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The mane of a black, Friesian horse glistens as Mitsuru, still wearing her award sash from their dressage competition the other day, hops off and finally returns him to his home enclosure. After fixing her outfit, she frees herself from her white gloves to let her hands glide through her stallion’s fantastical forest. His swaying trunks ease around her fingers and welcome her to the forest floor. She presses her face against the side of the horse’s head soon after feeling how invitingly warm he still is.
“Looks like I will be giving your caretaker a raise, Shinjiro.” She chuckles when he gobbles an entire apple the second it sneaks from her pocket. “Perceptive, as always. Looks like someone has earned another reward!”
She sprinkles kisses onto his forehead, a different praise announcing each one to the rest of the field. As Mitsuru caresses both sides of his face, Shinjiro continuously nudges her and looks up to lick at her. She doesn’t see how she’s ruined her sleeves because of how many times she’s wiped his saliva off her face, the deepening stains not even getting the courtesy of being an afterthought. Everything that isn’t the affection seeping into and from Mitsuru ceases to exist. She can’t ignore such adoration.
When someone creaks the wooden gate open and strolls toward Mitsuru, the rhythmic breathing of Shinjiro shields her from these disturbances. But his selfishness can’t prevent how Mitsuru jolts when another woman holds her and kisses the back of her neck.
“He’s looking a lot healthier this time.” She peeks around to fawn over her girlfriend’s horse. “Couldn’t stand the last guy you hired. He was always so obnoxious that he made Junpei seem subtle.” She groans while envisioning his baseball screeches.
“Iori certainly has a tendency to let his excitement get the better of him, but at least he means well.” She connects her forehead with Shinjiro’s and grimaces. “I cannot say the same for that shameful excuse of a caretaker. He could not even remember to take him out to exercise most of the time! And I gave him plenty of money to get the proper food that Shinjiro needs. But what did I find disgracing the warehouse the day before I fired him? Brandless bags whose origins even I could not seem to find! And this does not begin to list every transgression that man levied upon him.”
She prepares for the second phase of her tirade when Yukari starts to chuckle against her back. She can feel the arrhythmic thrums, revealing to her that she’s trying and failing to control herself. An eruptive laugh blasts her away from Mitsuru; she grabs her gut and stumbles as she battles with her legs. She only looks at this outburst once before shoving her face into Shinjiro’s mane, which doesn’t hide the pink tipping her ears.
She coughs up some of her embarrassment. “I apologize for disgracing us both with that unjustifiable outburst.”
Collecting herself, Yukari overcomes her giggles and steps over to her girlfriend. She kisses her ear. Kisses her cheek. Grabs her hand, and then she kisses that, too. Her other hand pulls her, by the cheek, from the horse’s mane. Her fingers dote on this porcelain landscape and respect its serenity. They never even consider disturbing the peace that enlivens this place. All her fingers desire is to embrace this beauty and the whole person attached to it. She smirks as she pulls her in and graces them both with a kiss. Mitsuru’s emotions proclaim themselves with overbearing color; recognizing her own heat only deepens her embarrassment. While Yukari’s color is there, it tries to make itself as unknowable as possible. Its existence isn’t an event, and remains just as discreet when they both pull away and fawn over each other.
“You’re adorable when you get upset.” She kisses Mitsuru’s cheek, turning her already broken sentences into total nonsense. “You should do it more.”
She pulls at a nonexistent scarf to cover her face as she looks down and pets Shinjiro. He leans a bit too much into her touch and knocks her into Yukari; she shoves her boots into the ground and grabs Mitsuru. While they both still end up throwing their limbs around, a miracle shines upon them and ends their flailing before they teeter over. It continues to grace Yukari since she gets to hold her partner like she’s dipping her, but this acts as the catch of this miracle for Mitsuru.
While holding her, she twirls the rose strands that turn her beauty into a mobile landmark that can bless any part of Japan. The entire world would clamor for a shred of her love, and yet this red magic is for Yukari. She can adore it and the woman she has to thank for this gift.
“You’re especially gorgeous at this angle,” she says, not waiting for Mitsuru to collect herself before standing them both back up. When she starts to fumble around, Yukari keeps her hands near her sides and nudges her back toward stability several times. Even when she finally steps away from her, her queasy movements prick Yukari with anxiety. She smirks. “We’ve been together for over three years at this point. How do you still get this nervous?”
Mitsuru’s lips aren’t a part of her anymore. They’re detached. They’re a shivering, arctic explorer that took her speech before heading off for adventure. Now, they’re just a distant, forgotten friend who’ll never return the memories they made together.
“Forgive me,” she says while she steps away and hides behind her hair. As Shinjiro feels Mitsuru, who cannot escape from the tangled grass at her feet, drift away, he whines for a lifeline while looking off to Yuikari. Her twisting mouth brutalizes her face and leaves her gripping her arm. She dodges his pleas, but the harrowing quiet coming from Mitsuru demands an end to her fledgling escape. Groaning, she rubs her cheek and creeps over to her. Even up close, sound still fails to indicate that she exists at all.
“Don’t apologize, especially not while frowning like that.” One step closer. “I probably shouldn’t keep throwing so much at you at once. Even if you are cute when you are, I can’t just flirt with you until you’re overwhelmed.”
After that, they don’t shove any more words to the forefront to fuel this rusting machine. Stranded, these two women smile when their hands tap each other; they shine after they hold onto one another. In this lifeless patch thousands of miles from civilization, they secure warmth from each other that’s strong enough to forbid all the stressors they’ve suffered for the last few years from attacking them. Despite all their grief, pain, and spilt blood, their love always survives every clock’s announcement of midnight. New day, same love.
“Overwhelmed is not the right word.” She squeezes Yukari’s hand. “I am sorry, the exact words are escaping me.”
“What did I tell you about apologizing,” she says while smiling and leaning onto her shoulder. “And whatever you’re going through has to be tough if it’s leaving even you at a loss for words.”
She feels her beloved chuckle at this. Looking over, she sees Mitsuru holding a loose fist up to her mouth as giggles stream out and bring life back to this ranch. Shinjiro neighs on his hindlegs; he nuzzles against her when he lands. She jovially begs for mercy. It takes her several minutes to calm him enough to step away with Yukari without risking a catastrophe, but she still lets her joy pop out as she wipes her face clean. The noxious fumes never reach her nose. They never have a chance to pull the two women, who are leaning into each other, apart.
“Your affections are such a shock to my nerves that they do not always know how to react to them. But over time, I know that they will come to recognize everything about you as a sign of security.”
They turn and wave at Shinjiro before continuing to the car. Their voices, their movements, and everything about their existences conjoin. While basking in the fact that she exists in the exact same emotional place as Mitsuru, Yukari grips her hand, looks up at her girlfriend, and presses a humming kiss to her cheek.
“Good to know that I don’t have to change how I act,” she says. “I love you too much to do that.”