Chapter Text
“Mommy! Mommy! That girl pushed me off the slide!” wailed Ryoko, running to Kumiko, tears streaming down her fat little face.
Kumiko gasped and scooped her up, bringing her face close to hers. “Who? What girl? Point her out to me.”
Ryoko sniffled and pointed across the busy playground at the slide where a little girl with a sheet of silky chestnut hair, huge purple eyes, and a neat little blue dress is calmly scooting herself down the slide with her white Velcro sneakers. Kumiko frowned.
“She doesn’t look particularly guilty. Do you know her name, honey?” she asked her daughter.
“No, but that’s her mom,” replied Ryoko, waving her arm at a willowy woman with a black ponytail and the same beautiful violet eyes sitting on a bench with a perfectly straight back and a blackberry in her graceful hands.
Well, thought Kumiko, I don’t care how hot she is- if her kid messed with mine, we need to have a talk.
“I’ll go get it sorted out, sweetheart,” she said, kissing Ryoko’s light brown hair and putting the toddler down. “Why don’t you go play with Hansuke for now? You’ll get the slide back in no time.”
Ryoko nodded seriously and scampered off to the swings. Kumiko waited until her brown pants and t-shirt were out of sight before squaring her shoulders and marching up to the bench where the other woman sat.
“Excuse me, Miss?” she asked in her most business-like voice. The woman looked up and wow those eyes were captivating. No, no, no! She is the enemy! Kumiko reminded herself crossly.
“Yes?” said the woman expectantly.
“My name is Oumae Kumiko- that’s my daughter over there, Ryoko,” she said pointing.
“Kousaka Reina. Nice to meet you,” said the other woman with barely any inflection to convince Kumiko that she really did think it was nice.
“Right, well, Kousaka-san, my daughter was just saying that yours happened to push her off the slide.” No reaction. “Ah, I understand that little kids can be like this and by no means is it your fault, but it really upset my daughter. Do you think that you could have her apologize by any chance?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Hah?!” Two other parents turned around at the outburst. Kumiko reined in her voice before saying, “What do you mean, no?”
“Ayaka did nothing wrong, so why should she have to apologize?” asked Kousaka-san, blinking slowly.
“But- but-“ Kumiko spluttered furiously. “What do you mean she did nothing wrong? She pushed my kid off a slide!”
“Oumae-san, did you actually see my daughter push yours off the slide?” she asked calmly.
“N-no, but-“
“Ryoko had been sitting at the top of the slides for fifteen minutes so Ayaka pushed her down it. Down it, not off it,” said Kousaka-san without a trace of smugness.
“W-well-“ Kumiko had no idea what to say. Kousaka-san was right, but- but- it wasn’t fair! Ayaka had made Ryoko cry! “Then…I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she settled on eventually, then gave an awkward bow and hurried off.
Kumiko didn’t speak to Kousaka-san again for a long time after that. But when she did, school, as usual, was completely to blame.
*******************
Kumiko left the office early that day since the traffic was supposed to be pretty rough, but there turned out to be almost none at all. Usually Hazuki dropped Ryoko off from volleyball practice with her son Hansuke, but since she was home early anyway, she figured she could go pick her up herself.
The gym was filled with the squeaking of children’s tennis shoes and the squealing of the children themselves, as well as freezing cold. Kumiko tugged her jacket more tightly around her shoulders and sat down in a chair on the sidelines while she waited for Ryoko to be finished. Someone sat down next to her, and she turned to see- Kousaka-san, who glanced up, her eyebrows lifting a little in surprise.
“Oumae-san. Nice to see you again. How are you?” she asked. Coming from anyone else, that sort of punctuation would sound disinterested and borderline rude, but Kousaka-san had a sort of mild, genuine voice when she said it.
“I’m fine, how are you?”
“Not bad.”
“Listen, I-I wanted to apologize again for…last time,” said Kumiko, shifting so that she was sitting on her hands.
Kousaka-san gave her a small smile. “It’s okay. There were probably better ways Ayaka could’ve expressed her frustration.”
Suddenly Ryoko came running up to them and started tugging insistently on Kumiko’s skirt.
“Mommy!” she said, her words coming in short breathless gasps. “Fujimora-sensei- says that- the team can get pork buns! But- we need- parents! Can you- take us? Please!!!!”
Kumiko groaned internally. “I suppose…are you going right now?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll go as well,” Kousaka-san spoke up unexpectedly. The two women stood up and followed the screaming, energetic mass of children and the coach down to street to the shop a little ways back. Kumiko felt a little awkward, not knowing exactly what to say, but Kousaka-san seemed completely at ease.
“So-“ she started. “Is Ayaka your only daughter?”
“Yes,” she replied. “She’s the product of a marriage I both rushed into and rushed out of.” She grimaced. “That makes her sound like a burden. I don’t feel like that at all- she brings great joy to my life.”
Kumiko got a little tangled up following her dialogue, which seemed to go from casual and somewhat cynical to formal and stiff at the drop of a hat.
“So you’re a single mother, too?” she asked, drawing her coat a little tighter as a sharp November wind rustled the leaves around their feet. “I’m raising Ryoko by myself too.”
“I gathered,” said Kousaka-san, staring after the crowd of kids with an unfocused look in her eyes. “We all have sort of the same look to us, don’t we? Young, patient, and always a bit tired.”
Kumiko laughed a little sheepishly. “That about sums it up. So- what do you do?”
“I’m a musician.”
This could’ve meant anything from Madonna to a broke hipster burning music scores for warmth, but as she hadn’t specified, Kumiko decided not to push it.
“How about you?” asked Kousaka-san, deftly herding the kids inside as they approached the shop, a waft of warm air greeting them.
“Oh! Um, accountant,” said Kumiko, rather ashamedly. Accountant wasn’t exactly interesting in comparison to musician, no matter what type, but it hadn’t been her choice, which she quickly expressed. “It wasn’t what I’d intended to become- I mean I don’t really think anyone goes into life with the intention to become an accountant- but I was pretty close to broke at the time, and the job paid well. Somehow I’ve ended up staying there for three years now.”
“I see. Trapped. That’s rough,” said Kousaka-san, gesturing to the cashier that they wanted twelve pork buns. “But I admire that you made the responsible decision. You probably saved yourself from a lot of financial trouble and difficult living situations.”
Kumiko decided that a pork-bun shop was not the best place to tell a really hot lady she barely knew that she hadn’t exactly escaped that last part, so instead she said, “I guess so. But it’s left me feeling sort of unfulfilled- Ryoko’s helped with that, though. It’s good to know that I’m helping the world through what she’ll do.”
“I know what you mean,” murmured Kousaka-san. “Even if you yourself fail to do what you set out to, there is always hope for them.” Suddenly she turned to her, her eyes glimmering almost deviously. “I’m glad to hear that you believe your daughter will help the world. That’s exactly the sort of thing I like to hear.”
Kumiko felt oddly like she’d passed some sort of test, but she decided to let it go. She hadn’t had a conversation this good in years, and she didn’t want to lose it. “Well, they are technically the future.”
They were momentarily interrupted by the arrival of the pork buns, each of them holding a bag over their heads and Kumiko raising her voice to tell the kids that they wouldn’t get any if they didn’t settle down. Once the pork buns were distributed and paid for, the coach led them all back out of the shop, Kumiko and Kousaka-san shooting apologetic looks at the shopkeeper as they left.
“It was very nice to talk to you Oumae-san,” said Kousaka-san once they got back to the school. There was something about that “very” that made Kumiko simultaneously frightened and excited. “I presume we’ll be seeing more of each other. May I have your phone number in the meantime?”
She said this in a casual enough tone that Kumiko could believe she felt completely nonchalant, but when she looked at her face, there was just a trace of color in her cheeks and her eyes wouldn’t quite meet Kumiko’s. Is she…nervous? Kumiko wondered. There was a sudden little thrilling swoop in her stomach, which she quickly brushed away.
“Of course,” she said quickly, pulling out her own cell phone and handing it to Kousaka-san. The slight brush of their fingers sent another jolt through Kumiko’s stomach, and she mentally slapped herself for being such a stupid little schoolgirl. Ryoko and Ayaka ran up them hand-in-hand and giggling, apparently the best of friends again.
“I’ll see you around Kousaka-san,” called Kumiko as she and Ryoko walked out of the gym.
“I hope so,” responded Kousaka-san, then smiled mischievously. “And please, call me Reina.”