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Saturday—she flies, at 7:40 PM.
Claudine had said so to Maya a week ago, and to the 99th Class group LINE last night, to various responses of well wishes and pepperings of stamps. It's not too different from what the chat had looked like for the few weeks prior, as their classmates each went to see Claudine with parting gifts, alone and together. The times between each new timestamp have been growing further and further apart as of late.
Maya had been too busy with her own preparations and goings-on to make a proper visit—or so she'd said, to Mahiru and Futaba, who had gone themselves despite sharing a similar level of busyness. But they didn't press her. Perhaps it's because they noticed how Maya's aura subdued the first time they brought it up, or they might have seen the gift that sat wrapped on Maya's desk, and the faintest layer of dust collected on it. Whatever the case, Maya was thankful they'd spared her from further excuses.
In truth, as much as she hates to admit it, she'd been putting it off. Avoiding seeing her. Not avoiding her altogether—she had messaged Claudine earlier today. And it's true that she's been busy... but not quite enough for it to be a valid excuse.
The last week, the last chance or collection of chances Maya had been given, went a bit like this:
Monday—it's because she doesn't know what to say.
Tuesday—yes, she just doesn't know what to say; maybe there's nothing that needs to be said.
Wednesday—even if there's no need, she does still want to say something, anything; she only doesn't want to say goodbye.
Thursday—maybe it's just that she can't stand the thought of her at the airport, alone; of not being the last familiar face she'll see before she takes off.
Friday—the gift finally moves from its dusty spot on her desk.
Saturday—she waits, at 6:00 PM.
Maya sits in front of the Japan Airlines check-in aisle at Haneda. She's been here for over an hour. She's not sure what she's doing. Out of some sort of silly pride or ulterior motive, she didn't message Claudine about this, so it's entirely possible she's already checked in (but not likely).
She's been considering sending a text for some 5 or 10 minutes, but it feels pointless to have come this far with the intent of surprising Claudine only to miss out on her reaction, so she silences her worry. Instead, she fiddles with the gift in her coat pocket. She'd unwrapped it so it would be easier to carry and present, but that had left it smaller, more exposed. She's been careful to keep a close eye on it, or hand, rather.
Another 10 minutes pass, too quickly and too slowly. She bites her lip as she unlocks her phone, and hesitates with her finger over the messaging app—one beat—two—she opens it and stares at the last message. Safe travels, Maya had sent, three hours ago now. She sighs and straightens her back, uncrosses her legs. Maybe it's time to give up.
Just when she's about to start drafting a text, she spots a swatch of orange in the distance. Her eyes shoot up, and sure enough, it's the familiar black and orange jersey Claudine had worn at the dorms so many times. If it's as comfortable she presumes, it's understandable that she'd wear it on such a long plane ride. And... Maya feels a slight pang in her chest, holds her breath for a second too long. It really does suit her.
Maya shuffles to her feet slowly, suppressing the foolishly wide grin she feels coming on. But try as she may, she can't deny the lightness in her step as she moves toward Claudine, who stands at a self-service kiosk with two suitcases by her side, unsuspecting. She taps Claudine's back lightly once she reaches her.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Claudine turns to look at her with mild indifference and a hint of surprise, or disdain. Then: full-blown shock, confusion, maybe happiness, anger—finally landing at an expression best described as incredulous.
"Maya?!" It's a mix of incredulous and angry, rather. Worth it.
"Saijou-san,"
"Don't Saijou-san me, Tendou Maya," Claudine huffs. Maya exhales. Oh, it's useless to try and stop the grin now. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Claudine..." Maya trails off. She clears her throat. "I wasn't able to visit you before you left. I wanted to apologize for that. And..."
"I told you it was fine! And you could have, I don't know, texted me about it. Called—we could have video called, or something. I mean, thank you for coming. I'm really glad to see you. But what if I—"
"And," she lets out a small laugh. "I wanted to surprise you."
"You—"
"Of course, I don't come empty handed," Maya interjects, again.
"Would you please—Huh?" She doesn't want to hold her up for too long with pointless banter, as much as she'd like to partake in it, as much as she already feels some sort of nostalgia for it. This back and forth between them which she had grown so used to.
At first, it had felt like Maya was on the receiving end of it. Now, she feels as though it's her who seeks it out, wonders if Claudine misses it as much as she does. They haven't spoken in much of a real capacity these past few months, and falling back into it now only serves to remind her of times past. Of her younger self, her arrogance of then and now—of Claudine's radiant beauty, then and now. And to some extent, of times even further gone by, of two budding actresses, a mere child watching another on a television screen.
With a bit of a flourish, Maya pulls a small box from her pocket and holds it out to Claudine. Still as bewildered as she is, Claudine takes it in her hands. Carefully, like it's a fragile creature she might break. She looks up at Maya wordlessly, and somewhere in her eyes, Maya finds a similar fragility reflected. Though it certainly pales in comparison to her own.
The box opens halfway to the silhouette of a small bird, the silver pendant affixed to a silver chain, centered on a pad of black. The bird faces left, wings spread, its head tilted up to the sky.
"It's... a necklace?" Claudine looks up at her finally, her expression now the faintest amount of pained.
"Yes. I thought... I considered a ring, to tell the truth. But I felt that might become a hassle to wear to practice. If it's a necklace, you don't have to wear it. You can hang it somewhere else, not on you, but still around, to remember me by."
Claudine closes the box just as carefully as she opened it. She keeps her gaze lowered, examining the box in her hands, still. A silence overtakes them.
Maya presses her lips into a thin smile. "You could consider it as, a small part of the soul we bet on, or something like that. A reminder that you haven't won just yet, perhaps."
"Maya..." Claudine's voice comes out hoarse, and Maya's gaze softens with worry as she realizes the reason.
"Claudine...?"
All too quickly, Claudine jumps on Maya, wraps her arms around her waist and buries her face into her shoulder. Maya startles and catches her balance, and then awkwardly places her arms on her back, pulling her closer with a force that's barely there. Not too far, or she could slip away. Not too close, or she might never let go.
"You," Claudine sobs, "really are such a vexing woman." The sun has begun to set, Maya notices, as it envelops the two of them in a soft glow.
"You may be right."
She feels her own throat choke up then, hears her heart pound in her ears, swallows, commiting the feeling and the image to memory. Her eyes sting as she passes her hand through a lock of Claudine's hair, illuminated by the dying light, each strand shining lustrously as if it were made of pure gold.
Thanks for coming~✨ I knew you couldn't let me leave without seeing me one last time.
Next time you'll be the one who's caught off guard! ⚔️
See you, Tendo Maya.
❤️🔥
Maya's hand falls to her side, thumb shutting off her phone screen, dropping her deeper into the darkness of the evening. Her eyes adjust slowly to what's in front of her—above, even slower. And when she looks at it for long enough, pushing through the obscuring artificial light, the sky reveals clouds of distant stars.
The stars are dancing, Maya thinks, watching them twinkle by the light of the moon. An eternal dance, oblivious to a beginning or an end. Spinning and twirling—in place, in tandem—together, and apart.