Tomorrow's Doom A.3/C.15 - Nightmares

Chapter 14: http://pastebin.com/87TAnkaB
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Chapter 15 - Nightmares

Thick, musty and filled with the scent of sulfur and burning candles, the air is still. In that stillness there is silence, and dread. Smoke hangs low from the high ceiling as I look upward and see shafts of light beaming through the distant window panes. Oaken beams cross that ceiling holding the cathedral roof, and I'm filled with terror by the sight.

This again.

Bells chime softly above me, and the clear ringing fills the emptied hall. At its beckoning, quietly as ghosts, shadowy figures come into view, filling the room with their unsettling presence. Blank faces seem wrapped in gauze or plastic; their eyes are merely depressions in the monochrome fabric, their noses a strange bump, and their mouths a grotesquely parted maw through which no sound escapes.

Faceless specters.

The smokey air gags at my lungs and I choke on the smell, my eyes watering – or I'm crying. The carpeted floor beneath me covers the stone tiles and runs between an aisle of pews where more of those expressionless faces sit and stare back at me – cryptically beckoning me to walk forward. Their eyeless glares leading me forward, but I refuse.

Not now!

Resisting their summons, I stand my ground and try to look anywhere but forward. My defiance only lasts until I feel a hand on my shoulder and I glance forward reflexively. The hand is warm and should be comforting, but I recoil from its clammy touch and bow my head shamefully. Cursing quietly at this absurdity, I plod forward reluctantly.

Not ever...

There, set on a pedestal at the altar, is a table with a red drapery laid over it, the corners facing out; tassels hanging in a triangular pattern framing the golden embroidery; intricate lettering. Atop the drapery is a large black capsule with half the lid removed and the profile of a face I used to know so well peeking up from the soft padding within.

Never him...

He's motionless and breathless with his eyes sunken and his face painted grotesquely to appear alive. My dead father lies in the coffin, staring through lidded eyes, blankly gazing toward that old stonework ceiling and I'm horrified. Here again, forced to relive this pain again, to see these faces again, and to hear the stifling silence echo through the ancient church where his shell is held before a crowd – in loving memory.

What useless words...

Snarling, I step forward and reach up to the side of the box, spitting my venomous words and shaking, trembling, crying uncontrollably. Overflowing with rage, I shake the box until it nearly falls off its pedestal, sputtering and cursing. Sinking to my knees, my eyes turned upward, I let out a wail and roll into a fetal position. Looking out at the expressionless expressions, I fall silent.

Just as it was.

~^~

Waking with a start, my eyes are rimmed with tears. Vividly, dream haunts my mind and I try to force it away. Unfortunately, the images are too close and I'm forced to watch them again in my waking state, sitting on the bed in my darkened room. Recent events seem to have triggered my subconscious into reliving the experience.

The funeral was over a year ago, but still haunts my dreams on occasion. Dad dying was really expected by the time it happened, but it still hurt -a lot- and continues to make me weepy whenever I think about him. Were it not for her current emotional state, I might go knock on Amaya's door to seek consolation, but she's still in no condition to accept more pain.

Checking the clock, it's shortly after midnight, and I notice there isn't any sound of rain coming from my window. Crawling across my bed, I lean against the sill and peer out into the darkened yard, trying to see if there are still wisps of rain falling. There are puddles reflecting the moonlight, but I don't see the tell-tale rippling rings that would indicate rainfall.

Glancing back at the clock, I also come to the realization that I climbed into bed only a little past four, which means I'm not likely to be getting back to sleep tonight. In the darkness, I notice my phone is blinking, which means someone sent me a text message. Rolling off the bed, I stand and reach for the phone, flipping it open to find a series of messages from Mom.

Evidently she took Midori on a camping trip along with some of her classmates. Upon returning, Midori wanted to talk to me, but I hadn't answered -I guess I slept through the ringing- and they decided to send a whole series of messages describing the trip. Apparently Midori took a liking to fishing while they were there and sent some pictures of fish they had caught from the lake. Standing in the darkness of my room, it makes me smile reading about their little adventure with outdoor survival.

Quickly doing some math, I realize it's only four in the afternoon where they are, and I'm pressing send before I even finish thinking. Amaya would be great for some comfort after one of those nightmares, but I owe Mom a call anyway. Lifting the phone to my ear, I hear the line connect and the electronic ring starts replaying.

Ring.

Quickly grabbing my yukata off the desk and laying it on my bed, I sit down in my desk chair. Propping my elbow on my knee, I lean against my hand and sway back and forth, smiling wistfully.

Ring.

There is a clicking noise, followed by my sister's voice speaking in a foreign language -I assume it's Italian- saying some kind of greeting followed by our family name. Giggling, I answer her assumed query, “it's your sister, Midi, is mom there?”

“Aiko!” she blurts. Now she slips into Japanese, “we were just talking about you!” I hear Mom saying something unintelligible in the background, followed by a quick, “okay!” from Midori.

There are more crackling noises and a thump, followed by a loud beep. I'm not certain, but I think I'm on speaker-phone. “Hello?” I ask, hearing my own echo a second later.

Yep, speaker-phone.

Mom's voice, fast and chipper as always, starts rambling, “hello, dear! We were just talking about how you would have loved the camping trip! You haven't called in so long, how are things there? Is the weather nice? Have you made any new friends? How's Amaya?”

Having no idea which question to answer first, I start with the easy ones. “Things are good here,” I say, “it's been raining today.” I reflexively glance out the window. “That stopped at some point,” I add, “um...”

“I caught a trout!” Midori blurts, unable to contain her glee.

“I read that part... saw the picture too,” I say, smiling happily, “looked like you might get pulled off the dock by that one.”

“I'm not that little, Aiko!” she fusses, I can almost hear her folding her arms and sneering at the phone.

My mother lets out a cheerful laugh. “You don't have to answer everything at once. I'm sure you're probably tired,” she pauses, “dear, it's after midnight there. What are you doing awake?”

Bowing my head, I complain, “I haven't been having insomnia lately, but it's a long story.”

She makes a humming noise and I hear her picking up the phone. Hearing Midori balk with a grunt, my mother switches off speaker-phone. “What happened? You sound so worried,” she asks, her voice filled with concern.

Shaking my head, I suddenly don't feel like going into details. “Amaya and Tadao finally made things official last month at the Yamaku Festival,” I start, but she interrupts.

“And when were you going to tell me?” she asks, sounding offended.

“Things have been... complicated,” I say vaguely, trying to keep the mention of Hisao out of the conversation. After a brief pause, I continue, “now they're fighting, though.”

Hearing her blow out a long sigh over the phone, I imagine she's standing with a hand on her hip and looking sidelong at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, she inquires, “is it a bad fight?”

“Kinda yes, but also no... Amaya's kinda touchy about her condition, you know, and Tadao's always been up-front about it...” I trail off and remember a relatively accurate simile, “unstoppable force and the immovable object, I guess.”

“Sounds like they need to talk through it,” she says, which is information I already knew.

“Yeah, but they're too bull-headed for that... I need to lock them together somewhere so they can't escape,” I describe. Letting out a few laughs, I add, “they'll either talk it out and work through it, or they'll murder each-other.”

Her giggle is subdued, but it's heartening to hear. After meeting both of them during summer break last year, she saw them as a pseudo-couple just as I had. “So you don't seem to need advice with that. What's bugging you, really?” she inquires.

Now I clam up, leaning against my desk and sighing heavily. Mom is great at handling little personal issues like Amaya and Tadao, but when it comes to Dad's death, she tends to get philosophical and distant. That's why she moved to Rome and took the job as a culinary arts teacher; to get away from the memory of Dad. Closing the family restaurant, she moved there with Midori shortly after I went back to school from the funeral. I can't say I blame her, but it did put her half a world away and I resent that more than a little.

Gathering up some courage, I finally answer, “I had that nightmare again – the one at the church.”

“Oh...” she says, sounding despondent. “I'm sorry, dear, are you alright?” she asks, the melancholy in her voice making me frown.

“I'm alright, I guess,” I reply. After a moment's thought, I add, “with Amaya out of sorts, I didn't have a lot of options comfort-wise.”

“Oh, so I was your last resort?” she asks with a sardonic inflection.

“And Midi,” I retort. “It's good to hear both your voices, really,” I mention, being honest.

A few stilted laughs make it out of her, but then she goes quiet. “Of course...” she trails off.

“I'm sorry I brought it up, I just miss him, y'know,” I say, almost trying to cheer her up now.

“Don't worry about me, dear,” she replies, “I miss him too. Don't apologize for that.”

Hearing her mood change like that, I almost feel bad about calling; at least for mentioning Dad. Laying nothing but bad news on them after they had such a nice time seems unfair; similar to having your friends blow up at each-other after you had a really nice date and preventing you from enjoying the afterglow. Thinking about Hisao makes me reconsider saying something about him to Mom.

“You know last night was Tanabata, right?” I lead, listening for her response.

After a short pause, she replies, “yes, dear, is that where Ama-”

“This isn't about that,” I interject, “this is something... good.” Pausing, I try to think of a way to word what I'm going to say. Not wanting her to immediately assume things, I start by being vague, “I met a new friend.”

Dead silence follows, and that worries me. Expecting a jovial response, I'm somewhat perplexed by her lack of a reply. After what feels like an eternity, something dawns on her and she asks, “you met a boy?”

How did she get that out of, “I met a new friend?”  I guess moms just know...

Now it's my turn to pause and consider the possible answers. Realizing after a few seconds that I've passed the point of no return in terms of denial, I sigh and confirm, “yeah, I guess I did.”

The excited squeal she makes is due payment for the answer; worth the embarrassment. Midori yells something behind her, but my mother grunts disapprovingly and then asks, “when did you meet him? Don't tell me it was last month!”

“Actually...” I trail off, but she doesn't make any comments. “He's a recent transfer, and I've been his swimming partner for a month,” I say, quickly adding, “Tanabata was our first date.”

“Your father would have a stroke if he were here,” she says, sounding more excited than angry. The reference to my dad doesn't break her thoughts, though. “How come you haven't called? I could have offered some... advice,” she says; a lewd overtone to her last word.

“Like I said, things have been complicated,” I retort.

“Don't let things get too complicated,” she chides, “if I have to fly out there with my chef's knife to put the fear of God in him, you know I will.”

“You call your chef's knife God, now?” I ask rhetorically.

“Don't tempt me, missy, you'd never know I was coming!” she threatens. “And neither would he,” she adds, completely deadpan.

Giggling, I start shaking my head. “He's a nice boy, Mom, don't worry,” I say, then just to tempt fate I add, “though, we call him the Swooner...”

“The what?” she inquires, sounding suspicious.

“I was his tour-guide for the Yamaku Festival, and I had a bad dizzy spell... fell on him... Tadao came up with the name,” I explain, making sure to sound innocent. After she doesn't respond right away, I add, “saying he made me swoon.”

“You fell on him, eh?” she says lasciviously. “Not very lady-like, there, missy!” she says as she bursts into laughter, and I can hear Midori giggling behind her.

I brought this on myself.

Clearing her throat to push the laughing away, she inquires, “well, are you gonna tell me his real name, or should I just call him -what was it?- the Swooner?”

“Amaya does,” I say, teasing. Not wanting to draw it out too long, I quickly conclude, “but his name is Hisao. Hisao Nakai.”

There's a brief pause while I assume she's committing the name to memory. “Well, I'm glad you're finally dating,” she comments, sounding satisfied. “Any other illicit undisclosed secrets you're not telling me?” she inquires suspiciously.

Sighing, I realize I'm running short of pertinent topics. “Not much else to tell, really,” I say, sounding forlorn. As much as I might dread calling home, I feel like we should be able to hold up a longer conversation. Mom never was much for talking on the phone. “I miss you, and I thought about calling before,” I mention.

“I know, dear, but you have your things to do, and with the time difference...” she trails off, the joviality replaced with some regretful melancholy. “I was thinking I might pack up Midori and fly down there for a week or two during summer break,” she says hopefully. “Now that you mention this boy of yours, I almost feel obligated to meet him,” she adds, sounding particularly motherly, “and I'm sure Midi would love to see you – she's been asking about you every day for a few weeks; almost like she knew something was up.”

Midori and I always seemed to be on the same wavelength, but I never thought it could reach half way across the globe. “Tell her I've been thinking about her too,” I say cheerfully. “Are you sure about coming up for the break?” I ask, adding, “you don't have to.” The worried tone of my voice refuses to be suppressed.

You really, really don't have to; really.

“Oh, now I know I have to... don't want me to come meet your boyfriend, eh? We'll see about that~!” I giggle as the lilt she used to have creeps into her voice. She certainly sounds happy about the whole dating idea, but, now that she's really thinking about coming to meet him, I feel nervous. An image of my mother chasing Hisao with a knife flashes through my eyes, but I shake it away quickly.

“That's not what I meant,” I try to argue, “I'm sure you'd adore him, I just don't want you to go to the trouble.” More partial truths, but I don't expect them to work.

“Trouble?” she echoes, “Aiko, I love you, I want to see you; so does Midi. We'll figure out the specifics later, I'm sure you probably want to try and get back to sleep.”

Not really, but thanks for the concern.

Letting out a resigned sigh, I reply, “I guess so.” I choose not to mention my sleeping habits,  especially since they've actually been good until tonight. “I feel better having called,” I remark, smiling happily. ”Thanks,” I add.

“That's what moms are for~!” she says, with that cheery lilt. “Tell Amaya I said 'stop being a pain in the ass',” she says with a chuckle. “And tell Hisao... Hmm... Tell him I have eyes everywhere,” she says cryptically. Even though I realize she's just trying to make us nervous, I wonder if there might be a hint of truth in her words.

She seemed chummy with Nurse on her last visit.

“I'll try to get some sleep,” I lie, “tell Midi not to touch my stuff.”

“Alright, Kitten,” she says, using the old nickname, “keep in touch.”

“Bye Mom,” I say, and wait for her response.

“Love you, bye,” she says, and the line cuts.

Closing my phone, I set it down on my desk and look over at the clock. The big red numbers read, “12:34 am,” and I slump down onto my desk, resting my head on an outstretched arm. Having slept for around eight hours already, I'm definitely not tired. However, I am bored.

Sitting up, I look over at my laptop and wonder if my old standby time-wasting activity might be worth trying. After having the dream about Dad's funeral and talking to Mom, though, I don't think I feel like running around in ditches and fields shooting Nazis.

Today was the start of the ramp-up toward summer finals, so I could probably get some use out of a little studying, but, I don't feel particularly studious. Midnight is not the best hour for studying, anyway. Reaching up I snap on my desk lamp and turn it to face the ceiling, showering my room in its dim glow. Following that light around, I raise an eyebrow at the mess my room has become.

Yeah, no, I don't really feel like doing that, either.

Hurricane Aiko has been storming in and out of this room for months without a single attempt to clear the debris. Looking around, there are unfinished worksheets, crumpled papers, a small pile of books I laughingly refer to as 'reference' stacked in a corner, and unkempt laundry strewn about in layers against the wall and holding my closet open. Really, the only clear path is between my bed and the door, and right now my school bag and Tadao's bundle are cluttering that tiny sanctuary.

Tadao's bundle!

Of the things I've been forgetting lately, it's probably not the most pertinent, but, there's a real possibility Amaya will actually go to class tomorrow. If I'm carrying Tadao's stuff, she might think it's an act of treason. Being responsible for it, I can't just leave it here, since he'll need it tomorrow; assuming he goes to class. I need to deliver it back to him somehow without Amaya knowing, and before school tomorrow.

This is so unnecessarily complicated...

Checking my clock again seems rather futile, but I do so anyway. Perhaps I could wait until morning to head over and deliver it, or I could hand it off to Hisao when we meet for our swim, but somehow the urgency of its presence makes me feel like that would be too long to wait. Recalling Hisao mentioned he hadn't slept much last night, I wonder if he crashed the way I did; he might be awake. Last night -or was it the night before last- none of us really got any sleep, it seems. Even if he did make it through the day and is blissfully asleep, would he really be unhappy to get a late-night call from his new... girlfriend?

That's what I am now, right?

Definitions aside, Hisao and I are currently dealing with our friends' recent relationship issues, and he'll understand if I explain the situation. Thus far, he's been more than understanding; actively taking part in the ordeal. Late-night phone calls seem par for the course for this kind of inter-personal operation; and, besides, I think I want to hear his voice if nothing else.

I have things I need to tell him, too.

Picking up my phone, I hit speed-dial two and it quickly starts hammering out Hisao's number. Listening to the line connect and the following ring, I worry I might be waking him, but that thought is quashed by his quick answer.

The line clicks a few times and his steady baritone puts a smile on my face. “Hey Aiko, what are you doing up?” he inquires.

Just feeling glad I apparently didn't wake him, I blow out a sigh and answer, “already slept; kinda crashed after class.” Listening for a response, I wait a few seconds before I add, “did I wake you?”

“No, I was already kinda up,” he says, sounding a little groggy, “kinda passed out at my desk for a while and crawled into bed when I woke up. Ruined a notebook...” he trails off, laughing softly. “How's Amaya?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“Haven't seen her since before I went to see Nurse. She's... alright, I guess,” I say, not really having a good answer. “Tadao okay?” I inquire.

“He kinda locked himself in his room after lunch,” he says, sounding a little bewildered, “Kenji said he was down here for a while, but never knocked, apparently. I think Kenji scared him off.”

Sounds about right, really.

Hearing that, I can't help but giggle. Obnoxious Kenji meeting sullen Tadao would be a sight; though, I imagine they've already met. Wanting this conversation to be productive, I lead, “listen, I have a bundle of Tadao's stuff he left in class.”

“Oh,” he says with a questioning tone, “so, this isn't just a social call.”

“Fifty-fifty,” I claim. Feeling a blush cross my face I contemplate my following query carefully. “I thought we might meet up somewhere so I can hand it off for you to deliver to Tadao, and...” losing my nerve, I trail off and look toward my window. Outside, it still looks rather clear, though there's a fog rolling in across the school-yard; as though creeping around the edges of my addled mind.

“Something bothering you?” Hisao asks, sounding concerned.

My forlorn tone apparently wasn't disguised well, but silence is all the answer he gets as I consider my options. Dad's death is something I've avoided telling him, though I've never been sure why. Perhaps I just haven't had a good opportunity to tell him, or maybe I'm afraid of how he might react. Everyone else close to me knows; so my keeping it from Hisao seems silly.

The dream is still fresh in my mind, and calling home helped a little, but I still feel depressed. Somehow Hisao's presence has helped suppress the sadness, and I think he deserves to know how helpful he has been in that regard. However he might react, I think telling him will help us both feel better. Quite simply, I don't want to keep this secret from him anymore. He shouldn't feel obligated to avoid certain topics, and I should be able to talk to him about anything.

No secrets, no lies, no regrets.

“I need to tell you something,” I finally say, putting on my best serious tone. “But not over the phone,” I assert.

“Where did you have in mind?” he inquires.

Grinning at how quickly he accepts the idea, I inquire, “can you meet me out near the pool building?”

“Of course,” he replies, “right now?”

I kinda knew he would say that.

Smiling, I inform him, “bring an umbrella. You can't predict the weather.” He doesn't need to know why I actually need his umbrella quite yet, but mine doesn't have a hook on the end and I don't wanna fumble with a rope.

That ladder is a pain in the ass, sometimes.

“You know it's closed at night, right?” he asks, sounding confused.

“We're not going inside,” I reply cryptically.

A few seconds tick by as he makes a few grunting noises. “Curious,” he says, “meet by the breezeway?”

“Watch for patrols,” I say with an affirmative giggle, “they probably won't bother you, but there's no sense getting reprimanded.” Imagining Hisao darting through the school-yard evading patrols causes me to giggle for a few seconds. Recalling the destination I'm intending, I add, “and wear shoes with traction.”

Metal stairs are terrible on flat-soled shoes.

“Oh- 'kay,” he replies tentatively, “should I bring a canteen and some rations, too?”

“That shouldn't be necessary unless we stay out for breakfast,” I retort, smirking sardonically.

He balks, “are you implying something?”

“Just meet me there, it'll be fun, I promise,” I chide with a sweet lilt in my voice. Suddenly remembering the last time we met this way, I remind him, “watch out for Kenji attacks, too.”

“Oh, I'm always on the lookout for that,” he replies with a laugh.

Caught in the memory, we both laugh for a few seconds, though we try to keep it quiet so as not to alert any casual listeners. “Okay, I'll change quick and head over. See you in ten minutes or so,” I say, waiting for his affirmation.

“Ten minutes, then,” he confirms. A moment later he adds, “watch for me by the moonlight.” I smirk at the strange cadence in his voice. After a moment he continues, “I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

Perplexed by the literary-sounding reference, I inquire, “what's that from?”

“See you in ten,” he says, and the line goes dead.

Fine, be that way! I know Google-Fu!

Closing my phone, I chuckle at that fleeting thought. Reminded of the last time I called Hisao to meet up, I'm happy this conversation went so much smoother. Sitting there for a moment, a quiet smile spreads across my face. Considering my last call roused him from a sound sleep, and he thought I had been Kenji, I'm surprised he just went along with whatever I said back then.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, though.

Subtle though the changes have been, Hisao and I are able to talk easily now -much easier than his first week here, at least- and I find myself more and more intrigued by his apparently laid-back personality. In our first meetings, he was a nervous wreck -just like I was- and we could barely say two coherent words to each-other. Had it not been for some external forces -mainly Shizune- pushing us together, especially considering we're in different classrooms, we probably wouldn't have had the determination to pursue a relationship.

Mutou really was onto something in that quantum lecture.

Whatever forces conspired to bring us together, I'm grateful. Morning swims with him are usually accompanied by playful banter and small-talk; no longer plagued by nervous glances and stuttering. Even as I worried about whether we would actually be together, his mere presence -that kind smile, mostly- has brought me pleasant dreams.

Until the looming darkness from the past few days brought one back to the surface, Hisao's company has been keeping them at bay; at least that's how it seems. Now that we're basically a couple, the relief at that thought makes me feel light. That lightness, though, comes with a tinge of guilt. There are important things I need to tell him; things I've avoided mentioning or stopped myself from saying.

My worried look, as he described it, has betrayed my thoughts and indicated something I've been trying to hide. Fearing that I might break down and ruin the fun we were having, I've pushed it aside, but now it's time to come clean. If only to assuage his worry that it might be something worse, I need to tell him why I've been so evasive. Hisao will understand, or he'll at least listen.

Dad would want him to know, I think - no, I'm sure.

Sitting in my dimly lit room, thinking, my wandering gaze falls on my clock and I grin. Without hardly a question why, he agreed to meet me in the darkened school-yard at one in the morning. Whatever else I can say about him, he's certainly willing to meet me in the middle, and that's a comforting thought. Realizing I've wasted five minutes sitting here and thinking, I stand up quickly and notice I'm still wearing my uniform.

Even if it isn't raining out, I'd rather not be wearing it where I plan to bring him. Unbuttoning my blouse swiftly, I toss my it on the bed and quickly unfasten the band on my skirt. Catching it and tossing it alongside the blouse, I ponder my nylons for a moment. Deciding their removal will take too much time, I leave them on and turn toward my messy closet.

Grabbing a nice lime-green, turtle-neck sweater and some old, faded, loose-fit jeans, I carry them over to the clear spot on my floor. Standing there, I catch a look at myself in the mirror. My desk lamp casts a dim, iridescent glow over my partially naked body, leaving dark shadows along the edges of my curves. My thoughts wander and I imagine what Hisao might say -or do- if he saw me right now; in just a black bra and nylons.

Probably fall over dead, clutching his chest – or at least fake the action.

Other things he might do make me blush, and I fight the dirty thoughts aside as I pull the sweater and jeans on swiftly. Digging under my bed, I find my tennis shoes and quickly lace them on; standing and bouncing in them to get used to their fit. They remind me of when Amaya talked me into trying tennis a few months back. Much to her chagrin, I haven't worn them since I wound up collapsing over the net after a bad dizzy spell.

The metal staircase we'll have to climb, I recall, has a history of catching my hair painfully. Grabbing a hair-tie, I quickly wrap my hair in a ponytail and smile happily at the mirror. Making sure to bring my phone, keys, Tadao's bundle, and my little umbrella, I quietly -stealthily- head out of my door and creep down the hall; Amaya's cat-like ears could be quite the problem if she's awake.

Passing the common room, the tiled floor reflects the moonlight and I suddenly feel like I'm sneaking out of my uncle's summer-house to run down to the beach and chase fireflies. My tenth birthday was spent there, and the kitchen had looked similar. Playing with Midori and Dad by day, then sneaking out to chase the little bio-luminescent bugs at night; it's one of my last really good memories of Dad. The memory sticks in my head as I push through the exterior door slowly, peering around for any of the night watchmen – or fireflies.

Outside, the only lights are from the low-hanging half-moon and the dimly diffused lamps set along the sides of the concrete walkway. Seeing the coast is clear, I start walking swiftly along the path. The mist rolling up the sides of the buildings is thick, making objects appear as shadowy sentinels, but there's no rain falling so I don't bother opening the umbrella.

Usually I'm not frightened of the dark, but the swiftness of my pace and thoughts about my destination -mostly about Hisao- make my heart race. Heightened awareness results from that quickening, causing my eyes to dart around reflexively. Bushes, lamps and fences along the sides of the path almost seem to move of their own accord -as if turning to watch me walk by- though it's likely just a trick of the shadows and mist.

I'm not scared... really I'm not.

Deciding to stick to the shadows, away from the lamplight, in case there are any watchmen who could spot me -at least that's what I tell my paranoid self- I work my way along the path and soon catch sight of the breezeway. Noticing a shadowy figure pacing behind the half-wall, wielding a big umbrella, I grin and start opening my mouth to call out a greeting. Quickly stopping myself, I realize there's an opportunity for playful mischief to be had at his expense.

Mwa-ha-ha!

Ducking down to make myself less noticeable, I regret wearing such a brightly colored sweater, but he hasn't seen me, I'm sure. Creeping along the edge of the light, I quickly cross the distance and press against the building around the corner from the pacing figure. Sidling closer, I note the umbrella-wielding character is wearing a sweater-vest and running-shoes – It's definitely Hisao. A devious grin crosses my lips and I suppress a sudden giggle as I consider my options.

My first thought is to leap out, run at him like a knife-wielding, murderous banshee; screaming horribly and nearly tackling him. That idea gets quashed quickly when I realize he has a heart condition, and a scare like that could cause a panic-induced heart attack. Were that to happen, I'd be horrified and probably brought up on attempted murder charges – since I know it could happen.

“I'm innocent, he was attacking me first!” Yeah, that probably wouldn't fly...

Thinking that, I reign in my plan, deciding to be less startling and more subtle. Peeking out around the corner, I recall a more mundane prank that's less frightening, but just as much fun; something Midori used to pull on me ad nauseum.

Ye olde “guess who?” gag.

Stepping lightly, carefully avoiding loose gravel and the grass growing out of the corner of the foundation, I sidle along the half-wall and peer over it, remaining still and quiet. Hisao stands there motionless, facing away from me, completely oblivious. Leaving Tadao's bundle and my umbrella on the wet ground, I start creeping around the corner slowly.

Closer and closer, I stand up slowly as I stalk behind my target, smiling gleefully. Reaching up, I angle my hands toward his heedless head. Finally close enough, I lunge forward and lace my fingers around his eyes, leaning against him and cooing, “guess who~!” with a lascivious lilt.

He jumps a little at the surprise, lurching away from me, but I steady my grip and crush myself against him; preventing his escape. Stifling my giggles by burying my face against his back, I await his response while keeping my fingers tight around his eyes. Feeling his swift, somewhat erratic heartbeats, I worry for an instant he might be quiet for a reason, but his sudden laughing dispels those morbid thoughts.

Finally, he lifts his chin and tries to turn and catch a glimpse of me, but my fingers mercilessly wrap tighter. “Misha?” he questions.

Surprised and somewhat crestfallen by his assumption, I step back and pout, placing my hands on my hips. “Misha, really?” I ask, playfully annoyed.

He spins on his heel and grins widely. “She's the one who does that all the time!” he exclaims, busting out laughing.

Narrowing my gaze, I lean forward and point at him with mock disdain. “I got my eyes on you, Hisao,” I say, “you're mine; remember that~!” The disarming lilt in my voice is backed by genuine mirth, but my incredulous look challenges him to disagree.

“I yield,” he cries in concession, “I'm sorry, Aiko.” Pausing briefly to see my face return to a smile, he explains, “I knew it was you, I just wanted to mess with you.”

“Well just so you know, y'know?” I query playfully.

“I know,” he replies.

Narrowing my eyes suspiciously, I ask, “Do you?”

He shrugs and shakes his head, brushing the subject away with a wave of his hand before asking, “did you forget Tadao's stuff?”

Spinning on my heel, I look back at him with a devious grin, beckoning him to follow with a wave of my hand. “Left it over here,” I explain, flitting my eyebrows at him, adding cryptically, “follow me.”

He follows dutifully as I pick up Tadao's bundle and my umbrella, then continue along the wall to the far corner of the building. Slinking around the corner quickly, I spin and cross my arms in front of me holding the bundle tightly. Fixing my gaze on him as soon as he rounds the corner, he nearly bowls me over. Chuckling nervously, he fumbles with his umbrella, looking at me with a bewildered expression. After recovering enough to look at me squarely, he prompts, “What?”

Leaning forward, I whisper, “this is my secret place.” Observing his carefully nodding reaction, I take a step closer and look deeply into his eyes. “My confidence in telling you,” I explain, “is expected to be upheld to the utmost of legal proceedings.” Keeping any wistfulness out of my voice, his reaction is somewhat relaxed at first, but my steady glare makes him shrink back. “You cannot tell anyone about this place; or suffer the pain of a thousand torturous deaths,” I finish, in a deadpan tone, pushing closer with each of the last three words and making my best serious face.

Tadao's bundle is all that prevents us from standing right against each-other. Looking away for a moment, he narrows his eyes; considering his options. Returning his gaze back to mine, he grins confidently, nods and leans forward. “Very well,“ he concedes.

Smart boy.

Grinning mischievously a moment later, he adds, “I expect to be compensated for my confidence.”

Blushing, I offer a seductive smirk and he takes the hint. Leaning closer, he places a hand on my chin and meets my lips with a soft kiss. Sealing the secret with a kiss wasn't what I planned, but I gladly accept the barter he offers, adding a few pecks on his cheek for good measure. As he pulls away, I grin playfully and push Tadao's bundle into his hands. “I knew you'd understand,” I say, spinning around to lead him further down the wall. Walking swiftly, I peer over my shoulder and offer a wink.

After clumsily adjusting his grip on the bundle and closing his umbrella, he follows hastily. About half way down, I stop and turn. When he catches up I place one hand on my hip and hold the other out, sweeping it across the scene. “What do you see?” I ask, keeping my gaze centered on his eyes.

Staring at me for a moment, he offers a bewildered frown. After a few seconds he follows my hand and starts surveying the scene. Shrugging, he starts absently recounting his observations, “mist, mostly... grass, some trees in the distance. A big cement wall and-” My eyes light up as his gaze turns upward. “Is that-” he begins to ask.

“Your umbrella, sir,” I request, cutting his question off and holding out my hand. He stares at me for a moment, but complies with a smile. Handing my umbrella to him as I take his, I reach up and use the hook at the bottom of its handle to grab the metal ladder and pull it down. Rattling and clanging, the noise breaks the quiet stillness of the scene, causing Hisao to glance around with a worried look. “Nobody can hear us back here,” I inform him confidently. “Stop being such a baby,” I chide, attacking his manly pride.

Laughing off my comment, he grins at me then takes back the offered umbrella, returning mine with the same motion. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he says, looking up at the many-storied fire-escape and offering a resigned grunt. “I assume we climb up there to find your secret place?” he inquires rhetorically.

“Yep,” I answer, “you thought it would be easy?”

“I never expect easy where you're concerned,” he grunts with a resigned sigh.

“And you shouldn't,” I reply with a playful lilt. “Come on, we have a rooftop to claim – for Italy!” I exclaim as I start my ascent up the narrow metal ladder.

After climbing the ladder, the rest of the way is stairs; five long flights of stairs. The clanging metal echo is all the sound we can hear as our heavy footfalls slowly ascend the fire-escape. The rolling mist rising off the ground eventually peaks, and we climb out of the fog into a relatively clear night sky.

Looming cumulonimbus clouds buffet and creep across the horizon, hiding the stars and blocking some of the moonlight. Streaking moonbeams manage to penetrate the veil, casting a surreal blue glow that's reflected by the grand windows and anything else they touch. Like stepping into an other-worldly vortex, the air is clear and cool; fragranced by the fresh scent of recent rainfall.

After passing into the clear above the fog, Hisao winces up at me and inquires, “how did you find this... anyway?” Trailing behind me a few paces, panting quietly and veiled in shadow, his beaming smile reflects the moonlight, making him appear as a friendly specter. The ascent is probably good for him, though I think some of his labored breathing might come from having such a close, easy view of my rear.

I hope he's enjoying the view.

“Exploring,” I reply, continuing to climb, “you should try it sometime.”

Grunting, he balks, “I don't get... that luxury.” His speech is broken between labored breaths, but his face doesn't really show any sign of fatigue. “Spend all my time... studying... or hanging around with... you three.” He sounds way too winded after such a short climb – even considering his condition.

“Your problem, not mine,” I chide, “come on, just a couple more flights to go.”

“Right...” he gasps. Turning away, I smirk and shake my head.

You'll get no sympathy from me, Swooner.

Reaching the top of the metal stairs, there's a short ladder leading up onto a catwalk that runs across the top of the roof. In the center, it meets another catwalk that runs perpendicular to this one. Scaffolds and ladders extend down from the catwalk, and there's a tower built from the octagonal center of the catwalk housing aircraft warning lights. Everything is painted bright white, but appears a pale blue in the moonlight.

Walking down the catwalk toward the center, I can see a few windows lit up around the dorms and other buildings, but the school otherwise appears as a dark sentinel under the foggy veil – sleeping soundly.

Cresting the ladder behind me, Hisao grunts and leans against his thighs, breathing heavily. Shaking my head at him, I raise an eyebrow; my face a solid frown. Seeing my reaction he straightens up and takes a deep breath, blowing it out as he returns a confident smirk.

I knew he was faking.

After a moment, his eyes start wandering around the scene and I watch him intently. On my first trip up here, I came in search of solitude, and the beauty of the scene went unnoticed. Seeing his face light up as he surveys the architecture, I can relive the experience vicariously – this time with more mirth.

Wonderment streaks his face as he inspects the brightly painted trusses, beams and catwalks, and lights up even brighter when he looks down. Huge round beams cross below the catwalk, holding up the huge panes of glass below. Arranged in geometric pyramids, the upper portion of the skylight appears as a translucent bed of spikes, and through it you can see the giant pool reflecting the pale moonlight. The gentle waves cast moonlit reflections up through the beams and across our faces, bathing the scene in a serene, rippling glow.

“Quite a sight, isn't it?” I ask rhetorically, smiling at his wandering eyes.

“Yeah,” he replies absently.

Walking toward me along the catwalk, Hisao wobbles a bit as he looks down. “That's a sixty-foot drop at least,” he comments, sounding more worried than impressed.

“You wouldn't get through the glass,” I reassure him, though I'm not really certain that's true. “Don't look down if you think you're gonna fall,” I comment, “or at least hold the railing.”

“How come nobody comes up here?” he inquires.

“Didn't you see the sign?” I ask.

Dumbfounded, he raises an eyebrow and asks suspiciously, “No, why?”

“Y'know how they kinda don't want students up on the roof of the main building, but they kinda let it pass...” I trail off, turning my eyes in the direction of the main building; which appears as little more than a dark, rectangular shadow highlighted by dimly glowing lamps.

He follows my gaze and nods, affirming, “yeah.”

“Well,” I point toward the edge where we climbed up, “climbing up here is a major no-no. Nobody ever bothers checking kind of no-no. If anyone did, we might get expelled kind of no-no.”

I doubt that last one, but I want him to look... like that.

He blanches and starts rubbing his sternum again. I'm starting to find that reaction adorable more than distressing. After a few moments he smiles and rests his hands on the railing. “Well, no sense worrying if we're already here,” he says, shaking his head, “how did you even find this place?”

Turning away, I remember when I found this spot more than how. Kneeling and then sitting on the octagonal platform between the perpendicular catwalks, I bend my knees upward and wrap my arms around them, looking up at the moon wistfully. Hisao steps along the catwalk cautiously and then sits similarly in front of me. Looking into his eyes after he gets adjusted, I offer a smile, though it's somewhat stilted.

Seeing his brow furrow, I shake my head dismissively. “I found this place because I was trying to get away from everyone,” I start, “it was over a year ago. When I came back from...” Trailing off, I can already feel tears welling in my eyes, and I'm sure he sees them. In the back of my mind, I hear Dad's confident voice saying, “you can do this Aiko.”

At the time, he was coaxing me into the water as I stared at him, terrified. The tone of his voice, more than his words, got me to float out into the water wearing those silly inflatable arm bands; and now the memory is giving me the confidence to continue, “I felt angry, depressed, guilty, and wanted to get away... from everything... everyone – even my friends.” Searching Hisao eyes, I'm reminded of my father's quiet gaze; he's a lot like my dad, I decide. The thought makes me smile as I continue, “I used to come to the pool to swim -alone- and sometimes I came when I couldn't sleep.”

Now he frowns, and it pains me to see it, but he needs to know all of this; I have to tell him. Having already evaded questions about my dad, I know he's worried about why. After seeing my two best friends fighting over something so seemingly trivial, I don't want there to be fuel for any such future arguments. Besides, Dad deserves to be a happy memory; something I can share openly.

Taking a deep breath, I start relating the more recent troubles, “I get insomnia, and bad nightmares; though I'm not sure which causes which.” Seeing his nod, I add, “I had a nightmare before I called you. It was about my dad.”

Leaning toward me and sliding closer, he places a hand on my shoulder, his expression pensive; he's ready for whatever I have to tell him. “What happened?” he asks in a sympathetic tone.

Leaning forward to absorb some more of his courage, I look into those calm brown orbs and sigh deeply; taking my time. After a few moments of comfortable silence, I start by focusing on happy memories, “Dad was amazing, a great guy. He was a CPA, loved the ocean and taught me to swim when I was terrified of the water.” I smile a little, but it's brief. Knowing what I have to say next makes it harder to focus on the good memories – the ones I like to remember.

Uncertain how to proceed, I look away. Dad died over a year ago, and I've worked through it, mostly. I'm definitely not over it -nor do I expect I ever will be- but bringing it up intentionally has started to bring tears to my eyes. Hisao squeezes my shoulder and I can still feel his unwavering stare, silently offering comfort and strength. This is about telling him Dad is dead, not dwelling on how. Deciding to be vague about the exact illness, I take a deep breath and say, “then he got sick and that changed.”

Turning up to meet his eyes, I give him a pensive look while fighting back the tears. “Sick?” he asks, still breathing steadily, still listening intently, still holding me in his peaceful gaze.

“Brain disorder,” I explain, practically forcing the words and starting to lose my composure. “It started when I was around ten,” I hiccup and bite back a sniffle. The welling tears begin streaking my cheeks and he scoots closer.  As he places his hand on my cheek, I nuzzle against it; using the motion to look away so I can finish the thought, “Dad got worse over the years as the disease robbed him of everything that made him amazing; by the time I started at Yamaku, he was a shell of his former self.”

Seeing me looking so pained, his immediate reaction is to start saying, “You don't have to-”

“Yes I do,” I interject, meeting his eyes squarely, “Dad deserves to be a good memory, and I don't want any secrets between us. And I don't want you to worry.” Using his thumb to sweep my tears away, he offers a supportive smile; though it's stilted. Looking straight into his emboldening brown eyes, I force the words out, “he died last year.” Pausing to take another deep breath, I add, “it wasn't sudden, but it still hurts – every day.”

Tears continue rolling down my face, but I feel the tension easing out of my body. That was the hard part; from here it's mechanical, though just as necessary. “When I got back to Yamaku, I went looking for a place to get away from everything. I found this place by chance late one night, and used to come up here to escape... everything. I was angry at my family, my friends, and especially my dad.” Saying that makes me cringe. Recalling it so viciously feels so wrong now, but it's the truth; and this whole exercise is about honesty.

As much for myself as Hisao.

“He abandoned me,” I say flatly, letting the weight of the words settle before continuing, “I remember thinking that, even though it sounds silly. He didn't have any control over it, I know, but he promised to always be there when I needed him... and he-”

Seeing me stop, but realizing I'm not finished, Hisao's hand moves down to my chin and he leans closer, placing his forehead against mine. Remaining respectfully silent, he keeps his eyes locked on mine; lending me strength. Feeling that strength, I fight back the pain and level my shoulders, willing them to stop shaking as I continue, “Dad died while I still hated him, and I regret that every day.”

“You miss him a lot,” he says, stating the obvious.

Nodding, with tears streaking my face, I manage a little laugh as I reiterate, “Dad was amazing.”

Leaning away, he smiles wistfully and brushes my cheeks, pushing the tears away. “All dads are super-heroes,” he remarks.

“Mine really was, though,” I insist,“he was built out of thick iron plates, impervious to bullets, and flew through the air on jet-powered boots.” I smile wistfully as I describe the obvious fantasy; feeling the mirth sweep away the tears.

Hisao leans back and grins, laughing a little and raising an eyebrow questioningly. “Was his iron suit painted gold and red?” he inquires, playing along.

“How did you know?” I ask, turning a mock-shocked expression at my wistfully smiling paramour, but I don't wait for an answer. “He shot blasts of plasma from his hands and could even fly into space to protect the Earth~!” I deepen the description, waving my arms and imitating jet sounds.

“You realize you're describing Iron Man, right?” he asks playfully, laughing giddily.

Now I grin widely and look back to Hisao, offering a few laughs. He smiles and chuckles, but doesn't falter in his sympathetic gaze. When I regain control I continue, “Dad had a solution for everything, and always knew how to make me laugh – even when I was hurting; even when it was because of him.”

“I'm sorry,” Hisao offers, and I look at him confusedly. “That I'll never get to meet him, I mean,” he remarks, clearing his throat. Grinning, he adds, “I would have kept his secret identity, of course.”

“You better,” I scold, “he was very protective of his family, and a bit eccentric. That last part is probably true,” I say, laying down flat on the cat walk. After lying there for a moment, I comment, “he would have liked you.” Hearing Hisao scoff, I smirk and add, “smart, nerdy, bookish, you'd probably get his stamp of approval.”

Taking a moment to process the veiled compliment, he replies, “thanks... I think.” A moment later I hear a thud and look to see he's laying down on the catwalk with his feet by my head. “We should probably make sure not to fall asleep up here,” he comments, “could be a rude awakening.”

“I couldn't sleep right now if I tried,” I comment, causing him to sit up on his elbows and look down at me with concern. Not bothering to meet his gaze, I add, “fell asleep when I got back to the dorms and woke up eight hours later. Happens sometimes – kinda like jet-lag, I guess.”

“I get insomnia too, y'know,” he replies, and now it's my turn to sit up on my elbows with a concerned look. He squirms for a moment, but then smiles and amends his statement, “I'm on a lot of different meds for the arrhythmia... and sometimes they mess with my sleep-schedule.” He shakes his head, “admittedly, this time I crashed like you described after class, at my desk – I think I mentioned that.”

Huh... I assumed he was on some kind of medication, but nothing that drastic.

Offering a nod, I reply, “face-desk is something I try to avoid – bad for the complexion.” He laughs a bit and I grin stupidly at my girly comment. “Thanks for being awake, though,” I say sincerely, “I figured you'd just yell, call me Kenji and hang up.”

“Oh, I knew it was you calling, though,” he says, reaching into his pocket and digging out his phone. “I made sure I'd know it was you when you called,” he says, a mischievous Cheshire-cat grin spreading on his lips.

Seeing that grin, I reach for my phone and hit redial. A second later his phone starts playing a familiar [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNefNLOHVYk]song of Final Fantasy origin[/url]. Picking up in the flourish of the second verse, I start singing along with the lyrics, “I kind of liked it your way, how you shyly placed your eyes on me; did you ever know that I had mine on you?”

When the next verse starts, Hisao stares at me hopefully, but I stop following along and blush with embarrassment instead. “You're a nerd,” I say, starting to giggle.

“You're the one singing it,” he retorts. Staring at me for a few moments, and realizing his Siren won't be continuing, he shuts the phone off and stuffs it back in his pocket. “Seemed appropriate,” he adds, leaning forward and placing a hand on the railing to stand.

Pulling my legs up, I just sit there looking up at him with a wide grin. “Maybe,” I reply.

Reaching his hand down toward me, concern crosses his expression and he asks, “are you alright?”

Taking his outstretched hand, I pull myself to my feet -he does most of the work- and wrap him in a hug. “I am now,” I respond, pressing my ear against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. “Really, thank you for coming up here,” I say with a contented smile he can't see, “our date ended so poorly, but I think this makes up for it.”

“Anytime,” he says with an affirming nod.

Uncertain whether it's the moonlight, the emotion of the moment, or raging teenage hormones, I break the hug and lunge forward, catching him in a passionate lip-lock. Whatever it's for, it lasts quite a while -especially since there's nothing around to possibly disturb us- so when it breaks, I find myself panting as swift heartbeats thud against my chest. He looks similarly effected, blushing deep crimson that's obvious even in the moonlight.

“What was that for?” he asks, sounding curious.

“For being here, I think,” I say, still uncertain. After a moment, I remember a good reason and add, “I haven't been having nightmares since we met, really – until tonight. Your like a dream-catcher or something. I've wanted to thank you for that for a while.”

The happy smile I remember so well crosses his face and he wraps his hands around my waist. “Aren't dream-catchers supposed to hang in your bedroom?” he inquires playfully.

That might be kind of awkward... Oh!

My cheeks flush red as the idea rushes over me, but I quickly laugh. “Don't get any ideas, Swooner, I'm not so easily fooled,” I retort with false disdain, “or seduced.”

Releasing his grip he steps back and bows deeply with a roll of his hand. Standing with a cordial smirk and using a refined timbre, he replies, “the thought never crossed my mind, dear lady.” After a moment he holds up a hand with his index finger extended, indicating some kind of idea. “Speaking of wildly outrageous ideas,” he says, drawing a raised eyebrow from me as I wonder if it's something even more lascivious.

Dirty mind.

Patting the air with his upraised hand, he dispels that assumption and explains, “I may have come up with a way to get Tadao and Amaya talking.”

Squinting at him, I smile and nod. “This ought to be good,” I reply sarcastically. Seeing his serious look, I amend my flippancy. “What's the idea?” I ask, folding my arms and offering a pensive expression.

I'm all ears -or ear- really.

“It's stupid, though,” he replies, looking embarrassed. Seeing my curious expression, he straightens and smirks, looking at me squarely. “Talking to Emi a few weeks ago, she mentioned something about a storage shed near the track,” he glances around like he's looking for the track, but it's too dark to see. Shrugging, he looks back at me and continues, “It's secluded, and only has one exit; as well as a padlock.” Shaking his head as he talks, he adds “it's silly, but it's full of game balls, nets, exercise pads, baseball bats – y'know, sports stuff.”

Recalling the place he's referencing, I narrow my eyes and offer a cautious expression. “So you're suggesting we lure them out and lock them in a storage shed full of potential weapons?” I ask flatly, staring at him with a perplexed expression. Considering it for a second, though, the corners of my mouth turn up into a devious grin. “It's brilliant!”

His gaze goes from bewildered to curious as I internalize my thoughts. Away from the school, secluded, inescapable, and an easy enough place to trap them without resorting to violence. Bouncing up and down on my feet as I think, a plan begins to formulate. “Amaya tried getting me into tennis a few months back,” I start, staring absently at my feet, “it was a disaster, but it gives me an idea.”

Going over the particulars with Hisao, we map out a simple plan to lure both of them out there separately, then lock them inside the little shed. If everything goes according to plan, Amaya will go in first, looking for supplementary tennis equipment, while Hisao brings Tadao out for a friendly game of catch. Worse case scenario, we shove them both inside and bar the door, but if everything works out, they'll be trapped inside and have to talk eventually. It may seem cruel and unusual, but it's better than drugging them and tying them to chairs – which had been my most promising idea.

Deciding to wait a couple days before enacting our plan -to assuage suspicion- we plan to wait until Wednesday morning to set the shed up, while we would normally be swimming, and get them out there in the afternoon after classes. Hisao shakes his head and complains that it probably won't work, but I give him a supportive kiss him on the cheek before leading him back down the fire-escape as the morning light begins cresting the horizon.

At the bottom, he turns to me and smiles, still shaking his head. “This is a stupid plan,” he comments; for about the fiftieth time. “They'll see right through it,” he adds, looking forlorn.

“We have to try,” I say, starting to walk along the wall, “the effort might at least show them they should start talking.”

Hisao follows, falling in step next to me and reaching for my hand. Grasping it, he sighs and replies, “I just hope it works.” Turning a curious grin at me, he adds, “I have a plan for the weekend, but they're integral to its success.”

“A plan?” I inquire, looking at him sidelong. His reaction is subtle, but it's definitely a smile, a devious one, and it makes me curious. Unfortunately, he's also looking away evasively; he's not going to tell me, I suspect.

“Top secret,” he replies, looking around with shifty eyes. “Tadao suggested it as a possible ice-breaker prior to the cafeteria incident,” he explains, “tailored to work on your... sensibilities.”

So I preempted his chance to woo me first? Dastardly.

Grinning at the mysterious, leading statements, I try to catch his eyes so I can look into them for the truth. Ever evasive, and now dodgy, he smirks and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close. Continuing to walk along the darkened building, I give up trying to pierce his secretive veil and lean against him. “Fine, keep your secrets,” I sigh, “just don't expect me to clear my schedule at your whims.”

Not that I really have much planned.

“Oh, you'll want to keep it clear, I assure you,” he says confidently, offering a sly wink.

Really never should have called him boring. Devious, perhaps.

Walking back to the dorms, the fog is already starting to clear as the early-morning light starts raising the temperature and sends the vapors skyward. Stopping at the crossroads, we decide to meet up for our morning swim as usual, and spend some time planting the seeds for tomorrow's plans. Whatever else he has planned for the weekend, I really hope this one works – I want to see what he came up with.

Heading back into the dorm, I'm careful to keep my footfalls quiet; even going so far as to remove my shoes before walking down the hall past Amaya's room. Along the way, I pass by Yoko's room and recall something else I need to do later today. Considering all the problems that came along, I think helping Yoko get better acclimated will be the easiest one to solve.

Back in my room, I note the time; it's just about five in the morning. Turning my desk light off, I toss my tennis shoes under the desk and sit in the dim morning light, pondering the last few days. Even though things seemed so dark and broken just twelve hours ago, I find myself smiling. Amaya and Tadao just need a kick to get back on track, I've opened up to Hisao and he accepted it, Yoko is back from the hospital, and things seem to be falling back in order. One last thought haunts me, though.

Mom is coming to meet Hisao...
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Chapter 16: http://pastebin.com/iL2TvBYx