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“You can’t just...steal a motorcycle,” Sakura pleads, looking more weary than upset.
“That’s why I borrow it,” Saki replies, grinning mischievously.
Kotaro was an idiot if he thought that death was enough to keep Saki off of a motorcycle. Yes, she may have thrown away power and violence and fire for...gentler things, but the violence is the remnant of another time--the her whose idea of a good time was getting as close to dying as possible. She will never, ever stop loving the feeling of speed.
Which is why she regularly sneaks out of the mansion and steals--er--borrows a bike from one of their distant neighbors.
“Why’d you follow me, anyway? You wanna die?” Saki asks, leaning on the bike. She scratches at the tape on her neck. She’s put it on so that her head won’t fly off in the high velocity, but it’s itchy. Sakura’s eyes follow her hands, and then snap back to her face. Something about it makes Saki’s stomach itch too.
“I just wondered where you’ve been going,” Sakura says.
“So you’re nosy,” Saki says. She meant it more as an observation than an insult, but Sakura frowns. Then Sakura sighs, looking down at the bike.
“I guess you’re right...” Sakura says. “I just, er...I worry about you.”
Saki’s head snaps up. “Worry? About me? I’m your perfect and legendary leader, you know! I’m the one who should be doing all the worrying!”
Saki reaches up to pat Sakura on the head, and Sakura frowns harder.
“Well, yes,” she says. “But I still worry about you. I can’t help it. And when you sneak out like that…”
“Nothing to worry about,” Saki says, truthfully. “And don’t worry about me again, either. It makes me feel weird.”
Very weird. Sort of like the thing from Alien is going to burst from her chest, and also kind of happy, and also…
“I said I can’t help it,” Sakura says, holding back a smile. “Don’t make me worry about you, then. And don’t steal bikes!”
“Borrowing! I bring it back!” Saki protests. “Besides, aren’t you the one outside without your makeup?”
Sakura looks down, and jumps as if she’s only just now noticed. Saki grins. That egghead must’ve hurried out without thinking as soon as she saw Saki leaving.
“Ugh,” Sakura groans. “What am I going to do? I can’t walk home like this…”
“You walked all the way here,” Saki points out. “It’s early in the morning, soooo…”
“But what if that policeman is there…” Sakura looks around and chews her fingernails, a leftover habit from when she was alive. They won’t ever regrow, so you’d think she’d stop--but she still chews at where they used to be. Her big red eyes are wide and swimming with worry, a piece of one of her bangs coming loose to obscure her vision.
Saki brushes the hair back behind Sakura’s ear, and smiles. “Well, then. It looks like your fearless leader will have to drive you back home!”
“On the--oh no,” Sakura says, waving her hands in front of her. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before. Stayed far, far away from them, actually.”
“What are you afraid of, dummy? We’re already dead.” Saki throws her leg over the seat of the bike, already getting it ready to start. “Plus, you’ll be behind me, so no one will see you. Trust me, yeah?”
“I do,” Sakura says immediately. “I do, it’s just…”
Saki extends a hand to Sakura, grinning. “Afraid your pretty head will fall off?”
“A little, yeah...um, pretty?”
Saki’s expression flickers. “We’re idols, you egghead.”
Sakura approaches the motorcycle carefully, like it’s a wild animal. Saki laughs, and slaps the seat behind her.
“Is there anything to...keep you on it?” She asks once she’s on, looking around for some kind of seatbelt.
“You hold onto me,” Saki says.
“What?” Sakura squeaks, her voice very high for some reason.
“You hold onto me,” Saki repeats a little louder.
“No, I h…” Sakura shakes her head. “I...I’ve got it.”
Slowly, carefully, with slightly shaking hands, Sakura’s hands circle around her waist, across the cloth of her jacket. Despite being a zombie, a chill runs up her back all the way up to her neck. She clenches her teeth hard enough to break something so that she doesn’t actually shiver.
“Is--is this alright?” Sakura asks.
“Yeah,” Saki says, her voice a little strained. “But, er, you might want to come closer and hide your face in my back. Because of your…”
“Oh,” Sakura says, in a very small voice. Her arms wrap around Saki tighter and her face tentatively buries itself in her shoulder. Her voice comes out muffled. “L-like this?”
“Uh-huh,” Saki’s smile is smaller than usual, her hands tightening on the grips. “That’s perfect. You’re a natural, Sakura.”
“Thanks,” Sakura whispers into her back.
“Just leave it to me,” Saki says a little too loudly, finally starting the bike. “You won’t believe how great I can be.”
The zombie Saki Nikaido can’t feel her heart race anymore as she pulls the throttle, but it doesn’t matter; she pulls it too hard, enough for the bike to lift up off the ground, and then pulls it again. Riding a motorcycle like a pro is an art--that’s why you’re supposed to have a license. Of course, she never had one. She was too cool.
“Feel that?” She calls behind her, savoring the sound of the engine roaring in her ears and the feeling of the bike rumbling beneath her. As she revs the engine, Sakura holds tighter onto her in nervousness. Saki can almost feel a phantom flutter in her still heart. “You’re about to figure out what it really means to be alive!”
“Saki, I don’t th--” Sakura is cut off by her own screech as they barrel out of the driveway.
A car is a weak man’s transportation. All those seatbelts and layers of metal between you and the world--come on! You’re fighting a battle against the very rules of the world you’re living in; as a human, you weren’t meant to go this fast. You weren’t meant to feel the wind like this. As a trade, you must be perfect.
Right hand on the grip, always ready to reach your fingers forward and pull on the front brake--gently, just the right way. If you yank it, you’ll skid, and off the cliff you go. Right foot on the rear brake. Using both in perfect tandem is the only way you won’t die. Left foot on the lever, left hand on the grip, fingers on the clutch--change the gears easy, easy, like you’re just turning a dial.
The wind screeches past Saki’s ears. It whistles through her teeth, because she can’t stop smiling. It ruffles every bit of her clothes except for the bit that Sakura’s holding onto.
“The turn, the turn!” Sakura screams, all that ‘hiding’ stuff completely forgotten.
You turn with your whole body, leaning into it--not too hard, not too lightly, or you’ll die. The sharp curve is coming up, so what will you do? You’ll lean to the right, as smoothly as if the bike was an extension of your own self. And it is. If you’re Saki, it is.
She hits the turn with perfect precision, the wheel scraping against the asphalt. The speed is the key. Any old loser can ride a motorcycle slowly, but Saki...Saki is a legend. Saki is a legend, and for some reason--for some reason, she realizes, in the freedom and the frenzy of the road, she wants Sakura to watch. Sakura’s hands on her waist is the only thing that’s ever been able to distract her from the wind, she realizes. 'How about that,' she thinks, a little deliriously. 'But she should. She should watch.'
Sakura's hands on her waist seem to burn holes through her jacket. Maybe it's just from how tight she's holding on, or maybe it's from the fact that it's Sakura, Minamoto Sakura. Maybe it's that they're alone on a motorcycle at breakneck speed, and Saki wants her to understand and to know and to feel and to see and to love it like she does, to think of it like she does, and then to look back at her and love her just as much.
‘Just watch me,’ Something screams deep in her mind, something hungry and frantic. ‘See how wonderful I am. Tell me how wonderful I am. Like me. Think about me. Think it, think it, think--’
“Hahaha, how’s that, Sakura?” Saki shouts back behind her, shoving her feelings down. “It gives you a thrill, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yeah,” Sakura shouts back, grimacing extremely hard, her eyes blown completely wide. Saki laughs at her so hard she almost forgets to look at the road.
“C’mon, enjoy yourself! You’re already dead, after all!” Saki revs the engine again. “Now here comes my favorite part of this road…”
“Your favori--AHHH!”
With perfect, laser-sharp precision, Saki pulls the throttle enough to jump over the small fence separating the road from a cliff. It was a relatively small cliff, with another road below the cliff--still a huge drop for a bike to take, but it isn’t just a bike in the hands of Saki Nikaido.
That second in the air always seems to last forever. When she was alive, she savored the feeling of her life hanging in the balance--for all she knew, it could’ve been her last second alive, and she liked that. She was able to feel all her blood rushing at once, the weight of her body, the pumping of her heart.
Nowadays, in that second before the landing, all she ever thinks about is how much it feels like flying. They aren’t even that high off the ground, but the sky seems closer than Saki’s ever seen it.
She extends her hand out to try and grab the sun, and sees Sakura’s hand reaching for it beside hers.
The landing is harsh as always, sending the bike and both of them bucking as Saki fights to keep it steady and on the ground. One of Sakura’s hands is holding a death grip on Saki, and the other is keeping her head on straight.
“Did you see it?” Saki pants, the wind whistling past her ears. She doesn’t really know what she’s asking. “Did you see it?”
“That was amazing!” Sakura shouts. “That was--you’re amazing, Saki!”
Saki goes faster. Sakura shrieks as she hits the turns, but this time it seems like it’s with a little more delight--she’s still scared, definitely, but she’s sitting up straighter. She’s leaning over Saki’s shoulder to see the road, not hiding or leaning back.
“Go past the mansion, Saki,” Sakura says through clenched teeth.
“You sure?” Saki asks, another grin already starting to spread across her face.
“Yes,” Sakura says, sounding breathless. “I want to see it again. I want to feel…”
The feeling of flying. The feeling of hurtling towards an inevitable destination, the feeling of tearing through the world at unbelievable speeds, the wind whipping past you, the freedom and joy--all without the fear. All without the feeling like you could die at any moment, because they can’t. If heaven was real, surely, this would be it.
“You got it, Sakura,” Saki says, the morning sun sparkling off her eyes. “As long as you want.”
They ride into the late afternoon around the less populated areas of Saga. Saki slows down at points to point out to Sakura specific landmarks (to Saki “landmarks” are usually places where she had a fight, or fast food restaurants, or the place where the store she got her first Tamagotchi used to be), and to Sakura’s credit she eventually stops shrieking.
Finally she asked for a break, and they lay sprawled out in the thankfully deserted park. Not that Saki cared about what people saw, but dealing with all the screaming and the eventual chewing out from Kotaro would be annoying as hell.
“My ears feel weird,” Sakura says. Saki turns her head towards her, smiling.
“Yeah, they normally hurt the first couple times. But you’re a zombie, so…”
“Don’t say that so loud,” Sakura grumbles, but she doesn’t seem that upset about it. “You know, I never would’ve done that...before. I would’ve totally crashed.”
“Maybe with you driving,” Saki says, laughing. “When you’re with me, there’s no chance in hell you’ll crash!”
“I didn’t really think I would,” Sakura admits. “I just...everything’s a little scary to me. It’s like...waking up in the morning’s scary. Going out is scary. It’s just how I am.”
“That’s why you’ve got guts, Sakura,” Saki says. “‘Cause you do all that stuff anyway.”
“Thank you,” Sakura says, turning her head to smile at Saki. It makes Saki itch again, so she turns away. “No one has the kind of guts you have, though, Saki...I admire you.”
“I’m worth admiring,” Saki nods seriously, though she’s grinning way too widely and fidgeting a little. “But, you know, so are you. You’re Franchouchou’s precious Sakura, after all.”
“Pffft,” Sakura giggles. “Your precious Sakura, huh…”
“Yeah,” Saki says, then suddenly feels a lot of things very strongly. “I mean, not mine. I mean, all of ours. I mean, you’re our communal Sakura.”
Sakura suddenly starts fidgeting, too. “That’s--that’s what I meant. I didn’t think you--I mean obviously not you specifically--”
“No, yeah, for sure, I mean,” Saki splutters, “I mean you are precious to me--I mean me too--just like you’re precious to everyone--because you’re--well--”
“Yeah, mhm,” Sakura says.
Both of them stare very determinedly at the sky.
“I, uh,” Sakura awkwardly changes the subject, brushing imaginary grass off her skirt. “I wonder if we should put the bike back and get back home. I’m sure everyone’s worried…”
“Ehhh, we’ll just apologize,” Saki declares, stretching her arms. “They’re used to you and I doing weird stuff, anyways.”
“That’s not very considerate,” Sakura says.
“If you always think about other people and never think about yourself, you’ll never live,” Saki slips her hands behind her head. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”
‘Because it’s nice out, or because you’re with her?’ Saki wonders to herself.
“Yeah,” Sakura sits up, leaning back on her hands. “It’s been really nice…you know, it’s been a really long time since I hung out with someone one-on-one like this. I think it’s been since I was a kid.”
“What, you’ve never been on a date?” Saki blurts out, causing the entire park to go quiet. Even the birds seem to shut up.
“I,” Sakura shuts her mouth, closes it, opens it again. “I, I, didn’t,”
“Eh?”
“I didn’t, I, er, didn’t realize,”
“Didn’t realize what?” Saki blinks. Sakura opens and closes her mouth again. She messes with her hands, and her eyes flick around anywhere except Saki’s face. Her expression is something Saki’s never seen before.
“I d-d-didn’t realize we were on a--a date…”
Saki short circuits for half a second.
“No!” Saki shouts. “No, no, that’s--”
“I, no, it’s okay, I just, if I did I would’ve done something more--”
“No, it’s--it’s not a date!”
“Oh.” Sakura stills, and then almost immediately goes back to fidgeting. She’s smiling, but in a way Saki doesn’t like--it’s so sheepish and fake it’s almost a grimace. She almost looks scared. “O-oh. That’s--er--I don’t know why I thought that...that’s really silly of me…I mean, we’re...”
“No, it’s not like...it’s not like I’d mind--”
“P-please just forget what I said.” Sakura waves her hands in front of her face. “I didn’t mean it like--well, obviously we’re both girls and idols and zombies and--please forget it.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Saki says, shooting upright. “If you want it to be a date, it’s a date.”
They both freeze, looking at each other. If you were looking at them from an outside perspective, you’d see the reality of it hit them both at the same time--they both look horrifically flustered, Saki smiling and Sakura covering her mouth. They turn in opposite directions, apparently examining some really interesting patches of ground.
“Th-then,” Sakura says after a small period of silence. “Then it’s a date. If it’s a date if I want it to be a date then it’s a date.”
“Good, because,” Saki examines that patch of ground incredibly closely as her mouth starts to run, “I want it to be a date if you want it to be a date, and you wouldn’t believe how lucky you are to date me--”
“I--”
“The girls in the gang all lined up--”
“I already knew how lucky I was,” Sakura blurts out. “Because I got to meet you. A-and you said I wouldn’t believe how great you can be--but I already believed it. Because--because I like you, Saki!”
Saki arms shake where they’re holding her up, and she collapses back down onto the grass. All the fight goes out of her, and she covers her face with her hands. “Ahhhh, Sakura,” she groans. “You’re the worst.”
Before Sakura can reply, Saki shoots back up, and yanks her forward by the ribbon to kiss her. Saki’s never kissed anyone before, and she never really thought she would, either--and Saki, who loves feeling like she’s flying, discovers what it is to dive. Saki, who loves speed, slows down. The feeling of warmth and comfort is what drags her under, but the pressure in her heart and the pulsing in her ears is what feels like drowning.
She pulls away and bumps her forehead into Sakura’s. Sakura looks like Saki feels, both excited and dazed.
“Well,” Saki says, brushing Sakura’s hair out of her eye again. “This isn’t the first date I’d take a girl on.”
“How so?” Sakura asks gently, her gaze following Saki’s hand. “It was so nice.”
“I’d take you to Drive-In Tori, of course!”
Sakura erupts in laughter. Saki’s not sure why, exactly, but she loves the sound of it, so it’s okay.
“Next time,” Sakura says, smiling.
“Next time,” Saki agrees.
It may not have been Saki’s ideal first date, or Sakura’s. But a lot of things in their lives--or more accurately unlives--hadn’t turned out ‘ideal,’ and that turned out to be exactly what they needed. So Saki was okay with it. And Saki was more than okay with riding the motorcycle back with Sakura, and listening to her nervously giggle every time she had to wrap her arms tighter around Saki.
More strangely, no one was worried at all when they came back. Something about ‘expecting it eventually.’ Saki isn’t really sure what that meant, but she’s sure of one thing, at least: she likes Sakura, and Sakura likes her too. For now...for now, that’s good enough for her.
And a motorcycle. That and a motorcycle are good enough for her.