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They’re already in bed, ready to go to sleep, when Maki’s voice streams through the darkness.
“We should probably get married at some point.”
Usually this conversation goes the other way around. Usually, this conversation goes the other way around in Yuuta’s head. Always, to be entirely accurate. He’s somehow been pretty good about keeping his mouth shut about the idea, despite how many times he’s imagined referring to Maki as more than just his partner.
(He seldom uses ‘girlfriend’ anymore. Set aside the fact that there’s few people in his life who haven’t been introduced to Maki for her to be referred to as such – or the more likely case, which is that they’ve known Maki far before he did – Yuuta doesn’t think ‘girlfriend’ quite captures the gravity of how long he intends to be with her. Fiancée leaves a sweeter taste on his tongue, though.)
So, usually, this conversation goes in a completely different direction. For one: Maki doesn’t start it.
“Tax deduction, health insurance benefits,” Maki continues automatically. “Next of kin for hospital visitation rights, stuff like that.”
Yuuta opens his mouth to protest then quickly catches himself. She’s right. Megumi would be her next closest blood relative, and there’s no saying he’d be in the surrounding vicinity if anything were to happen. It feels almost mawkish to object to the topic of an entirely possible risk.
“And other reasons,” Yuuta decides to say instead, smiling at the ceiling.
“Probably,” she says. “What did you have in mind?”
“Less pragmatic.”
“Give me an example.”
Yuuta rolls over to his side so he can face Maki. His eyes have adjusted to the dim light a little better, and can make out the finer details of her face. She has her hands balled together by her head and is looking at Yuuta with eyes that clearly have no intentions of resting any time soon. It’s funny to imagine Maki, of all people, lying awake in bed and thinking about marriage.
“Love,” he says. “A bit of a stretch, I know.”
Maki rolls her eyes and slides down one of her fists to meet Yuuta’s under the sheets. Spreading her hand, she steers him to do the same, and with each of their five fingers pressed against one another she lifts them from underneath the covers.
“You need a ring and some papers to prove that?” she asks, watching their hands as they interlock and drop back onto the mattress with a soft thud.
“It’s never a need,” Yuuta says, her fingers pliant in his hold. “I’m just saying, it’s typically a factor that's considered in the case of matrimony.”
Maki shrugs. “We won’t have any problems, then.”
There haven’t been many missions for either of them to be assigned to lately. It seems as though cursed spirits aren’t fond of revealing themselves during the month of April. Maybe they have hay fever.
Maki huffs a laugh at that. “A threat greater than Gojo; pollen.”
“That sounds about right,” Yuuta says, and they both grin like children who were sent to sit time–out together. “Coin toss for which one you’d rather be put in a room with, huh.”
“Sure, if both sides of the coin were identical.”
“For—?”
“Pollen.”
Yuuta laughs and tilts his head as he scans the beers in the cooler, tapping his finger where his hand is latched onto the nose of the shopping cart. This is the first time in a while they’ve gone out together, so they take their time with it; Maki navigates through the grocery store and Yuuta drops things into the cart. It’s nothing thrilling, but being sanctioned monotony is a gift in its own right – neither of them are stupid enough to take it for granted. Maki was the one to suggest buying some refreshments for a night in.
“Damn.” Yuuta leans in to check the price tag below the six pack. His mouth twists upon reading it. “Really, how long has it been since we came here? When did this cost so much?” It’s his favourite brand.
“I usually just eat out after missions,” Maki shrugs; her tone notes indifference.
Yuuta frowns at that. “Me too, actually.”
“How much is it? Which one are you talking about anywa—oh, gross, Yuuta, that one tastes awful.”
“It’s—“ he calculates it quickly in his head. “What, two hundred and fifty yen a can? It used to be one seventy.”
“Whatever, just put it in the cart. Not like it dents your bank account, mister special-grade-chosen-one-prodigy-child-sorcerer.”
Yuuta’s hands smack down to his pockets. He knew he left something back at home. “Ah, wait, I forgot my wallet, did you—“
“Relax,” Maki says, with her own wallet already out in her hand. “Buy as many shitty beers as you want.”
By the time they’re at the checkout, Maki gets a call and – because the signal is bad inside the store – excuses herself and leaves. The woman at the register taps the card reader. There’s a line forming behind him and Maki obviously still hasn’t returned, so Yuuta punches in the pin instead.
In the ten years that Yuuta knew Maki, and the six for which they dated, she had only met his parents once.
Around when Yuuta moved in with Maki, his parents reached out to him and asked if this was true; did you move in with a girl? Is she your girlfriend? His sister, five years his junior, had told them he did, that she was. When he confirmed, they invited Yuuta to bring Maki over for dinner. It took a few seconds for Yuuta’s surprise to wear off, but he eventually let them know that he and Maki were free to visit whenever, despite that being not true.
Even during his time at Jujutsu High, their messages to him had been scarce. When he had graduated, he let them know as much and started sending them money every month to make sure that they were taken care of. It’s not that they were on bad terms, but he supposed there was little to talk about – he was their son, they were his parents, and none of them ever got to be much more than that.
Yuuta was grateful that Maki had never asked about it, if only because he wasn’t sure what he would have said. She knew bits and pieces of his childhood, and most of the events in the time frame right before he met her, but only if he was the one to bring the topic up. Every time his parents were mentioned, she suddenly fell short of questions to ask – she herself was never fond of her own family, to put it lightly, so it made sense that maybe she never needed Yuuta to elaborate to understand what he was saying – although she consistently appeared to have discreet interest in his sister.
At the dinner – it was held in the house Yuuta grew up in, he didn’t realise how long it had been since he’d last been here, and certain rooms made him roll his shoulders uncomfortably – they got along decently. They asked all the suitable questions, offered all the suitable plaudits, and smiled at all the suitable responses. Still, the table fell silent at times, and when they spoke it felt a little contrived. Maki’s face was unreadable the entire time, rigged up in a neutral expression that only slipped when Yuuta’s sister would contribute to the conversation; then, Maki’s eyes would widen fractionally, like all of her attention speared into that one sentence, no matter how trivial.
The night ended, just as it had begun, at a suitable time; a little past ten. Yuuta asked Maki if she liked them on the drive back to their apartment.
“If you do.”
“That’s not really an answer,” Yuuta said.
“It’s the only one that matters,” Maki replied, and Yuuta didn’t respond, so they stopped talking until she reminded him of something funny his sister said during dinner.
“She’s sweet.” Maki grinned. “And she looks a lot like you.”
“She looks like my mom.”
“Yeah,” Maki said. “You both do.”
The night had gone well. Years had slipped by since and they hadn't had the chance to be invited to do it again. Yuuta had to assume, at least, so he tried not to bother them about it. They were probably just busy.
It’s not that he minds if Maki sees him looking for one on his laptop, huddled in the corner of the living room and popping his head up at every minor sound, but traditionally, an engagement ring is supposed to come as a surprise. Proposals too, though Maki had arguably done a stellar job on that front.
She’s usually already a few steps ahead of Yuuta when it comes to these things. Not that Yuuta was one to shy away from initiating – had it been up to him, they’d have dated earlier, moved in together earlier, been engaged earlier, the works – it was just that Maki knew herself very well and registered that foresight since the start of their relationship. When she made a decision, it was considered on all accounts. Besides, Yuuta liked Maki’s pace. While it wasn’t brisk by any means, it never acted as a test of his commitment, so his patience never wavered.
It’s a habit Yuuta never really had to have. Growing up, Maki understood she had not been born into any station of respect, and although she was owed it, she simply practised the most effective way to earn it. In Yuuta’s case, most people, most environments, were favourable to him – if he wanted something, it was simply a matter of his own actions, his own mindset. Unrecognised potential, Gojo called it. Once you realise the importance of the decisions you make instead of the ones you follow, you’ll see the extent of it.
“What are you hiding?” Maki asks him when she walks through the front door, shucking off her bag. Her skin is speckled with dark spots that Yuuta has seen enough to instantly recognize as blood. From her posture, Yuuta knows not to worry; it’s not hers.
“Nothing,” Yuuta says, wedging his thumbnail between his teeth. He casts her a glance as she heads into the bathroom. Upon hearing the tap begin to run, Yuuta clears his throat and calls out to her. “Maki, did you want a ring?”
When Maki steps out of the bathroom, she’s already undressed, clad only in her underwear and sports bra.
“A ring? For what?”
“For the—what we talked about. A few nights ago.”
The corner of Maki’s lip quirks upwards as she leans her shoulder against the door frame and crosses her arms.
“Some proposal this is. What happened to the womaniser I thought I was dating?”
“I thought you proposed.”
“Well, I suppose I proposed the idea of it.” Maki hums thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I’ve never thought about it. Did you want another one?”
Right, Yuuta had a ring already. For Rika. He tries to find a trace of something on Maki’s expression that’s telling of her thoughts on the matter, but notices nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps she knows as well as he that it’s no more than a container for his weapons, in its current state. And he never wears it outside of combat. It stays on the chain around his neck, waiting to be used when necessary.
A ring has an established symbolism to it, Yuuta knows this. But over the years, it seems as though he knows a few too many souls that are tangible through vessels that aren’t a human figure.
“It’s not a need,” he decides.
“It’s never a need,” Maki says, and disappears back inside to clean herself up of brutality.
“If we had a wedding—like a ceremony, I mean,” Maki starts, and then pauses for a moment. Stilling, Yuuta waits for her to continue, although his chest impatiently flutters at what she has to say. “Do you think your mom would come?”
The fluttering grows feverish. He pretends to think.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Would you want to send her an invite?” Her easiness in asking releases the tension in his shoulders a little. “It’s all hypothetical.”
“I don’t know,” Yuuta says. “Maybe.”
Maki accepts this as a settled response and nods, turning back to face the television. They both look at the screen, but he’s unsure if either of them are really watching what’s on it.
“Eloping’s easier, anyway,” she says after a moment. “Gets us there faster.”
Aside from Maki, Yuuta has had sex with only one other person. Him and Maki were naturally broken up when it happened – or, rather, they never broke up, they were simply not together, which is more difficult to explain than is worth the effort, so they never told anyone about it. Everyone knew regardless. There was a weight to the both of them during this period. Yuuta had lost his best friend, Maki let go of hers; again, again.
He and Maki started informally dating a few weeks before she turned twenty. It was a good few weeks, as far as Yuuta recalls. Being that they were friends before, it removed any of the diffidence that comes with a new relationship. And they had already kissed each other once in highschool – a small peck on the lips right before Yuuta left for Africa – so it felt natural doing it again. As far as anything else went, they were very responsible; like always, Maki never rushed for the moments to come. She was patient, and Yuuta agreed.
Her twentieth birthday was the morning after they had sex for the first time. Yuuta woke up first and realised Maki’s face looked too tight and her body too stiff for that to be the case. He told her good morning, and she cracked her eyes open in admission.
“You okay?” Yuuta asked, unsure of whether or not he should reach out and touch her. Should they have held each other through the night? Was it wrong that they got dressed afterwards? That they took separate showers? That they didn’t invigorate each other or merge through tacky skin? Void of intimacy in the aftermath, it was like having sex had stolen the comfort they’ve always shared and fortified it inside of a glass casing, there to acknowledge from a distance as memorabilia.
It did not take her brief silence for Yuuta to know she had no intentions of lying. His heartbeat had quickened, however, and for a moment it felt like it might have been so loud that Maki was listening to it too.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she finally said.
“Oh,” Yuuta said, and smiled. “Neither do I. We’ll figure it out.”
“No, not that. I don’t know how to explain it.” She sat herself up. “I feel like a spectator just watching myself, and every time I want to return, I move further away. I thought it would’ve been different now, but it’s not. I don’t know what I'm doing. Am I making any sense?”
“Maybe, although I’m a little lost,” Yuuta admitted. He was omitting a bit of the whole truth – he didn’t understand what she meant at all. There was little he could think to say. “But Maki, I’m really sorry if I didn’t make you feel comfortable.”
Maki shook her head, an imperceptibly small movement. “That’s not what I’m trying to say, it’s not that specifically. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not about—last night, I would have felt that way with anybody. It’s not you, I’m not talking about that.”
This wasn’t much reassurance, though Yuuta doesn’t know if Maki meant it to be.
They stayed in bed for a while longer, shackled in their positions by the strained silence of waiting for the rest of the conversation. It didn’t come. Maki slid out of the sheets with unfamiliar mildness and dressed herself with her clothes from yesterday strewn on the floor. It took everything Yuuta had to not plead with her and apologise until Maki seemed right again, but the thought of him saying anything to make the situation worse kept him still on his side of the bed. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. She told him that she was heading home, that she needed to think, and Yuuta nodded until he heard the front door close.
It wasn’t until later that evening that Yuuta heard from her again, asking if she could come over to talk. It was far sooner than he expected to hear from her again – he couldn’t decide whether or not this was a bad thing, but settled on the case that seeing Maki never is. He exhaled an of course into the phone and waited on the couch, chewing on the hangnail of his thumb until he heard her knock on the front door.
Unlike before, there was no second attempt at trying to explain what had happened, she only wanted to talk to confirm Yuuta’s misgivings.
“It’s out of your hands, ” she concluded after a few minutes of discussion. “I’m not going to unnecessarily burden you with it.”
“When have you ever known me to intervene with your personal matters, Maki?” he asked, slightly dismayed. “I’ve never felt burdened—” He felt himself grow very still, his blood warming. Unable to help himself, he frowned. “You’ve never put anything in my hands for me to feel burdened with.”
For a while, she thought about a response to that. “The circumstances are different now. You understand better than I do that at this rate, I would have to. But I don’t want to,” she said.
Yuuta kept quiet.
“You might not think this is fair, and maybe you’re right, but I’m not being entirely selfish with this,” Maki said, looking away briefly before finding his face again. “You trust me.”
Yuuta let out a sigh that quickened into a short, exasperated chuckle. “Yes, of course, Maki, I’m not questioning that, I never have.”
“I know.”
“But it’s—” He paused, his exasperation dissolving, leaving him feeling the weight of all the bones in his body. There was nothing Yuuta could have said that would lead to a conversation that was reparative or preventative. He wasn’t backed into a corner, he was pushed into a white, seemingly endless void. All he could do, really, was speak his mind and hope the echo reached a wall. “You know, in all the ways I know you, Maki, I still feel blessed at the prospect of knowing another.”
“Well,” she said, with an air of finality. “I’d rather not unveil this one.”
“If Mai knew about us right now, she’d laugh in my face.”
Yuuta considers this, watching Maki tuck her head closer into her scarf.
“Probably,” he says, just from the few encounters he’s had with her. But just to be sure, he asks. “How come?”
“She’d say, you’re so obvious, Maki,” she says, then adds with no inflection. “And then she’d call me a dumb bitch, or something.”
That makes Yuuta chuckle. “I suppose that sounds like her.”
“Yeah, it does.”
The November cold is bearable, but the occasional wind gets chilly enough that it prickles the skin on Yuuta’s arms even under the layers he’s huddled in. Neither of them are particularly fond of the cold, for all that it brings – the bashful grey skies, the undressed trees, the increased number of curses as the country tints with a seasonal depression – but Maki looks to be unaffected by it for the moment. She crouches down and traces the letters on the tombstone slowly.
“Did she think you had a crush on me back then?” Yuuta asks. Maki nods without looking up.
“She told me to keep my expectations low. Having zero cursed energy wasn’t exactly a selling point in a world of sorcerers.”
Yuuta makes a sound of acknowledgement. “Wish I’d known. I would’ve told her as far as crushes go, it was the other way around.”
“And then she would’ve called you a dumb bitch, etcetera.”
“That’s fine,” Yuuta says. “After you, I think I could’ve handled it.”
Whenever they stop speaking, the wind occupies the space, blowing away their last conversation and sweeping in a new one.
“Even if she did make fun of you,” Maki starts. “It’d be hypocritical. She’d be jealous, she’d think it’s too normal for me.”
“What, relationships?”
“I guess. It stands out compared to all the other stuff I was thinking about. She had crushes and whatnot. I didn’t know any of them, but she had them, I know that much. She was thinking of normal stuff, so I think she’d be jealous if some part of my life was instead of hers. Without her.” Maki pulls her hand back from the tombstone. “Or maybe annoyed, or upset, maybe not jealous. I’m not sure. I don’t think she’d have brought flowers to the door, anyway.”
“She’d laugh in your face,” Yuuta parrots from before.
Maki stands up, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. Her eyes haven’t left the grave since they got here.
“Yeah. She’d laugh in my face.” For a moment, the balls of Maki’s cheeks swell up. “I agreed to your jujutsu bullshit, and now you’re off with some guy? You’re useless.”
“Not that jujutsu and relationships are mutually exclusive,” Yuuta adds.
“No, they’re not,” Maki agrees. “She knew that.”
It was like that, approximately seven months after Maki walked out of his apartment that night, that Yuuta lay in bed with someone else.
He had not seen Maki the entire time leading up to it. She had moved to Susukino, Sapporo, and only let Gojo and Megumi know. Then Panda and Inumaki, and then finally, Yuuta. That was the only correspondence they had during the one year and three months that they were not together. If the chances for a run in were low before, they were near impossible now.
This girl, some girl, was one he met at a bar, some bar, on a night, some night, during the summer. The air was warm and sticky despite the sun's absence on the walk back to her apartment and when they finally got there they were sweaty and moderately frantic and she had made a great deal of noise. In most detail he remembers the apartment, because he was so impressed with how systemized everything was. I like that all of your hair products are lined up in order of their height, Yuuta told her when he got out of the shower, you have quite a lot. A lot of what? She asked. Hair products, he said, and hair. Oh, she said, I try to take care of it, I like my hair.
It’s nice hair, he agreed out loud. Then she pulled him into a kiss and tugged him to lay flat on the bed, and the entire time Yuuta played with her hair, twirling it, pulling it, running his fingers through it. Yes, it was nice hair. Long and true black and completely straight. Fell over the smooth skin of her narrow shoulders over the slope of her small breasts; framed the smooth skin of her round face. She looked utterly fictional.
“I have a question, and I hope it’s not invasive, but I’m awfully curious for the answer,” she asked, shifting to prop her head up on her hand. She was in light pink plaid pyjamas by this point, while Yuuta was getting dressed on the edge of the bed.
“That’s fine, you can ask,” Yuuta said. “I don’t have many secrets.”
She shifted again, just to stay in the same position.
“Has tonight made you unfaithful?”
“I don’t believe so.” Yuuta paused. Had it? No. It hadn’t. Maki had made herself very clear, he wasn’t going to guilt himself over false hope. “Did it seem like it did?”
“You’re just very rigid. Then, is it that you normally close your eyes until it’s over? I wouldn’t be offended either way, it’s just the first time I’ve ever seen that happen.”
Yuuta had no doubt about it – she was very pretty, it made sense that most people probably revelled from looking at her. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said.
“Please, don’t be. I enjoyed myself all the same. Again, I’m only curious.” She went quiet, leaving the air around them thick, then continued. “Were you thinking of someone else?”
“Not really,” he said. “I don’t think I was thinking at all, to be entirely honest.”
She pursed her lips. “You don’t seem to be particularly sure about much.”
There were many things Yuuta was unsure about, she was right, so he apologised for that too. She didn’t say anything for a while and then asked if he wanted to stay the night, that it’s gotten really late, and he told her that no, sorry, he couldn’t, he has work in the morning.
There was a curse festering near the city centre, Gojo had predicted it would show up any day now and asked Yuuta to check up on it in the days leading up to when it inevitably did. And Yuuta, bound to his word, would do just that come morning.
“I changed my mind.”
Yuuta wipes away whatever wet texture is on his face and blinks away his blurry vision. Beside Maki, the curse starts to sizzle away.
Finally.
“About what,” he coughs, making a futile attempt of dusting off his trousers as he pushes himself off the concrete and stretches his legs.
Maki doesn’t bother with the recovery. She stays on the ground, spreadeagle, her chest rising and sinking deeply. “About what Mai would do if she found out we were engaged.”
“Yeah?” Yuuta asks, extending his hand. She takes it and they both grunt on her way up. “And what’s that?”
“She’d laugh in your face, and—” Maki huffs, either as a laugh or an attempt to regulate her breathing. Yuuta see’s her grip tighten around her blade. “And she’d wish you good luck.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Maki’s eyes widened fractionally, as though they were easing back into focus. She had been looking at Yuuta anyway, running her blunt nails up and down his bare back delicately, occasionally reaching his nape and handling his hair there. It was a little longer than Maki had last seen it, overgrowing his last haircut, but not quite enough to cover the fresh marks blooming down his neck.
“Sure,” she said, quietly.
He had never heard her like this before, so loose that her words almost sunk into the pillow with the rest of her head. He figured if his question disrupted the peace, it would have been bound to do so eventually.
“What changed your mind?”
“About what?”
“About coming back.”
With the unaltered tempo of her hand, Maki’s eyebrows twitched before she spoke. “I’ve never had a mind to change about that.”
“So what were you doing there?”
“Nothing that I didn’t do here. Woke up, exorcised curses, ate, went to sleep,” she said. “Time passed, and that was it.” Her hand slowed to a halt on the centre of his spine, then flattened to rest there.
Her hair, unlike Yuuta’s, hadn’t grown longer at all. It stayed short, the length he remembered her with. She looked different, still. Like an imprinted memory of her in Yuuta’s mind that never existed, but was unquestionably there.
It occurred to Yuuta, at once, that Maki hadn’t answered his question at all. Or he had phrased it incorrectly. He didn’t risk pressing for more. She must have realised, because she continued.
“You know, my mother used to practise some kind of monastic silence from time to time. I never understood it, and I didn’t care for it at first, but then Mai would join, and that’s when it started to piss me off. What did a kid like Mai have to contemplate? She was a child, she didn’t have anything to sacrifice, she didn’t have sins to repent, she wasn’t bad, she wasn’t anything like—” she cut herself off, closed her eyes, and exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, like nothing happened, she opened her eyes. “It’s just, when you grow up with everything you know, and suddenly everything you know is gone, then what’s left?”
Glimpses of Yuuta’s first year in Jujutsu High crossed his mind. Of Gojo and Panda and Inumaki and Miguel and Maki, and Maki, and Maki.
“With nothing to take its place, I’m not sure,” he said.
Maki gave him a look, almost weary. Perhaps, it was nothing about her physical appearance that had changed. She screwed up the blanket in her fist closer to her naked chest.
“Everything that happened, everything that I did, there was a conclusion that should have been enough for me. I did my best to keep my promises. That should have been enough, from everything I wanted, there should have been nothing else left. But I figured I knew myself, so I went to make sure.”
“So what was that conclusion?”
Maki shrugged. “The conclusion was that I missed you, and I wanted to come back. So I did.”
Without realising, their pinkies had already found their way to each other, linking like welded chains.
“I’m sorry for showing up without notice,” she said.
Yuuta hadn’t even considered that to be a problem.
“You can show up whenever you like, Maki.” He smiled. It went without saying, but still: “In any way you want me to know you.”
Her eyes flickered away as she squeezed his finger tighter.
“I thought you’d say something like that.”
When the first week of December passes and the weather makes it conclusory shift into the cold, Yuuta decides it’s probably to his body’s benefit that he leaves the heater on before he leaves the house for an unascertained amount of hours. The cold – the temperature – has been a long-term irritation of Maki’s by now, so her automatic response is to reluctantly grunt whenever Yuuta asks her, by the point of his desperation, if he can turn up the heat (or turn on the AC, during the warmer months).
It’s not just a temperature intolerance. Ieiri had let Maki know, when all the calamities of their highschool years had improved and Maki was able to visit her for a consultation, that with heightened sensitivity to the temperature, what was remaining of her physical sensation in those areas will have deteriorated. “We don’t have climate extremes of either end in Japan, and I’m sure you have the mind to bundle up and shed some layers when needed, so in your line of work, it’s not… the worst outcome in the world, but maybe a little disabling if you want to see drastic improvement within the next twenty-four months. I’m assuming, however, that you have no intention of taking a break for that long.”
Maki, of course, shook her head.
Ieiri had continued, giving her hip a tap with her clipboard.
“Then all I can suggest is that you don’t overdo it. Large sections of your body have lost the ability to thermoregulate. Your circumstances already aren’t ideal, but if the discomfort isn’t debilitating enough for you, I’m obligated to tell you that a full recovery will take longer and likely not to the degree that it could be, had you decided to try at all. You move a lot, and your body will need to sweat but find difficulty in doing so, so just be mindful of it when you can. I would say having your heavenly restriction fully realised would’ve helped your situation, but certain parts of human biology will always stay human.”
And it did. Maki’s symptoms improved, but moreso, she had to learn to cope, and adapt. That was always her strong suit.
Nonetheless, if Yuuta is warm, Maki is boiling. She sheds her clothes one by one over the course of two hours until she sits on the edge of the couch in nothing more than Yuuta’s underwear and a cotton bra she only wears around the apartment. Even after the countless times that he has, it remains a sight to see, no matter how unintentionally she presents it. The transition from his hand stretched over the back of the couch to Maki’s thigh is mindless, but not at all accidental.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
Yuuta snaps back into attention and whips his head towards her. “Huh? Nothing.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
He laughs. “What?”
“And where was that gonna go next?” Maki asks, pointing at his hand.
“I had a few places in mind.”
“Yeah?” She tilts her head, the corner of her lip quivering upwards.
He leans in, sliding his hand up her waist and teasing the band of her bra with his thumb. “I thought you were literally melting?”
“‘Spose I still have a few layers I could still get rid of,” she mutters once she’s close enough to his ear.
Yuuta’s hand slithers to her slightly damp back and plays with the clasp, grinning. “Mind if I help?”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He undoes the clasp with ease and Maki wriggles herself out of it quickly, meeting Yuuta’s compulsion as their mouths meet and instantly wet each other's lips. Oh, such extreme excitement Yuuta feels in only so few other places, this heat that simmers in his bloodstream and rushes all throughout his body. His entire body aches at the prospect of her, of being against her, of being with her.
They shift together, Maki slides down on the arm of the couch to use as a headrest as one of Yuuta’s knees comes up and slots between the cushion and the outside of her leg, bracketing her as his other foot stays on the floor, keeping him stable. Their mouths struggle to disconnect, lungs to breathe, Yuuta’s hand brushes over her breasts then tug on the band of her underwear while her own hands work on the knot of his sweatpants. He’s painfully hard, which is when it’s most important to remind himself to stay aware. It’s difficult.
“Wait,” he mumbles, hardly making an attempt to stop what he’s doing. “Let me go get a—“
“Forget it,” Maki insists breathlessly, shoving her hand down his boxers. “Haven’t had my period in months, it’s fine.”
Between the kisses and her stroking, he loses himself for no longer than a few seconds.
“Maki,” he stutters to get it out. He grips her hip. “Again?”
She doesn’t acknowledge it.
So he pulls back, fully. “Wait, hold on, Maki, that—“ He still needs a moment, recuperates as Maki’s face turns hard. “That can’t be good.”
“I’m fine,” she says, brusquely. “I’m living and breathing, aren’t I?”
“That’s not exactly my metric for health.”
Maki rolls her eyes, head still glued to the arm of the couch.
“Since when’ve you been so bothered by this?”
Always, Yuuta wants to say, since you first told me about this inconsistency years ago. He doesn’t. “It’s never been months at a time.”
“They only come once a month, Yuuta. I’ve missed a couple in a row before, this isn’t news.”
“How many now?”
“Months?” Maki sits up straight, drawing her underwear back up. “Three? Four? I don’t know, I don’t keep track.”
“That’s not a couple,” Yuuta says. “That’s more than a couple.”
“Who cares. It’s good riddance, I don’t want to have to be worrying about if a fucking tampon’ll give me toxic shock syndrome while I’m in the middle of trying not to die.”
Yuuta frowns, then as his own consciousness strikes him, he feels all his blood stream into his head and the rest of his body wash over with an icy cold.
“It’s… a few months without—is just—there’s speculation to be made.”
Maki’s nose scrunches. “What speculation?” She asks, and her entire body stills. She understands. “Yes, it’s speculation. Conjecture. Don’t say shit like that, Yuuta.”
It would show. By now, it would have shown. Maki notices Yuuta looking and covers her stomach with both arms.
“You’re right, it’s conjecture,” Yuuta says, eyes snapping back to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” Who knows what ‘that’ is; all of it, some of it, unspoken things.
Maki blinks, then nods. “Apology accepted,” she says, and finds her bra on the floor to clip it back on.
In the ten years that Yuuta knew Maki, and the six for which they dated, she had actually met his sister two more times.
The second time, neither Yuuta (nor Maki, he later found out) knew there were any arrangements made prior for her to show up. Neither of them were home at the time, and she had apparently waited three hours before Maki finally arrived and apprehensively, but quickly, let her in. Yuuta dropped whatever he was doing at the time to rush home after receiving Maki’s message.
“What are you doing here? I thought you had school,” he said, kindly, after they had made their greetings. She was sitting on the couch with an empty glass on the coffee table in front of her.
“We’re on break. Mom and dad let me take a trip with my friends, and I remembered you lived around here, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“Why didn’t you text me ahead of time? I would have stayed home.”
“It’s fine, Maki-san kept me company.”
Maki was leaning on the wall connecting to the kitchen with her arms crossed, worrying the inside of her cheek with her teeth. Yuuta had seldom seen her show discomfort over such trivial things. Though, surprise guests, let alone those she doesn’t know too well (more than that, are related to him) must amass an unfamiliar pressure.
“Oh, what did you guys talk about?” He asked.
“A few things. I have a boyfriend now.”
Yuuta’s eyebrows shot up then.
“You do,” he trailed off, glancing at Maki, who was looking at the floor by this point, completely red. “Aren’t you a little young for that?” How old had his sister become, to have a boyfriend? Already?
She wasn’t too young for it. She was seventeen, and planning on breaking up with him soon, anyway. Yuuta caught up with her a little longer, talking about what she’s been up to, and who her friends were, and how she likes (hates) school – Maki had disappeared into the kitchen at that point, by the sounds of it, preparing a meal, buy Yuuta would later find out she was listening to their conversation the entire time – until her phone rang and she announced her departure.
“Have you had dinner, Okkotsu?” Maki offered, just as they had stood up from the couch.
“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome – I already showed up uninvited, but thank you, Maki-san.”
“You’re always invited. You should eat if you’re hungry.”
But she wasn’t, so after his sister left, Yuuta thanked Maki for her kindness. She didn’t have to do that, and he could place a confident bet that it was out of her comfort zone to make such a suggestion to begin with.
“She’s your sister, she’s invited even if I didn’t say as much,” Maki said.
“Still, she probably really appreciates you telling her that. It’s been four years since you last saw her, you didn’t have to.”
Maki took a moment to respond. “She still looks so young.”
“You think so?”
“You don’t? She’s only seventeen.” They were both quiet for a moment, then she added, commandingly. “And she’s too good for her boyfriend. And I’m glad they’re breaking up.”
Yuuta barked a laugh, and when he went up to twist his arms around Maki’s waist, hooking his head over her shoulder to see what she was making, he was still grinning.
“I’ll trust your judgement,” he said.
The third time, Yuuta’s sister informed them ahead of time.
“I’m sorry, Maki,” Yuuta said. Too much, Maki would argue, and he couldn’t disagree, because he had lost count over the past few days of how many times he had said it. “The second it becomes overbearing, let me know, okay?”
“Yuuta, I would,” Maki placed the box of clothes on the floor and stood with her hands on her hips, facing Yuuta. “You don’t have to keep telling me. If it became too anything for me, I would let you know – but it won’t, so stop it. You’re being overbearing. The poor girl’s gonna walk in and hear you saying sorry a million times and think she has something to be sorry for.”
And she was right, because his sister had already heard him three times before and apologised to the both of them later that night, when she had unpacked most of her things in the spare room. It used to be a storage space, but Yuuta and Maki had cleared out just about everything the day his sister called him, crying, asking if she could move in. Just for a little while, begged with an unforeseeable time frame.
“Don’t, there’s no reason to apologise,” Maki said, rather sternly. “You’re staying in the room beside ours, nothing you’re doing is cruel, stop it.”
“Thank you,” his sister kept repeating, to the both of them. “Thank you, thank you.” And that, for as much as Maki waved off dismissively, she didn’t chastise.
Yuuta was both surprised and not that Maki hadn’t lectured him as soon as they got into bed almost directly after dinner. She read her book with an obtuse silence that had Yuuta reluctantly glancing at her every few seconds, his own book a jumble of letters that refused to form words in his head.
“I know you think that the concept of a sister being in close proximity to me will make me combust,” Maki eventually said, closing her book and setting it on her bedside table. Yuuta gave her a disapproving look. “But she’s still a kid, and she came to you for help – I hope you know that there’s no length of time she could live with us where I wouldn’t prioritise that over any subconscious complex I might have.” She paused. “Might have.”
“She turned twenty just last week,” Yuuta said, feeling an agitation he didn’t even know he had melting away. “What you agreed to is an easier decision to make when considering an actual kid. I’m just grateful to you, is all. I didn’t know how else to say it.”
“Like that is just fine,” Maki said, and sighed. “This is fine. All of it. Apologising for grieving, that's not fair on either of us.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Yuuta admitted, and they both took a moment to exhale a laugh, a little tiredly. “I just feel bad because I don’t really know why I feel so… bad.”
Maki looked at him, blank faced.
“Your father died,” she stated. “I think that's plenty a reason to feel bad.”
It was so simple, but Yuuta knew Maki was oversimplifying it. It did not go over his head that she might have been doing so for his sake.
“I have maybe a handful of memories with him, at this point, and one of them is from the dinner we had with him.” Yuuta dropped his book and gestured vaguely at the wall shared between their bedroom and his sister’s, hand weighing what felt like a ton. He hesitated about what he wanted to say next. Something that felt so outrageous, and vile, deep in the basal of his heart to even think. It’s only to Maki that he could ever imagine getting the words out. “I wish I could cry like her.”
He didn’t need to say more. To claim a desire for affliction so green in front of Maki was nothing less than impertinent, but it was because of her, because of everything he knew of her, that he could trust himself to say it. No one but Maki could recognise where it came from.
Maki took hold of his hand and squeezed it, the calluses of her palms a reassuring bed for his fingers.
“Give it time,” she said. “I have a feeling you will.”
A few days after his sister would move out, his doubt for that would stand corrected. And by that point, while his tears would continue to exhaust him, he would have forgotten entirely that Maki said that at all. But for now, he let himself set that doubt aside, and like Maki, prioritised what was actually important. They spoke about how they could support his sister for the next hour, although it was mainly Maki who was making any notable suggestions.
“I just don’t get why she didn’t want to go back to our mom,” Yuuta said when it seemed like there was little left to contribute to. “She knows I haven’t been with them for ages, she knows that. Even when I still lived there, she knew that. I don’t know what her expectations of being here are.”
“She knows your mother would always take her in, right?” Maki asked.
“Yeah, she loves her. Yeah.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Maki said. “It's not that she didn’t want to go back to your mother, it’s that she wanted to come here. The details of the why aren’t important.”
In total, his sister stayed with them for about three months. Maki never looked anything but fixed on having her, even through the late night bawling that would wake Maki up, even for the days at a time where they didn’t speak a word, even when she stayed out till the early morning without responding to their texts and kept them waiting on the couch to make sure she returned home safe. When Maki came home with her clothes a bloody mess, she would wash it off beforehand using the hose in the pocket park behind the apartment. When Maki saw her accidentally asleep on the couch, she would let Yuuta know not to turn on the lights when he returned.
The day his sister found an apartment in her budget, it was Maki who called Yuuta, who was out, and told him he should be her guarantor.
“Her rent would be much, much less than thirty percent of what you earn. I doubt anyone else will give the landlord that type of number.”
“Sure,” Yuuta said. “I’ll sort out the paperwork tonight.”
“Great,” she said. “I’ll let her know you offered.”
Yuuta didn’t mind waiting outside of the office when Maki went in for doctor visits. With the exception of a few times, Ieiri had always given him a look that told him enough to stay outside whenever he went with Maki for checkups. He never bothered to defend himself – Maki would have said otherwise if she was at all insistent on him coming in. This time they went to one of the general hospitals in Tokyo, where Yuuta understood, formally, that asking whether or not he could join the session was a gamble. It seemed like Maki preferred having that session in private, anyway. That was the reason she decided not to go to Ieiri at all: it’s not her area of expertise, nor is it a topic Maki wants anyone who knows her to know about.
The car ride there, and when they sat in the waiting room, Maki stayed silent. It wasn’t until after she was called in that she spoke. She and Yuuta both stood up, and he had casually kissed her temple and squeezed her shoulder.
“It’ll be fine,” he told her.
“Whatever that is,” she mumbled, and followed the nurse down the hall.
Three of the tests Maki took a week earlier confirmed that she was not pregnant. Neither of them had reacted to the results when they first saw them, nothing they were looking at was unprecedented. The stress was admittedly finer, like a single axis of a greater plane, but it was not replaced with relief, which felt odd. In the absence of anxiety, Yuuta always assumed there was relief – they had just accepted the situation, or lack thereof, as a fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, Maki is not potentially bearing a child. These are the few truths of life Yuuta figured would always stay as such.
No more than thirty minutes later, Maki comes out of the room, shirt tucked tidily and deeper into her jeans than before, and stands patiently in front of Yuuta as he hastily picks up their jackets and hands hers over.
“So?” he asks, shoving an arm through his coat. “Everything okay?”
Maki shrugs, her shoulders moving in awkward asynchrony. “Definitely no baby.”
“That’s good,” Yuuta says, and perhaps the entire hospital could hear his uncertainty. “Let’s go then?”
“No,” she said. “Let's walk around a little. The weather is nice.”
They walk around in the roads full of puddled snow for what feels like hours, even though the sun has barely moved from its spot in the sky by the time they reach a bench by the bus stop. Back at the hospital, they have a car to return to – when Maki sits down, Yuuta decides not to question it.
“Say,” Yuuta starts casually. “It took a little long to just tell you you’re not pregnant, don’t you think?”
“Because that’s not all she said,” Maki admits.
Yuuta waits for her to elaborate, but it never comes. He clears his throat.
“What else did she say?”
“She asked about what I do for work, if it’s stressful, physically exerting. I told her I didn’t want to go into any details, but yes, so she asked me if I was willing to make any lifestyle changes, and I told her no,” she says, and repeats this pattern of dialogue for a bit. The doctor asks her something, she answers yes, or no, and the doctor asks her something else, to which Maki again answers with yes, or no.
“And then?” Yuuta asks with each new bit of information, until finally, Maki falls quiet. She shoves her hands in her jacket pockets and reclines her body against the back of the bench.
“I can’t have kids.”
Yuuta runs the tip of his thumb over his bottom lip. He didn’t realise, he was pushing all his weight forward, elbows digging into the spot right above his knees.
“I see,” he says, eventually. He keeps his tone neutral, unsure of whatever feeling in his chest is trying to run amok. Maki is healthy, he thinks. Nothing terminal.
“Not without some type of medical intervention, at least. And even then,” Maki’s eyebrows jump and she closes her eyes. “Coin toss that it follows through.”
A faint wind blows around them, flatting her hair against her face. It’s grown out, he notices. Now, it’s slightly longer than Yuuta’s.
“I feel like my entire life, I’ve always known who’s been at fault,” Maki says, opening her eyes again. She stays still otherwise. “But right now, I’m not entirely sure who I’m supposed to be mad at.”
“I didn’t know you wanted kids,” Yuuta says.
“I didn’t. I don’t,” she says. “I don’t know. I thought if I changed my mind, the option was there, so there was nothing to mull over. I guess there’s even less to mull over, now.”
There’s probably an etiquette to responding to this. Whether it be in the absence of anxiety, or the absence of relief, there is an appropriate way that this conversation could go – should go. But it’s odd. It’s still odd. This axis, this specific one, creates a plane with another, which is a plane that intersects with another, and in the middle of that, at the point of origin, is Maki. His Maki. Nothing else, really, was a privation, unless she was. Yuuta finds himself forgetting the news, then remembering it again. Should his minor disappointment, which he can recognise was there, however fleeting, feel so superficial? Like nothing more than a point in the expanse of an infinite space? So it’s there, so it will always be there, so you will notice it for as long as you notice all the other points around it.
So you grow to realise you will never not notice it, in the same way you will never not notice an abundance, because so much as a single point, anywhere it may be – whatever it may be – is enough to make you overlook the absence.
“If you ever do want them, Maki – kids, I mean,“ he says. Maki glances over at him, waiting. “There are other ways. If it’s ever something you want to mull over, that is.”
This seems to ruffle her, Yuuta has memorised enough of Maki’s facial expressions to tell. “And where does your compliance end, Yuuta?”
“It’s not compliance,” Yuuta says. “I trust you.”
She tuts. “This doesn’t have anything to do with trust. You either want something, or you don’t.”
“I disagree, I think the things we want are mutable with our circumstances.”
“Like when you can’t have it,” Maki says.
“No, like when you understand whether the outcome is better with it, or without it.”
Maki lets out a heavy sigh, strictly through her nose. “I don’t know what I want,” she says. “I can’t tell you what outcome is best.”
“It’s a decision we can make later. We’ll talk about it, we have time.”
“It’s the decision,” Maki says. “I’m almost twenty seven, we have some time.”
“Very old, Maki,” Yuuta says solemnly. He receives a light smack on the arm for it and catches Maki’s hand right before she can retrieve it, twisting their fingers together and planting it on his thigh. “We’ll talk about it in some time, then.”
They stay on the bench until the bus comes. Two people get off of it, three people get on. Maki stands up, hair still stuck to her face, hand still stuck to his.
“Come on.” She taps his foot with her own. “I want to go home.”