Work Text:
wakamiya shinobu has exactly one hundred friends. they speak to her in tiny voices, tied to the tips of her fingers by invisible threads, each waiting to come home on the tatami where she pays them tribute. she knows their stories and personalities, who should be placed together and who should not, the beauty of each illustrated card. this is the love she is raised on: the sonorous lilt of one hundred poems and the little god behind each one.
her card placement is a home, rooms laid out with monks, emperors, ladies-in-waiting, lively and cheerful. the little gods chatter and laugh, grasping at her fingers as they pass over them, the warmest place she knows. her grandmother's house is cold even in the summer, the long shadow of expectation blocking out the sun. the weight becomes inescapable, silk kimonos and embroidered furisodes, the fabric heavy on her wrists. karuta is her world, big and small, lush imagery and deserted wasteland, the lonely peak where she lives with her one hundred friends.
she doesn't need anyone else. she'll become stronger the more isolated she is. this is the phrase that has shaped her life, its icy fingers reaching inside her chest. it echoes in her bones, ripples through her lungs. teams are for those not strong enough to stand on their own, who cannot reach the uruyasu room with their own two hands. shinobu is the youngest queen there ever was and she needs no one but the cards and herself.
ayase chihaya is like a bright spark, lit match to dry paper, all big eyes and long limbs and burning desire. thank you for not going easy on me, she says, undaunted despite the weight of twenty-three cards. she asks to play again and shinobu says: when? the question yawns inside of her, sighing through the plastered over cracks of her heart like a sudden wind. when, asks the child retrieving her hundred friends scattered around a grade school classroom. when asks the girl who cried as satoko-chan left myojo karuta society. when, asks shinobu, seventeen and alone, shocked to the core.
at the queen match, says chihaya, and shinobu agrees, tender green shoots sprouting in the rocky wilderness.
but chihaya doesn't come as the challenger. she didn't lose; she has friends, a club, desires beyond the tatami mat. they are not the same, and the broken promise catches in shinobu's throat like shards of glass, spinning emotions pinwheeling through the next match so wildly that she cannot hear the voices of her little gods. shinobu loses the first queen game of her life over a class trip and a campaign donation, reminders that she is as alone as she's ever been.
that's all right. she has the cards. she promises she'll come for them and she does. the cards may love inokuma haruka too, but her time is past. shinobu remains queen. she must, because who is she if not?
*
still, chihaya says i'll see you at the queen match with tears in her eyes when they meet again that summer. shinobu tells her it's a promise. you better be there this time.
*
the landscape doesn't change. the peak is high and rocky and slides beneath her feet at every step. you're young, beautiful, and the best in the world, her grandmother says. if anyone can be a professional karuta player, it's you. for the first time, shinobu has a dream. she's strong— the strongest. but perhaps she can be more.
*
none of the girls at the myojo society play like they want to be queen. they laugh and cosset one another, casual in a way that unsettles shinobu. it's a waste of time to visit. if i were too harsh, they would stop playing, ise-sensei says later. something huge and heavy rears up inside shinobu, darkening the corners of her vision, swimming through her blood, viscous and black. harsh?
she loves karuta, she does, and it loves her back. it's the only love she knows, the only love that matters, but she was never given a choice. she'll become stronger the more isolated she is. shinobu practices alone. she is strongest alone, didn't ise-sensei say so himself? who is there to laugh with? who is there to show her the taller peaks, the beautiful mountains yet to be climbed? there's never been anyone and there never will be. she doesn't understand because she hasn't climbed high enough? ridiculous. she's alone. there's nowhere to go.
*
play me, queen! i want to play someone strong, kokoro says, ten years old and irrepressible. shinobu forgets everything else, the specter of her younger self beaming up at her from the tatami, cracking her wide open. i wanted to meet you, i wanted to meet you. this girl may never be queen, but she'll never be alone.
*
this year, chihaya is there, bright and beautiful and clumsy in front of the cameras. this year, they'll play five games together, just like the meijin match. this year, shinobu will prove herself so worthy that no one will ever doubt her again, all on her own.
*
it's a lie. it's all a lie. there are no little gods. the cards don't speak. it's all made up, a way to not be alone when alone was all she was allowed to be. pretty girl, interesting girl, i love this girl's karuta are all shinobu's own feelings, her own thoughts, spoken in different voices to placate herself. there are no one hundred friends, only one lonely girl.
but now, chihaya is here. chihaya, with her wide open smile and hastily made tasuki and way of changing the the atmosphere. they are here, together, and they will show the world their tenacity, their skill and their strength.
*
in the end, her card isn't read. in the end, shinobu is left reaching out for empty air, title slipping from her fingers. it's chihaya who steps forward, toward that peak, who starts up the path while shinobu is left behind, alone. wait, she thinks, chihaya, wait. it's supposed to me— but when shinobu reaches out, chihaya reaches back. chihaya reaches back and pulls shinobu up with her, mountains spread out below them. the sun rises.
chihaya's hand is warm.