Tomorrow's Doom A.4/C.34 - Mom's the Word

The promise of receiving our test results has inspired most of my classmates to make an appearance today, though it still feels a little pointless spending six hours in class to get five minutes of work done. Ito's calculus exam came back with a perfect score, which I casually hid from prying eyes, especially Amaya's—although it turns out she did pretty well. My academic nemesis, Miss Miyagi, didn't even sneer at me when handing back my English results; they're less than stellar, but well above passing, and higher than average where I'm concerned. When the science test hit my desk, I got a weird smirk from Mutou, and found that I'd only missed two questions; exposure to Hisao's babble apparently has hidden benefits.

I should bring that up to Mom...

Sitting here, trying to ignore the murmuring cacophony around me, I'm still reading over my history final, which I apparently completed with just a few errors; during the exam I completely blanked on a section about the Napoleonic wars, and I'm not sure why, though I might have missed that lecture somehow. Regardless of the results, they were a weight on my shoulders, so getting them back is a relief, and it's even accompanied by a mild euphoric high. It's much less powerful than the one I get from Hisao, which is more of a delightful release, rather than a mild relief, but both put a happy smile on my face. That euphoria will probably only last until Mom starts picking apart the failings—especially my English grade—but, overall, I'm happy with my grades; now that I have them back, I can probably skip class tomorrow.

Which should make tonight more fun...

After leaving the dresses in Satoru's deft care overnight—including one we talked Mom into getting for herself—for final adjustments, Mom brought us back to Yamaku and went with me to see Nurse. We dragged Amaya along for a check-up following her episode, and she didn't even protest; Tadao has done well convincing her to stop worrying so much about what people think—they really are good for each other. Getting prescribed birth-control pills didn't result in the long-winded discussion I expected, though perhaps that's only because Mom was there to support my case. Still, Nurse seemed quick to agree with her assessment of my ability to take responsibility, and practice caution, which fills me with a bit of confidence.

Seeing her and Midori has definitely brightened my spirits, even beyond what they were already, and I'm excited about the evening Mom has planned. It's a multifaceted celebration: to Mom it's mostly about my birthday and meeting Hisao, but for me it's an evening out with my closest friends before we separate for a month. Getting dressed up isn't something I usually do, or feel particularly comfortable with, but I can't deny that I enjoyed the feeling of having everyone's eyes on me for those few brief moments. Usually that kind of attention makes me feel self-conscious, and, more often than not, I shy away from people looking at me, especially strangers, but I could get used to it in the right company.

I really enjoy being naked in front of Hisao...

When the carillon bells start tolling, signaling the end of classes, I'm quick to pick up my bag, stuff my history final inside, and head for the door. As I walk through the halls with Amaya, I notice a similarly prideful, relieved smile on her face; it's a common affliction. With her backpack slung over her arm, she's still reading through some of her results, so I decide not to bother her, though Tadao is less courteous.

“Hey, Firecracker, you mind telling me what I'm supposed to wear tonight?” he inquires, poking her shoulder.

Swatting his hand away, she groans and looks in my direction; apparently expecting me to answer his question. Deferring to me makes sense considering it's my mother's party, though I don't really know what to tell him.

“Something nice,” I suggest, shrugging slightly, “All she really told me is it's casual-formal. You don't have to wear a tie, but it's recommended...”

“Jeans, shorts, t-shirts, what?” he prompts, smirking derisively.

Providing a swift kick to his ankle, Amaya interjects, “Nice clothes, Dumbass! You've got some silk shirts hidden in your closet—I've seen them—wear something like that~!”

“Do I have to wear a coat?” he complains, looking toward me.

Rolling my eyes, I advise, “Not necessarily... maybe ask Hisao about it—he's got more formal style than you.”

“Hey, I happen to like his jeans and cowboy hats!” Amaya protests, scowling at me.

“He asked, I answered... don't shoot the messenger!”

Patting Tadao's shoulder, Amaya admits, “She's got a point though; Hisao kinda has a leg up on formal style—he can probably help you pick something out.”

“Sure, if he isn't busy... getting busy with Aiko,” he retorts, adding a wink for emphasis. Immediately I feel a blush streaking my cheeks, and I turn a glare at Amaya.

She promised not to tell...!

Holding up her finals defensively, and thumbing toward Tadao, she balks, “Don't look at me!” then shoots him a glance and claims, “Dumbass figured it out~!”

Groaning, I cross my arms and set an icy stare on my pridefully smirking friend, awaiting his explanation. Luckily for me—and Amaya for that matter—Tadao has never been good at keeping secrets from either of us, even though he's basically impossible to sap information out of otherwise. All I really have to do is stay focused and remain patient; his own guilty conscience will do the rest. Evidently he doesn't have much of a desire to hold back his explanation, because his wall of silence crumbles before we even reach the school exit.

“After your little deflection in class yesterday, I asked Hisao,” he starts, pausing for a moment and holding up his hands. “He didn't actually admit anything—wouldn't even budge on the issue!” he stresses, which makes me smile slightly.

At least Hisao wasn't bragging...

Slipping his hands down into his pockets, he finishes, “But... I could tell. He had that same, stupidly happy look; even though he should be terrified about meeting your mom.”

So it took seeing both of us to put it together...

“Plus, the murderous look you just shot at my little Firecracker kinda gave it away!” he adds, wrapping his hand around her waist as he starts laughing.

While I'm feeling a little violated by his finding out about our escapades, I can't blame him for being curious, and I'm actually more concerned about what he thinks. Despite Tadao never protesting, and even supporting the idea superficially, I've never asked him about Hisao and I being together directly; his brotherly opinion means a lot. With things having progressed this far, I feel like I have to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, whether he really approves. Before I can overthink the question, I stop in my tracks and beckon for him to do the same, then steel myself with a deep breath and set a pensive look on my surrogate brother.

“What do you think about it?” I ask plainly, shooting my eyes at the floor shamefully.

I hate asking like this, but I need to know...

Stopping his laughter, he steps over and pats my shoulder. “Hey, it's fine—I kind of expected it weeks ago,” he explains, to which I offer a quick nod, “And Hisao's a great guy. I wouldn't be joking around if I thought there was anything wrong—you know that! Also, I'll keep it under my hat... so don't worry about rumors or anything.”

“Thanks,” I reply, shrugging and smiling as I look up to meet his supportive gaze. “This is gonna sound funny,” I add, smirking and shrugging, “but I'm glad you're not mad... you're kinda like the brother I never had.”

Grinning, he starts nodding as he replies, “Well, as your friend I'm happy you found him,” while pausing he raises an eyebrow and smirks pridefully, “and as your protective, charming, funny, smart-”

Elbowing his ribcage, Amaya interjects, “Get to the point!”

“Sensitive...! Brother...” he continues, shooting her a quick glare before turning back with a mischievous grin. “I'll be happy to murder him if he treats you poorly!” he jokes, nudging my shoulder and redoubling his smirk. Starting to laugh again, he adds, “You deserve having a great guy around...! Just don't put him back in the hospital, okay?”

Starting to giggle with him, I reply, “I'll try not to.”

I always try to be careful with that...

We're still laughing as we exit into the afternoon sun, though my laughter is related more to my relief at getting his approval, rather than his morbid joke. Hearing his glowing remarks has left me with a feeling of relief more potent than getting my final grades, but I'll keep that to myself; I fear the torture he might decide to inflict if he knew just how much I value his opinion. After giving Amaya a kiss on the cheek, he runs off by himself, intending get some advice on formal attire before I arrive and take over Hisao's afternoon. Since the weather is warm, but not oppressively hot, and there's a nice breeze cutting across the courtyard, Amaya and I decide to stroll rather than walk briskly.

Assuming all went well with the tailoring, I'm expecting Mom to show up sometime in the next hour or two. During our lunchtime phone conversation, she mentioned another surprise she's preparing, but told me to keep its existence a secret—even from Amaya. If I inherited one thing from her, it's the desire to fix things that don't necessarily need fixing, and I suspect her extra surprise has something to do with that strange phone call. Afterward, I realized Mom was holding onto Yoko's phone while she was trying on the new dress, and I wouldn't put it past her to take advantage of that situation. If the two events are related, and I have a strong suspicion that they are, I no longer believe Mom was calling my cousin; I think Yoko is in for a pleasant surprise—an unexpected reunion, perhaps.

I'll have to contain myself until I'm certain...

“Hey, did your Mom call yet today?” she asks, starting to put her papers back in her bag.

“She called during lunch to say she picked up my prescription, but nothing since.”

“Satoru's a tailoring whiz,” she remarks, tossing the backpack over her shoulders. Shrugging, she grins and adds, “Besides, she'll probably end up chatting with him for half the afternoon—they got along like old friends.”

“She has that effect on people,” I remark, smiling softly and sighing. “But it's not the chatting delays that bother me,” I add, pausing to wait for her to look at me before admitting, “it's the driving...”

She starts nodding slowly, then suddenly shakes her head and laughs. “Okay, I wasn't gonna say anything, but if you get the chance... don't take driving lessons from your mom!”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” I reply sardonically, blinking as a few scary memories involving close calls with mailboxes and pedestrians play through my mind. “Dad did most of the driving when I was younger—Mom drove unlicensed a few times,” I mention, smirking to myself, “She never actually got her license until after Dad started getting shaky at the wheel... and I think the tester took pity on her.”

“Or he fell in love with her~!” she remarks, bursting out laughing. Quickly calming herself with a hand over her mouth, she apologizes, “Sorry! I shouldn't joke like that, your mom is too cool.”

“Yes, or that... also thanks, I'm starting to realize that, too,” I agree, patting her shoulder and smiling, “And it's okay, don't worry; I know Mom could probably charm her way out of a murder charge...”

“That should come in handy when she kills Hisao~!” she jokes, starting to crack up again.

“She already knows about that,” I say flatly, which makes her stop laughing and furrow her brow.

“Seriously? I thought she got you the pills as a precaution?”

Sighing, I explain, “She found the condoms Nurse gave me... and I may have... overreacted.”

“She was mad?”

“No, she laughed... I think she's actually happy about it,” I remark, offering a bewildered stare.

“Ina Kurai we're talking about—your mother?” she says questioningly, to which I nod, “The one who you said couldn't even say the word vagina? That Ina Kurai?”

“Yep... that Ina Kurai.”

“Maybe she's cooler than I thought,” she whispers absently.

“Still, I'm pretty sure it's a ruse,” I remark with a slight shrug, then cautiously add, “I'm trying to remain optimistic... at least until she actually meets Hisao, but...”

Noticing my bewildered expression, she offers a sympathetic look and a serious tone to assure me, “Hey, remember what I said: Hisao's a hunk, but... he's also a really nice guy—and I mean that in the best way possible~!”

Is there a bad kind of nice...?

“Seeing the way you look at each other... if she doesn't approve, I recommend running off together!” she jokes, then places a comforting hand on my shoulder to intone, “But, I don't think it'll come to that.”

It doesn't happen often, but when Amaya slips into her serious tone, she commands attention, and I'm left nodding. What she's saying reminds me of what I thought about Tadao; that Amaya's parents will have to dig deep to find any real flaws. Setting aside everything else, Hisao is a smart, studious, well-mannered, clean-cut guy who treats me with respect, and unless I'm gravely mistaken, loves me deeply—not just in the bedroom, either. With all that in mind, I feel a little more at ease about the impending meeting, though I can't quite abandon my apprehension entirely; Mom still has the potential to disapprove, seemingly on a whim, so I'll remain cautiously optimistic.

I'll keep the idea about running off together in mind...

Looking at the crowd as we're nearing the entrance to the dorms, I can't spot Yoko around anywhere; even with her tell-tale red hair and abnormal height, she's still really good at blending into the scenery. She and Naoko are probably around somewhere, but my little green-haired friend isn't coming to classes tomorrow, and they might not see each other before the fledgling artist leaves on her world trip, so I imagine they found a quiet spot to hang out for a while. Through Naoko's tutoring, she and Yoko have become fast friends, and with Kenta already gone for the summer, I think Yoko is starting to feel separation anxiety. Assuming my suspicions are correct, and she stays in the dorms over the summer, we may end up spending a lot of time together, and I think I'll enjoy having her around.

We can be lonely without our boyfriends together...

When we're about halfway up the stairwell, Mom's familiar ring-tone starts pouring out its brassy, orchestral sound, and Amaya lets out a little squeal of joy. Retrieving my phone from the side pocket in my school bag, I quickly flip it open and hit send. There's static for a few seconds, and a garbled voice, but I can't understand what she's saying.

“Um... Hello...? Mom?”

“Sorry, Kitten, just went under an overpass...”

She's calling while driving...? How... dangerous...

Tentatively, I try not to sound worried as I say, “Okay, well... how's Satoru?”

“That man is a delight~!” she replies cheerfully, then I hear a jarring beep and car noise starts echoing into my ear. “I'm putting you on speaker, Kitten,” she says, sounding muffled behind the noise. “We're about five minutes out—we'll need the time to get you prepared~!”

Frowning reflexively, mostly because I was hoping to get some time alone with Hisao before her arrival, I shrug and ask, “Okay... should I meet you in the car park?”

“Hiya, Aiko~!” Midori blurts before Mom can answer.

“No, dear, we can manage—just tell the doorman to expect us~!”

“Hi Midi!” I reply with a giggle, then answer Mom's request, “Okay, um... there really isn't a doorman in the middle of the day...”

“Just a figure of speech- Aah!” she yells, and I hear squealing tires, followed by her raised voice scolding, “Midori Lucia Kurai! Stop that this instant!”

“Mom!?” I blurt breathlessly.

Don't crash. Don't crash! Don't-

“Sorry, Kitten! Your sister went after the steering wheel!” she replies curtly, then sighs and adds, “We'll be there soon. Midi can you end the call, dear?”

“Bye, Aiko!” Midori shouts, sounding frustrated, then the line cuts.

As I'm standing here wincing, Amaya looks at me excitedly and beams, “Well~? Should we call Yoko?”

Giving my head a quick shake to clear the tense feeling, I shrug and sigh, “Yeah, I'm gonna wait for her downstairs... You give Yoko a call and tell her to come over to my room, okay?”

“Can do~!” she affirms, continuing her climb up the stairs.

Turning to head down the stairs, I start flipping through my contacts list, looking for Hisao's number; I keep forgetting to put him on speed-dial. Once I've found his number, I continue down the stairs until I'm about to step through the stairwell exit before hitting send. Pausing to lean against the wall, I listen to it ring a few times, then smile when I hear it click.

“Hell-oo, Mermaid~!” he greets, sounding particularly cheerful, “I just got back in my room.” He pauses, then switches to a huskier voice to ask, “Is this a... courtesy call?”

“Have to cancel that, Swooner... Mom's the word, or it will be in about ten minutes,” I reply, sighing as I hear his disappointed groan.

With a quick laugh, he suggests, “That might be enough time...”

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I reply, “Not for me! Besides; abstinence makes the heart grow fonder~!”

“I think that's absence.”

Pontificating with my free hand, I quietly profess, “No, I got it right.” Giggling and biting my finger as I step off the wall, I continue, “Anyway, we'd only actually have like thirty seconds once I actually got there, and I doubt even you can finish that quickly.”

“You may have a point there...”

So much for afternoon delight...

Recalling our discussion on attire, I continue down the hallway and remind him, “Remember: make sure you wear something nice for tonight.”

“So... I don't dress nice? Is that what you're saying?”

“Don't be difficult,” I chide, tossing a look into the empty common room as I pass by, “I know you have a nice suit from Tanabata... maybe those pants with a nice shirt and shoes—and don't forget a sweater-vest!”

I never thought I'd be saying that...

There's a short pause as I hear his closet door squeaking. As I hear him start rifling through the drawers, he remarks absently, “I thought you said they're dorky.”

“They grew on me... and Mom will like it—she's a sucker for old style.”

Apparently so am I...

“Alright, don't worry,” he pauses and I hear clothes hangers being shoved aside, “I have a suit Mom sent along with the summer clothes; it's black with little pinstripes...”

“Even better~!” I cheer, passing through the open exit, and out into the warm sunshine. “Also, check on Tadao while you're at it... Make sure he wears something appropriate... Amaya will throw a fit if he shows up in jeans.”

“Why me?” he whines.

Giggling, I reply, “Because you dress nice, and could probably teach him some things~!”

“Right...” he sighs resignedly, then adds, “Okay, well... gimme a call when you're ready?”

Nodding to myself, I reply, “Will do.”

“One more question.”

“What?” I chirp.

He pauses and switches to a whisper, “What are you wearing?”

Smirking, I hesitate to look around for eavesdroppers before replying, “Just picture me naked.”

“Already am... Bye.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Bye...”

I'll have to get him back for that later...

When Mom arrives with Midori, each carrying a small stack of white boxes, I'm still looking up at the sky dreamily, imagining all kinds of erotic scenarios involving Hisao. Usually I try to suppress thoughts like that, but lately they leap up to the surface almost constantly, and it's not really a problem until someone notices my faraway look. Mom always notices, though, and she has to tap my arm to break me out of my skyward stare.

“Kitten, you're daydreaming again,” she chides, handing me a couple of the boxes. The look in her eyes tells me I'm somewhat transparent, but she doesn't say anything that would make it any more awkward.

Midori looks a little despondent, probably because of the incident in the car, but she starts giggling at my faraway expression. Her laughter makes me blush and turn away, though I doubt my innocent little sister really knows what I'm thinking about.

At least I hope not...

“Amaya's upstairs giving Yoko a call,” I explain, starting to walk up the steps into the dorms.

Levying a scolding expression on her, Mom gently taps Midori's shoulder to stop her giggling, then remarks, “Excellent~!” Starting to follow along, she adds, “I hoped you would get them assembled; we have a lot of preparations to make~!”

The praise makes me smile, even though the prospect of spending the next few hours getting fashion advice from her is less than appealing. As I lead them through the dorm building, Mom mentions that she sat down for lunch with Satoru and Lydia, which I almost find alarming, especially when she tells me they mostly discussed their recent wedding. It's subtle, but considering her tendency toward meddling, and even though she hasn't actually met Hisao in person, the discussion of marriage is probably more like a suggestion, rather than simple banter. The thought occurs to me that I ought to protest, but she's probably just caught up in the fantasy a little, and it makes her happy.

I can endure nuptial suggestions if it makes her smile...

As we turn the last corner headed for my room, Amaya bounds down the hallway with a cheerful lilt, “He-ey~!”

Echoing her cheerfulness, Mom replies, “Ah! Just the darling third daughter I was hoping to see~! I have a request.”

The flat expression she ends with makes Amaya stop and raise an eyebrow. “What's up, second mom?”

“My lovely little one here,” she replies, pointing at Midori, “needs some assistance in preparing for the evening, but I'll have my hands full helping Aiko... so I was wondering if I could trouble you-”

“Say no more~!” Amaya interjects, reaching over to grasp Midori's hand.

“Mo-om! I don't need help dressing!”

“Not another word, dear—you should count yourself lucky I'm feeling generous after that stunt you pulled!”

Groaning, Midori rolls her eyes in protest, but Amaya is quick to suggest, “C'mon, it'll be fun—I'll let you do my hair~!”

Protesting with a crooked grimace, Midori starts following along, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually mind the help; especially as it comes from Amaya, whom she adores. Taking the boxes from Mom as she passes by, Amaya aims a wink at me and starts skipping down the hallway, which makes Midori giggle along the way. With their departure comes a cheerful smile from Mom, and a pensive gesture toward my door.

Unlike yesterday, I'm much less apprehensive about her visiting since I'm basically out of embarrassing secrets; at least where she's concerned. The first thing she asks about is my test results, which I'm happy to show her, drawing them out of my bag with a prideful smirk on my lips. As predicted, she makes a few comments on my English grade being lower than the others, but doesn't dwell on the still-high mark; she knows I don't have my sister's linguistic intuition, just as Midori lacks my mathematical aptitude.

I think it evens out, anyway...

The next thing she does is withdraw a prescription bag from her giant purse and hold it out toward me with a careful nod. “Remember: wait a week before you try anything without additional protection, just to be sure,” she advises calmly, echoing Nurse's recommendation.

“I know, Mom,” I reply, reaching up to grasp the bag, “Hisao will be gone for a month after Sunday, anyway.”

Barely acknowledging my reply, she keeps her grip on the bag and continues, “Also; remember this is a precaution... not a permission slip to act reckless.”

The stony stare she's fixing on me is both unnerving and relentless, but I completely understand her desire for caution. Meeting her grim expression evenly, I flatly reply, “You're not the only one who doesn't want me getting pregnant.”

“Kitten, if you got pregnant, I'd be worried, but mostly overjoyed~!” she admits excitedly, then solemnly adds, “But it would ruin so many things I know you want to do...”

As she trails off I try to assure her, “Trust me, I know... and so does Hisao. He's as much a stickler as I am.”

I never thought “stickler” was a dirty word until now...

Letting go of the bag finally, she sighs, “Set a timer on your phone, and-”

“Already have a time picked out,” I interject, which makes her smile with relief. “Four in the afternoon... it's about the only time I can virtually guarantee I'll be awake, and not in class.”

“Good; stick to it. Don't forget... and try not to sleep through the alarm~!”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” I reply with mild sarcasm, which makes her narrow her eyes and scoff.

“Okay, enough idle chatter, we have an evening out to prepare for~!” she changes the subject and starts rifling through the remaining boxes, “And don't be shy with me; I'm your mother—I used to have that body, and I know how to highlight its... assets.”

Her comment almost makes me yell in protest, but I realize she's right, so I contain myself. The pictures of her I've seen from before she and Dad had kids look eerily similar to myself with a slightly smaller chest. With that in mind, I decide to follow her advice and plant a kiss on her cheek as I reply, “I'll take all the help I can get~!”

Because I'm pretty clueless otherwise...

Assuming correctly that I don't have any appropriate undergarments or accessories, Mom bought me the black garter and stockings, a matching purse, a pair of three-inch-heeled black pumps, and some other accoutrements she's hiding, as well as a new pair of black panties. The sheer ones mysteriously vanished from Hisao's room, though I think he secreted them away for his own perverted uses when I'm unavailable; I'm taking that as flattery. Either way, they probably wouldn't be the best accompaniment for such a short dress, and the new ones appear as though they'll be more comfortable; they look more substantial, at least. While she's sorting things out, there's a light knock on my door.

Turning to reach for the knob, I remark, “That's probably Yoko, here for the dress.”

“Delightful~! I have some extra things for her as well...” she mentions, which makes me pause for a moment.

Oh, this should be good...

Instead of just Yoko, I'm greeted by the boundless smile of my favorite hearing-impaired gossip hound. Naoko nods cheerfully and starts signing immediately, [Surprise~!]

Despite being a silent greeting, her expression provides enough impact for me to feel like she's shouting. [Well, hello there!] I greet her warmly, furrowing my brow a little, [I thought you'd be headed out for world domination by now?]

“Who is it, Kitten?” Mom asks, still looking away.

“Hello, Ina,” Yoko says softly, “I brought a friend.”

“Oh...?” she replies, turning to squint at the green-haired girl, “Is that Naoko?”

Before I can reply, Naoko runs around past me and practically tackles Mom with an affectionate hug.

“Yes, it's Naoko,” I say, starting to giggle at the display.

“I can see that... now~!” Mom quips, returning the embrace, “My silent little cheer-box~!”

Glancing at Yoko, I see a confused expression, but she's smiling. “They've met,” she says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, back during my first year,” I explain, leaving out the specifics.

While Naoko was still tutoring me in sign language, Mom came for a visit during one of Dad's extended hospital stays. With that on her mind, Mom was a total wreck; beside herself with worry, practically incapable of smiling, and spent most of the two weeks moping around in his absence. Naoko made it her mission to help Mom feel better, without even being told why Dad was in the hospital, which she still doesn't know. Mostly through hugs, smiles, and silly drawings with cheerful notes, her attempts were surprisingly effective, and it helped Mom cope—even raising her spirits a little. Ever since then, every time Mom visits, Naoko manages to make an appearance and attack her with a hug.

I'm glad the tradition continues...

When I look back, Naoko is letting up on the hug and backing away slowly. Turning toward me, she inquires, [She looks better—is she doing okay?]

[A lot better, it seems,] I reply, nodding slightly.

[Good~! Now I can leave,] she signs, starting toward the door. Stopping in the hall, she grins and adds, [Nobuo's waiting outside, or I'd stay—tell her I'm happy she's feeling better~!]

Waving rapidly, she dashes off down the hall, leaving Mom to wonder aloud, “She has to go, I'm guessing?”

“Brother's picking her up—wanted to see how you were doing before leaving,” I reply, turning a sympathetic look at Yoko. “How you holding up, Miss Rabbit?”

“I'll be alright, we can text each other over the summer,” she says, trying to stay positive.

“Ah, don't worry, dear—a night on the town should brighten your spirits~!” Mom croons, beckoning her over, “I have everything you'll need in this box,” she says, handing her the package, “the dress, shoes, and even matching undergarments—I wasn't sure whether you had anything appropriate.”

“Thank you,” Yoko offers, taking the box with a slight bow.

“Now, I'll be here with Aiko if you need help, but Amaya is across the hall with Midi if you want a younger perspective,” she explains, nodding toward Amaya's door.

“I've worn something similar before, but I'll remember your offer if I need help,” Yoko admits, nodding and smiling softly.

“Don't be a stranger, dear~! And keep your chin up! Tonight will be fun~!”

Casting a quick smile at me, she starts toward the door. Turning to offer a slight bow of gratitude, she says, “Thank you, Ina,” then starts walking down the hall.

“You're welcome, Yoko~! Wear them well!” Mom calls after her, waving despite her being out of sight.

The unquenchable smile on Mom's face, and her generous approach to getting Yoko dressed up removes the last of my doubts about her intentions. After watching Yoko's quiet departure for a few seconds, I turn a curious look at Mom and, once the door is closed, I decide to put my suspicions into words.

“Your other surprise is Kenta, isn't it,” I state flatly.

She looks at me coyly for a moment, but then grins and starts nodding. “I got his number off her phone, and convinced his dad to drop him off at the restaurant,” she explains, sucking in a breath and smiling conspiratorially, “Don't tell her; I want it to be a surprise~!”

Going on to explain that listening to Yoko talk to Midori put the idea in her head, after being inspired by seeing Satoru and Lydia's loving display, she concocted the whole plan while we were at the Soliloquy. Honestly, I'm not even slightly unhappy with her meddling in their affair, and I'm glad someone other than myself decided to play the manipulator for a change. My role in their initial pairing remains unmentioned, but I think she suspects I may have prodded them together; she doesn't say as much, but her candor is telling.

I wonder what Ikaru actually said...

It's a little uncomfortable stripping in front of Mom, but she's adamant about making sure every detail is perfect. Though I'm nervous about it, my ineptitude when it comes to feminine attire makes her presence a necessary one. Nylons, bras and simple stuff like that have been in my wardrobe since I was twelve, but the garter belt seems overly complicated, the stockings are a little unwieldy, and I had no idea the panties go on last. She lets me wear an oversized t-shirt during the proceedings, so I'm not completely exposed, but she's not shy about making sure everything falls in the right place, and seems especially concerned with ensuring the stockings fit properly.

I'm still not quite comfortable with the idea of highlighting my legs...

Once that's over with, she insists on getting me familiar with some light cosmetics. It's nothing heavy or even particularly noticeable, but the eye-shadow's light, purple tinting helps highlight my eyes, and the dark-pink lip gloss makes me look more mature. With that all applied, she has me remove the shirt, which I'm not thrilled about, and digs out the last embarrassing bit of hardware: little silicone nipple covers. Knowing how sensitive my nipples are, I insist on applying them myself, but she prods at them with her thumb to ensure the glorified pasties are well-placed. Although it's embarrassing, I know Hisao doesn't need the extra visual stimulation, and it will probably save me from some lecherous looks.

“Kitten, I think we're just about ready for the dress~!” she lilts cheerily.

While she's fetching the stretchy, little, black garment, I continue pushing against the strange pads, and my mind goes back to wondering why she's suddenly so open with this kind of information. When I was growing up, Mom was always so conservative and proper. She never talked about sex, except when she sat me down for the big talk, and even then she seemed uncomfortable. Her vocabulary didn't even include the clinical words for human genitalia; she called my vagina a happy valley. It's a relief to know she doesn't think I'm some kind of deviant, but I keep wondering what caused her to start thinking about this kind of stuff so casually.

I'm not above thinking she was replaced by a pod-person...

My thoughts get broken apart when she hands me the dress, but it doesn't fade completely. Once it's in place, the hem that wraps around my thighs hugs the edge of the high, lace-topped stockings. My legs are completely covered, but I'm bare underneath the dress except for the thin, well-hidden panties; it's a flattering look, and one I'm sure Hisao will find extremely stimulating. Glancing at myself in the mirror while she's poking and prodding, making sure everything is in place, I can't help admiring how well-planned the ensemble seems; each piece fitting with the rest, all without having been seen together beforehand—Mom really knows her stuff fashion-wise.

Among other things...

While she's checking the fit around my breasts, I think about her strange change of behavior again, and develop a perplexed expression as I watch her in the mirror. The conservative woman who raised me just doesn't match up with the open-minded one making sure my chest looks perky; who is apparently happy about me having sex, and is basically getting me dressed up to draw the attention of a young man she hasn't even met. While I'm sure it probably isn't a recent change, and she was just hiding this part of herself for some reason, the difference is jarring, and leaves me feeling confused.

My bewildered look doesn't go unnoticed, leading her to prompt, “Kitten? What's with that face?”

After shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I decide to be blunt and ask her plainly, “How come you never said anything about this stuff before: the clothes...? Nipple covers...? Sex?”

My questions hit her strangely, as though they weren't expected, but she quickly starts nodding. While she runs her hands over the dress to flatten out any wrinkles, she starts explaining, “It's nothing new, Kitten; your mother used to go on dates when she was your age, before I met your father.”

Though the thought of her dating someone other than Dad still makes me a little uncomfortable, I nod and reply, “Well, yeah... but you always seemed to avoid the subject.”

Sighing, she steps around behind me, continuing to ensure there aren't any flaws in how the dress hangs. After a few moments, she replies, “Well, when you girls were younger, I kept that kind of thing out of conversations as much as I could... but now that you're dating, and... having sex... I'm arming you with knowledge.”

Furrowing my brow slightly, I surmise, “So, you didn't change... just your behavior toward me?”

“I suppose so,” she agrees, sighing lightly, “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” I reply, shrugging slightly, “I'm just used to you being... you... conservative you, I mean.”

“That's still me, Kitten. It's just that... now with you getting older, and more... experienced... I can let my guard down when it comes to... more personal things,” she explains, which I find makes some semblance of sense, but it still leaves me with a weird feeling. “Just don't bring this up around your sister.”

“Oh, I wouldn't—at least not until it's absolutely necessary,” I agree, then shrug and add, “I guess... it's a little embarrassing, is all.”

“That's life: one embarrassing moment after another~!” she retorts with a light chuckle. “Your Grammy used to drive me crazy with this kind of stuff! And you should know; you're taking it better than I did,” she compliments, punctuating her admission with a reassuring pat on my shoulder, “Just remember: sex is part of adult relationships, and it's a fun part. You should try to enjoy it, if you can get it done right~!”

“No argument there,” I reply, if only to test her patience.

I think Hisao does it right... at least for me...

“Try not to make this more difficult~!” she jokes, poking my shoulder roughly, “And anyway, I'm not delusional enough to think I can stop you! Always so bull-headed and stubborn—just like your father,” she rambles, running her hand through my hair, then laughs, “If I tried to say no, you'd probably just go and do it anyway... just to spite me~!”

“I don't think I'd do that just to spite you,” I assure her, patting the hand she's holding on my shoulder.

Settling into a serious tone, she asks, “Well, while we're on the topic of sex; is there anything you'd like to know?”

The first thing that pops in my head sounds silly, but I decide to ask anyway. “Happy valley?”

Resting her head against my back, she starts laughing. “That's what Grammy said to call it—I don't know why...!” she explains between giggles, “I needed a euphemism for a twelve-year-old girl who was already growing breasts, and it just seemed to fit~!”

Her laughing causes me to laugh, even if I don't think it's particularly funny. If anything, she knew I had already learned those terms by that age—through school or my own curiosity—so there wasn't any need to be coy.

“You could have just said vagina,” I say, shaking my head as I start laughing.

“When you have a preteen daughter asking questions, you'll understand!” she explains, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me into a backwards hug. “If I had it my way, I'd have stopped time, you'd still be ten, and all I'd have to worry about is your sister stealing your dolls.”

“Mom, I never played with dolls.”

“Right, whatever... that's your sister,” she corrects herself, then tightens the embrace before continuing, “With you it was always those silly games.”

Rolling my eyes, I add, “And swimming!”

There's a brief pause while she sighs, then laughs. “I guess I have to thank your father for you being so strong, lean and beautiful, then... But, I always knew you'd grow out of that ponch,” she rambles ponderously. “Though, it did all seem to move into your chest,” she adds, reaching up to poke my breasts.

“Mom!” I groan pushing her hands away. “That's all your fault, I'm sure~! Stupid genetics,” I add, making her giggle.

Wrapping her hands around my waist again, she jokes, “Good genetics, you mean, Kitten~!”

I'd argue that we're both right...

There's something sublime about standing in my dorm room having Mom hug me like this; it just feels good. Talking to her on the phone doesn't give me the chance to see her smiling face, or wrap her in a hug, or literally poke fun at our similarities. Despite how embarrassing some of that may seem, I've really missed the kind of close, familial contact I can only get from my parents or siblings. It's similar to the feeling I get when Hisao holds me, but somehow less complicated, and more comfortable; it doesn't lead to arousal—which can make the situation more complex—just a feeling of being loved.

Turning around, I wrap my arms around her and rest my head against her shoulder, swaying slightly and enjoying the closeness. After a six month separation, a few moments spent hugging her doesn't quite make up for being apart, but it's a start, and I'm beyond relieved that her hugs don't come with strings attached; just genuine affection. If someone could bottle the feeling of getting a hug from your mom or dad, or anyone for that matter, they'd be a billionaire. While we're hugging, there's a loud knock on the door, followed by a rattling of the doorknob and Amaya's frustrated voice.

"It's locked?” she balks, pounding on the door again, “Lemme in~!”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back to smile at Mom and groan, “She won't go away if we don't.”

Already headed for the door, she laughs lightly while flipping the lock, then pulls it open. “Come in, Amaya~!”

Stepping in loudly, she walks right around Mom to stand in front of me. Striking a fashionable pose with her hip turned out, she pouts girlishly and waits for me to look her over; I'm her litmus test for fashion, despite being inept about how it actually works. She might be better off getting Mom's opinion, but she trusts me for some reason I can't quite explain, though I think it's because she compares her body to mine a lot. It's flattering, but I don't think she has anything to really worry about; she's got her own look that Tadao apparently enjoys, and that should be enough.

I'm happy if Hisao is the only one looking at me...

The first thing I notice are the tight little braids dangling down over her ears, and interwoven with bright blue ribbons, which help uncover her neck; easier access for Tadao, I assume. The dark blue thin-strapped bodice now clings around her narrow body—as intended—and the attached, slightly lighter, billowing skirt covers down to her knees, though she lifts up the hem to reveal the indigo stockings and five-inch-heeled matching shoes underneath. Those push her thin legs further into the background, and bring all the focus up to her accented bust, which she starts framing with her fingers and thumb while I look her over.

    I think she may be a little too obsessed...



“I finally have a chest~!” she chirps excitedly, “And Midi's gotten better at hair...”

“You know Tadao loves you without the accents, right?” I mention, which makes her scoff.

“This is so he has reason to cling to my arm~!” she chirps, then narrows her eyes and whispers, “For fear of some other guy stealing me away...”

It's a valid point, I guess...

“All ready to go, then?” Mom inquires.

“Dress, stockings, shoes and all~! Midi's not quite ready, but I couldn't wait,” she chirps, stepping back to look me over, “You look smashing, by the way! And Hisao will probably be staring into that cavernous valley all night~!”

Yes, he probably will...

“That's the point, dear~!” Mom interjects. “It keeps them nicely addled so they don't notice you're indulging in the menu,” she says jokingly, though I'm not sure if she's kidding.

Turning a look toward the door, Amaya mentions, “We should go see if Yoko's ready.”

“Good idea,” Mom replies, nodding across the hall, “I'll help Midi get finished up and get myself dressed.”

Smiling wryly, I ask, “You sure you can handle that on your own?”

"Kitten, the day I can't dress myself anymore is the day I stop leaving the house~!”

On that note, we make our exit, and start down the hallway. As we walk, Amaya holds a hand up to my temple and squints narrowly, then hovers her hand over to her own forehead. After a few seconds I realize what she's doing and swat her hand away. “You're not taller—I don't have shoes on yet!”

“Oh, right... you're awful at walking in heels—now I remember~!” she teases, earning a solid punch on the arm, to which she retorts with a messy raspberry.

As we approach Yoko's door, I hear some loud music coming from inside. The melody doesn't sound familiar, but I recognize a saxophone leading the arrangement, along with a bass guitar and what sounds like a snare drum. It sounds like free-form jazz, but I haven't heard much of it before, so I can only guess. While I'm raising a curious eyebrow, Amaya knocks and calls out, “You in there, Miss Rabbit~?”

There's no answer as the music continues, so I decide to try the knob. Finding it unlocked, I share a quick nod with Amaya, then twist it quietly and start pushing through slowly. At first glance, the room looks empty, but her floor arrangement has changed since my last, brief visit. The bed has moved to the opposite wall, hidden from view as the door opens, and in its place is a large hope chest and dresser, complete with a huge mirror. Leaning in a little further, I see Yoko in the middle of her floor, all dressed up in the stunning red dress, now accented with dark red stockings and a thin, frilly shawl, and apparently dancing with the music, totally oblivious to our presence.

Facing away from us, she holds her hands together, high over her head, then slowly starts turning, swiveling her hips with each exaggerated step, and sending the shawl flying across her shoulders with each gyration, making her movements seem mysterious. As she turns, I notice her eyes are closed, and the look on her face is one of pure elation, highlighted by a big, toothy grin. After the adjustments, that racy red dress fits her like a second skin, hugging her figure, pressing her bust upward, and revealing almost her entire back, which is probably why she's using the shawl; for modesty, if nothing else. The ruby red color seems to enhance her light complexion, giving it a warm glow, although that might also be resulting from the soft, incandescent lamplight.

I do wonder whether Hisao will be able to focus on me with her dressed like that...

Apparently I'm less concerned with privacy than her, as evidenced by her blinds being closed, while mine are always open, though that may only be because she's dancing; like everything else, she's probably too humble or embarrassed to take pride in her ability. As she stops to face toward us with her feet held together—still keeping her eyes closed—one of her hands starts tracing downward, following the contour of her chest and waist, flowing sensually over her swinging hip, then she starts bending to reach her knee. With that hand firmly planted, she swings the other one down swiftly, then thrusts her head and chest forward, keeping her knees locked and giggling playfully as her fiery hair flies wildly, and the dress manages to keep her breasts contained.

I hope Lydia knows how amazing Satoru is at his job...

Holding herself there for a moment, with her back arched tightly and her bust pressing hard against the material, she rests her hands on her knees and starts swaying her hips in rhythm with the snare drum. That big, toothy grin is replaced by a sensual smile, and if I'm not mistaken there's a prideful curl to her lip; she knows she's good at this, even as she's embarrassed enough to close the blinds. As I observe her sultry, calculated motions, I realize Kenta will have a difficult time keeping his eyes off of her body, especially if she starts dancing; I'm not sure she has the confidence for that, though, even if she should. After a few drum beats, she bows forward, then starts raising her head until she's standing perfectly vertical, and reaches skyward again.

When she reaches that apex, stretching out and standing on her toes, which puts her almost close enough to reach the ceiling, her eyes open, and she immediately notices her unannounced audience. Gasping in shock, she draws the shawl across her chest and steps back suddenly, flushed with embarrassment. Her widened eyes dart between us for a few seconds, and I suddenly feel bad about our intrusion; I don't like being surprised like this, and yet here I am standing rudely in her room, watching something she was trying to keep private. However, we do have a schedule to keep, she left her door unlocked, and I don't think she can blame us for being a little intrusive; we have to make sure she's ready, and that music made doing so difficult.

I still feel kind of awful about surprising her...

“Where'd you two come from!?” she blurts, placing a hand over her mouth; probably because she doesn't usually yell.

“Uh, s-sorry,” I stutter, pointing at the door, “we knocked, but you didn't hear us, and-”

“We invited ourselves in,” Amaya finishes my sentence, then fidgets for a moment before adding, “That was hot—where'd you learn to dance like that~?”

Taking a deep breath, she tightens the shawl and exhales slowly. “It's okay, I was just- I mean... when I finished dressing, I just... felt like dancing?” she explains confusedly, then shrugs and adds, “It's just some jazz dancing—nothing fancy. I can't do the complicated stuff anymore, because... well...”

“You sure can bend like a pretzel, though, and swing your hips like a belly-dancer~!” Amaya chirps, though her compliments land weirdly.

“That's just-! I...” the embarrassed girl trails off and shakes her head slightly, though she manages a soft smile.

Smacking Amaya's arm, I say, “What she means is; you're good at it!”

“Yeah~!” Amaya affirms, nodding gleefully and giggling.

Still looking embarrassed, Yoko nods at the compliments and shrugs. “Almost time to go?” she asks, apparently hoping to change the subject.

Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yeah, our reservation is for seven, and it's almost six.”

“I'm ready,” she affirms, kneeling to pick up a pair of red shoes, “Just my shoes and I'm all set.”

“Great~! Maybe later you can teach me some of those sexy moves~?” Amaya requests, heading for the door.

The friendly giggle she gets in response is enough of an answer for Amaya, and they both leave ahead of me. Along the way, Yoko explains that she still practices the stretching techniques she learned in ballet, and dances for exercise. When pressed about why she felt like dancing, she just giggles shyly and refuses to answer, but that just makes me feel more determined to find out. However, if she's spending the summer in the dorms like I suspect, I'll have plenty of opportunities to figure out my newest, apparently complicated friend, so I decide to leave my questions aside until another time.

I'd like to learn a dance like that for Hisao...

Finding Mom in my room with Midori, diligently checking over her hair, I take a moment to inspect my fidgeting sister's pink and silver ensemble. Although she's growing upward quickly, Midori hasn't quite grown out yet, so she looks a little bit like a big pink straw; I'm actually glad for that, considering my experience with early development. Cut from a sleek, shiny material, the dress covers her almost completely, only leaving her arms and ankles bare. With her black hair pulled up into a cute bun, complete with pink flowers and wooden chopsticks, wearing matching pink shoes, silver bracelets, and a thin, silver shawl, she resembles a storybook princess, though it's not quite the one I expected.

More like Mulan, rather than Peach...

Apparently, during the ten minutes we were gone, Mom slipped into her new dress as well, which probably shouldn't surprise me; she has plenty of experience with formalwear from her years of running a four-star restaurant. Sophisticated and understated, the modest black dress with silver trim wraps around her shoulders and neck, leaving her arms exposed, then covers her chest and abdomen loosely, gets divided by a narrow, silver belt, and continues down into a tastefully long skirt with a frilled hem that sweeps along her calves.

She still has her hair in that bun from yesterday, which means she either forgot to take it out, or that's just how she wears it now. With a thin, black, colorfully embroidered shawl hiding her shoulders, and a simple pearl necklace that I think was a gift from Dad, the ensemble sort of makes her look like an evil step-mother, fawning over Princess Midori, but I should probably keep that comparison to myself. Dressed as she is, Mom would probably fit into the crowd at a high-class restaurant, a fancy museum event, or even a coronation, which isn't only a function of her attire; it's enhanced by her cheerful attitude.

Standing in black, low-heeled shoes with stylish silver buckles, it seems she's trying not to enhance her womanly features, though they don't need much enhancement. That makes me remember how Dad was always staring at her, even as she wore sweatpants while nine months pregnant; I remember giggling at his lack of discretion, even though I was only four. Her chosen profession as a fine-dining chef, and later as a restaurateur, meant constant exposure to the temptation of overeating, but keeping herself fit has always been one of her top priorities; nowadays cycling is her exercise of choice, which is apparently convenient for living in the Italian hill-country.

The wedding band she still wears—and might always wear—has a tendency to repel potential suitors, though I doubt she has even considered seeking companionship only a year after Dad's death; that could just be my desire to never see her with another man, though. That's definitely not her objective tonight, but, then again, Mom always wore conservative attire, even in the pictures from before she was married, and I know she caught Dad's eye dressing like that. Regardless of how her possible romantic life might make me feel, I honestly hope she does find someone someday, even if only to spend some of her time with instead of bothering her daughters. Only a day after not seeing her for six months and I'm already almost tired of her; I love her being here, and want to spend time with her, but she really is kind of exhausting.

I'd like to see her every other day, or maybe a couple times a week...

That same tirelessness also makes her naturally magnetic, which might explain why my friends are drawn to her, and develop a rapport without any prompting; while Yoko is still tentative around me, she's already comfortable talking to Mom candidly after meeting yesterday. Always well-mannered and polite, Mom practically oozes decorum, which is something I know I lack, and another reason I found her change in attitude confusing—though I should have expected her to have a more worldly view of sex. Still, ever stylish, and with womanly flair, I think if I were to wear feminine clothing more regularly, rather than just to excite Hisao's senses for one evening, I'd take my dressing cues from Mom; simple, conservative, with a healthy dose of style, and always classy.

I still prefer jeans and t-shirts, though...

“We should be going—everyone ready?” she asks, glancing down at my feet. “Put your shoes on, Kitten,” she advises with a wry smile, “they're an important part of your outfit~! Your well-endowed behind may not need the enhancement, but doing so will inspire his attentiveness~!”

“Mom!” I groan, shooting cold looks at my two giggling friends.

“She's right. You've got the goods, but Hisao will love a little enhancement back there; I'm pretty sure he's an ass-man~!” Amaya remarks crudely, continuing to giggle.

“And Tadao adores your narrow, flat waist,” I retort coldly, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Watch it, Swimderella; that's my Dumbass you're talking about~!”

While we're sharing a mock stand-off, Yoko lets out a breathy sigh to stop her giggling. “You two should be happy they're coming along!” she says with a tinge of frustration. “Sorry,” she adds, slumping her shoulders, “I'm just missing Kenta, I guess...”

Mom steps over and wraps an arm over her shoulder. “Oh, don't feel down; everyone is having fun tonight—no frowning allowed~!” she cheers, pulling her into a side-hug. “I'm sure once he sees you in that fiery red dress, he won't be able to control himself!” she adds, nodding toward me covertly, then smirking to add, “Instead, you should concentrate on trying to pull their boyfriends' eyes away in the meantime~!”

I don't think she's serious... is she?

“Hey!” Amaya protests, narrowing her eyes at the shocked red-head, and taking up a fighting stance, “You keep your sweetly swinging tush out of his view, or I'll go all aikido on your dancer's ass!”

Despite the voracity of the threat, I know Amaya is just kidding, but it looks like Yoko isn't certain. Since Amaya isn't saying anything, I start poking her shoulder as I flatly explain, “I wouldn't take her too seriously; she actually likes being given a reason to work at keeping Tadao's attention.”

She raises an eyebrow at me, but after noticing Amaya's slow nod, Yoko softly replies, “I'll be glad to help, then!”

I'll be putting some work into keeping Hisao's attention, too...

“Okay, ladies~!” Mom interjects, letting go of Yoko and starting out the door. Stopping in the hall she quips, “Save your ferocity for your fellas; the night has only just begun~!”

Assuming a more typical, dimpled smile, Amaya wraps her arm around Yoko's and starts leading her away. Turning over her shoulder, she remarks, “Now, pay attention to our walk; you might learn something~!”

I might also stab you with your own heel...

As I'm about to follow along, grumbling to myself, Mom catches my arm and leans over to whisper, “Don't let them get to you. Walk at your own pace. Luckily you don't necessarily need the shoes, but it's a good skill to learn!”

While she's whispering, Midori darts around us, chasing down the hall at reckless speed; eager to walk with the other two girls, I imagine. Starting to walk along with Mom, I nod and reply, “Thanks... Also, nice save with Yoko.”

“Ah, thank you, Kitten,” she says, turning a curious look at the mismatched trio as they near the corner, “She's a lovely girl, but I've noticed she lacks a bit of confidence. She reminds me of-”

“Me,” I say flatly, shrugging slightly, “I know, except she isn't a grump.”

Chuckling, she hugs my arm and retorts, “You were never a grump, just misunderstood.” Sighing she adds, “I know this makes you uncomfortable, but I love you, and your friends are important to you, so they're important to me... I hope you don't mind me meddling.”

“Nope, not one bit... I'm kinda responsible for getting Yoko together with Kenta; they had a mutual crush going like my other two idiot friends,” I say, smirking at my irreverence.

“Just be careful about your meddling, Kitten. It doesn't always work out the way you'd like.”

“I know; Hisao keeps me in check,” I reply, pushing my way through the stairwell door.

She goes quiet as we're descending the stairs, but as we pass through the short hallway headed for the dorm exit, she turns a thoughtful expression at me. “The way you talk about him... he sounds special to you,” she says, pausing and looking up to think for a moment before continuing, “More than just a casual boyfriend, I mean. When you dated Kenta for all of a couple days, you never talked about him quite so fondly—you still don't.”

Caught off guard by her line of thinking, I shrug and reply, “I guess so... I think about him a lot.”

“Don't be ashamed, Kitten,” she says reassuringly, starting us walking again, “When you mentioned seeing a boy over the phone, I thought it was just a girlish crush, or something simple like that... but now... you seem to really be in love with him.”

“Is that wrong?” I ask as we exit the dorm and turn onto the path leading toward the gate.

“No, of course not~! I'm just- I don't want you getting hurt is all... that's why I'm so determined to meet him,” she admits, which sounds more like what I'd expect from her old self. “If you fell so hard for this... Swooner, you call him... I want to make sure it's mutual,” she explains, hugging me around the shoulder, “I expect he's no less enamored by you—who wouldn't be? But I want you to be careful with your heart. You understand?”

I love Hisao, but I should keep my feet on the ground...

As she starts rubbing my arm affectionately, I begin to nod, but I'm not sure how to reply.

“Good, just... I'm going to worry no matter what you do, or how right it is, but I don't want you worrying about me,” she adds, smiling wistfully, “Just concentrate on how you feel, and don't worry so much about what to think; that's what your Grammy told me when I thought I was falling in love with your father, and look how that turned out: nineteen years of loving marriage, two beautiful daughters, and a wealth of good memories.”

“Nice and subtle,” I say, chuckling at her mention of marriage, “you just want to marry us off.”

Laughing heartily, she gives me another squeeze and retorts, “I've only been planning your wedding since you were... well, since we saw the sonagram and the doctor said you were a girl.” As I roll my eyes at her, she starts shaking her head, and adds, “For a while, I thought you'd never grow out of being such a tomboy... but look at you; dressed to the nines, about to hit the town with your friends... and your lover...” It's weird hearing her call Hisao my lover, but I'm starting to get used to her accepting things I thought she would never condone.

I feel a lot less nervous about her meeting Hisao, at least...

The truth is, I'm not sure what love is supposed to be like because I've had so little experience, but lately everyone tells me that's what they see between Hisao and I, so it's possible I found it without trying. Still, Mom doesn't sound entirely convinced, and while I don't think anything I say will really help, I want her to know how I feel; maybe it'll make the decision easier if she knows her daughter is almost certain she isn't being foolish. As we pass through the gate and start along the sidewalk toward the car park, I give her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and offer some reassuring words.

“I am in love, and I'm about ninety-nine percent sure Hisao loves me—he even said it first,” I start, pausing to gauge her reaction. Seeing a happy grin start to form, I continue, “I know I'm young and haven't been in love before, but I think what I have with Hisao is real... All my friends keep saying that's what they see; even Satoru mentioned something about it, and he only met Hisao for less than five minutes.”

The confession doesn't have the elated response I was hoping for, but she gives me an assured nod. “Young love is an angel disguised as lust,” she says, paraphrasing Satoru's statement, “He told me all about his meeting with your young Lothario—as he called him—over lunch today.”

I should have expected as much...

Seeing my somewhat bewildered reaction, she says calmly, “Believe me, I'm taking every source into consideration, Kitten; even your teachers, Nurse, and that lovely woman who chaperones your morning swims.”

“Joyce?”

I don't think I've ever mentioned her...

“Yes, she's quite the information well...” she trails off, smirking at me sideways.

I guess she really does have spies everywhere...

“Anyway, thank you for being so direct. Sometimes I get so frustrated with your vague answers...! But, like I said; worry less about my reaction and just focus on your feelings; your Swooner is already in the high nineties on my approval scale—the rest is almost a formality.”

“You're going to love him, Mom,” I state, which makes her squint weirdly. Confused by her reaction, I prompt, “What?”

“Did you call to tell him we're leaving?”

D'oh! Dammit-

“Doing that now!” I reply, reaching into the little black purse she got for me to extract my phone.

“I'll go on ahead and get the AC running,” she says, waving over her shoulder, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.

I'll have to ask about her spy network later...

Feeling embarrassed about forgetting to call, I decide to leave that out of our conversation; besides, he doesn't need to know, and I got distracted by Mom's rambling, so it's not my fault. Totally oblivious to my forgetfulness, he's no less cheerful than he was during our earlier phone conversation. Apparently he and Tadao have been ready for over an hour, and they're only too happy to meet us in the car park. Their relative speed at preparing, compared to the two hours and more that it took for me, serves as a reminder of why I don't dress like this very often.

I could see doing it for Hisao occasionally, though...

After hanging up, I start to wonder how he'll look in that suit he described, but I should probably focus on walking, and trying not to stumble. My slow, clumsy pace is frustrating, but I'm slowly getting the hang of walking on stilts—the convention of womanhood. They may only be three-inch heels, but I'm sometimes unstable in flats, and it takes all my effort to maintain my shaky balance. With my feet feeling utterly exhausted by the time I reach the car, I walk right past the girls, standing around chatting near the minivan, and quickly dive into the middle-rear seat, then reach down to start rubbing my aching ankles.

While I'm attempting to ease the pain manually, I notice Hisao approaching with Tadao, and immediately stop rubbing my feet so I can smile and wave. Wanting to get up and greet them on my feet, but realizing I'm not quite ready to stand up again, I stay seated to wait and watch their approach from inside the car. When they're about a dozen paces away, Mom maneuvers out to stand between us, standing in the doorway right in front of me, though I can't quite tell whether it's to hide me or watch him—it's probably both.

Let the inspection begin...

“You must be the elusive Swooner,” she greets, placing a hand on each of her hips. With her facing away, I can't determine the face she's making, but Hisao's wincing expression tells me it's not an entirely welcoming look.

“Hello, Ina,” he replies loudly, using the familiar language I stressed, “I'm glad to meet you finally—Aiko told me a lot about you.”

“No doubt,” she replies coolly, turning a quick, icy glance at me, making my shoulders tense.

After a brief pause to absorb my reaction, she starts walking out toward him slowly. With her relatively small figure out of the way, I get a good look at his suit, and I'm impressed. Tailored to fit around his tall, narrow frame, the suit-coat and pants are black, like he said, and there are thin, double pinstripes spaced every couple centimeters. The stripes make him look taller, and the argyle-patterned, blue and gray sweater-vest underneath provides a splash of color. Perhaps most surprising is the black bow-tie under his chin, which might look silly on some, but I think it makes him look more intellectual.

I'm also impressed he knows how to tie one...

While Mom shares a quiet conversation with Hisao, Tadao steps into the car wearing black slacks, shiny black shoes, a black silk shirt with white buttons, a white vest, and a thin white tie. Evidently he took our advice to heart and wore something appropriately formal, and it looks good on him. However, I'm too focused on Hisao to mention that, or even offer him an affirming smile. Nodding quietly at my fixated stare, he steps in and takes the seat behind me, then reaches out to help Amaya up the step. On her way by, she bumps my shoulder to intentionally break my concentration.

“Oh, sorry, were you trying to listen~?” she asks in mock apology, giggling at my icy glare.

“Try not to swoon, Aiko, he's not even in the car yet,” Tadao adds, earning him a swift slap on the shin.

His response is a quiet chuckle, and Amaya adds in a quick pat on my shoulder as she steps over Tadao to sit in the back corner. While Yoko is taking the front seat, she giggles and shakes her head, but doesn't offer any teasing commentary, which may be one of the reasons I like her; she doesn't usually add insult to injury. With them seated, I turn my attention back out to where Mom is still questioning Hisao, and I can't stop myself from ogling.

Now that I've gotten a look at his attire, my eyes go to his face, which is currently staring over Mom's shoulder, directly at me. That's probably a dangerous idea while Mom is still talking to him, but he can't seem to look away, and I can't help smiling, reflecting his gaze in earnest. We haven't really seen each other since lunchtime yesterday, which I'm realizing feels like an eternity considering how close we've gotten over the past week.

Before long, she notices his wandering eyes, and turns to see what's capturing his attention, which makes me suck in a tense breath. At seeing the target of his focused vision, she smirks at me, then pats his shoulder. After whispering something in his ear, she points an inviting hand toward the car, and Hisao starts walking almost before she can move it out of the way.

That's it...?

When he arrives outside the car door, he leans against the roof and ducks down, staring into my eyes. “You look amazing,” he utters quietly, apparently wanting to get the compliment out of the way quickly.

“So do you,” I reply, feeling a blush start to streak my face.

After a few long moments, Mom walks by and chirps, “Get in the car, Swooner; don't dawdle~!”

As he sits down next to me, pushing me toward the window, I can feel the warmth radiating from his side and legs, and it has a nice, relaxing effect. Whatever conversation he had with Mom, he isn't tense or nervous anymore, and his arm across my shoulder just feels wonderfully warm. While Hisao and I are getting reacquainted, I hear the rear hatch open and Midori bounds into the aft seat.

“Aiko, stop being a prude and kiss him~!” she chirps, and I peer back over the seat to glare at her.

With an exaggerated shrug, she hops down into the seat, which thankfully faces away, while Mom looks in at me, nodding approvingly. Before I can guess what her nod means, the tail gate closes. A few seconds later, she reappears outside the sliding door, shaking her head and grinning, but doesn't say anything. The door slides closed with a bang, and I turn a confused look back toward Amaya, but she's just shrugging stupidly. Before Mom gets around to the driver's seat, I turn toward Hisao and wonder at his smirk.

“What did she say to you?”

“Mostly nothing,” he replies quickly, glancing toward the driver's side door, “She said I'm handsome, asked how I'm feeling, asked how I did on my finals, then asked if I'm on any drugs—I didn't lie, though I wasn't specific... the rest is a blur, but then she pat my arm and told me not to keep you waiting.”

“That's it?”

The sound of the driver's side door opening silences his answer, but he nods and shrugs. As Mom sits down, I look up at the rear-view mirror to try and see her expression, but it's facing toward Yoko, which seems odd, but Mom doesn't use her the mirrors much. After seeing her worried look, and having the somber discussion on our way out of the dorms, I expected something more substantial from her inquiries, but Hisao has no reason to lie, so something must have changed her mind.

But what...?

“Seatbelts~!” she chirps, breaking my thoughts for a few seconds.

Once everyone is belted in, she gets us on our way out of the car park, and out into the street. As the countryside rolls by, I start trying to figure out Mom's change of heart, but I soon realize Hisao is staring again. While he was talking to Mom, he probably couldn't see me all to well, but as his eyes adjust to the dim interior, I notice a ridiculous grin on his face, and his eyes lose all their ability to focus on mine. Apparently, despite him having seen me naked, my revealing ensemble is no less effective. Actually, perhaps it's even more effective because I know he has a good imagination, and he can probably see right through the thin black material.

Figuratively speaking...

“You're staring,” I whisper, giving my chest a little shake for emphasis.

Not wearing a bra is a rather freeing experience...

“Am I not supposed to?” he asks quietly, still not peeling his eyes away.

“No, you're allowed... one of the perks remember?”

With a sly smile, he remarks, “Definitely a perk... two of them—well... all of them.”

“Just try not to get too carried away—consider who's driving~!” I warn, teasing my hand playfully along his leg.

Wincing, he sucks in a breath, slams his eyes shut, and grits his teeth. Figuring it's probably not the best idea to get him too excited, I lift my hand away and giggle lightly as he continues breathing heavily, trying to regain control. While he's doing that, I rest my head against his shoulder and sigh deeply, smiling to myself at how easily I can arouse him. Perhaps that isn't a skill so much as an effect, but watching him squirm in his lust makes me feel wanted, and it's a powerful aphrodisiac.

I really enjoy toying with him...

Either in spite of, or because of the two couples fawning over each other, the group is surprisingly quiet. After Hisao calms down, I hear a brief, whispered conversation between Tadao and Amaya, though I can't understand what they're saying. Yoko is naturally quiet, Midori probably fell asleep soon after we left, and I assume Mom is somewhere between concentrating on driving and keeping an eye on Hisao, so she isn't talking. Considering what he told me, I don't think she's really concerned anymore, but until she actually tells me so, I plan to stay vigilant.

She can be fickle sometimes...