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Tsubasa breathed in, sitting cross-legged on a simple mat, surrounded by dimly lit candles that barely so much as flickered. Eyes closed, hands at her sides, Tsubasa was in a state of nirvana.
On her own yoga mat was Shirabe. She struggled to keep her eyes shut, cracking them open to watch Tsubasa’s pose, to glance down at her own posture, or even just because she felt too much pressure on her lids. She sighed softly and shifted herself, straightening again, and closed her eyes forcefully once more with a deep, sharp inhale.
She remembered a little of what Tsubasa said earlier, that meditation is about clearing your mind of any worries and envisioning zen. But what was her zen? She squeezed her eyes, and visions of Kirika came to mind. She always felt at peace with Kirika, after all. Roller-blading beside her while she ran, cooking while listening to her speak… Nothing quite felt the same. Speaking of Kirika, she had to get her a gift soon, but-
Shirabe squeezed her eyes tighter. Relax, ‘empty her thoughts’, like Tsubasa told her, she thought to herself. A delicate flower garden full of jumping bunnies. Hopping to and fro, just like her. Shirabe rocked a little back and forth on her mat. ‘Yes, that’s it.’ Finally her eyes relaxed, and her hands rested at her knees as she continued her gentle rocking. Maybe a stuffed bunny would make a good gift, but they weren’t exactly Kirika’s sort of gift. She’d appreciate it because it was her, but it’s too easy.
Shaking her head out, she let her eyes crack open. This wasn’t working at all.
“Tsubasa-san…” Shirabe half-whispered.
Tsubasa breathed in, then let it out, opening her eyes in turn. “Difficulties, Tsukuyomi?”
“Yes… I can’t stop thinking.” She sat up more straight, shifting the mat.
“It’s alright to think. Let your thoughts be a swinging sword, carving through the air and anything in their way.” Tsubasa looked up towards one of the candles, and swung her hand through the flame quickly and precisely, so that it did little more than flicker. “Do not guide them until they have finished, and then you can sheathe them.”
Shirabe looked up towards the wood-support ceiling, thinking of the way her sawblades spun and spun and spun, then launched off in whatever direction she aimed them, not so much ‘swung until completion’. She reached up to adjust one of her twin tails off her shoulder, and then sunk back down.
Tsubasa nodded, then returned her own posture to center, quickly relaxing back into herself.
Closing her eyes for what felt like the dozenth time, Shirabe tried again. Thoughts crept in again–gifts, troubles, her classes, Hibiki, all sorts of things. Frustration quickly crept in afterwards.
“Tsubasa-san, this isn’t working.”
“Very well.” Tsubasa stood, motioning for her to do likewise. “We can attempt this another time.”
“But it feels like we just started.” Shirabe looked aside and downwards. It almost felt like an insult towards Tsubasa to stop so quickly.
“That is fine. If you’d like, we can meet again next week for more.”
“Well, I suppose we should get moving back to your house.” Shirabe picked up the spare yoga mat Tsubasa lent her, and set it to the side.
“I’m very eager to learn cooking from you.” Tsubasa cracked a small smile, her eyes softening, if nervously.
She and Shirabe headed outside of Tsubasa’s dojo, walking through a nice backyard with a fancy pond and a few birdhouses. Tsubasa then opened the door to their patio, a short walk away from her private dojo, and Shirabe made sure to keep one step ahead of Tsubasa as they entered the kitchen.
“If anything goes awry, just know it’s ok to make a mistake when cooking,” Shirabe reminded her, putting on a chef hat.
By the time she had reached the kitchen, her nervous excitement had dropped into a deep terror.
Tsubasa looked at the pots and pans in front of her. A bag of chocolate chips, cookie dough, a tray on top of the oven, a mixing bowl, flour, butter and sugar, the whole works for the perfect chocolate chip cookies laid in her hands.
“But the last time I made these, I…” Her train of thought was interrupted by a warm pat on her head.
“Free your mind, Tsubasa-san,” Shirabe advised, placing a chef’s hat on top of Tsubasa’s head too.
“But what if I burn the house down?! Tsubasa threw her arms up in panic.
“Again, don’t worry. Just follow my instructions, and it’ll all be fine. Now firstly, we’re going to need a measuring cup.”
Tsubasa opened a cupboard door above her, getting out a measuring cup. She placed it down next to the ingredients that Shirabe neatly assorted together. Shirabe grabbed a stepping stool, hopping right next to Tsubasa.
“Good! Now firstly, you need to put two and a half cups of flour in.” Shirabe handed her a small red measuring cup, which Tsubasa picked up and put into the flour next to her.
Tsubasa scooped up flour and tossed it into the measuring cup beside her, it fell severely under 1 cup. She scooped another, this time a lot of flour dropped in! Tsubasa and Shirabe coughed at the cloud it made. When the cloud cleared, they got a look at how much was in there, only to see Tsubasa exceeded the 2 ½ cups… by 3 ½!
“Oh no, I exceeded the limit you proposed!” Tsubasa held her hands to her head.
“It’s alright, everyone makes mistakes like this!” Shirabe reassured her, grabbing the flour and putting it below the two of them. “You need to pour some of that back in here.”
Tsubasa grabbed the cup and anxiously tipped it over the counter into the flour bag. Grains of flour gradually fell into the bag in short bursts like sand through an hourglass. Tsubasa held on tight to the measuring cup, making sure it didn’t go overboard. Beads of sweat rolled down her head as she eyed the ground, making sure no small grain of flour hit it. Her eyes darted between the flour bag below her and the cup above, watching from the side as it went from 3 ½ down to 3, 2 ½ down to…
“Perfect!” Shirabe shot a thumbs up, the anxious Tsubasa threw the measuring cup back, a small smile formed on her face.
“I did it, I did it!” Tsubasa cheered.
“That’s just the first step.” Shirabe hopped off her chair, sliding it over to the mixing bowl. “Now we have to take our sugar and butter and mix them.”
Tsubasa walked over to the side to see Shirabe already had butter and sugar prepared in the bowl for her. Shirabe handed her a whisk from the counter.
“Take this, this is what you’ll use to mix.”
Tusbasa nodded, looking away as she jammed the whisk into the bowl, spinning it around. Shirabe was focused on patting down the flour Tsubasa poured earlier and looked over towards her concerned partner.
“Focus on the mix, Tsubasa-san,” Shirabe sternly ordered.
“Understood!” Tsubasa turned her eyes to the bowl to see that her mix was a pure, white swirling mass. She mortifyingly backed away, covering her eyes. This prompted Shirabe to run over and check, Tsubasa’s eyes were kept shut, peeping through her fingers.
“Not bad, Tsubasa-san!” Shirabe nodded. “You did perfectly fine! Now all we have to do is add an egg and the rest of our ingredients.”
Tsubasa ran to the counter and shakily handed Shirabe one of the eggs sitting out. Shirabe cracked the egg against the bowl, tossing the shells into the bin below her feet. Shirabe then picked up Tsubasa’s whisk, mixing the bowl herself while all Tsubasa could do was idly stand by and observe.
“Chocolate chips, please.” Shirabe pointed over to a large bag resting on the counter. Tsubasa walked over, put her arms around the bag, and turned to Shirabe. With each step, the bag’s weight kept getting smaller.
“Oh no.” Tsubasa’s eyes widened, looking down at the floor to see a pool of chocolate chips below her. With the bag growing lighter and more chips falling onto the floor, she hurried over to her side, only to stumble in her panic. Tsubasa fell onto the floor, the bag dropping onto the counter beside Shirabe.
Shirabe’s jaw dropped as she found Tsubasa laying in a pile of chocolate chips, and went to help her to get up. Tsubasa’s outfit was all messy and the floor was smeared with chocolate streaks. Shirabe put her on the couch. Tsubasa groaned and looked over at her cooking partner.
“Are you alright, Tsubasa-san?” Shirabe tilted her head.
“Yes, I’m alright. But perhaps we should…” Tsubasa winced as she glanced back at the kitchen. “... just go to the mall.”
“Mm.” Shirabe nodded quietly and carefully closed the door, putting everything out of sight.
The pair found themselves at the door of an open mall in the late afternoon, the light tinting the windows a shade of gentle yellow. Tsubasa opened the door. Not packed or crowded, there was only the scattered chattering of the mall-goers and the occasional squeak of shoes on clean white tile.
Tsubasa adjusted her blue cap and straightened out her white jacket, nodding to herself as she glanced at the unaware passers-by. Shirabe, just as serious, flipped a pair of pink glasses open and set them on her face.
They nodded to each other.
Excellent.
Tsubasa hummed as a soft smile slipped onto her face. “This place was destroyed nearly two years ago.” She looked up over the white-framed glass roof, some panels of which were taped plastic, soon to be replaced by custom-order sculpted glass. “But it was built again, differently.”
Shirabe nodded, slower, glancing aside, almost guilty. “Fine.”
“Yes.” Tsubasa didn’t let her smile slip, though. “I remember the first time I went. Tachibana and Kohinata invited me to karaoke. The old place is gone, but-”
Tsubasa led her around the corner to very much the same sort of place–karaoke. “Let’s sing, Tsukuyomi.”
Finally, Shirabe’s own lips turned up into a smile. Maybe this would be fun after all.
The karaoke place was delicately decorated with multi-colored streamers, speakers hanging on each side, fancy rainbow patterns on the windows, and a cutesy screen for selecting a song. Tsubasa and Shirabe sat down on a couch next to each other, Tsubasa picked up a mic laying on the floor in front of her.
“Tsukuyomi, do you want to go first?” She held the mic out to Shirabe.
This time, it was without hesitation. “Yes.” She took the mic, letting the familiar thing slip into her grip. “What songs are there?”
Shirabe gazed at the monitor in front of them, and cycled through various songs. Gyakko no Fluegel, Orbital Beat, a surprising number of Zwei Wing and Queens of Music songs zipped by, Maybe Tomorrow, A Cruel Angel’s Thesis, Guren, lots of songs were crammed into a device as small as this karaoke machine. Then Shirabe finally landed her finger on a song with the title of “Kokoro ~ Spirit”. Its instrumental played for a few seconds, Shirabe’s eyes sparkled.
“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Tsubasa chipped in, crossing her legs and laying back while Shirabe stood up. “Break a leg, Tsukuyomi!”
Shirabe beamed, then took a deep breath as she hit start, the instrumental started from the beginning.
She sang softly, her voice starting as more of a whisper than an actual lyric. Her eyes closed, and she gripped the microphone in both hands, legs spread steadily.
She passed from verse to verse, to chorus and back, her voice rising and falling as she sang to the person she found she’d picked this song for–the person who wasn’t here but was on her mind since her attempt at meditation. But this time, her worries had fallen away, and she just let it out, sang from her heart, and eventually, as the song came to a close, fell quiet.
“Wow, that was brilliant!” Tsubasa clapped, much to the joy of her karaoke partner. Shirabe gave her a warm, fuzzy hug, which Tsubasa returned.
“I’ll have quite the story to tell Kiri-chan when I get home.” Shirabe said gleefully.
“W-wait, hold on, Tsukuyomi.” Tsubasa stumbled as Shirabe dragged her by the cuff of her jacket hurriedly around the corner, and right into a shop of cooking supplies. The panic on her face was apparent. “I don’t think-”
Shirabe’s stare and brow, half hidden by her angle-cut bangs, brokered no disagreement.
Tsubasa felt a sharp tug on her cuff, and hid her fearful groan as she followed right behind Shirabe. But Shirabe let go shortly after, gently skipping off on her own.
Tsubasa glanced side to side, pulling her cap further down her face as if to shield herself–not that she thought anyone would approach her so readily in a place like this. She had no idea what to do here. None of this was within her realm of expertise, despite her interest, fleeting as it was. She was lost.
From one of the isles, Shirabe waved Tsubasa over.
“Yes, Tsukuyomi?” She glanced over a collection of pots and pans in all sorts of sizes, wincing. “I don’t think I’ll be of much help.”
Shirabe didn’t respond in kind, instead pulling two pots off their hooks, one in black with a green handle, the other white with red. “Which would look better?”
Tsubasa’s mind immediately returned to her memories of Shirabe’s kitchen, much unlike her own disastrous–no, she shouldn’t focus on that, her friend was asking her a question, a question of what looked good. She quickly fell back into her stage-setup-and-critique skills. The black contrasted well with the stark white of the kitchen and its shininess, while the white complimented it. The green and red, however, didn’t fit the mood of the room at all. If Shirabe had plants or different colored drapes and floor mats, maybe it’d work, but the best choice would have to be…
Tsubasa pointed over at a different pot, similar in size. “I think this deep blue would work best.”
Shirabe put the pots back and hoisted the black one with its blue handle, frowning to herself. “It’s too high for the drawers. They won’t stack.”
Tsubasa faltered, hesitantly drawing her hand back. She really wasn’t suited for this at all, was she? Not in any respect.
Shirabe glanced up at Tsubasa, her concentrating stare softening as she set the pot back up. She stepped further down the store, picking up a smaller, shorter pot in the same colors. “This size is better.”
“But don’t you need-”
“You’re helping. I need a small one too.” Shirabe smiled softly at her. “Thank you.”
Tsubasa sank. Not in regret, or sadness, or worry, but relief. She smiled back and nodded firmly as she straightened again, her confidence restored.
The rest of the store went much the same–Shirabe would find something she wanted, and ask Tsubasa for advice on its style, color, or fit. Sometimes it’d be exactly it, sometimes she’d pick something else instead of what she grabbed first, but either way Tsubasa felt good. Her worries were unfounded–she could help with this sort of thing after all.
The two had spent more time going back and forth between all sorts of shops. The sky was pink at the horizon, nearly purple, and they were nearly on their way.
“Tsubasa-san.” Shirabe stopped walking, Tsubasa dug her heels in.
“Yes, Tsukuyomi?” Tsubasa looked behind her, arms filled to the brim with shopping bags.
“I’ve been thinking about a gift to give Kiri-chan.” Shirabe looked at the shops behind her. Of all the stores they’d been to, all the pots, pans, and ingredients for Shirabe’s next big meals they’d bought, Shirabe felt like something was missing.
“Oh, let’s go back to the Karaoke place. I can get you a CD of the recording.”
Shirabe squinted, then perked, turning a surprised smile up towards Tsubasa.
Maybe they didn’t have to share that many hobbies after all.