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Miaka is not a cry baby, no matter what her big brother says. She isn’t curled up in her bed that isn’t really her bed crying her eyes out. Any wetness around her eyes are allergies or something has gotten into them. If, and only if, she is crying she doesn’t actually know what she’s crying about. Yui hating her, Yui hurting, Yui all alone in a place that doesn’t really care about her. The pressure of saving an entire country weighing on her shoulders and whether or not she’s good enough for that responsibility. Homesickness for her mother and brother, homesickness for a life that was so simple and so carefree, homesickness for a time she will never get back. Tamahome and the fate that keeps them apart, how she is constantly torn away from him, how she is going to have to say good bye someday. She can’t even guess which of these reasons brought this crying fit on, if she is crying which she is not.
A knock resounds through Miaka’s bedroom causing her to jump out of bed in a frenzy of fear and embarrassment. She rubs her eyes vigorously and slaps her cheeks with the palms of her hands. No looking weak in front of whoever is at the door.
“Who is it?” she asks, keeping her voice cheerful.
“It’s the most beautiful woman you know!” Nuriko calls from the other side of the door. Miaka stops her search for clothes to put on, she’s already in her PJs, and walks to the door. Be cheerful, be happy, you’re okay, you are okay.
“Good evening Nuriko!” Miaka smiles wide as she pushes open the door. Nuriko is also already in her nightgown with a shawl pulled over her for the trip to Miaka’s room.
“Were you asleep?” Nuriko asks, pushing her way in without waiting for an invitation.
Miaka shakes her head, “Not yet, you just caught me before I got into bed.” She wasn’t laying in bed crying, that much is certain. Her eyes are not red and puffy, her hands are not slightly shaking.
“Well, I’m glad I did,” Nuriko smiles in her goofy fashion, equal parts silly and radiant.
“Did you need something?” Miaka asks, still putting on her best ‘I’m fine’ act. If she thinks it over and over again it will be true soon enough.
“You know, my bedroom is so big and gorgeous, much better than this dingy little room you have here,” Nuriko waves her hand over Miaka’s room, “And my bed is so much bigger and more luxurious, I’m sure I get a better night’s sleep than you do.”
“Huh?” Miaka feels irritation begin to center around her temples. How like Nuriko to stop by just to brag.
“I was in my big, beautiful room thinking to myself ‘This room is just too big for me alone, wouldn’t it be nice to have some company’ and thats when I thought of you alone in your little room,” Nuriko tells her story accented with hand motions as she paces around the apparently dingy little room.
“How kind of you,” Miaka says curtly.
“I know! Then, when I was thinking about you all alone and me all alone I had a great idea. You should come to my room!” Nuriko takes Miaka’s hands in her own. “Have a sleepover with me!”
Miaka doesn’t answer right away. She’d rather be alone right now and stew in her misery. The quiet of her room is more appealing to her than staying up talking with Nuriko into the night. She doesn’t want to be rude and she doesn’t want to tell Nuriko the truth, the truth being she just wants to cry, cry, cry all alone.
“I already ordered snacks to be sent to my room, every sleepover needs refreshments don’t you think?” Nuriko’s smile darkens a bit and Miaka knows she’s been trapped.
Food is Miaka’s weak point, well, one of her weak points. A few years ago she’d be embarrassed to eat in public. There’s the fat girl chomping down on sweets, there’s the big blob scarfing down food like she’s dying of hunger. Yui taught her not to be ashamed of herself. It doesn’t matter if the world thinks she’s fat, ugly, any of that because Yui thinks she’s cute. She used to think Miaka was cute.
“Snacks?” Miaka asks, helplessly.
“We can brush each other’s hair and have girls’ talk.” Nuriko squeezes Miaka’s hands gently.
“Should I bring anything?” Miaka gives in rather easily.
“Nope! You can just sleep in my bed, it’s so big after all,” Nuriko lets go of one of Miaka’s hands while lacing her fingers with her other hand’s fingers.
“You don’t mind?” Miaka would rather die than voice her secret desire to cling to someone. As a child she would often climb into her big brother’s bed when she was scared or upset and fall asleep in his arms.
“Not at all!” Nuriko leads Miaka out of the room and down the hall.
It feels like they’re not supposed to be up and about with how quiet the palace is. Miaka is always taken aback with how big and beautiful it is, how extravagant and decadent, how very much she doesn’t belong in it. An ordinary girl like her suddenly becoming someone important still tastes strange in her mouth when she thinks about it, like expired stale bread she was told not to eat but she ate anyway. Maybe Yui should have been the Priestess of Suzaku. Maybe they shouldn’t have read that book in the first place, even if it meant she’d never have met everyone.
While Miaka is lost in her thoughts they arrive at Nuriko’s room. Nuriko is right, her room is bigger and more luxurious than Miaka’s. Perhaps it is intended for the future queen of Konan. That would make Nuriko happy if it were true. The food is already sitting on a table waiting for them and Miaka lets of Nuriko’s hand immediately to run straight to the alluring smell of late night snacks.
Nuriko chuckles as Miaka digs in without a word, “Hungry?”
“Mmmf!” Miaka replies through a mouthful of food.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nuriko settles down on a pillow next to the food. Her descent to the floor is as graceful as all her movements and Miaka feels jealousy prick at her skin.
“Yeah, yeah.” Miaka gulps down another bite of food.
“Honestly,” Nuriko sighs, “You could learn a thing or two from me.”
“Aren’t you going to have anything?” Miaka asks, looking sheepishly at the half eaten platter of food.
“Oh, not me. It’s bad for my skin to eat this late.” Nuriko puts a hand on her cheek.
“And it’s okay for me to?” Miaka feels that familiar irritation run up her spine and land in her temples.
“Sure, you’re pretty no matter what Miaka,” Nuriko lies through her teeth. Well played, Miaka thinks taking another bite, well played.
“Let’s get to the main event.” Nuriko clasps her hands together, “Let’s talk about who we like!”
Miaka nearly spits out her food, “What?”
“It’s what you do during girls’ talk,” Nuriko says with an air of wisdom.
Miaka knows what you do during a sleepover, she’s had many with Yui. They lay in a futon together and whisper secrets that aren’t really secrets. Yui always wants to study before they go to sleep which Miaka thinks is the worst way to spend a slumber party, or any party really.
“I’ll go first,” Nuriko says without waiting for acknowledgement, “I like Emperor Hotohori. He’s beautiful, wise, elegant, beautiful, kind, compassionate, beautiful, and gorgeous.”
“I already knew that,” Miaka mumbles.
“It won’t kill you to hear it again,” Nuriko crosses her arms in a pout, “Your turn next. Tell me about the person you like.”
Miaka should say Tamahome, it’s what she wants to say, but something is stopping her. Yui’s smile, Yui’s soft hand in her own, Yui’s eyes filled with hatred.
“I don’t know,” Miaka mumbles, not looking directly at Nuriko. This isn’t what she ought to be saying or doing, this isn’t proper to dwell on things she can never have. Yet, both Tamahome and Yui seem so far out of reach in this moment. Each name tangled up with feelings and memories that weigh Miaka down.
Nuriko’s expression is even, as if she expected this answer. She says nothing, just lays her hands in her lap.
“Tamahome,” Miaka says, “And Yui. I like them both.”
“What do you like about them?” Nuriko’s voice is even as well. She neither disapproves or approves of what Miaka is saying. She is simply allowing Miaka to speak her mind.
“Tamahome is so stupid sometimes.” Miaka starts there, with Tamahome even though Yui is where it started, where it will always start. The beginning and most likely the end.
“He’s greedy, he’s annoying, he gets on my nerves, he’s brave, he’s kind, he knows exactly what to say.” Miaka lists her perceptions of Tamahome off effortlessly.
“And Yui?” Nuriko asks.
“She’s my best friend in the whole world.” Miaka does not use the past tense, that would be admitting their friendship is over, admitting they can never go back to the place they were before. “She helps me with my homework, teases me but never meanly. She’s smart and really kind even if she can be aloof sometimes, she just has a hard time expressing her feelings. I love that about her.”
“You love them,” Nuriko says, smiling, “Just like I love Emperor Hotohori.”
“Does it ever hurt?” Miaka asks, “Do you ever feel like your love is so heavy you might drop it?”
“All the time.” Nuriko’s smile does not waver, “I never let go, though. I think love is knowing when to hold on and went to let go. If you drop your love you can always piece it back together, if it’s meant to be pieced back together again.”
“Do you think everything will end up alright?” Miaka wants Nuriko’s assurance, specifically Nuriko’s. The way she’s listening intently, the way her smile is serene and firm. If Miaka had an older sister she’d want someone like Nuriko. It’s something she’s decided just now but the realization settles over her heart like a warm blanket.
“I don’t know. The only thing I know is I’ll be there with you through it all.” Nuriko takes Miaka’s hand and squeezes, “Thank you for indulging me.”
“Hotohori is lucky to have someone like you in love with him,” Miaka says, her face loosening from the somber expression it had hardened on.
“You think so?” Nuriko practically shouts, leaning close to Miaka’s face, “I knew you understood Miaka! How great of a catch I am!”
Miaka holds in a giggle. Nuriko is serious one second and then like this the next. Hotohori really is lucky, Miaka meant that. She hopes someday to attend their wedding.
“Miaka,” Nuriko flicks Miaka’s forehead gently, “Let me brush your hair.”
Miaka blink in surprise, runs a hand absentmindedly through her hair, then finally nods. It’s a staple of a sleepover afterall and Miaka secretly wants a warm hand to stroke her hair gently. Dutifully, Miaka arranges herself on a heap of pillows, comfortably facing her back to Nuriko who in turn retrieves a brush and settles down. The first few strokes of the brush are encompassed in silence, not an awkward one but a light, airy absence of sound. Being in Nuriko’s presence is slowly becoming inherently warm. She feels safe and sound when she’s with Nuriko, just like being with her big brother feels but slightly different, like how Miaka imagines being with a big sister would.
“Doing this reminds me of-” Nuriko begins but cuts herself off. Miaka can feel Nuriko’s usually steady hands shaking. The air feels suddenly grave so instead of spouting off like usual Miaka keeps her mouth shut.
“Reminds me of brushing my little sister’s hair,” Nuriko finishes, her voice strained.
“You have a little sister?” Miaka asks against her better judgement. It seems unfair to let the topic hang in the air without at least trying to engage in it.
“I did, a long time ago.” Nuriko’s voice sounds far away, like she’s in a different time, “There was an accident when we were young. A horse got out of control, a cart came crashing down the street.”
“Nuriko, I’m-”
“When I’m with you, it reminds me of being with her,” Nuriko sounds guilty, like she’s been caught taking fresh cooking off the cooling rack before they’re done. “You aren’t her, you’ll never be, but- Before she died, I was-” Nuriko flounders and Miaka focuses on the strokes of the brush through her hair.
“I wasn’t the person I am, the person I want to be. I never got to be a big sister to her, not really.”
“She’d be the luckiest little sister in the world,” Miaka says with fervor, pulling her head forward in a lapse of forgetfulness.
“Miaka, your hair,” Nuriko scolds half heartedly. Miaka leans back again meekly to let Nuriko continue her work.
“I wish you were my big sister,” Miaka voices the thought that’s been clunking around her brain, “I’d much rather have you than my stupid older brother. He’d never brush my hair like this.”
“Thank you Miaka,” Nuriko sounds uncharacteristically serious, “To me, I am already your big sister. My two little sisters, one that’s gone and one that’s here.”
Miaka doesn’t know what to say to that so stays unusually silent. The gentle stroking of the brush lulls her into a state of sleepiness.
“Nuriko,” Miaka breaks the silence with a bit of regret, “I’m glad I have you with me.” She untactfully yawns after her words with a little wince.
“Of course, us girls have to stick together,” Nuriko puts the brush down, “All done. I think we should do the sleep part of sleepover.”
Maika gives a sleepy nod and with that Nuriko gently lifts Miaka up onto her huge bed. As soon as she hits the matress she rolls herself up in the various silk blankets. Nuriko joins her in the pile of warmth. They press close to each other and Miaka is reminded of hiding in her big brother’s bed in the dead of night. Yes, Nuriko is right, Miaka is already her little sister just as Nuriko is already Miaka’s big sister.
Miaka falls asleep in Nuriko’s arms, safe from tears and worries for at least one night.