I decide I'd rather have the information come straight from me. Shaking my head, I reply, [No, I'd rather he remain blissfully ignorant for now.]

With a quick nod of agreement, she taps Misha's shoulder to get her to follow, and leads them toward the stairs while I'm still hugging my sister from behind. As they're disappearing onto the stairwell, Midori's hands come up to cover mine, and she starts us swaying, which predicts her following question.

“Are you gonna start singing, Aiko?”

“Nah, I'm just happy to see you,” I reply as I back away, leaving my hands on her shoulders. “You've grown I think,” I remark absently, trying to compare her to our last meeting. “Or I shrunk...”

“That's my problem. You're a little young for that, Kitten,” Mom chides, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Midi's in the middle of a growth spurt—shot up another ten centimeters in the past six months.”

“I'll be bigger than you soon, sis~!” Midori says cheerily, turning to giggle at me.

“I'll still be your big sister, though,” I chide, which she concedes with a resigned nod.

Since we were little I've always been taller than her, and seeing her starting to sprout is a little unnerving, especially since she's probably right about outgrowing me if the trend continues. The thought of her growing up reminds me that I'm getting older too, and that makes me a little uneasy. Each birthday brings me closer to the inevitable, and little moments like this serve to keep that in perspective. Still, I'm too happy to let it get me down, especially now that I've got Mom and Midori here, safe and sound.

“I love ya, squirt,” I say pulling her close to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Giggling airily, she wipes her face and replies, “Love you too, sis.”

Our reunion is apparently making someone uncomfortable. From behind us, I hear Yoko clear her throat and start to say, “I'll leave you alone-”

“Oh, no ya don't,” Mom interrupts her, “After that boy left you behind, you need a pick-me-up!”

And the truth comes out...!

“How long were you standing around in the parking lot?” I ask, turning to regard her smirking face.

“Long enough,” she replies simply.

“What boy?” Midori asks, ducking around me to stand in front of Yoko, “I'm Midori, by the way.”

The tall, shy girl smirks at the question and nods at the introduction. “I know,” she says softly, “I'm Yoko—Yoko Guidot.”

“Parlez-vous francais?” Midori asks excitedly, apparently in French. My little sister is something of a savant with languages, but I've never heard her speak anything other then Japanese, Italian and English.

She's learning JSL, too, apparently...


“Oui, mais pas beaucoup ces derniers temps,” Yoko replies with a shrug, smiling shyly.

Um... what?

The following minute or so is dominated by a conversation in a fifth language Midori is apparently learning, and it's humbling seeing her speak it with such mastery, or at least it looks like she's holding her own. Some of it sounds similar to Italian, of which I have a modest understanding, but I can't quite follow it well enough. Kenta's name gets mentioned a few times, and Midori seems especially interested in asking about him, but I can't figure out what Yoko is saying. Amaya watches with a bemused expression, and Mom starts tapping her foot, evidently no less perplexed by the foreign language.

Sharing our ignorance eventually becomes too frustrating for Mom, who stomps her foot and barks, “Midi, parla in una lingua che possiamo capire tutti!”

“Yeah!” I agree, echoing Mom's fervor, “You're being rude speaking around the three of us!”

My fiery Italian tempter reemerges with Mom around...

Amaya starts giggling, but the demands make Midori turn a shocked look at Mom.

“Sorry, I-I-”

“My fault, sorry...” Yoko answers for her, “It's been a while since anyone spoke to me in French... I got carried away.” The admission is followed by a melancholy frown, but the far away look gives me the sense it has nothing to do with her apology—as though she's recalling a bad memory. It reminds me of the look she had on her face on the morning of Tanabata, before her hospital scare, and it leaves me with a worried gut feeling.

I definitely need to ask about it later...

Mom sets a stare on her for a few moments, but the stern expression quickly breaks into a smile, and Yoko's frown disappears. “Don't worry about it, I just can't keep up with the languages she's constantly learning—Italian, Japanese, and English I can work with, but she flies into French, Dutch, and German sometimes... it makes me crazy!”

Dutch and German, too...?

“Wow,” Amaya remarks, “I thought I was doing good with English, Mandarin, and some Spanish...”

Midori shrugs and smiles humbly, but that's just a smokescreen. The look in her eyes says nothing about accepting the praise without pride, but Mom's stern look keeps her quiet. For a few moments, everyone is silent, and I turn a look at Amaya. “We should get changed,” I say, turning a similar look at Yoko, “I don't wanna walk around the city in these uniforms.”

They both nod, and Mom eases into a warm smile. “I want to see your room while I'm here,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me, “I need to make sure you're not living in squalor.”

“Mo-om!” I protest, tensing my shoulders in frustration. Amaya knows the state of my dorm, but I was hoping to keep my mess out of Yoko's purview.

“Don't Mom me, Kitten,” she grumbles in response.

“Fine!” I concede, turning to start walking toward the stairs.

Behind me, I hear Amaya asking, “Hey Midi, wanna see my room?”

“Sure!” comes her excited response.

As I'm passing through the door, I hear Yoko mention, “I'll go get changed and meet you down here.”

Might as well get this over with...


Mom follows me up the stairs, complaining the whole way that we could have taken the elevator. It's a little annoying that she still doesn't quite understand the conventions of etiquette concerning their operation, even three years after sending me to a school for the disabled. When we reach my room, I turn a curt expression at her, but the stern gaze she sets on me doesn't leave room for argument. So, like I'm twelve years old again, and she's coming in for a spot check on my room, I open the door and stomp over the threshold—playing up my frustration.

Thoroughly unhappy with her desire to invade my space, I flop down and sit cross-legged on my bed, rest my chin in my hands, and watch her with narrowed eyes. Her light footfalls barely make a sound on the carpet as she graces into my little corner of solitude. The analytical stare she sends around my room is accompanied by a flat expression; her look of concentration. It's a look I'm used to, but I still find it completely unnerving.

Somehow despite being bigger than her, I still shrink under her gaze, but I probably always will. Not that she's particularly intimidating, but I really do hang on her every word. She's more worldly than Dad ever was, and always had a lot of advice to offer, even when it did little more than make me smile for a little while. In a lot of ways, I try to emulate her poise, though I usually just feel clumsy for the attempts. Watching her leaf through some finished papers I haven't sorted through or thrown out yet, I remember being ten and watching her do the same exact thing with my incomplete homework assignments.

“I've been finishing all my schoolwork—on time,” I mention, noticing her raised eyebrow, “Still having trouble with English, but the rest are mostly cake—especially calculus.”

That last mention turns her eyes at me, and I see a faint smile form, but it washes away quickly. “So much like your father,” she remarks absently, looking back down to start scanning over my desk.

That's probably more true than I'd readily admit. For all his mathematical genius, bright personality, and unquenchable smiles, Dad was also absent-minded, something of a procrastinator, and a bit of a slob. Mom used to complain endlessly about his socks being left on the back of the couch, and he could never find his keys, or his wallet. Where Mom always kept her kitchen immaculate, Dad's office looked like a tornado touched down inside every day—they seemed to balance each other out, in that respect.

It's probably just more romanticism, but their personalities were obviously complementary. While Dad left a trail of discarded papers, clothes, and other more questionable objects, like his antique abacus, in his wake, Mom was always there to pick that stuff up, and put it back in its place—she still does that, except for Midori and myself. Also, she's an eternal extrovert, always smiling and talking to anyone and everyone, while Dad kept to himself, talked little, and usually looked a little uncomfortable in crowds.

Strangely, thinking about their differences makes me think about Hisao and I. While I was always an introvert before, since his arrival I've been more of an extrovert, and I'm starting to uncover a gregarious side to my personality. Conversely, Hisao was an extrovert at his old school, and used to have a lot of friends, but coming to Yamaku turned him into a bit of an introvert. That part of him is starting to crack and break away, but I think the near-death experience made him more introspective, and he'll probably internalize a lot of his feelings in the future.

Neither of us can cook, though...

While I'm musing to myself, Mom continues her inspection, and I look up to see a questioning look on her face. “Aiko?” she prompts, sending her eyes around the room. “Where's the picture of you and Dad I sent?”

The question makes me tense up, because I know she sent it so I'd put it on display as a reminder—I haven't had the heart to tell her seeing it bothers me. “Oh, I...” I start, but trail off quickly, not sure how to answer.

“You didn't lose it did you?” she asks suspiciously.

“No,” I reply, taking a breath to draw up some courage, “I just... I get sad seeing it out,” I admit ashamedly, “so I keep it in a drawer,” I explain, pointing toward my desk.

Frowning, she groans sympathetically, “Aww! You shouldn't remember him like that...” Shaking her head, she heads for my desk and adds, “He would want you to look at that picture and smile!”

There's a slight warning in my mind as I watch her reaching for the drawer, but I can't remember why. However, the wide-eyed look she sets on the contents therein serves as an immediate reminder, and I leap off the bed, practically stumbling forward to push it closed, nearly catching her fingers inside.

The other box of condoms...!

It's too late, but Mom laughs at my theatrics anyway. “Oh, Kitten, you don't have to blush that hard~!” she practically sings, taking a step back to lean against the wall and laugh.

“I can explain!” I blurt, trying to fight back the involuntary response. “Nurse sprung them on me when he found out I started dating, and they've been in there for a couple weeks—unopened, you can check!” I say, pointing at the drawer emphatically, “Hisao doesn't even know they're there!” I add, looking back at her and wincing, “There's no reason to be suspicious, really!”

It's all true, but my excited tone has gone and condemned me again. Her continued laughter makes me feel terrified and mortified, but it's the hand placed gently on my shoulder that ultimately causes me to cast my eyes down in shame. Had I not reacted so poorly, I could probably have sold that story as the whole tale, but my fit of panic has cost me that dignity. Surprisingly, instead of yelling, she continues laughing, lightly, almost sweetly, but I keep my head down in case she's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security.

“Kitten, it's okay, really,” she says, wrapping her arm over my shoulder, “I heard it in your voice Tuesday night; this is just confirmation.”

She could tell over the phone...?

The words sound like they're coming from my mother, but there's no piercing quality to her voice, or sneering, or fiery cursing and screaming, which all makes me suspicious. Snapping my eyes up, I see her smiling brightly, instead of looking angry, and I twist my face up in confusion.

“You're not mad?” I ask tentatively, still expecting her to start yelling.

“Kitten, I was sixteen when I had my first time,” she admits, making me raise an eyebrow, “You didn't think Dad was my first, did you?”

Well... yeah, kinda...

Ignoring that for now, I again ask, “You're really not mad?” while gawking in disbelief.

“Maybe I should be,” she says with a wink, “I'm not getting any, after all.”

“Mom!” I groan in shock.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, wrapping her other arm around me and pulling me into a hug, “I'm really not mad; I know you wouldn't take steps like that with just anyone,” she leans back to look me in the eyes and smirk, “You've always been so responsible, and you held out longer than I did, at least.”

“Mom!” I yell again, fighting the urge to push her away.

Laughing heartily, she hugs me again in earnest, and I start to believe she's actually telling the truth. This is probably the last reaction I expected, and I'm still a little suspicious, but I'm happy to suspend my disbelief.

“So, how was it?” she asks, and that makes me finally shove her away.

“Mom!” I yell for the third time, though I'm starting to smile despite her invasive questioning, “Seriously!?”

“You don't have to answer,” she says, shrugging lightly, “from the giddiness in your voice the other night, I assume he's at least naturally talented.”

Is she actually making assumptions about Hisao's-

“How do you know that?” I blurt, trying to punch holes in her blanket of assumptions.

“Well, you just confirmed it, Kitten!” she exclaims with a hearty laugh. “Don't worry, though... I'll give you some pointers,” she adds, making me cringe, “you'll have him begging inside a week.”

Her lascivious tone leaves me stuttering wordlessly. Fumbling over my tongue, I barely manage to blurt out, “I- he- you- what?”

Who are you, and what did you do with my mom...?

“Did you talk to Nurse yet?” she asks, snapping me out of my stupor, “About birth control... beyond condoms, I mean; I already assumed you used one of those.”

This whole conversation feels like an out-of-body experience, but her line of questions leads me to believe she trusts my judgment, at least. Somehow this is a lot less scary than I expected, now that the initial shock has passed. Realizing that, I straighten my shoulders and look her in the eyes.

“I was gonna go today,” I explain with a slight shrug.

“Good, we can do that after you get changed,” she replies, opening up her purse to search for something.

After a few moments of waiting, I fold my arms and stare at her, but she makes no move to explain her search, or her continued presence. “What are you looking for?” I ask curtly, but she doesn't respond. Sighing in frustration, I add, “I'm not gonna change with you in here.”

“Oh, I suppose I'll wait in the hall—I can't seem to find my phone,” she says absently, reaching blindly for the doorknob. “I have a bet to settle with a colleague...” she says, turning a smirk at me as she's opening the door, “she lost, and owes me dinner.”

“Lost what?” I ask curiously.

“She didn't believe me when I told her I- well, I assumed what you were doing, and... Sorry, I may have made a bet based on your sex life,” she explains, wincing as she slips out into the hall, leaving me to roll my eyes and gawk at the ceiling. “Wear something easy to change in and out of,” she advises through the door, “we need to find you a sexy little dress for tomorrow night, and you'll wanna be able to slip in and out of things.”

“You're impossible,” I groan, shaking my head disdainfully as I head for my closet.

“Mind your manners, Kitten—and be glad your mom loves you enough to trust you,” she advises, which makes me crack a smile.

I should be thankful, I guess...

Her planning to help get me dressed up for our outing is embarrassing enough, but apparently she's also not above making bets on my sex life—before she was certain I had one, even. Despite how dubious that sounds, it helps me realize she really isn't disappointed in my decision—quite the opposite, it seems. Evidently she has expected it for a couple years now, even before Dad died, which means he probably heard about her suspicions, and I wonder what he thought. Whatever the case, through all that time, she left it entirely up to me. She always supported my decisions, even if she did grill the prospects with questions, and that makes me feel a little less mortified. Still, this whole situation feels surreal, and I almost expect to wake up tomorrow and find out her whole visit so far was all a dream.

I don't think I'd be that lucky...

Despite being embarrassed by the prospect of having my own mother critiquing how attractive I look, I decide to follow her advice. The expedition Amaya and I had planned was along the same lines, though I get the feeling we won't need to strive for a conservative balance in our selections, considering Mom's revelations. Although I'm used to wearing the uniform skirt, I'm not usually one to wear dresses, especially not casually, but wearing one will make changing easier. Hiding among my endless supply of colorful t-shirts and jeans, I have a small selection of bright, floral summer dresses Mom picked out for me last year, so I choose a white one with a blue floral pattern at random, and pair it with some white, flat-heeled shoes.

Mom gushes over my girlish appearance when I emerge a few minutes later, and I quickly head across the hall to fetch Amaya so she'll stop. Midori is equally happy to see me dressed less like a tomboy, and compares my gaudy ensemble to her white-flowered, light blue dress, nodding gleefully at the unintentional coordination. Unfortunately, Amaya was too busy giggling with my sister to change, so I'm stuck in the hall being poked and prodded for a few minutes. Apparently taking note of our choice of clothing, Amaya decides to wear a similar white dress, hers with puffy green fringe and yellow flowers—I have to bite my lip to hold back my sarcastic comments.

“Now I feel under-dressed,” Mom says with a frown.

“One of us needs to look like they have a head on their shoulders,” I droll sarcastically.

“Quiet, Swimderella,” Amaya balks, starting to walk toward the stairs, “I'm gonna enjoy looking pretty~!”

Following slowly, I roll my eyes and grumble under my breath. Mom hears me and slaps my shoulder. “Listen to your mother, Kitten; boys like seeing girls in pretty things. It makes them feel needed... like we need protecting, even if we don't.”

Not all of Mom's advice is very modern...

While we're in the stairwell, Mom brushes my arm to stop me for a moment and asks whether anyone else knows about my bedroom exploits. Despite my misgivings, I tell her the truth; as far as I know, Amaya, Hisao, and myself are the only three who know for certain.

“We can visit Nurse later, then—it seems like you didn't want your red-haired friend to know.”

Shrugging, I nod, but I decide to mention, “I'm not really comfortable telling anyone, but I'd be fine with Yoko knowing.”

“We'll play it by ear,” she replies, smiling jovially, “If you're alright telling her, by all means; I won't force you.”

As she said, Yoko is waiting for us downstairs in the common room, wearing a long-sleeve white shirt under a blue, denim, overall dress. Despite my indications to the contrary, I decide I don't want to unload that kind of information on heart-strained Yoko just after her boyfriend left for the foreseeable future. So, after a few moments of idle chatter, mostly about our unexpectedly girlish attire, which Yoko is just as surprised to see, we set out toward the car park in search of the minivan Mom rented; her plan for dinner inspired her to rent a vehicle with plenty of room.

“Shotgun!” Amaya yells, running the last few paces to the passenger door.

“Denied,” Mom retorts, nodding toward me, “Aiko sits up front with me—no complaints!”

“Alright fine, but I call dibs on the ride back~!” Amaya announces, making Mom laugh.

That said, Amaya sticks her tongue out at me and heads for the backseat behind Midori, and Yoko climbs in beside her, giggling airily. The childish display leaves me shaking my head, but it's all in good fun. As I'm hopping up into the front passenger seat, the hot, dry air hits me harshly, and I realize this is the first time I've been in a car since Dad's funeral procession. Since then I've walked around everywhere, or ridden on trains and buses. Not that it really bothers me, I just remember spending a lot of time on the road when I was younger, and the length of time since my last car ride strikes me as odd.

“Seat-belts!” Mom says cheerily, a subtle warning in her tone; she's a stickler for car safety.

“Yes, Mom!” Amaya replies, starting to giggle, “And turn on the AC... I'm dying back here~!”

As Mom backs us out of the lot, and starts down the road, I sit quietly and lean against the window. The continued giggling behind me keeps a smile on my face, but I feel a little detached from the situation. After seeing Mom's reaction to finding out about my exploits with Hisao, then hearing the subsequent laughter, and surprising confessions, I should feel relieved, but there's a little voice telling me not to get ahead of myself. She doesn't know how deeply I feel about Hisao, and while I can predict her approval, I'm suddenly not sure if it's deserved. Being reminded about my aversion for that picture of Dad is probably the root of the feeling, and it's just a faint warning, but it's there, and I can't deny it's making me uneasy.

Despite my misgivings, there's plenty of chatter to keep me distracted. Midori and Yoko are back there talking in French again, and Amaya is gushing to Mom about her plans with Tadao. Watching the greenery zipping past the window keeps me from eavesdropping too much, though I don't think any of them would mind my listening. Everyone else seems content to stay in a happy mood, and I think that's advice worth taking. There are things I need to discuss with Mom, but we can do that later. For now, I can't wait to get her impression of Mister Miyoto, and despite how unnecessary or embarrassing it seems, I'm eager to spend the day playing dress-up in a clothing shop.

I feel kind of bad for Hisao, though...
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Previous|Part 1|Next Chapter

Well, now isn't that just fine and dandy! Aiko is all happy, warm and fuzzy, her Mom is happy for her, in more ways than was expected, and her darling, devilish inquisitive, gregarious sister has managed to ingratiate herself, even with socially combative Shizune. Truth be told, I was afraid of Aiko seeming OOC with this chapter because her MO has been conservative to the point of being prudish, introspective to the point of being a narcissist, and prone to suppress her naturally dirty mind. Walking on air, though, can really change someone's outlook--especially if it takes a while to fall back to Earth.

Useless information dump: To date, this story contains 290,000+ words(I made a spreadsheet to keep track, finally). Averaging ~9000 words each, the longest chapter (31 - Best Laid Plans) tips the literary scale at 15,300+ words, while the shortest (8 - Rhythmic Breathing) contains just 5600, and there's probably a half-dozen more chapters left before it'll all be over. All this for a high school romance tale? Apparently...

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/17/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 9:37 am
by BlackWaltzTheThird
Helbereth wrote:my somewhat overzealous little sister.”6
I wonder where that 6 came from.
Helbereth wrote:Previous|[url=http://ks.renai.us/viewtopic.php?f=52&t ... 17#p154017]|Next Chapter
Ya dun goofed with your linking there, mate.

Okay, so, chapter review time. Aiko's mom is only 39? Damn. I'm not much older than Aiko, and my parents are 50. I'm liking the characterisation we have of Midori and Ina so far, but of course there's more of them yet to develop so I'll reserve judgment for a later date. I would like to note again just how much I like Shizune's slow transformation from queen bitch disciplinarian to caring friend. I think it's probably for the better that you've got rid of a fair few characters for the forseeable future; it will allow you more time to develop the characters you've introduced here, as well as further develop those that remain. I wonder whether Ikaru will show up again in any noteworthy capacity... he sounds like a slightly-less douchey version of Jigoro, and anything Jigoro-related is a good thing.

I'm impressed by your wordcount, by the way. It takes some serious shit to maintain an engaging stoy for such an extended period of time. Props, dude.

Re: Tomorrow's Doom - Updated 04/17/2013 (Chapter 31 posted)

Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 12:00 pm
by Hoitash
39 does seem young, but this is a culture that tends to lean towards marrying young, and besides, my Mom was 46 when I was born, so my frame of reference is borked up anyway :).

I'm imagining Jigoro and Ikaru meeting now, and for some reason it ends up devolving into a duel (Ikaru reminds me of a samurai for some reason. Or his bodyguard.)
BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: I'm impressed by your wordcount, by the way. It takes some serious shit to maintain an engaging stoy for such an extended period of time. Props, dude.
I sometimes wonder if he's the reincarnated spirit of Tolstoy, because something that long and epic is truly a major feat, and one I imagine many writers strive for, but few achieve. Once again, my hat is off to you, good sir.