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girl (of my dreams)
Senju feels the rush of blood. She looks down on her hands, and her knuckles are red. All around her, the raw chaos of war, of fist against fist, of wood knocking on skin. Everything is a blur, and at the centre of the hurricane, Senju stands. Nothing in these streets could ever scare her, be it people or weapons or strife. She blocks a slashing knife, and turns it fast to the sender. It doesn’t take long for the skirmish to be over, and she regards it all as if it were barely specks of dust on concrete floor. The other gang is limping and running, but she doesn’t waste more than a glance in their direction. She wipes her bloodied fingers on her hoodie, and rises a fist to victory.
She is called many things. She is Brahman’s Princess, the Invincible Senju. But when she looks at herself in her mirror, amidst the steams of hot water, she only sees a girl gently cradling a secret.
Yuzuha Shiba is no one, really, when you look at it. She commands no gang, and no fighting skill of hers is worth writing war chants about. Yet somehow, her bright eyes are the first thing Senju thinks about when she wakes, and whenever the air carries her perfume, Senju’s every atom seems ready to burst. Senju is a fighter, she is not what you would call a lover.
Of course, she is no stranger to romance, to flutters lived with blood rushing within instead of all around. She just doesn’t get overwhelmed.
Yet some days, when she looks at the phone and Yuzuha’s name pops brightly over the screen, her feelings seem to spill more like geysers than mountain spring, and in those days Senju wishes she would know how to say these things, instead of chugging them down over and over again, so much that she feels drunk on words unsaid. She is not ashamed, but she is prideful. She knows she is too much of a girl to Yuzuha— and so, instead of letting the words out to end in an inevitable rejection, she holds her feelings close, warm and welcoming in her own silence.
She still remembers the first time she saw Yuzuha. The rest of the world went hazy, and only the girl’s face turned into focus, her smile bright, her voice gentle breeze. Senju had yet to learn her name, but already she would have wrecked the heavens for the other, no need for questions to be asked. She was aloof at first, unsure about how to talk to the other— a little part of her, scared about somehow making Yuzuha run away.
It did not take long for Senju to learn two things. One: talking to Yuzuha is the easiest thing in the word, easier than fighting, possibly easier than breathing. Two: Yuzuha doesn’t run away, ever. It’s not what Senju loves the most about her, but it ranks pretty high nonetheless.
To be honest, Senju cannot pinpoint what she loves the most about Yuzuha. She knows it sounds childish and bland, but it does not make it less true; it’s every part of Yuzuha that tugs at every part of Senju, nothing more and nothing less. Being in her company is blessing and curse, holy water to sinner and believer.
But as flowers spark from cement and water erupts from cracked dams, it is under the moonlight of a summer night that Senju’s feelings finally erupt from her lips, the secret running free from its comfortable cradle.
It’s the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, and Senju is breathing in the whirlwind of smells and voices from street vendors and people walking down the street. For the Tanabata festival, she tried to dress up. Her kimono is gracefully decorated, and her hair is put up in a soft bun, held up by two kanzashi with purple-coloured flowers. She is quietly admiring her reflection when, on the glass, she catches sight of honey hair. She turns so fast her neck almost hurts, but it is worth it: when she spots Yuzuha standing a few feet away from her, her face warmed by the orange light of the lanterns, her lungs stop working for a moment, and she’s not sure if the fireworks are starting now or it’s just the blood pumping in her ears.
Yuzuha sees her, and her lips curve into a loving smile. Senju is pretty sure the fireworks are all in her head, at this point.
“Senju!” Yuzuha calls her, running to greet her. Senju smiles, hoping that her cheek don’t look as warm as they feel.
After their greetings, there is a moment of silence, in which both look between each other and the ground, than back at each other again. Perhaps it’s the festival, engulfing Senju in its spirit; perhaps it’s Yuzuha’s smile, stopping her from thinking. Or perhaps, she just gets tired of being the only custodian of her secret.
Before Yuzuha says anything, Senju grabs her hand in her own, and with a “let’s take a walk together!” drags her through the bustling street. Her grip is delicate enough that Yuzuha could slip out at any given moment, but their hands remain intertwined through it all; the stands, the games, the food. At some point through the night, Senju gets so used to Yuzuha’s touch on her skin that she forgets they’re holding hands altogether. One does not spend every second thinking about breathing, after all.
The fireworks are truly going off when she looks down and sees their hands, still firmly together. She looks up at Yuzuha’s face, who’s eyes keep looking at the sky, irises reflecting the multicoloured lights. Something moves within Senju, pride being bribed by something stronger yet: hope.
“Yuzuha,” she calls. Her voice is thin, but the other immediately whips her head back at her. She smiles, she’s always smiling when she looks at Senju. Even when they banter and play, even when she acts like she’s mad, Yuzuha smiles.
It’s then that Senju realizes how self-centred she had been, hiding and holding her secret deep inside. She owes to Yuzuha the truth. At least then maybe this odd, electric air between them might disappear, and she might breath a little easily, and treat her a little more like a friend.
Saying what she says next is both the hardest and the easiest fight she has ever fought. “Yuzuha,” she begins again, focusing all her might onto every syllable of the name. “I have to tell you something.”
The other falls silent, eyes so focused on Senju the girl feels like she might join the fireworks above and burst at any moment. But she keeps her feet steadily to the ground, and lets the flower spring free from the cement cracks. “I like you.”
It’s not enough, the words are too simple, too shallow, too hollow, but she does not know how to say anything else. What she feels is too much to put into words, her tongue too dry to articulate something more. “I like you”, she repeats, and if the words are the same, her voice is steadier, her cheeks brighter, her chest lighter. The air is more electric though, and Yuzuha’s face is unreadable. For a moment, Senju’s heart is filled with dread. Did she ruin everything? Did she play every wrong card and lost the game?
“You don’t have to say anything back, you don’t owe me anything, I just wanted to let you know how I felt.” she is quick to say, quick to take a step back. But she is not quick enough to take her hand away, because Yuzuha is tugging at it, tugging her against her chest, and Senju’s brain is too slow to catch up with what is happening, with the warmth encircling her as Yuzuha holds her close.
It’s only when Yuzuha cradles Senju’s face with one hand and she whispers “I like you too” against her lips that Senju thinks, oh. Then their lips meet, and she thinks of nothing else.
Across the stars, Orihime and Hikoboshi finally meet. They will kiss each other goodbye in the morning, cursed to wait another year before they can reunite. But no goodbye is shared between Yuzuha and Senju, to tears are spilled. Under the light of day, things shine even brighter, like Senju’s hair, Yuzuha’s smile, and their hands intertwined.