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It started as some sort of sick, twisted joke from Kafka. At least that's what Himeko thought, anyways. A letter from the Stellaron Hunter, delivered right under the door of her cabin on the Astral Express.
It was written on a simple piece of slightly yellowed paper, with a coffee stain on the corner. (The stain wasn't from Kafka though. That was Himeko’s own carelessness, completely accidentally spilling her drink on it.) Honestly, Himeko wasn't sure why the paper was yellowed. She was sure that wherever Kafka was, she had access to normal standard printer paper, and probably even some nice stationery, not that she'd ever care to use it. But Himeko digresses.
The letter’s actual contents were fairly simple, all things considered. It had been relatively short, only one side being written on, and Himeko had pulled it neatly folded out of the envelope sealed with a fancy wax seal with confusion on that fateful day.
She had taken a seat on the chaise at the end of her bed and kicked her feet up after pouring herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and then began scanning the contents of the letter, wondering who would have sent her such a thing. Unfortunately, the answer became obvious as soon as she saw the handwriting. Simple black ink, neat and tidy and written in cursive with a flourish. So eloquent and over the top and perfectly Kafka. It was safe to say Himeko was disappointed. What a waste of a letter, only to be from her of all people.
Kafka, despite everything, didn't seem to have much to say. She had asked about Himeko's day, if she had read any good books lately, recommended her a specific brand of coffee beans, and that was…pretty much the extent of it. Himeko was pretty confused, and she couldn't quite puzzle out Kafka's motive. What was the point of writing her a letter? Was it something she had to do for that script she followed like the gospel? Surely not.
But despite herself, Himeko had felt a compelling urge to reply. To write back. She wasn't even sure how she would get the letter to Kafka, since she didn't even know where she lived, and the letter had no return address on it. But regardless, she pulled out some of her nice stationary, a black pen, and began writing back, before eventually leaving the letter on her nightstand, unsure what to do with it. It was only when she woke up the next morning that she realized it was gone, replaced with a simple white envelope containing another letter in response. Himeko decided to not question it, because she knew that if she did it would keep her up at night for hours.
And so, that was how it began. They had a routine now. Every few days Himeko would receive a new letter from Kafka, and then she would write one back that would disappear by morning. The letters didn't used to be so frequent — sometimes she used to go weeks without getting one. But recently they came more often. More routine. More intentional. It wasn't…horrible, she supposed. Although Himeko was quickly running out of space in the drawer of her nightstand for the pile of letters she was collecting. She'd have to move them eventually, but for now she was content to keep shoving them down, and pretending they didn't exist except for when she would read them.
Because reading them…the letters filled her with a sense of longing. A feeling she absolutely hated. Yearning . Craving. Desire. And she couldn't figure out why. It was confusing, and frustrating , and quite frankly she didn't feel like dealing with it. So she didn't. She just kept shoving the letters in her drawer.
There was also another reason she kept concealing them. Himeko wasn't…hiding them, per se. Okay, she was definitely hiding them. She didn't exactly want the rest of the Express Crew to know. To question why she was exchanging letters with a Stellaron Hunter of all people. Especially Kafka.
Kafka…
She really was all Himeko could think about recently. And it was infuriating. Aggravating. Impossibly frustrating, just like the woman herself. But she just couldn't get her out of her mind.
Her letters. Her handwriting. The smell of her sandalwood perfume lingering on the pages that Himeko definitely hadn't wanted to drown herself in. The way Kafka always signed her name with a flourish at the bottom right corner of each letter along with the date. And naturally, Himeko signed her letters the same way in response.
Today's letter was relatively mundane, and contained Kafka's typical rambling. She honestly wasn't sure when the letters started getting so…domestic, but Himeko ate every word up anyways like a starved woman. She gently unfolded the letter and smoothed out the crease, skimming the contents with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.
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Dearest Himeko,
I made some coffee today and I thought of you. Two shots of espresso. Only a little sugar, you know I don't have much of a sweet tooth. No cream. It was bitter and hot and burned my tongue just like a certain someone I know. But still good. Sound familiar?
The scripts have been getting less and less interesting recently. Elio hasn't given us many things to do so I've had more time to write to you in between missions. I trust him, but that doesn't mean I like what he's doing. But I digress.
As you know, I don't know what fear feels like, even though Elio says I'm good at creating it. Tell me, are you afraid of me, Himeko? Do you fear me?
I've been playing the violin more and more recently to pass time. Maybe one day I'll actually let you see me and I'll play you something. Would you like me to serenade you, Himeko? I bet you'd slap the violin out of my hands if I tried. Or you'd attempt to, anyways. Hmm. Cute.
I always have loved classical music. I'm sure you understand. You're a woman with refined taste, after all. Vivaldi, Tchaikovsky, Mozart and the like. Perhaps one day we could sit and listen to some of their pieces together, if you could stand to not chew my head off long enough to get through a few songs. I'd love to waltz with you, if you'd let me.
I suppose I'll stop boring you with my mundane troubles and interests, since you never seem to care enough to ask me anything about myself, though we both know that's not true. So I'll end this letter here. But please, do try to actually reciprocate my conversational efforts and tell me some things about your life too.
Sincerely,
-Kafka
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Well, Kafka's letter certainly invoked lots of feelings in Himeko, though none were all that positive. Mostly just frustration and agitation towards the other woman. And yet…there's an underlying fondness that she just can't seem to shake. Regardless, she fetches a pen out from her desk drawer and begins scrawling back a reply on some of her nice stationary.
Her response letter is equally as long and mundane. If you didn't know any better, you might think they were lovers long distance, sending each other love letters to ease the aching loneliness. Himeko would care to disagree, and would say it's nothing like that at all. But the way they bicker even by letter truly is that of an old married couple. Even if most of the bickering is one sided from Himeko.
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Kafka,
While I'm glad you enjoyed your coffee, I'm frankly offended by the comparison. That's so typical of you to say something like that. You always think you're so poetic and such a romantic for saying the most nonsensical things to me. “Burned your tongue just like a certain someone you know”? You're not funny.
I'm surprised to hear the scripts are boring you. With how you practically worship the ground Elio walks on to bid his every command, I thought you'd at least pretend to find them interesting. Maybe you're finally getting the reality check you need after all this time.
No, I don't fear you. What kind of question is that? You're an infuriating, cunning, manipulative woman but you're certainly not someone for me to fear. That would imply you have an edge over me. That you have me wrapped around your finger to do your bidding. That I'm intimidated by you. And I am not, and you don't.
The violin? Please. I have respect for instruments. I wouldn't slap it out of your hand. That isn't an invitation for you to visit and play me something though, so don't mistake it for one.
Yes, I'm familiar with the classics. However I don't think it is possible for me to avoid “chewing your head off” as you so lovingly put it for long enough to withstand your presence for a song. I would never waltz with you. You're a fool if you think otherwise. You would step on my toes on purpose, don't think I don't know that.
I don't know what you're talking about, by the way. It's not like I've purposefully avoided discussing my own interests or my life. But fine, if you're so insistent on knowing more about me, I'll humor you. Even though you're much more mysterious than I'll ever be.
You already are aware that I am the navigator of the Astral Express. The role I have taken on to everyone is almost motherly. I watch over the express. I'm the one who makes sure it's oiled. I'm the one who makes sure the plants are watered. I'm the one who repairs the train when it needs maintenance. I'm the one who takes care of things. If there's a job that needs to get done, I'm the woman to call. Does that suffice?
No, I'm sure it doesn't. Because you'll never be satisfied. But that's not my problem to worry about. But if it will satiate your curiosity and get you to stop asking questions, I suppose I can tell you more about myself some other time.
-Himeko
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Off the letter goes, sat on her nightstand as always to disappear without a trace the next morning. Or at least, that's what Himeko expects. It's actually an entire week before Kafka takes her letter and leaves one of her own in response. Himeko almost feels lonely without the annoying little voice of Kafka ringing in her ears as she reads her letter, but she keeps herself busy by rereading some of the old ones. Until finally one lazy Sunday morning, she wakes up to not only a letter, but a vase of white lilies adorning her bedside table.
And god, Himeko can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips upon seeing them. The flowers are beautiful. They smell nice too. It's actually…quite sweet of Kafka to leave her a gift. It just makes that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach grow, churning with desire and longing.
So as is tradition at this point, she takes a seat on her chaise and begins reading through Kafka's letter.
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Dearest Himeko,
Tsk tsk, you're always so uptight. You really need to loosen up a little bit. I don't think I've ever seen you laugh before. I'll have you know I'm actually quite funny, if you'd actually care to listen to my jokes.
The scripts are…probably not what you think they're like, I'll just say that now. Whatever your preconceptions that you have for them are probably wrong. And believe me darling, I don't need any reality checks. I'm as alive as can be.
It's good to hear you don't fear me. You know, I'd feel rather wounded if you did. We're such good friends after all. Companions, even. Penpals. But really, you're not the least bit intimidated by me? You truly believe I don't have the upper hand? Well, if that makes you feel better, you're free to tell yourself as many lies as you wish, Himeko.
It's funny that you feel the need to clarify that you don't want me visiting you. Are you that worried that I'll show up? Maybe you do fear me after all, deep down. After all, you're probably wondering how I keep receiving your letters and leaving my own, and how you never spot me. Well, that's my own little secret. But I'll give you a hint. You're not going to find me.
I hope you know I would never step on your toes on purpose, or on accident for that matter. Not only am I a gentleman, but I am also an excellent dancer. I know how to treat a lady right. You're no exception to that rule. But I suppose if you want to be such a stick in the mud, then we don't have to dance. It's your loss, after all.
Yes, you really do a lot for the Astral Express indeed. It's charming, really. You really are like a mother to your companions, that much is obvious. I see how you interact with them. I'm always watching, you know. Kidding of course; I have better things to do with my time than constantly keeping you on edge. But I meant what I said. I know they mean quite a lot to you.
Also, I'd like to apologize for how late my response letter was. I can only imagine how you've been holding your breath, desperately looking under your door every morning for a letter from me. It's cute, really. I've been preoccupied with some new missions, but I left you some lilies. Consider them an apology gift.
And you should know by now that I'll never get tired of hearing about you. I always want to know more about you, Himeko. Always. You'll never satiate my curiosity, especially not when you only tell me things about yourself I already know. So do try to put in at least a little more effort next time.
Sincerely,
-Kafka
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Kafka,
Firstly, I am not uptight. I am many things, but uptight isn't one of them. I laugh plenty, when things are actually funny. You simply are not one of those things. Honestly, I don't understand what your fixation is with wanting me to “loosen up” as you put it. I'm plenty loose. I'm not some stuffy stuck up asshole, after all.
Secondly, we are not penpals, we are not companions, and we are most certainly not friends. The Stellaron Hunters will always be rivals of the express, and that will never change. This little exchange we have going on is…purely of mutual benefit to quell our boredom. Nothing more. And I'm not lying to myself. You don't have any upper hand, because contrary to what you may think, our life isn't some silly little game that you're winning. It's real.
No, I don't fear you, and yes, as shocking as it may be, I don't want you showing up here. And so what if I've wondered how you keep receiving and sending me these letters? I'd rather be kept in the dark if it means not having to see you. I have no interest in idle chit-chat and making small talk with you showing up outside my door bright and early in the morning. And I have no desire for the other express members to know about whatever “this” is either.
Please, don't delude yourself. You know you don't have anything better to do than to spy on me like some creep in your spare time. What else are you going to do in your free time? Go shopping? Get brunch? Didn't think so. I know you could even be watching me right now as I speak, and that just irritates me even more. You're an impossible woman, Kafka. But yes, they do mean a lot to me. They're my family. So don't get any ideas about them. I mean it. I can tolerate you getting in my business and messing with me, but if you interfere with my family, we're through. Whatever this little letter exchange that we have going on is, will end, point blank. Are we clear?
Oh yes, your response was so late. An entire week. I was practically holding my breath the entire time. No, Kafka, I have a life. I had plenty of things to do besides waiting for a letter that may or may not arrive. Besides, it's not like I was worried you died or anything. I know you have your little missions and assignments to go on. But I can't say I'm complaining about the flowers. I do love lilies. Was that just a lucky guess?
Yes, I can tell you'll never get tired of hearing about me and my life. It's quite troublesome, really. But I guess I'll humor you again. I've always had a good memory. I don't forget things easily, be it good things or bad. I don't keep many physical mementos or photos like March does, for example, because I keep all my important memories in my head.
I also love the stars. Constellations. Galaxies. Nebulas. The Milky Way. Space. It's all so incredible. As a college freshman, my chosen major was interstellar travel dynamics. I've always been fascinated with them. So when I found the Astral Express one day in need of repairs, I didn't think twice before hopping aboard and taking matters into my own hands. Pom-Pom was there from the beginning.
But I'm afraid I have some maintenance to attend to, and it's getting late. So I'll write you more some other time.
-Himeko
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Dearest Himeko,
Your response to my last letter is precisely why I called you uptight. You're so hellbent on denying having any sort of remotely positive feelings towards me that it's almost insulting. Whether you realize it or not, you have a simple flaw. You think you're better than me. You think you're above stooping to my level. You think you're entitled to so much, but you're not. But I humor you anyways, because your reactions never cease to entertain me.
And sweet, darling Himeko, life is most certainly a game. It's not about winning, it's about the experience. The thrill. You're missing out on so much stuck in that stuffy train with a stick up your ass all the time. I could show you so many things, if you'd let me. I could make you see stars.
You claim that our exchanges are purely mutually beneficial to quell our boredom, but you and I both know it's so much more than that. There's more to both of us than that. More to what we have than that. It's not that simple. You don't have to consider me a friend, but you know we're so much more than just rivals. You know that, so why are you so insistent on denying it?
Not to mention the way you're so determined to not let your companions know of our exchanges. It's like you want to pretend I don't even exist at all, except for when you're actively reading my letters. Why are you hiding me? Are you embarrassed? Ashamed, perhaps? About conversing with me in private? Are you going to take this little secret with you to the grave? Do you intend to ever tell anyone?
You know, I have plenty of hobbies and things to occupy my time with if you'd ever care to ask about them. Shopping and brunch sounds lovely. If you went with me, it could even be considered a date. I enjoy purchasing designer costs, and there's this diner I love that serves the best French toast. They have good coffee too, freshly brewed every morning. I should take you sometime. And don't you worry your pretty little head. I don't intend to mess with your family whatsoever. Their reactions aren't what I'm interested in. Yours however, are. But even I have my limits and I know what boundaries not to cross. I'll tread the line, I'll even tiptoe over it and dip my finger in the water on the other side, but I'll never actually go past your limitations. You know that.
I wasn't actually aware of your love for lilies, no, but it wasn't a lucky guess either. Flowers symbolize a lot of things. White flowers in particular symbolize rebirth, and can show that you're hoping to start fresh with a clean slate. Call it poetic, romantic, or any number of things, but I was trying to send a message with them. An apology. And yes, I am well aware you have other goings-on in your life that prevent you from groveling at my feet anytime I don't send you a letter at my earliest availability. But I do find the imagery rather charming.
So you keep all your important memories in your head? Hm. I'm the same way. Never really been one for souvenirs or mementos, unless I find something particularly eye-catching. But you don't really seem like the type to share that philosophy, which intrigues me. But I guess you can't judge a book by its cover.
You say you love the stars. Such abstract things really, no? Nebulas, space, the Milky Way…it's all so painfully scientific and boring. But whatever makes you happy. Maybe one day you could enlighten me on the wonders of the galaxy. We could go stargazing together. You could ramble on and on about the constellations, and I could sit next to you and look pretty. We'd make quite a pair, don't you think?
Sincerely,
-Kafka
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Kafka,
I'm not entitled, and I don't think I'm better than you. It's not some sense of illusory superiority. I simply think we have very different goals and are two very different people on two very different walks of life, who have nothing in common and don't get along well.
Which is only further proven by the next statement in your letter. You truly believe life is a game to be played. And even if I can agree it's about the journey and not the destination, your other points are complete bullshit. I don't have a “stick up my ass” and I see stars on this train every day, I don't need you to show them to me. And yes, I'm well aware you were making an innuendo, and I'm choosing to ignore it in favor of preserving my sanity and your lifespan.
And I don't just “claim” that our exchanges are mutually beneficial, they simply are mutually beneficial. There's nothing more to it than that. There is no “us.” We don't have anything between us besides rivalry.
And yes, fine, I admit it. I pretend you don't exist when I'm not reading your letters. I have them all in a drawer in my bedside table, the same one you take the letters I leave you from. But what's it to you? I'm not embarrassed. I'm not ashamed. I don't feel ashamed for choices I make in how I choose to spend my free time or who I spend it with. But that doesn't make the thought of telling the Express Crew about your existence any more appealing. So no, I don't plan to tell anyone. At least not now, not anytime soon.
You know, there's a reason I didn't ask you about your hobbies. Because I didn't care to hear about them. Designer coats, French toast, and coffee? Really? You expect me to agree to something like that, Kafka? However…despite how aggravating, insufferable, obnoxious, exasperating, maddening, and bothersome you are, I do…appreciate your respect of my boundaries. You seem to know them well. You push my buttons in a way that nobody else does, yet…
I don't know. It's strange. I don't like it. I don't like you. You confuse me. But I can't stop talking to you. It's like there's this pull, drawing me to you. Forget I said anything.
Don't get used to that little image in your head of me groveling at your feet. It's just some weird fantasy of yours and nothing more, so don't expect any of it to ever amount to reality. After all, I have much more dignity than that. But yes, I'm aware of the existence of floriography and the language of flowers, though I'm definitely not well-versed in it. I'm surprised you seem to know so much about it. I didn't really peg you for the type.
But I suppose you didn't expect me to be the type to just keep all my mementos and important memories in my head either, so now we're even.
Also, you can't just ask me on a date twice in one letter. Especially not after insulting the stars like that. Painfully scientific and boring? You have no tact, and no taste. But…maybe I'll take you up on that offer one day. Just to prove you wrong, that they are interesting and beautiful. Not for any other reason, mind you.
-Himeko
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Dearest Himeko,
I really enjoyed our stargazing date. It was surprisingly fascinating listening to you go on and on about constellations and things I normally couldn't care less about. It was less about the subject matter and more just enjoying getting to hear you talk about something you're so passionate about, but regardless I had a nice time with you. I hope you'll let me take you out again sometime to do something like that again.
Additionally, I've been thinking a lot recently. I noticed your thinking is very black and white, when in reality the world is so many shades of gray. You're a very logical person, yet you fail to realize the vastness of the world and you instead choose to view things so simply. It could almost be considered a flaw. You act like you and the Express Crew are saints, and I'm a sinner. But we're both sinners, Himeko. Neither of us are as pure as you wish we were. We're just human. And the way you view life, it fascinates me.
Tell me, what makes you think that way? What makes your brain tick? How do you work? How do you think? I almost want to study you. So I'm going to ask you some questions. And I want you to answer honestly. You don't have to think too hard about them, just answer naturally with what feels right to you.
Who are you?
Who do you want to be?
What's something you regret?
What's something you're afraid of?
What do you think about me?
Sincerely yours,
-Kafka
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Dear Kafka,
As much as it pains me to admit, I enjoyed our outing together too. Even if you didn't understand a word I said, or actually care, it was nice to have someone to just…listen for a change. Usually I'm the one listening to everyone else's passions and troubles. It's rare I make time to discuss my own.
My thinking is black and white for a reason. It's not just a blind belief that all things are good or bad. I base many of my opinions and beliefs off of proof from my own lived experiences. And time and time again, I've been proven correct in my assumptions about people and their motives. Maybe we are just human. Two sides of the same coin. But one side of that coin is dirty and tarnished, and the other is polished. You can guess which side I see you on.
You're asking me so many questions at once. I have no reason to answer any of them, honestly. Especially not when some of them are deeply personal. But…I feel almost a sense of obligation to, even though I owe you nothing. Maybe it's just boredom controlling me. But I'll humor you anyway.
Who am I? I am Himeko, navigator of the Astral Express as well as the maintenance. I am an engineer. I am a reliable figure that provides support to my companions. I am a trailblazer.
Who do I want to be? Who I already am. I want to be a trailblazer, an explorer of galaxies and planets and space until I can't any longer. I want to remain a reliable support system for my express family. I want to continue with who I am and where I am now. I am happy.
Something I regret? That's tricky. We all have regrets, after all. I think it's hard to just pick one thing. And I don't particularly want to share anything too personal. But I suppose…I regret not relying on my express family more. I let them lean on me, but I don't reciprocate.
What's something I'm afraid of? That's easy. Losing the Express Crew. Like I've said time and time again, they're my family — they're the most important people in my life. It took a lot to let them in. I don't like being vulnerable around others. I don't like letting people in. I don't like caring about people, because then it means I have to worry about losing them.
And what do I think about you? I think you're…a liability. If I start to trust you — which I don't — then that is cause for a problem. Because it would mean caring about another person. And I care far too much about far too many people already. So you can't become a part of that. I think you're cunning and manipulative, but also…charming, in your own obnoxious way. I also think you're a lot more desperate for my approval than you let on. And that you enjoy pushing my buttons far too much.
If that's all your questions, I have a question for you in return.
Why did you start sending me these letters? What was your goal, reaching out to me?
-Himeko
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Dearest Himeko,
Glad to know that underneath all that toughness, you still have a soft spot for me. And I'll gladly listen to you ramble whenever you want. I like the sound of your voice.
You say you base you beliefs off of your own lived experiences, which is a fair conclusion to draw. But shouldn't that only be further proof that the world is anything but black and white? There's two sides to the same coin, sure, but coins are 3d. There's more to them than just the front and the back. There's depth. There's volume. Are the sides dirty or polished in your eyes? Do they meet at a halfway point?
Thank you for answering my questions. I do appreciate it, really. Your answers are something I'll cherish. Or at least ponder over for quite awhile. And hey, even if you don't have much desire to answer my questions, you still did. And that counts for something.
It's fascinating to hear the way you describe yourself. This calm and collected and reliable woman, who maintains the Express and takes no nonsense. And you want to be who you already are? Cute. Very cute.
You know, you say we all have regrets as if that's a universal statement, but it's not. I don't have any regrets. I don't know what regret feels like, just like I don't know what fear is. Everything happens for a reason, don't you think? If you didn't make certain mistakes, you wouldn't be where you are today. That's called the butterfly effect, my darling Himeko. But I do think it's interesting, what you said your regret was. Because it's something that's so easily fixable. Something you can rectify whenever you please. Whenever you finally bite the bullet and make up your mind, you can start relying on the Express Crew the same way they rely on you. But you won't. And we both know why.
And that just leads me to my next point. Like you said, you don't like being vulnerable. You don't like letting people in. You don't like letting me in. Yet you are. Little by little, ever so slowly, you're opening the door and just standing by and watching as I jam my foot in the crack. And you're not trying to squeeze it shut either. You're simply letting it be. And it's fascinating, watching the gears in your head turn as you debate on if you should let the crack widen. Because like it or not Himeko, you're starting to trust me. Dare I say, you're starting to care for me. And that scares you, doesn't it?
Like you said, you think I'm a liability. A weakness. A crack in your armor. But your description of me is funny, I'll give you that. Endearing, even. And it's not too inaccurate either. Although I certainly wouldn't call myself desperate for your approval.
As for your own question, well, it's a simple question with an even simpler answer. I think you're an interesting person, Himeko. You fascinate me. And I want to get to know you inside and out. I want to know about every mole on your body, the way your brain works, every inch of you. And that's a new feeling to me. I've never been so fascinated with someone before.
Sincerely yours,
-Kafka
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And that was the last letter Kafka had written Himeko for a long time. 19 days, to be precise. She had reread it over and over. And it wasn't for a lack of Himeko writing her own letter in response, no, she had written a reply. Quite a long one too, at that. But Kafka never took it. For the last 18 nights, it had remained on her bedside table next to the dead lilies, the petals of which had fallen onto the envelope, but something in her just couldn't bear to throw them away.
Himeko was antsy. She was antsy, and she didn't like it. And there was just this nagging feeling she had that something was deeply, gravely wrong, and she couldn't shake it. And it showed. It was obvious in the way she brewed her coffee, in the way she kept checking the time on her phone, in the way she was constantly fidgeting with her hands and the way she was always looking around as if she was expecting someone. And the other Express Crew members were starting to notice.
It started simply at first, with Welt approaching her one evening and asking her if she'd like to play chess. It was an innocent invitation, but one that invited way too much room for unwanted conversations, so she had politely declined. Because Himeko knew Welt. Knew the type of person he was. And she knew that he would ask questions. Not invasively, but he would still ask them.
Then it was Dan Heng, inviting Himeko to keep him company while he organized the data archives in his room again. And that was when she really started suspecting that her friends had caught on to her odd behavior. Because she knew damn well that those archives were already plenty organized, and that even if they weren't, Dan Heng preferred to work in solitude. He had already said time and time again that he needed the peace and quiet to focus, so the offer was just…very out of character for him. And again, she politely declined. Because the stakes were too high.
Himeko wasn't exactly a bad liar by any stretch of the imagination, but she still hated keeping things from the crew. And she would much rather prefer to just avoid the subject of her odd behavior entirely instead of having to lie about it. But even still, she'd rather lie about it than admit the truth.
She was worried about Kafka.
Not only had she been talking to a Stellaron Hunter behind all of their backs for months now, she was worried about her. Genuinely worried. After all, going from their almost daily letter exchanges to complete radio silence for nearly three weeks was a pretty valid cause for concern.
She wondered what had happened. Was there a reason Kafka had stopped writing her back? A reason she hadn't even picked up Himeko's latest letter? Surely there must be. Unless…had Kafka simply gotten bored? Maybe she had grown tired of Himeko and her attitude. Maybe she had lost interest in writing her back. Or maybe she had some other reason entirely.
Fuck, what if something has happened to her? What if she was injured? No, that's stupid. She was probably fine, and Himeko was just letting her emotions get the best of her instead of her logical side. She had to reign her feelings in and stay composed. For herself, and for the crew.
Lastly were Stelle and March. They were a bit, no, a lot more obvious with their questions, not even bothering to invite Himeko to do anything specific and just asking if she was alright. Stelle even directly blurted out asking why Himeko was acting so weird recently, which earned her an elbow in the side and a glare from March.
But Himeko took their bickering as a chance to step away from the conversation without providing any answers, and before the two girls knew it Himeko was gone and already in her cabin again. She had spent a lot of time there recently, practically isolating herself from everyone. And her friends were starting to worry.
After all, Himeko was their foundation. Their support. Their rock. Their friend. And they cared about her, they really did. But when she always made such a show of being this reliable, mature and level-headed figure, it made it feel so strange to see her actually showing signs of discomfort over something. Especially over something she refused to tell them. But Himeko wouldn't budge, and they knew they couldn't force her to talk if she didn't want to.
Another few days went by. It had now been 22 days since Kafka's last letter, and Himeko was really, truly feeling restless. She was genuinely starting to wonder if Kafka was okay or even alive at this point. It was just so horrifically out of character for her to not reply for so long. It was making her feel this horrible ache deep within her chest, terribly painful and full of yearning and longing and need. And god, Himeko was mad.
She was mad that Kafka was right.
She cared for her. And she was worried about her. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Kafka was right, and they were a lot more than just rivals. There was something there between them. What it was wasn't important, it just mattered that it existed .
Another day went by. Himeko felt like she was in a daze as she got up out of bed and got dressed, so much so that she almost didn't even realize the letter missing from her table, replaced with a new envelope. Almost. The thing that really caught her eye was a single fresh red rose, buried in the center amidst all the dead lilies she had never thrown away. And that was when she realized.
Immediately she dashed over to her nightstand, grabbing the letter so quickly she almost knocked the vase over, and without wasting another second she took a seat on the chaise like always and took a deep breath, preparing herself mentally for Kafka's reply. And what greeted her was Kafka's cursive, but this time it was extremely shaky as opposed to how neat and elegant it normally was.
———————————
My darling Himeko,
I hope this letter finds you well. I can't be the one to deliver it this time, unfortunately.
I had Silver Wolf bring it over for me instead, and if all goes according to plan, then you won't have realized a thing until I told you this.
I'm sorry that it's been so many weeks since I've written you back. It's been…a long day. A long time in general for me, really. The script has been very detailed recently, with an explicit set of guidelines and rules we can follow, and unfortunately writing you just wasn't in the cards for me. The IPC found our base. I'm injured, but I'm healing. Elio knew this would happen, so I've been prepared. But I didn't want to worry you, so I didn't say anything as a warning, and for that, I am sorry. I broke my dominant hand, so I'm really struggling to write this, which is why the cursive is so terrible. Again, I apologize. I have…a lot of apologies that I owe you.
I can't say much about the attack, or what happened, but I promise I'm healing up just fine, and none of my injuries were close to fatal. You're not getting rid of me that easily.
Don't bother writing a response letter. I'll visit you soon. Wait for me.
Sincerely yours,
-Kafka
———————————
Oh god. Oh god. So Himeko was right. Kafka was injured. But it wasn't anything fatal. And that was all that mattered. Kafka was safe, and most importantly alive. Thank the stars.
With trembling hands, she set the letter down on her desk, not bothering to add it to the collection in her nightstand, and began to pace back and forth…back and forth…back and forth. It's a calming, repetitive action. Something Himeko frequents to ease her anxiety on days like today. While she walks, she squeezes her hands in fists, then releases them, then continues the action over and over until her hands grow weary. It's really just something to do with her hands to keep her from going insane.
The rest of the day passes by slowly, agonizingly slowly. Himeko keeps staring out her window, desperately hoping to see a flash of familiar violet hair, but there's nothing. The wait is agonizing.
And Himeko is met with a feeling that she's been dealing with continuously for the last few weeks. Yearning. Despite all her other emotions, of frustration, fear, relief, anxiety, and everything else, the overpowering thing is a deep rooted sense of longing.
As if she's in a desert and Kafka is her oasis. She needs her. Craves her. Desperately so. It's like a primal desire inside her that she can't ignore, begging to be let free. And it feels like if Himeko just reaches out her hand, she could almost imagine Kafka is there on the other side to meet her. Almost. But not quite. It's not enough.
She needs Kafka here and now, in the flesh. And she can't wait much longer, or else she's going to go crazy, and holy fuck the sound of quiet knocking on her window makes her jump a good few inches in the air as her shoulders tense up. And she turns around and is prepared to yell obscenities at whoever just scared the living daylights out of her, when she finally sees that same smug smile she's missed so dearly. And a bandaged hand, hanging down by her side.
Himeko practically throws herself at Kafka, and it takes all her effort to behave like a normal person and unlock her window, beckoning her inside and leading her to sit down on the chaise next to her.
It's Kafka who breaks the silence first.
“Missed me? You seemed awfully eager to let me in.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Remember when you said you wouldn't grovel at my feet if I didn't write you a letter for a week? I think you're a liar.”
“And I think you're obnoxious.”
A low, raspy laugh. A sound that Himeko is unfamiliar with, but has quickly come to love. It's not something she hears that often, since most of their communication is through letters after all. Leave it to Kafka to be all brooding and mysterious and not want to meet up in person. Then again…that might actually just be Himeko's fault for being too stubborn to agree to go anywhere with her.
“You're okay.” Himeko finally says, instinctively reaching out an arm towards Kafka but hesitating and retracting her hand at the last possible second. Then she glances down at the cast on her hand, and winces. “Ouch.”
“It's not actually that painful.” Kafka replies with a light shrug, as if getting a broken bone is the most normal thing in the world. Hell, to her it probably is. Himeko knows the Stellaron Hunters do dangerous stunts all the time, after all.
“Well that's a relief. You had me worried, you know. Not writing for a whole three weeks. You could've at least sent me a single sentence saying you were safe, it's not that fucking hard.”
“So you do care about me after all.”
Silence. And then Himeko's voice comes out small, barely above a whisper, and far more timid than she'd like. “I'm not supposed to. I can't.”
Kafka responds with a simple tilt of her head, urging her to continue. “And why’s that?”
“Well you're a Stellaron Hunter, for one. You're my rival, not my friend. This whole letter thing…it's a mess anyways, and it never should have started to begin with.”
“That's not the full extent of things, and you know it. There's more to this that you're not saying. So go on. Spit it out.”
There's a brief pause as Himeko contemplates how much she wants to reveal. How much she truly wants to open up to someone. To open up to Kafka of all people. The irony of her being vulnerable around her before any of her own Crew members could almost be considered funny, if it wasn't so painful to think about the reality of the situation.
“I…” She takes a deep breath. “I already have four people to care about, and Pom-Pom. That's five different individuals who are all a part of my family. And it's…a lot. I don't like relying on other people. I like being the one reliable one. The mature, dependable person who's like a lighthouse in a storm, always waiting with open arms ready to provide comfort. I like being in control over my emotions. But you…”
Another pause as Himeko rubs her temples with her hand, closing her eyes for a moment.
“You're different. You make me feel…all these things, and it's weird and it's uncomfortable and I don't like it. I hate it. I hate you. You're…you're impossible.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Kafka grins, still as smug as ever. “That…does not sound like any definition of hate I've ever heard.”
“You… ugh, this is exactly what I mean. I can't stand you, Kafka. You're insufferable. You always get under my skin and know exactly how to push my buttons and it's not fair, and now you have me suddenly all dependent on you and waiting for your letters like it's a necessity for me to function and it's humiliating and pathetic and I hate it. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense at all. Why do you do this to me? ”
The question hangs in the air, and then Kafka laughs, and Himeko suddenly has the urge to break her other hand. Or at least to smack that smug expression right off her face.
“Himeko…sweet, darling, horrible Himeko.”
“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”
“Himeko…oh, you're so naive. It's almost funny. Actually, no, it is funny.”
Himeko wracks her brain for any reason she could possibly be being naive right now, and comes up with nothing. She narrows her eyes suspiciously, but Kafka doesn't react.
“Look, I'll spare you the pain of revealing the truth behind your feelings while I'm around, and I'll wait for you to figure them out on your own. Because I'm nice like that.” Kafka says with a teasing smile, and Himeko just groans, but doesn't press the matter any further.
“So…what are you doing here anyways? Why did you stop by?”
“I told you in my letter I was going to visit you. Don't tell me you didn't read it.”
Himeko shakes her head. “No, no, I read it. I'm asking why. Why come here? We usually just exchange letters, without actually seeing each other. The only exception was when we went stargazing.”
Kafka clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes as if the answer is so painfully obvious that Himeko should know it already. “ You're the one who never wants to see me in person you know. You're the one who doesn't want your little Express Crew friends finding out about our little friendship. You're the one who never accepts my invitations when I invite you out.”
“I…those were serious offers?”
Kafka deadpans her. “Why would they not be serious offers? I'm not a prude. I don't just make offers to do things together just to seem polite and not follow through with them. Do you truly think so little of me?”
“Can you blame me? It seems a bit odd that a Stellaron Hunter would genuinely invite me out to go shopping and get brunch together.”
Putting a finger to Himeko's lips to shush her, Kafka tsks. “You act like I'm some monster without a single ounce of goodwill in my body. I'm trying to take you on a date, Himeko.”
“You can't be serious.”
“Did the offer to waltz not make myself clear enough? What about the flowers? The letters we've been exchanging for months on end? The stargazing date? Did you truly think I was just trying to platonically become all buddy-buddy with you?”
Well, Himeko can't deny that what Kafka is saying makes sense. But that doesn't mean she likes it. “And what makes you think I'd ever want to go on a genuine date with you?”
A scoff. “Please. You want to. I know it. You know it. So stop denying it and just…let yourself let me in. I don't bite. Not unless you want me to, anyways.”
And god, that stupid little wink Kafka gives her at the end of her sentence almost makes Himeko burst a blood vessel right then and there. “You're infuriating.”
“And yet…” Kafka reaches out with her uninjured hand, tilting Himeko's chin up to look at her directly. “You keep coming back for more.”
And Kafka is right. She does keep coming back for more. Every damn day, she waits for Kafka to send her a letter like a dog waiting for their owner to come home from work. And it's pathetic, disgustingly so. It makes her feel disgusted with herself. As if she's some dirty sinner. The side of the coin that's rusted and unclean.
“Why is that, Himeko? Why do you keep coming back for more?”
“Because…because…I don't know.” She hangs her head in shame. “I don't know why. There's just…this pull, this tug. Like I can't get rid of you even if I wanted to, and you're a parasite that's wormed its way into my life and now you've shoved your heel in the door and I can't close it.”
“Sounds to me like you're attached. One could even call what you're describing…”
“ No. ”
“I haven't even said anything yet.”
“I already know what you're thinking. So save it. It's not that. Never that.”
“But Himeko…the way you talk about me…you make it sound like you're in love. ”
She said it. Fuck.
“It's not love.” Himeko says through gritted teeth, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath to try and calm her racing heart. Kafka meanwhile tilts her face up just a little more so that their eyes lock onto one another, and then with her thumb begins gently stroking her cheek and caressing her jawline. The sensation is so gentle that Himeko has a hard time believing the touch is actually coming from Kafka. “It's not. ”
“Isn't it?”
“ No. No, it is not. I don't…I don't fall in love, Kafka. That's not me. That's not who I am. I have my express family to look out for. I have responsibilities. I'm a navigator. An engineer. A trailblazer . I'm not some woman who just falls in love. That…you haven't even come close to earning my trust enough for something like that to happen…”
“And yet…” She tilts Himeko's chin upwards. “You have. I see that look in your eyes, you know. It's not foreign to me. The yearning. The desire. The poor ache you must feel in your chest whenever I don't send you a letter as soon as you're hoping. You've grown attached to me, Himeko. You love me. ”
“No, I don't. And even if I did…that wouldn't change anything. We can't be together, Kafka. No matter how much it aches like you said. You're still a Stellaron Hunter.”
“Oh, don't tell me my profession is that much of a dealbreaker for you?”
“What you do can hardly be considered a profession.”
“You wound me, Himeko.” Kafka says dramatically, releasing Kafka's cheek from her grasp and placing her hand on her chest in a show of faux offense. Despite it all, Himeko laughs. The sound makes Kafka grin.
“So you're in love with me. What do you want to do about it?”
“I am not .”
“You're so hellbent on denying this. You know, you could make things a whole lot easier on yourself if you would just admit your feelings. I could be so good to you.”
“You're like poison. You can not be good to me.”
“Oh, but I can. I'm quite the gentleman when I want to be, you know,” she says with a small smirk, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in a way that makes Himeko's stomach do a little flip.
“And say I admitted my feelings. And say I let you take me out on a date. Where would we even go?” Himeko asks, crossing her arms and leaning back on the chaise.
“Oh, Himeko. The world is our oyster. Money is no object to me, so we could go anywhere in the world, and do whatever you want. Any planet, any country, any location…name it, and I could get you there.”
“A tempting offer, but I'll pass.”
“Are you truly telling me to my face that you don't want to go out with me? Not even a little bit?”
Himeko huffs, her arms remaining crossed. She could just lie. She could say yes. That she doesn't want to go out with Kafka. But…
“No. No, I'm not saying that.”
Kafka grins. “Good.”
“But I'm not… ugh. I don't know what I want, Kafka. I don't know at all.” She uncrosses her arms and rubs her temples in frustration.
“You want me.”
“Yes, but—” Himeko catches herself, her breath getting caught in her throat. “Yes. I do.”
“You have me right here. All I'm waiting for is you, darling.”
And oh, Himeko shouldn't do this. She shouldn't. But she does. Her body moves on its own accord, and before she knows it she has her arms wrapped around Kafka's waist and she's pressing her lips against hers. The kiss is desperate and needy and oh so fulfilling, as if finally Himeko is getting relief she didn't know she needed after how many weeks and months of yearning.
When she finally breaks the kiss, her cheeks are flushed a rosy shade of pink and both women are breathless, and Kafka tenderly reaches out to stroke her cheek. “You seem like you've needed that for a long time.”
“Maybe I have.” Himeko says with a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself before opening them again and looking at Kafka. “I don't know…how to navigate this. This whole love thing. It's foreign to me.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a navigator.” That earns Kafka a slap on the cheek that's just firm enough to leave a faint mark for a moment, but not enough to actually hurt. “Sorry, sorry. Bad joke.”
Himeko sighs, trying to glare at Kafka, but she can't. Instead, she begins to laugh softly, and she brings her hand up to her cheek to take Kafka's hand in her own and gives it a squeeze. “You're a fool. And incredibly frustrating. You're an impossible woman, Kafka.”
“Isn't that what makes it all the more fun? Isn't there something exhilarating about it all, trying to take me?”
“Please for the love of all things good, stop flattering yourself for your flaws. It's not a cute trait.”
“I could argue the same about your sharp tongue, Himeko. I wonder what else it can do.”
Another slap, this time on her arm. It actually stings a little this time, but Kafka just grins, smug as ever as she says in a completely monotone voice: “Ouch.”
“You deserved it.”
“Can't argue with that logic.” Kafka scoots herself just a little closer to Himeko, invading her personal space, and rests her head on her shoulder. Himeko doesn't stop her.
“Did you find what you were looking for in me?” Himeko finally asks, not turning to look at Kafka as the other woman leans against her.
“Yes.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
———————————
My darling Himeko,
Happy anniversary my beloved. It's been a wonderful year with you. I'm sorry I can't celebrate with you in person, but I promise as soon as I'm done with this mission I'll be right there to kiss all your troubles away. You put up with so much from me while I'm always busy. It's sweet of you. Have I ever told you that?
You know, I really think it's about time you told your express family about us. We're engaged, after all. Don't you want to show your fiance off to the world by now? Or are you still as ashamed of me as you were when we first started exchanging letters?
I love you so much, my sweet girl. I'll be with you before you know it. I promise.
Sincerely yours,
-Kafka
———————————
———————————
Dearest Kafka,
Happy anniversary to you too. I wish you could be here right now, I miss you so much. It feels so quiet and lonely on the express right now without hearing the sound of your heels clicking along the floor as you waltz with me to our favorite songs.
Luckily, Stelle, March, Dan Heng, Welt, and Pom-Pom are all keeping me company while you're gone. And yes, I promise I'll tell them soon. I want them involved in the wedding, after all. They're my family. My companions. I'll try to figure out how to break the news as soon as possible. Actually, I'll do it today before you get back. You deserve to be shown off, not hidden like some dirty secret.
I love you so much more than you realize. Thank you for being my forever and always.
With love,
-Himeko
———————————
