Tomorrow's Doom A.3/C.16 - The Maudlin Zone

Chapter 15: http://pastebin.com/Tcwkuvxk
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Chapter 16 – The Maudlin Zone

The morning moves along quickly, and I meet Hisao as per normal for our swim. On my way back to the dorm, I pass Yoko's room again and decide to pay her a visit. Being so early, I'm nervous she might not be awake yet, so I knock lightly on her door and listen for a response.

After a few seconds pass without an answer, I knock again, making sure to be firm, but not too intrusive. Calling, “hey, Yoko, you up?” I fidget nervously and toy with my still-wet hair.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Just as I'm considering leaving, I hear a few shuffling footsteps followed by a muffled, “who's there?”

Smiling brightly, I call through her door, “it's Aiko,” trying to sound cheerful I lower my voice and add, “thought I'd stop by to see how you're doing.”

Hearing the doorknob rattle, I take a step back and wait tentatively as she pulls the door open a crack. “hey, it's barely seven I the morning,” she says, sounding, and looking, completely bushed. The bright red hair that usually looks so full and carefully brushed is matted to the left side of her head, and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she looks a few shades closer to living than she did Sunday morning.

“Just got back from my swim,” I say, pointing down at my bathrobe, “passed by and thought I'd check in on you – gave us a scare the other day.” Seeing her looking better actually does make me smile, but there's a corner of my mind wondering, “what was that all about, anyway?”

The fatigued expression she greeted me with shifts into a more maudlin one, and she tenses visibly. “Sorry, I'm an idiot,” she says, closing her eyes, “didn't check for interactions and, well...” she trails off, turning to look into her room. Holding the door only partially open and blocking the view, I wonder if she doesn't like people seeing her private space.

I can understand that – I don't let anyone but Amaya into my mess.

Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, I alleviate her concern, “well, whatever it was, it's good to see you looking so much better. Sorry you missed Tanabata, too.”

Turning back, she looks indifferent about the ordeal. “Didn't have any big plans anyway,” she says, sounding irritated, “guess it doesn't matter now.”

This feels strange, I realize. Having known Yoko indirectly for a while, and talked to her at the Festival, and a few times since, I've never seen her look so... depressed. Perhaps it's just fatigue or embarrassment, but the Yoko standing in the doorway talking to me now seems completely different than the one I've met elsewhere. Her tired features pulling the freckles on her cheeks downward in a maudlin scowl, she leans heavily against the door-frame and stares blankly, seemingly through me.

The brightness I usually see in those eyes has given way to a glassy, despondent look, and her shoulders are slumped as though she were carrying a backpack filled with rocks. The green nightgown she wears seems frayed in places and I'm certain I've never seen her mouth curled downward in a perpetual frown before. Maybe this is the real Yoko, I wonder. That thought makes me feel uncomfortable, but it makes me realize why Nurse asked me to befriend her – she seems to need some support.

Not wanting to sound like a mother-hen, I grin through my discomfort and pat her on the shoulder. “Don't look so depressed,” I say, meaning every word, “it's not like it's the end of the world if you miss one little event. Sea Day is coming up,” I mention, drawing a slight smile, “and we have a three-day weekend to celebrate.”

The slight smile on Yoko's face is endearing and appears genuine, though it's accompanied by those despondent eyes. My thoughts whirl a little, wondering what Hisao has planned, but I'm already in this deep.  Mentioning the upcoming, brief respite seems to have put her in a better mood, and I wonder, “do you have any plans for the weekend?”

Shuffling a little, she looks away for a moment and looks back with the smile gone. “Not really, no. Hadn't planned anything and figured I'd catch up on some sleep,” she explains.

That's pretty much what Hisao said about the Festival.

Recalling that, I decide whatever plans Hisao had, he wouldn't mind adding some company. “How about you come with us, then?” I ask, offering a genuine smile, “Hisao has something planned he won't tell me about, but I'm sure it'll be fun – he has designs on bringing Amaya and Tadao, and I'm sure the more the merrier.”

Really, I'm just spit-balling at this point. Yoko seems to be considering the idea, though, and that makes me glad. As I explain, the smile on her face returns, and her shoulders seem to lose some of that weight. “Far be it for me to presume,” I say, “but you look like you could use a little R and R, and not just some sleep.”

Not taking offense at my roundabout question, she smiles and returns a cheerful nod. “Okay, I'll think about it,” she replies, looking a little downcast, but still smiling.

“Great!” I exclaim, “I'll tell him to expect one more,” I add, deciding to be a little forceful. Something tells me it will take more convincing, but seeing her look so depressed is making this feel more important than a simple vacation.

A bewildered expression crosses her face and she starts to protest, “you don't have to-”

“Don't worry about it,” I interject, “if you don't wanna go, I won't force you.” Leaving the decision up to  her feels right; I don't want to force her if it makes her uncomfortable. Offering a hopeful expression and reaching up to give her shoulder a slight squeeze, I add,“just keep it in mind, alright? I've been meaning to talk to you more, but with the whole Hisao thing and Shizune...” Using that little war as a selling point isn't something I ever thought I would do, but it makes sense.

“How'd that turn out?” she asks, looking curious.

“A lady never tells,” I reply with shifty eyes, and lean in close to whisper, “but, I'm sure he's under my spell, now.” Her bright smile at hearing that makes me giggle a little, though I assume she thinks it's because of my evasive commentary. Like Hisao, she looks much better with a smile than a frown; though everybody does, really.

Now she starts whispering, “I heard something about Amaya and Tadao having a fight.” Her concerned look is puzzling, but I suppose I'm not the only one interested in their well-being. Actually, knowing she's worried about them makes me happy and helps solidify my decision to become friends with her.

Waving my hand to dispel her concern, I laugh a bit and shake my head. “Yeah, but it's over something stupid,” I comment, watching her reaction. Looking relieved, she smiles again. “We'll have them straightened out long before they get the chance to ruin Sea Day for us,” I add, looking at her with a genuine grin, “wouldn't want your weekend spoiled after missing Tanabata.”

Now she shakes her head, making her red locks bounce and sending the matted part shaking downward. “You really want me to go along?” she inquires.

“Yeah,” I reply quickly. “We seem to have a lot in common,” I mention, point to my deaf ear, “and we're in the same class. Besides that, I hear you're great at English and I'm dumber than a box of rocks where that's concerned, so I have some selfish reasons, too.”

She sneers at me suspiciously, “aren't Amaya and Tadao-”

“Tittering relentlessly and completely distracted twenty-four seven,” I interject placing my hands on my hips and making an annoyed face. Not having to lie my way through this is helpful; their coupling has really made trying to study with them a practice in futility.

Catching my point, she rolls her eyes and nods. “Okay, fine. Just lemme know where he's planning to take you once you wile it out of him,” she says with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Will do,” I reply, mimicking her clandestine grin. Seeing the smile on her face, I'm glad I've probably screwed up Hisao's plans. Yoko seems to be cheering up already, and I think I've made a new friend; or at least it's looking that way.

“If you need any help with the quarreling couple, lemme know,” she says, starting to slip back behind her door.

“We have a plan, but thanks,” I say, waving as I take a step back, “keep your weekend clear.”

Nodding at my last comment, she closes her door and I nod to myself, feeling like I've accomplished something good today already. Spinning and stepping lightly, I head for my room, almost starting to hum a tune, but seeing the door across from mine makes me stop suddenly. Out from her room, Amaya makes a bee-line straight for me, wearing an unreadable expression and holding up her phone.

“Fifty messages,” she says, holding the phone out to me and scowling, “he doesn't give up!”

“Tadao?” I say rhetorically, to which she nods and sneers.

“He completely filled my inbox!” she bellows, folding her arms, “with his stupid questions and bullshit!”

I should have had Hisao take away his phone, too.

Tapping her foot hard enough to break a hole through the floor, she continuously shakes her head. Her vengeful stare, accompanied by a crooked sneer, is levied on me as I flip through the messages. Trying not to smile at Tadao's colorful prose, I keep my eyes away from her so she can't see the lightness behind them. This is actually a good sign, I decide, and it will give them something else to focus on once they're stuck in a room together.

Keeping my head down as I read a few of the messages, I can feel Amaya studying my reaction with her analytical eyes. It isn't surprising this is how Tadao chose to try and communicate. Some of it is stupid and pointless, but other messages are filled with his usual literary creativity. Unfortunately, she's is too blinded by rage to read it thoughtfully.

Handing the phone back, I shrug noncommittally as I comment, “he's always like that, though.” Offering a cool smile, I add, “it means he still cares.”

“You think I don't know that!?” she screams, pointing at me furiously, “he just makes me crazy!”

Spinning on her heel she starts storming away, but stops herself mid-stride and turns back, walking right up in front of me, aiming her frustrated stare at my sympathetic eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I want to forgive him?” she says, her voice in a loud whisper, “but he's so relentless; like...” looking away, she bites her lip as she trails off looking like she's ready to start crying again.

Reacting to that, I wrap her skinny frame in a hug, pulling her head against my shoulder and rubbing her back calmly. Her shoulders shake with a few sobs, but she relaxes after a minute and pulls away, looking up at me through bleary eyes and shaking her head. “He's an idiot,” she states bluntly.

“He can be, yeah,” I agree, but then I scold, “so can you.”

Her face screws up incredulously, but then relaxes when she sees my sincere expression. “I just want him to leave me alone about it,” she says flatly, “I don't even like thinking about it, mush less talk about it.”

“Well,” I say, seeing an opportunity, “maybe I can help with that a little.” Before she can protest, I wrap my arm over her shoulder and start walking her back toward her open door. “I found my tennis shoes last night,” I say, leading her thoughts.

Raising an eyebrow confusedly, she shakes her head and sighs, “I thought you hated tennis.”

“I don't think I gave it a fair shot,” I retort, “only tried it that one afternoon and had one bad experience.” Walking us into her room, I retract my arm and start making swinging motions. “It was fun while it lasted,” I recall, editorializing for the benefit of the plan, “I only said I hated it because I was too stupid to drink enough water, and I put myself over the net.”

Her face remains a blank sheet, but there's a small smile slowly growing across her lips. “Your just trying to make me feel better,” she says suspiciously, “or you have something else planned.”

“Cross my heart,” I say, making an 'X' across my chest with an index finger, “I found the shoes this-morning and thought it might be a nice way to catch up with you – so to speak. We haven't had much time to talk since last month.” My logic seems to be working as I see her eyes start to catch up with her growing smile. “Worst case scenario, I double over and we never try tennis again,” I explain; that part is actually true. The final bit I plan to say is more gamesmanship than honesty, but it should be effective. “Either way, we get to spend an afternoon away from our paramours and you get to beat me at a game,” I finish, pointing at her closet – where I know she keeps her racket.

As Amaya's eyes follow my hand to her closet, I realize we had planned to do this tomorrow, and I feel a little apprehensive. “Well, it does sound like fun,” she admits, “but not today; how about tomorrow?”

Faking disappointment, I reply, “sure, whatever. Doesn't have to be today.” Quietly, I feel relieved she didn't jump at the idea of going today, but I try keep that off my face. Distracted as she opens her closet, I don't think she would notice, but I restrain myself anyway.

Pulling out her racket, she turns and smirks at me slyly. “I'd definitely mop the floor with you,” she says confidently. The smirk fades as she looks me over and a concerned expression crosses her face. “You're sure Hisao won't mind?” she queries. Quickly following that by admitting,“we screwed up your evening, kinda.”

Patting the air with an open palm, I shake my head. “Don't worry, we're fine,” I assure her.

“I really didn't mean for that to happen, but...” she breathes out a long sigh, looking up at me mournfully.

After the fiasco at the end of Tanabata, I can understand why she feels guilty, but considering last night's excursion, I think her worry is misplaced. “He's your friend too,” I remark, “and he's just as worried – about both of you.” Carefully avoiding the mention of Tadao's name, she still looks at me bitterly when I place her with him contextually.

Classes today should be fun.

An hour later that lofty prophecy becomes a reality. Walking into class ahead of Amaya, I see Tadao sitting much like he did yesterday morning; looking like he was washed in with the tide. Using me as a barrier, she pushes me ahead and forces me into the chair next to him while she takes my seat. Whatever illusions I had of the class not suspecting anything about their recent dissonance is disrupted by that single action.

Ito is later than usual, so it gives the class a chance to notice the seating change, and I see more than a few whispered conversations; several of them in sign. As I sit sideways in the chair, probably looking exceedingly uncomfortable, Toru and Jun instead turn their curious glances toward me. Unable to believably look away as though I hadn't noticed their questioning looks, I smile nervously.

Jun punches Toru's arm and glares at him while pointing at me. A moment later, Toru starts signing. [Are they alright?] he asks.

Seeing their concerned looks, and knowing Tadao gets along with Toru pretty well, I decide to give them some consolation. However, being in a room consisting mainly of deaf or partially-deaf students, I realize signing my response might as well be advertizing to the entire class, so, getting up, I walk over out of earshot and whisper to Jun, “they had a blowout, it's being repaired.”

His usually mirthful expression darkens and he seems to blush. Their curiosity sated, they wave me back so I can rejoin the disjointed couple. Amaya is glowering at me when I get back to my seat, so I offer her a shrug. Upon sitting down, I lean toward her and say softly, “whole class is worried, hope you know.”

Before she can respond, Ito blasts through the door, but stops suddenly before reaching his desk; apparently noticing our altered seating arrangement. Even he seems to know there's something very wrong with this picture, and I was certain he never paid any attention to things like that. Narrowing his eyes at us for a moment, he shrugs and continues to his chair.

Ito avoids looking in our direction to try and prevent some of the casual glances, but everyone seems to know there's something very wrong with Amaya and Tadao. Throughout class, there is a tension hanging in the air; one that doesn't go unnoticed by the bickering pair. Sitting in view of both, I never once see them look toward each-other or say so much as a word.

Tadao's text messages were heartfelt and plentiful, but, in person, he's rendered mute. Sitting there with his hand on his face, he keeps his eyes trained on Ito, or the clock, or anyone else that isn't Amaya. She isn't doing much better. Her line of sight toward Ito apparently includes Tadao's grim mug in its periphery, so she stares at the filing cabinet to the left of Ito's desk through most of the class.

This, I suppose, is what I always feared when they were just dodging around, using me as their confidant. Holding their secret longings away from them, I used to imagine what would happen if it didn't work out and they ended up despising each-other. My imaginings were quite similar to this, really; sitting in class, caught in a neutral void between my two best friends as each of them completely avoids looking at the other.

Those dark fantasies were rather tame, I realize. Never did it include the cloud of tension hanging over the entire class, nor Ito's distracting pacing as he attempts to pull attention away from the elephant in the room. Looking around the room at their varied expressions, there are a lot of distressed faces; including Yoko.

Catching sight of her, I realize this is her first day back and I feel doubly bad now that all the attention is focused on my other two friends. Some of those looks should be turned her way, I think; she was in the hospital for a day, and someone ought to at least fake concern for her well-being. Spotting my lingering gaze, she smiles at me from her seat on the far side of the room and I smile back.

How did I never notice nobody noticing her before?

No wonder she seems so depressed. Nobody in the class even says hello to her, or offers any recognition of her existence. That may be why she was so tentative while we ran the booth last month; like she doesn't expect anyone will want to talk to her. Looking back toward Amaya and Tadao, I realize helping Yoko actually depends on them making up; as though I didn't have enough problems.

When Ms. Miyagi enters the room for English class, she notes the rearranged seating with less concern that Ito, but she does turn a questioning glance at me. Shrugging in response, I wonder if she's recalling her ill-timed query from yesterday. Noticing the pall of anxiety, she quickly slips into making similar gestures as Ito to pull the attention away from the disputing duo.

The lunch bell rings, and most of the class clears out; the three of us stay behind along with a few stragglers. While picking at my steamed vegetables, I notice a wave coming from Yoko and decide to answer it by picking up my lunch and carrying it over to sit in Tomiya's seat while he's away. As much as I want to be supportive, I need to get away from them for a little while, and Yoko's wave seems like an invitation.

Sitting down, I ask, “I'm not bothering you, am I?”

“No,” she says, looking a little flustered, “you look like you need a break.”

Seeing her eyes wandering over to Amaya and Tadao, I glance back over my shoulder and sigh. “They're just being stubborn,” I say before grinning deviously and adding, “like I said, I have a plan.”

She actually giggles hearing that; it's the first time I've heard her laugh all morning. “You sound determined,” she states.

Smiling back at her, I nod knowingly and squint conspiratorially. “Just a bump in the road,” I say confidently. “How's by you, anyway?” I ask, changing the subject.

Picking at her garden salad, she sighs and looks away. “Tired, I guess,” she says, “Nurse kinda reamed me for being so careless, but the new meds are taking some time to adjust.”

Deciding not to hide the fact, I mention, “I saw the pharmacy on your nightstand, is that for the migraines?”

She looks hurt for a moment, realizing I'd been in her room, but seeing my concerned smile, she relaxes. “Mainly, yeah. The accident that took half my hearing also cracked my skull,” she explains.

“Aha,” I say, nodding with understanding, “I wondered about where your migraines came from.” She nods an affirmation and goes back to picking at her salad. “I just get the dizzy spells,” I remark as I start picking at my steamed vegetables.

Neither of us invest much effort into eating, instead talking about English. Her aptitude with the subject seems greater than Tadao's, but she lacks confidence in her ability. Even though she was raised in an English-speaking home, she approaches it tentatively and holds back when offering advice or pointing out corrections.

It doesn't seem like modesty, either. When pressed, she looks into the book rather than trusting herself to know the answers; even though she mumbles them repeatedly while searching the index. Whenever she starts looking up an answer, I see her start playing with her right earlobe as though she's trying to listen for the answers in her dead ear; it's somewhat comical. Having sat next to two similarly adept literary minds for a while, both of whom are rather confident in their aptitude, it's strange to see someone so flustered by something she clearly understands.

Just before the lunch bell rings, I notice a looming presence standing over me and look up to see Kenta Tomiya's ocean-blue eyes staring back. “Hey, Aiko,” he says, “playing hooky?”

Grinning at the sandy-haired boy, I groan and stand. “I suppose you want your seat back,” I say.

“Oh no, I'll be fine standing for a few minutes if you want to finish,” he remarks, pointing at my unfinished lunch sprawled across his desk. “You and Yoko, huh?” he says, grinning and folding his arms. “kind of a perfect match... well sort of,” he explains, “put you two together and you'd get stereo sound.” Taking a step back he narrows his eyes and holds his hands up, then crosses them. “You should switch places,” he advises,  “so you're not getting the sounds backwards.”

Yoko giggles and blushes at his comment, while I just raise an eyebrow and smirk at him sideways. Having known him since my first year here, I know Kenta's sense of humor runs the gambit from veiled sarcasm, to bad puns and on into wildly inappropriate territory. Right now, he seems to be teetering somewhere between inappropriate and sarcastic.

Levying his baby-like left arm toward me, he cackles at his own humor for a few moments before asking, “Yoko tells me you tried to raid her room this-morning.”

Oh, so she does talk to someone in class.

Turning a sarcastic eye at Yoko, I agree, “that's exactly what happened.”

Watching her blush and avert her eyes from Kenta, I wonder whether she just makes her nervous, or if it's something deeper. He doesn't seem to pick up on it as he grins widely, making his dimples sink deep into his cheeks. Finally, she stutters, “I-I didn't say that,” looking positively flustered.

“It was in the subtext,” Kenta implies, looking at me and winking.

The bell rings signaling the end of lunch as Kenta tosses his head back in a solid laugh. Joining his mirth, I catch a giggle fit as I go about clearing my lunch from his desk and stand. Turning to Yoko before heading back to my chair, I pat her shoulder and say, “thanks for the company – sitting with those two is like being the eye of a storm.”

As I walk away, Kenta calls after me, “stop stalking my girlfriend.”

Turning to see his sarcastic glance, I notice Yoko's eyes widening and see her blushing furiously. Kenta is too busy laughing at his innuendo to notice how uncomfortable it made her, but I have a clear view. Her mouth moves as if to speak, but nothing comes out, so she slumps back in her chair, shaking her head. Though I can't be certain, I think she's a little smitten with the sarcastic science geek.

Back in my -Amaya's- chair, I try not to stare across the room at Yoko's deepening blush, but finding another focal point is difficult until Mutou steps in stealthily. Tall and brisk, Akio Mutou hardly pays any attention to the tittering going on around the class as he sets his briefcase down on the desk and starts writing out some vocabulary words on the board.

After writing them out, he turns his thin face toward the class and clears his throat to start his lecture. Normally, I find myself zoning out when Mutou talks, but today, for some reason, I'm actually paying attention. “When a body is in motion it will tend to stay in motion,” he says flatly, “but no forward progress is ever perpetual.”

Aiming his disarming stare around the room, he takes a few steps forward as a demonstration of sorts. “If I walk forward,” he says, “I'm in motion; as you can see.” Stopping, he smiles slightly and glances around the room. “If I stop applying energy into the motion, I will stop. Exerting a force to move forward, or to prevent something from moving forward, requires energy relative to the amount of mass you're moving. Thus you cannot move a mountain with a pickup truck; at least not without a considerable mechanical advantage.”

Realizing a simile, I actually raise my hand. He nods toward me and I relate my thought, “is that like saying it takes a village to raise a child?”

Mulling it over for a moment, Mutou smiles and nods. “Somewhat, Miss- uh...”

He's not great with names.

“Kurai,” I whisper, drawing a few giggles from around the room.

He stiffens and looks around for a second, rubbing the stubble on his chin as tries to recall what he was about to say. The moment it returns to his mind, he begins talking, “except the village is a large mass exerting force on a small object, thus moving it with considerable ease.” Hearing the way he breaks it down into such emotionless language, it's no wonder he's socially awkward. Hisao looks up to him, though, and they're similar in a lot of ways; except Hisao isn't quite so bad at remembering names.

The rest of his lecture drones on largely without my paying it any heed, but the bit about exerting force to cause motion sticks with me. Along with the quantum theory he described previously, this one seems to have bearing on social situations; things I've observed over the past month. Considering that without some kind of force, the different decisions I made would never have had a chance to effect causality, I think it has more bearing on how things turned out.

Had it not been for my pushing them together, Amaya and Tadao would probably not have spent the last month as an actual couple; nor would they be fighting now. Were it not for Shizune's gamesmanship sending me in pursuit, I'm not sure I would have had the ambition to chase Hisao. Had I not been running away from Dad, giggling and burning my feet on that pier, I wouldn't have fallen in the water, blown out my ear, and ended up at Yamaku.

Granted, once those forces were applied, I then had the chance to decide which direction it would push me, but the final result of the force and the causality have resulted in my being where I am now. Moreover, they continue to affect future events. Sitting here, in the wrong chair of room 3-1, absently absorbed in my thoughts, I find myself contemplating how my existence effects things around me – and hoping it's at least positive.

When Mutou leaves, I'm still lost in thought, staring out the window. So, when Mrs. Owaku steps in to start her history lecture, I'm still a little addled. With the three-day weekend coming up, the majority of lectures are review rather than new information. History is always a review, it seems, so I tune out her gravely voice and turn my attention around the room.

The first person I notice is Naoko, sitting on her leg and rocking back and forth with a bright smile. Recalling her tutoring when I first started learning sign, I remember her being a history-buff, so she's usually on the edge of her seat during Owaku's lectures. She shows no sign of noticing my brief inspection, which is interrupted by Tadao leaning back and stretching into a yawn; blocking my view.

Noticing my look, he smirks at me and goes back to hunching over his desk. Seeming not to have gotten much sleep over the past few nights -instead spending them brooding in his room, according to Hisao- his maudlin expression could easily be mistaken for fatigue. Compared to when class first started, he isn't putting much effort into hiding from Amaya, and even glances at her apologetically a few times, but it goes unnoticed.

Amaya now has a pseudo-reason to be staring at the globe sitting atop that filing cabinet, and she's taking full advantage of the convenience. Contrary to her normal, chipper self, she leans forward similarly, her head resting on her arm, as she stares blankly toward the blue and brown ball that really only bears a moderate correlation with history class.

All that thought about force and causality leads me to wonder if I've really been a good influence on my two best friends. The animosity between them now is superficial, really, but I wonder if it could be a bigger problem if they stay together. Both being so stubborn and obtuse at times, if another similar misunderstanding comes up and there's nobody around to give them a kick or lock them in a shed, I wonder if they might end up like Joyce – separated, and eventually divorced.

With graduation coming up, I worry I won't be there to help them get along when something comes between them; something they can't work through on their own. In that case, maybe pushing them together was just dooming them to future pain. If I caused that to happen, and they end up resenting me, I don't think I could bear the guilt. Perhaps that's just the way things are, but, if that's true, I wonder why anyone bothers putting energy into changing things.

What's the point if it doesn't even matter?

Finding myself hitting such a depressing wall, I frown and sink my head down. Glancing over toward Naoko, I suddenly wish I were more interested in history, so I might be distracted. History, however leads my thoughts and I remember something Dad told me during his last week on Earth. At the time, it felt like pedantic hyperbole, but in the months after returning from his funeral, it fueled my outlook. He said, “never let them tell you life isn't worth living.”

If everything we do is meaningless, then his statement wouldn't make sense. For life to be worth living, you have to be able to exert control over its flow and alter it to align with your desires. In order to ignore people who say otherwise, you have to believe the changes you make to suit your needs are worth doing. Therefore, as long as your intentions are good, whatever you do to alter your life's course, the resulting causality must naturally be positive.

Now, I think I understand why Joyce is able to feel happy about her divorce. The way she explained it, the time she spent with her ex-husband had been mostly enjoyable, and in their parting she found her own path remains bright. Even if Amaya and Tadao end up being unable to work things out in the future, the good times they share will have been worth the trouble – I think.

If, one day, they do end up in a similar situation, I'll have to remember this little existential epiphany. Right now, the last bell of the day is ringing and all I want to do is get out of the stagnant air in this classroom. Following me closely, Amaya uses me as a barrier between her and Tadao again as we exit into the hallway. Once out into the crowd, she stays close to shield herself from prying eyes. Rumors spread quick around school, and I'm sure she knows people have been talking about their apparent separation.

Walking across campus, she's deathly silent, her shoulders held tightly against her neck as though suspended by unseen strings. However long and dreary the day had been for me, she looks doubly tense and distracted. Seeing her look so uncomfortable, I wonder how awkward Tadao must feel, standing out the way he does and being similarly scrutinized. Passing through the halls in the girls dorm, she avoids eye contact with everyone, including me, until we reach her door.

Turning her dark brown eyes up to meet mine, she lets out a frustrated sigh, “I couldn't even say one word to him all day!” Her eyes immediately shoot toward the floor, ashamed of her apparent cowardice. For my part, I put on a sympathetic smile, but I had no idea she was even making any attempt to look at Tadao, much less say anything all day.

Opening her door for her, she grabs the cuff of my blouse and leads me inside. Dropping down to sit on the floor and curling her knees up, she wraps them with her arms and leans forward, staring at her feet. Starting to rock back and forth, she looks up at me and motions for me to close the door; evidently she wants to talk.

“I had a whole speech planned, but when I saw him, I hid behind you, and then took your seat so I wouldn't have to see him,” she states.

Sitting down next to her, I start rubbing her shoulder. Deciding not to assume the nature of her planned speech, I ask, “why couldn't you go through with it?” Continuing to rock back and forth, she shakes her head and rests it on her knees, looking away; I guess she doesn't know.

That might really be the problem, though. Thinking back, Amaya has never dealt directly with difficult emotions. When she helped me deal with Dad's illness and eventual death, it was my pain she was helping alleviate. Not being prone to melancholy, now that something is bothering her so directly, she seems to lack the ability to see the problem from the outside.

Realizing that, I describe my own perspective, “it's a silly argument y'know.”

Hearing my comment, she stops rocking, turns, furrows her brow and looks at me angrily. “Silly?” she echoes questioningly. Seeing her expression darken, I wonder if she might not yet be ready to hear how stupid she's being.

Quietly contemplating for a few minutes, she looks away again and mumbles, “maybe...”

Hearing that partial admission makes me smile, but it seems like she'd rather not discuss it further. Changing the subject, I pat her shoulder and mention, “tennis tomorrow, right?” Still looking away, she nods and gives an affirmative grunt.

Leaving her to think, I head back over to my room and sit at my desk. Checking the time, I see it's about time I call Hisao to discuss today's developments. Picking up my phone, I hit redial and start humming the tune from Eyes On Me while listening to the ring before he answer, greeting me cheerily. Hearing his calming baritone does wonders for the melancholic funk spending the day in the maudlin zone left me feeling.

We talk about how class went; his day was considerably less sullen, being in a completely different classroom. He met up with Tadao on the way back to the dorms, as planned, and informs me they'll be heading out for a game of basketball after class tomorrow. Confirming that we'll meet at the shed in the morning to get the keys from Emi and get it set up to function as a proper trap, we end the conversation by arguing over who will hang up first.

Already tired, reaching the point in the day when I fell asleep yesterday, I consider lying down, but instead open my laptop to play some more Call of Duty. Our operation tomorrow afternoon will take some careful timing and I can't afford to be half asleep by that point in the day. Thinking ahead, I even dig my disused wristwatch out of my desk drawer so it will be in sight when I'm getting ready tomorrow.

Keeping my mind distracted, the game is a blur, and I spent more time getting shot and killed than accomplishing anything, but it keeps me up past eight. That's when I decide it's late enough and roll onto my bed, shoving my new yukata down to the foot of the bed as I crawl under the blankets and find my pillow. Slipping quickly into slumber, there's a smile on my face as I ponder Hisao's mysterious weekend plans.

I'm sure it will be a party of special magnificence.
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Chapter 17: http://pastebin.com/xUr2dRjq