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Mukuro turns the page of her book. She and Sayaka have been sitting on her (Mukuro’s) bed in silence for the past couple hours or so. It’s peaceful. Mukuro has always liked silence. She doesn’t get a lot of it around Junko, which, and it’s a bit of a mean thing to say, makes her inclined to like it more than she would otherwise. Junko doesn’t like the quiet. She gets bored easily, so she talks a lot. It isn’t that Mukuro necessarily minds that, about her sister, it’s just that as a result, she cherishes any silences that come along. Thrives in them.
And it’s nice, sitting like this, wearing their companionable silence like a blanket, because Sayaka is comfortable in them. Perhaps because they’re in a similar position. Sayaka is always having to put up this front as a performer, constantly smiling, entertaining people. Acting cheerful and happy even when she isn’t feeling it. Mukuro tries her best to be somebody who Sayaka can let down that barrier around. And perhaps she is, because they’ve been quiet for so long; Sayaka drawing a picture with her legs sprawled across Mukuro’s lap, and Mukuro finally reading the book Rantaro recommended to her several weeks ago.
It’s a good book. A comfortable moment. Mukuro feels at ease.
Then, Sayaka hiccups. Mukuro raises her eyes from the book, quirking her eyebrows at her girlfriend, and Sayaka gives her an apologetic smile before hiccuping again. “Ah,” she intones. “Well, that’s annoy--” another hiccup, “--ing. Jeez,” she adds, looking embarrassed. “I’ve never known how to-- stop hiccuping.”
“Can’t you just make them go away?” Mukuro asks. “That’s what I do, I just focus a bit and then I stop.” Sayaka gives her a skeptical look but appears to try it, screwing up her eyebrows in what appears to be very intense concentration. After a moment, though, she hiccups again, and coughs, like the attempt was harmful, not just unsuccessful. “Okay, what about holding your breath? I know that some people do that.”
“Oh, I can hold my breath for a-- very long time,” makes sense; she’s a singer, after all, “how long should I-- do it?”
“Uhhh,” Mukuro has never gotten this far before. It seems she’s seriously underappreciated how much of a privilege it is to just be able to stop herself from hiccuping. “Until you can’t hold your breath anymore?”
Sayaka gives her a sarcastic kind of smile, but sucks in a breath regardless. They sit in silence, again, for what must be a minute before Sayaka lets out a loud exhalation, breathing slightly laboured as she sucks in breaths to try to account for the air she missed. Once she recovers, she looks up at Mukuro, smiling, and then hiccups again. “Shoot!”
Shoot, indeed. Mukuro marks her page in her book, frowning. “Okay. New plan.”
Five minutes later, as Sayaka props herself up into a handstand against the far wall of Mukuro’s room, she says, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It’s pretty common knowledge, isn’t it?” Mukuro asks, filling a cup of water in the bathroom. “That a way to stop hiccuping is by drinking water while upside down?”
“Be that as it-- may, I think the water is more likely to go-- up my nose.” Sayaka sniffles. “Hurry up with the-- water, please, my arms are getting-- tired.” Sayaka has good endurance for such things, being an idol, but it must not be as good as Mukuro’s. That’s fair. Mukuro’s endurance is fairly unmatched, being the Ultimate Soldier and all. She flicks off the light in her bathroom and walks over to Sayaka, crouching by her with the cup of water in her hand. “How are you even going to-- do this?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Mukuro mutters. She hesitates, and then says, “Uhh, open your mouth?” Sayaka gives her another skeptical look but does as instructed, hiccuping again. Mukuro pauses, but then moves the cup forward, tilting it so that the water pours into Sayaka’s mouth.
The result is immediate: Sayaka begins to cough, as the water likely goes up her nose, and her arms give out, and her legs crash forward into Mukuro, who spills the rest of the water in a panicked attempt to cushion her fall. They end up piled in a heap on the floor of Mukuro’s bedroom, the carpet soggy beneath them, limbs tangled up in each other.
There is a moment of silence, and then Sayaka starts to laugh, loud and full, and Mukuro, despite her cheeks burning with embarrassment (and a bit of guilt) can’t help joining in. It feels good laughing, and Mukuro can feel the anxiety starting to melt out of her chest from the way that Sayaka’s stomach huffs against her with it.
When their giggles subside, Sayaka says, “Well, I’m not hiccuping anymore, so that’s a plus.”
“Don’t jinx it,” groans Mukuro. “I don’t think that was because of the water trick.”
Sayaka maneuvers herself so that she’s sitting properly, her face flushed with both the fall and the laughter, and bits of wet blue hair hanging in front of her eyes, which are shining. She beams at Mukuro. “I’m gonna go ahead and say that it was. Next time I have the hiccups, I’ll call you up and have you pour water into my mouth while I’m upside down.”
“Please, don’t,” Mukuro frowns.
“I’m just kidding.” Sayaka assures. “Most likely.”
“Saya!”
“Muku,” and then they’re both grinning, looking at each other, and Mukuro leans forward, tucks herself into Sayaka’s arms, which automatically encircle her, and flutters her eyes shut. Sayaka smells fruity. Some new perfume she’s using. It’s nice. Mukuro hums contentedly into the embrace, and Sayaka’s breaths are hiccup-free.