| Fan Fiction |
by mari
There was something warm next to her that smelled wonderful, like wet stone in cold mountain river water, and cedar wood, and, wait--was that cologne? Erika’s eyes snapped abruptly open, suddenly aware that her arms were wrapped firmly around Nino, who was still fast asleep. A red sheen came to her cheeks seeing they were both naked as the day they were born.
Her mind whirled incoherently, a hand rose dramatically to her bright cheek. She jerked upward, her long dark hair slinking down her shoulder. Desperately she grasped for coherence. Shoes, clothes. Items found she dressed hurriedly, scrawled a brief note to Nino, and curtailed home with her tail between her legs.
Running away again are we? A snide voice commented acidly as her feet stumbled over stones and dirt, her heart still pounding with panicked energy.
She kept up her mad pace till at last she sank gratefully to the ground, her back pressed against the cool solid door to her home. A long deep breath later she rose shakily to her feet and reached for the cordless phone, quickly dialing Mao’s number. It came to the answering machine. Mouchiron obaka she scolded herself. Inoue Mao was a JAL flight attendant, and was often away from her apartment in Tokyo. I’ll call later.
Automatically she sank into her usual morning ritual, shower, eat breakfast with a cup of coffee, water her plants and this morning as she checked her messages the machine was filled with birthday wishes from extended family and friends, and the familiar voice of Mao rang through the kitchen. “Erichan tanjobi omedetto! Gomen ne that I couldn’t be there. I’m about to fly to Australia and I will call again when I am back. Do something fun tonight!! Jah ne!”
Erika smiled involuntarily remembering Mao’s last visit home for New Years, when she had them singing SMAP karaoke all night long. She chuckled thinking how Nino had to put up with them. And Nino—her stomach lurched unhappily and drank deeply from her coffee. Oh God what have I done, she thought miserably. I can’t face him, I can’t—what must he think of me?
As her thoughts ran on, her fingers ran mindlessly through yesterday’s mail, coming with mild interest upon a rather large envelop. Nani kore? She slid open the envelope, pulling out of a crisp letter, and a thick packet of papers. A buzz of excitement churned her stomach when she realized what this must be. She scanned the letter hurriedly certain words shining illuminating her tangled mind. You have been chosen…four month internship…in Tokyo…in three weeks…750,000yen scholarship…entrance into art society and art galleries. It was a fantastic opportunity she applied for months ago and completely forgot about thinking she would never be chosen. She would be working under a distinguished artist in ceramics and sculpture. “Ohno Satoshi.” She read his name aloud, feeling both tremendously honored and excited. She had to admit also a twinge of relief. Here was her escape a small voice chirped up. She pushed those thoughts away and stood with a decisive air and suddenly squealed loudly, dancing around the kitchen.
“Something good happened?” an amused, and slightly hoarse voice came from the stairs by the kitchen entrance.
Erika whirled around mid dance, arms half raised, and grinned a bit self consciously. “Tochan I got in. The internship with Ohno Satoshi, in Tokyo!”
A wide smile wreathed her father’s tired face, taking years from it. “That’s wonderful. Omedetto!” He wrapped her in a firm hug, and for a wistful moment Eri wanted to lean in and pretend to be a little girl again. Lay down her worries and Tochan would give her a hug and some ice cream. Tochan, she thought smiling up at him, I just slept with my best friend and possibly ruined our friendship, or gone ways I’m afraid to transverse. Instead she took his arm and drew him to the kitchen table.
“Mite(look), I made coffee. Ikodomo ne? (Aren’t I a good kid?)” she said teasingly. “What shall you do without me?” In truth she was worried. A year ago he suffered from a stroke, at a ridiculously young age though his doctor said it was due to genetic predisposition. Though mostly recovered he was still weak.
He patted her hand, guessing at her thoughts by her slightly furrowed brow. “Daijobu. I’ll be fine. You won’t be gone forever, just four months.” Still, she thought, I’ll have to ask obasan (her dead mother’s sister) to come check in on him from time to time.
Smiling with determined brightness she turned back to the letter. “Oh and mite. 750,000yen sugoi ne?(that’s great, isn’t it)”
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“Alright and then what did you do?” Mao’s voice came over the receiver, calmly amused and readily available to dispel Eri’s many fears and irrational anxieties.
“Well…and then I just sorta…ran away,” Eri said in a small voice. She slouched in the easy chair of her room, nervously twisting the cord of the old fashioned phone in one finger.
A burst of laughter. “Oh Erichan that is so you! Alright moron why’d you do that?”
Erika made a face, exclaiming testily and a touch guiltily, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s all my fault, it was completely me who came onto him. Oh god, I totally ripped off his belt and everything. I practically raped him!”
Mao laughed again, though at the moment Erika found little so amusing. “I can promise you that that is impossible. So let me get this straight. You like Ninochan. Or rather you want to knob him, and you aren’t sure how he feels about you?”
A long silence. “Yes,” she responded sullenly. She paused. “Well I’m not exactly sure.”
“Darling,” came Mao’s dry response. “Did it never occur to you that perhaps Nino would have pushed you away if he didn’t want to sleep with you?”
Erika had coiled a tight thick layer of phone cord about two fingers, then allowed it to release with a pleasurable return of feeling. “I don’t know,” she replied slowly, miserably. “He was drunk after all.”
“Even so. Now what has he done since then?”
Erika’s stomach lurched. She settled more deeply into the ancient cushions. “Called, but I didn’t answer.”
With exasperation Mao almost snapped, “You’re ignoring him? Now what does that tell you? You think he’s calling to say ‘I never want to speak to you again!’” With deep amusement she continued, “And then you rushed off to the first shinkansen (bullet train) to Tokyo.”
Erika scowled, muttering a trifle resentfully, “I didn’t rush, I applied for this internship months ago.”
“Whatever,” Mao interrupted. “You have to talk to him, even if it’s to say I’ll never see you again.”
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Erika turned Mao’s words around all night, unable to sleep for her accusations, her own accusations. Mao was right, she knew, but she couldn’t help her anxiety that somehow she was wrong. She knew but her heart did not yet believe.
The next couple of weeks flew by as quickly as she could have wished. She was exceedingly busy packing, making arrangements with her sister, talking to the art organization and with her own Shisou (craft master). She also made plans for her father’s comfort, cooking meals in advance to ease the transition. He batted away her concerns, “I have been taking care of myself for a long time before you were born!”
Nino continued to call, but without too much urgency. They often had bouts of silence when work or creative genius absorbed their attention. He wouldn’t break the silence directly unless intensely provoked.
Finally, a few days before she left for Tokyo, Erika worked up the courage to see him. Twilight had fallen but Erika knew he would be still at the high school, grading papers or painting. Her feet sounded loudly through the dark, narrow hallway, smiling a bit, as always, to be in her old high school. Nino, though also a professional painter, taught Japanese literature. Truly he was omnivorous; he absorbed every subject in high school, adored college, but decided he wished to pass on a love for knowledge rather than pursue a professional career in academia. Sometimes Erichan regretted Nino’s decision, but he seemed truly happy to spend the rest of his days here. Still Nino often encouraged his students to apply to the elite daigaku (university) as her own sister had.
A light poured through the darkness from Nino’s classroom at the far end. Eri took a deep breath, skirt swaying about her nervously shaking legs, and entered. Nino had his back to her, facing the open window, a long shadow across the floor, his back erect and straight as he looked away.
She walked forward determinedly, but shied form coming closer as he spoke.
“I suppose you were eventually going to speak to me.” She panicked a bit at that voice. Controlled, calm, dull, angry?
She felt hot tears she did not realize she was holding, stream down her face. “Kazu chan, gomen ne!” and bowed low, hair streaming before her. From her position she could only see his lower legs swivel sharply.
“Come here you baka, what are you bowing for?” His voice was gently exasperated. He walked over, pulling her up. “Crying too?” he teased, wiping away her tears with one thumb.
Erika could not meet his eyes, instead staring at a pin she had given him on his birthday last year, pinned against his open collar of his dress shirt. She noted the rolled up sleeves, and rumpled trousers. “I’m sorry for pouncing on you.”
Nino’s burst of laughter drew her startled gaze. His expression of absolute affection, that smile she adored, did much to offset the shadows beneath his eyes. “Omaeye hontoni baka. You really thought I’m upset because of that?” And then he kissed her, with a deep passion that left her in no doubt of his intentions. All that mattered were his hands pressing her against the classroom wall (when did they get there?). She titled her head back as his lips paid homage to her eyes, lips, neck. Her finger ran through that wonderful long hair of his that smelled of the beautiful things she remembered that morning. She heard his chuckle from far away.
“You really are the most oblivious woman,” his voice muffled through the voluminous drapery of her clothing. He deftly reached and found the hidden zipper to her skirt, which fell with a delightful whoosh to the ground. He glanced up at her slightly flushed face, still a touch bewildered by the turn of events: “Why do you think I spent three weeks on your birthday present for?”
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Laying on the uncomfortable floor, only her vast skirt as protection from the cold, Eri smiled down at Nino, who laid with his arms crossed behind his head. She watched as his eyes ran up her body, covered only by the fall of her silken hair, and blushed. She glanced away, still grinning foolishly. Nino chuckled at her reaction.
“Come here.” Grabbing hold of her hand, he pretended to use her hair to pull her into his arms. Her unbound hair came loose veiling their faces as he kissed her. When she pulled back his face was tender, but his expression suddenly became a frown.
“Now please explain to me what’s this about you going to Tokyo for four months?”
Erika gave a little sigh. “Well the truth is I applied for this internship about six months ago. Ohno Satoshi is a very famous artist, at least in ceramics and sculpture. Actually he’s remarkably successful for his young age, and an internship for the summer asking for two interns came out. Shisou thought it’d never hurt to apply, and if I get it it’s very good for my training and my career. I’ll be helping him work and set up gallery shows and get to meet all kinds of contacts,” she gushed. Excitement coursed through her veins remembering the details.
Nino watched her quietly, a smile blooming across his lips, that smile she loved so much. “And you never thought you’d get it which is why you forgot and consequently didn’t tell me,” he finished for her. He kissed her on the forehead like a child. “Well if you are happy, I am as well.” Then he added plaintively, “Four months is a long time!”
Erika felt her stomach drop; what she originally thought of as a great escape would be terribly lonesome. “You’ll just have to come visit me!” she said playfully.
“Leave for the big city!” he said with mock horror.
Eri laughed at his imitation of a particular village obachan (grandmother). “You’ve never been to Tokyo have you? I only went once four years ago at Maki’s Todai (Tokyo University) commencement.” She squeezed his hand. “I can hardly imagine myself there as a resident!”
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When the day for departure arrived Nino drove her to the train station, and handed her bag a bit solemnly. They were enveloped in the lovely rays of early summer sunlight, bringing a glint to Nino’s hair. She noticed an idle strand escape on his face, and reached forward to tuck it behind his ear. However, before she could do so, Nino caught her fingers in his hands, pressing them flat and kissed the soft flesh of her fingertips.
She stood, hands caught in his, gazing with equal solemnity into his dark eyes. With a sudden lurch she thought Four months is really too long. How can we possibly remain a couple?
As if reading her thoughts, Nino smiled lopsidedly and said, “I’m not going to ask for any promises or reassurances.”
Erika, unable to speak, simply nodded.
“I love you.” He spoke the words slowly, and with deliberate truthfulness. Erika’s throat tightened at the words. He continued, “but first and foremost as my best friend.” He smiled at her gently. “Whatever we were, whatever we could be, for twenty four years we have been best friends, and as your best friend I’m going to kiss you goodbye today.”
With no need for further words he swept her into his arms, where she clung to him for what seemed forever, and only a few heartbeats. When she finally drew away, Erika summoned her most winning, brilliant smile, and was rewarded with his own dazzling visage.
“Jah, ikimasu (I’m going).” She flipped him a peace sign, turned down her sunglasses, and trotted saucily down to the train station. She kept walking; refusing to see him walk away, as tears silently began to trickle down her cheeks.