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Makoto is a city girl, born and bred.
The neverending glow that shines through the slit in her curtains every night, the periodic sounds of car alarms going off, dogs barking their inevitable accompaniment. Distant, childish cries that she hopes are merely cases of scraped knees or bedtime woes, and most likely were. Irritating yet indiscernible bumps and thumps coming from other apartments — beside, above and below her room — that she had certainly made herself before but would never admit it to maintain an air of superior indifference toward her neighbours.
All the discordant incongruities that meld together to form an amalgamation encapsulating a typical night in Tokyo, an environment that permeates her very being, one that she can't tear herself apart from even if she tries to, all of that was presently absent, in the most definitive sense of the word. Here, in Mitsumi's family home, with wooden floorboards and paper sliding doors and mosquito nets, the absolute calm that isn't quiet, the muffled roar of the ocean somewhere out there, the cicadas that can be deafening if she pays them any mind…she feels like she is absent, like there is no Makoto without Tokyo, and it is merely a facade propped up in a roughly Makoto-shaped container that is lying on a futon next to the other girls. Staring at blurry support beams, shadows creeping away every minute as her eyes adjust to the gloom, Makoto feels a profound sense of solitude, moreso than she's ever felt in her life. But it isn't the kind that dogs her with every social faux pas, every stuttered sentence, every unspoken opinion, that leaves her disconnected with the people around her. If anything, the "calm" —for lack of a better word—that blankets the entire old house, makes her feel as close to being content as she's ever been. A sense of belonging with the world that she can't find with the people in her life. Funny how that worked, the fact that she is more comfortable in her own skin when everything that she had imagined crucial and central to her life is thousands of kilometres away.
"Makoto…" a voice whispers in her right ear, and travels straight to her heart.
Well, maybe not everything crucial.
She turns on to her side, meeting the eyes of a girl that was a rare exception when it comes to her connection with people. They are mere inches apart, enough that her bangs would rustle if the other girl breathes too hard. It also means she is able to make out her face quite well, despite her visual impairment. Yuzuki's hair falls across the bottom half of her face, a smile half-hidden in between the strands. A smile that almost seems to brighten the room in its vicinity. At least to Makoto. What if she says that to Yuzu, she finds herself thinking, not for the first time weighing the effect her thoughts would have if spoken aloud. Like many times before, she smothers the idea, beneath a warm face that shouldn't have been possible with how cool the air was here in Ikajima.
Yuzuki props her head on one hand, elbow on the floor. Her hair tumbles over her shoulder behind her, where Mika lay. "What are you doing?" she asks, still whispering.
That calm from earlier broke slightly, a spell wavering in the wake of Yuzuki's lucid presence. She didn't know what the time was, but if she has to hazard a guess, it is probably close to 3 in the morning. She'd gotten 3 hours of sleep more or less, and that lack of sleep added to the dreamy headspace she finds herself in, that made her think of cities and loneliness and people. Of course, Yuzuki has a charm of her own, and a different sort of calm washes over Makoto upon seeing her, listening to her, one that isn't confined to moments like this. Even in the midst of a busy classroom, or a packed movie theater, or an empty playground lit by street lamps, two girls crying underneath the orange lights, both with pudding in their hands.
Makoto doesn't answer, not feeling the need to, and Yuzuki doesn't press, not needing to know. They simply looked at each other, satisfied and full with each other's company. The waves still crashed on the shore outside, and the insects still screamed their cacophony, and the floorboards still creaked, and the breeze still danced in and out. And Makoto can feel sleep catching up with her, trying to make up for their overdue appointment, and her eyelids slowly close in a blink, Yuzu's face melting away.
"Hey Makoto, you wanna go outside for a bit?"
The reaching hands of slumber misses her by a hair and falls behind, Makoto getting up from her futon. "Yes," she answers, and they both slide out of the duvets, silently as possible, prompting an unconscious Mika to mumble something about an inflatable orca, sparking some muffled giggling from the pair. Makoto notices that Mitsumi's leg straddled Mika's stomach, and that almost sets her off even more, but she grabs her glasses from a side table, and they manage to beat a hasty escape, even though this isn't a prison by any standards.
They walk along the corridor that opens out onto the garden, the shutters of which are currently closed. Every other step triggers a creaking noise, followed by Makoto or Yuzuki unnecessarily shushing the other. At one point, she bumps Yuzuki's hips firmly, making her trip and drop her foot heavier than she had before, creating a particularly loud creak. She tries to stifle a laugh as Yuzuki stares at her, mouth open in shock, both of them frozen in place, listening for anyone in the house that might have woken up from that. After a moment passes, with no sign of another person forthcoming, Yuzuki pinches Makoto's side, and the latter accepts it with a grin. They continue to walk to the entrance, neither knowing that that is their destination until they arrive. Makoto slides open the door gently, letting in a pool of moonlight that spills past the threshold, captivating the two for a second. Even more enchanting were the stars that framed the moon itself, adding to the already entrancing atmosphere. Another reminder that this isn't Tokyo. Makoto feels hypnotized by the scene, when her vision blurs suddenly, making her wonder if she actually has her glasses on. She reaches a hand to her eyes, finding the glasses, and also finding some moisture that was brimming underneath. Her left hand removes the glasses, and her right wipes away the tears that haven't spilled just yet.
Next to her, Yuzuki sits on the front step of the house, bringing her knees to her chest. She then grabs Makoto's hand, the slightly wet one, and pulls her down gently. Makoto wants to apologize and tell her to let go, but Yuzuki doesn't comment on it, so she opts not to as well. They end up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, hands clasped, looking out at the canvas of night spread out before them.
"Mitsumi is so lucky," Yuzuki says, no longer whispering, but soft. "Don't you think it would be nice to come back to a place like this every once in a while?"
Makoto nods in agreement, placing her head on Yuzuki. "I have distant relatives in the country, but we haven't seen them in years, I'm not even sure if they're still there. We used to visit them every summer though, when I was a kid."
"That must have been nice." Yuzuki's tone is as dreamy as Makoto feels. "I don't remember any of the trips to my grandparents' home. After America, it was straight back to Tokyo."
"Would you like to live out here?"
"Oh, do you want to move out here with me, Mako?" She can almost hear the sly smirk on Yuzuki's face.
That isn't what she means, but her face still flushes at the thought. Her and Yuzuki, living out here, just the two of them. Is she okay with leaving Tokyo behind, though? The loud and noxious traffic, the interminable baying of dogs and cats, lights that could blind you even at midnight. Life was hectic and busy in Tokyo, there was no time to stop and look at the stars, whatever remnants of them still existed over the city, at any rate. And no ocean to splash Yuzu with water in, or a beach to bury Mukai in sand. Concrete, asphalt and steel, wrapped around stressful entrance exams and cram schools.
But in spite of all of that, she has a hard time imagining a Makoto without the city, like she tried to earlier tonight. What would she become, out here? Better, or worse? Maybe that isn’t even the question. The truth is, anywhere she goes, she would still be Makoto. And city or country, none of that really factored into how she wants to imagine her future.
"Mako?"
"Hm?"
"Are you still awake?"
"Mm."
Yuzuki rests her head on Makoto's, and they both sit there for what feels like hours, one of them imagining how empty a life it would be, in Tokyo or anywhere else, without the other.
And maybe, just maybe, the thoughts they each have aren't so different.