Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Footwork
I'm reaching out for something,
Touching nothing's all I ever do.
Oh, I softly call you over,
When you appear, there's nothing left of you…
The Sweet; Ballroom Blitz
"Hey! Move your hand a little bit higher, can't you? It's meant to be on my back, not there! You wanna play grab-arse, get someone else to play with!"
Kaoruko scowls up at the other girl. "Maybe next time try wearin' some heels that don't have your bangin' your head on the ceiling, then, you daft cow." She shakes her head disparagingly. "I'm already fuckin' shorter than you, ain't I? Last thing I need is to go snappin' my neck strainin' up at you all night. What were you thinkin', eh?"
Matama releases Kaoruko's left hand long enough to puff up her hair into a more flattering shape as she admires herself in the mirrored walls of the dance studio before turning a frosty glare down at her partner. "Well, I didn't think they were going to stick us together again, obviously. I mean, fair play - me and you are the best two here, but even so," her eyes flick across to the left, where the other pupils in the class stand watching them, "this ain't exactly what I had in mind when you signed us up for this, y'know?"
Kaoruko rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well... me neither - no offence, like." She bites her lip, trying to get her temper under closer control, and makes a perfunctory effort to slide her hand a little bit higher up the other girl's spine.
Matama pouts. "'Sides, these shoes always make my calves look better, don't you reckon?"
Kaoruko permits herself a cursory inspection of the long, slender expanse of smooth skin and toned muscle on display beneath Matama's sequinned micro skirt. Much as it pains her to admit it, her dance partner does have a point.
She shrugs non-committally. "Yeah, not bad, I s'pose. Not that it does much for me, like, but -"
"Hah!" Matama grins triumphantly. "See? Matama-sama is the cutest girl here and you know it! That's why I'm going to be the only true Superstar Idol, y'know?" Her gaze briefly slides over to the spectators once more. A spark of mischief kindles in her turquoise eyes, and Kaoruko senses the first faint tremor of approaching danger. "Come to think of it, I reckon your hand might’ve been fine right where it was before. So just shift it back, why don'tcha?"
Matama inches towards Kaoruko, steadily closing the distance between them, until much of Kaoruko's lower field of vision is filled with a grandstand view of that truly spectacular pair of tits, straining and threatening to burst free from the close-fitting confines of that gauzy top the next time Matama finds herself in so much as a light breeze.
With more of a struggle than she would care to admit, Kaoruko makes the effort to raise her eyes from her partner's chest to her face, and is unsurprised to see Matama focused on the watching students, a self-satisfied smirk playing about her features. Kaoruko follows her gaze, her eyes drawn, as they always are, to that familiar pink head of hair.
Hanabishi Haruka, her best friend.
The girl she loves more than anyone else in the whole wide world.
And the girl who - by some inexplicable miracle that Kaoruko is loath to question in case the universe realises its mistake and carries out an emergency reboot - has agreed to come out on a date with her. More than one date, in fact: this is number three.
If anyone had told her that this unlikely series of events was going to transpire last year, she would have laughed in their face, or else melted into a puddle of goo through sheer happiness.
Now, however...
Haruka smiles across the dance studio at her and gives Kaoruko an encouraging wave. Any smile from Haruka is something you'd pay money to see, but this one lacks a fair bit of her girl’s typical thousand-watt dazzle. It's an uncertain thing, with cracks around the edges - a smile that's been put on for Kaoruko's benefit, rather than emerging spontaneously from any genuine pleasure on Haruka's part.
At least she looks in a better mood than the girl standing next to her, though.
Anemo Nemo had always been the most reluctant member of the party from as soon as the first tentative arrangements had been made ("Salsa dancing? Fuckin' - just... why?"), and now she is positively radiating an ill-tempered malevolence that has Kaoruko praying to every God in the cosmos that might happen to be listening that she doesn't find herself stuck in the toilets alone with her at any stage during the evening.
Not unless she's got an ice pack and a box of Elastoplast on hand, at least.
She turns back to Matama, who is now positively glowing with delight. Her dance partner leans in closer, cheek to cheek. "I said," she breathes, her voice a ludicrously sultry drawl that Kaoruko absolutely refuses to acknowledge has any effect on her whatsoever -"Move. Your. Hand... lower!"
Kaoruko obeys without a murmur.
She had no idea Akoya Matama could be this intimidating when her blood was pumping and, frankly, she's got no intention of finding out what happens if she dares to ignore a direct order. Instead, her fingers slide downwards as instructed, tracing the ridges of Matama’s spine before coming to rest, and then squeezing tight, sinking down only half-reluctantly into those temptingly yielding curves.
Their eyes meet, and Matama winks as the syncopated rhythm starts up once more. "C'mon then, Hot Stuff! Everyone’s watching, and we’re gonna give ‘em a proper show, yeah? Remember, we're goin' on ONE, not two. Oh yeah, and try to get it through your skull this time," the girl purses her lips briefly, "I'm leading, an' you're pissin' well following, got it? Matama-sama’s in charge, innit."
The sing-song voice of their dance instructor wafts across the hall, punctuated with occasional encouraging claps of her hands. "Okay, okay! Places please, everybody! Ladies, just like we talked about before, then - and everyone else, we're watching! Stay in time, 1, 2, 3, and 5, 6, 7, watch for Akoya-san’s nice soft knees, and how they both stay lovely and upright. All set? Wonderful! Keep an eye on Tenkawa-san's ankles when Akoya-san takes them through the cross-body turn, aaaand....we're ready to go! And five, six, seven, and..."
Kaoruko shrivels inside. How the fuck has she got into this mess?
* * *
How had she got into this mess, in fact? It’s a thought that’s still rattling around inside Kaoruko’s brain as she fastens her boots and slides into her coat.
It had all seemed to make sense at the time. In that first thrilling, giddy rush of happiness and excitement in the aftermath of finally confessing her feelings, Kaoruko had been willing to agree to just about anything so long as it meant spending more time with her beloved.
Haruka had been so good as well: kind, and comforting, and honest - above all, honest. She had never given Kaoruko false hope, but rather had made a point of being open and clear about what she was thinking, and how she was feeling, and, most crucially, what might happen next.
Christmas and New Year had passed in a strange, soft-focus, warm blur. Haruka had not committed herself to an answer - not yet, at least - but after such an agonisingly prolonged period of heartache, those days had still felt like an unadulterated pleasure. The dreadful burden of that ghastly secret was gone, after weighing her down for so long, and Kaoruko floated through the world in her soft, safe little bubble of joy, scarcely noticing where she was or what else might be happening. She had been brave, she had told the truth, and now, at long, long last... she was free.
All that remained was for the two of them to figure things out. And for two such close friends, working things out was hardly likely to be much of a stretch, was it?
That had been four weeks ago.
"You nearly ready, Babes?"
Kaoruko hasn't bothered changing out of her leggings and sweatshirt for the sake of a ten-minute walk home, but Haruka, typically, has done the thing properly. Her friend has already shimmied herself out of her rather lovely figure-hugging dance dress, pulled a garishly-patterned tee-shirt over her head, and is currently wriggling herself into a pair of skinny jeans which seem to be putting up something of a struggle. Kaoruko treats herself to an appreciative stare as the denim inches its way reluctantly up Haruka's toned legs.
She can feel the warmth glowing in her cheeks, but no longer feels the need to turn her face away in furtive embarrassment. She's left Haruka in no doubt about exactly how she feels about her, after all, and she might as well enjoy what's on offer while she's waiting for her soul-mate to make her mind up about things. Besides, Kaoruko's well aware that making no effort to conceal her gawping can bring Haruka out in a blush, too. Seeing those cheeks colour under the force of her gaze is a delight, and knowing that it's her that is having that effect on Haruka is truly an addictive thrill. Besides, after enduring so much suffering in silence, Kaoruko isn't averse to giving her friend a taste of her own medicine and inflicting a little bit of torture of her own for a change.
Maybe Magia Baiser had been onto something this whole time, after all?
"Nearly! Phew, won't be a minute now..." Haruka is facing away from her, huffing and puffing as she continues to battle against the stubborn jeans. Kaoruko watches Haruka's cotton-clad buttocks undulating in a figure-eight pattern that would have had their dance instructor nodding in approval as the girl works the waistband up her thighs and over her hips before straightening up, blowing out her cheeks with the effort. There's a good chance at least some of the rosy glow on her cheeks has come from knowing that she's just treated Kaoruko to a front-seat view of the performance. It's a charming thought. Certainly Haruka looks distinctly flustered as she hastily buttons up her flies and sits herself down on the bench to pull on her boots.
Kaoruko nods appreciatively. “All set?”
“Yep. Just let me get these fastened.” Haruka zips the boots up, slides on her jacket, and raises her head. She smiles, but once again it doesn’t feel quite right. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Cool. Let’s… um, well, let’s make a move then, yeah?” Kaoruko hooks her handbag up over her shoulder, eyes averted, trying to make sense of things. There’s something off, here, and she doesn’t know what it is.
Should she say something?
Yeah, of course she should.
“Um, did you want to stop off anywhere on the way back? It ain’t like we’ve got any homework tonight, so I thought maybe we could grab a drink or whatever, unless…” She leaves the words dangling, as open an invitation for Haruka to pick up as she can offer. Come on, Babes, gimme somethin’ back…
“Oh!” The tone in Haruka’s voice is unmistakable. There’s no need for Kaoruko to listen to the words that follow, because that single syllable tells her everything she needs to know. It’s a rejection, and all that remains to be determined is the reason behind that rejection. “I – I can’t, I’m afraid. Not tonight, I need to get back in a hurry. Just… oh, family stuff, you know?”
“Ah, right. No problem, if you’re busy, and I’d be gettin’ in the way, then I guess - that’s… well…”
Oh Gods. It’s worse than she thought. ‘Family stuff’? Pull the other one. Haruka is a dreadful liar, but even by her standards that was pathetically transparent.
Kaoruko slings her bag across her shoulder, swallows down the painful lump in her throat, and heads for the door without another word.
The weather’s warmed up a little bit over the last week, the heavy snows of early January giving way to an unpleasant mixture of rain and sleet, but the brisk north-easterly breeze makes it feel plenty cold enough out, at least as far as Kaoruko’s concerned. The pair of them huddle beneath Haruka’s umbrella as they splash their way hastily along the pavement under the garish neon glow of the street lights: given how fast they’re travelling, it’s perhaps understandable that the pair move in silence. There’s no way there could ever be awkwardness between them.
No way.
As they turn the corner of the street, Kaoruko catches sight of a bus waiting at their stop, and the girls put on a burst of speed to scramble up inside, out of the wintery rain, just before it pulls away.
In the close, uncomfortably warm confines of the bus, that silence seems a lot more noticeable, somehow.
There’s a spare double-seat towards the rear of the bus. Kaoruko forges ahead, moving with all her customary sure-footed confidence as they lurch forward and out into the traffic, before sliding across the scuffed leather and settling herself down in the window seat. She turns her face to the glass, watching the splashes of pink and orange light shining against the wet tarmac as her friend – her special, precious friend – sidles up alongside her.
There’s a long pause. Kaoruko studies the thin, ghost-like reflection of Haruka in the window.
Haruka has always been an open book to her. She doesn't know a single other person in the world with such an expressive face, or one possessed of such straightforward emotional honesty. But now, that phantom face in the dark mirror...
What has happened to her?
Haruka is facing forwards, hands folded modestly in her lap and her chin tucked down towards her collarbone, giving her the look of a member of a church congregation during a particularly boring sermon - or perhaps a prisoner in the dock, concentrating on looking as innocent as possible for the jury. There is a tense stillness about her that Kaoruko does not like at all; it doesn't suit Haruka one little bit. Her beloved always has a fizzing sort of vitality about her; that giddy, irrepressible positive energy that lights up rooms and makes Kaoruko feel she could run through walls and wrestle alligators.
Right now, though, that inner light is hidden, shrouded - and Kaoruko doesn't know why. But she can't shake that horrible, nagging feeling that, somehow or other, it's all her fault.
Well then - no more pretending. That is a promise she has made to herself that she has no intention of breaking.
Kaoruko sniffs, then twists in her seat, swinging her knees around to knock softly up against Haruka's own before digging the girl gently in the ribs with her elbow. "Yo - you okay there, Hon? You look like you're miles way."
Haruka comes to with a visible little start. She bites her lip and, for the third time that evening, gives Kaoruko one of those awkward, cramped little smiles that feel like a needle casually puncturing her heart. "Oh! Hah hah, sorry! Yes... miles away, like you said." Haruka rubs a hand across her face, but it fails to smooth away the creased worry lines on her brow. She sighs. "I'm sorry - just tired, I guess. I've never liked this time of year, all the cold and wet, and nothing like enough sunshine. I can't wait for the Spring." She lets her head loll back against the cushioned headrest, face turned up towards the ceiling. Just for a moment she looks unutterably sad, but then she shakes her head, and in the next instant the desolate mood is gone, her expression recovering some of its typical warmth. "It was fun tonight, wasn't it? I definitely feel like we're getting better each time, which is great. I just wish… I just wish…”
“Oh yeah? Spill – I can see there’s somethin’ on your mind, yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t notice, hah hah.” Haruka’s eyes seem to flash, perhaps with amusement - and perhaps with something else that Kaoruko can’t quite put her finger on. “Hmph. Well, you see… I guess it’s nothing to worry about. I suppose I just wish I was as good as you, you know? I haven’t got a clue how you pick up all the steps so quickly, and, um… and look so good doing them.” She gives Kaoruko another quick little glance, sharp enough to draw blood. “I mean, I always knew you were a good dancer,” she pouts, self-deprecatingly, “you always run rings around me when we’re learning new choreography for the videos or stage shows, and you’re loads sharper with your footwork. I always feel like an elephant on roller-skates when I watch you. It’s just, I thought – maybe this time…?”
“Ah. I see.” Kaoruko tugs on her collar awkwardly. “Yeah, well, um… sorry, I suppose – I always think you’re better’n me, if you must know, an’ anyhow –“
“Don't be silly!” The amusement in Haruka's expression is more obvious now, and far more genuine. “You don't have to apologise for being good at something. And anyway, I always love watching you dance,” she grins mischievously, “although, it's better when you don't know anybody else is watching. You sort of… come alive a little bit more then, d’you know what I mean?”
There is a pleasant, rosy glow building on Haruka's cheeks. Kaoruko briefly considers asking her to expand on this interesting subject of discussion, but after a moment she thinks better of it. Instead, she offers up an apologetic half-smile. “Yeah, well - as long as we get to spend some time together, yeah? It was a good idea of yours, Babes, this whole salsa thing. I'm glad you came up with it, an’ I’m sorry if, um, I was a bit of a tosser about it at first, an’ all.” She shrugs. “You know me. Always easier to turn my nose up at somethin’ an’ pretend I don't wanna do it than risk makin’ a tit of myself, ain’t it? Lookin’ all dorky like you an’ Sayo, I mean, heh heh! Just imagine.” The grin she shoots at Haruka is hopeful, at best.
“I do.” Haruka smiles sheepishly back at her, and slips her hand into Kaoruko’s. Soft fingers squeeze down encouragingly. “Know you, I mean. Sayo-chan might pretend to be the Ice Maiden, but we all know it's you who's too cool for school, don't we? Hah!” Haruka reaches up with her spare hand and presses the bell for the next bus-stop. “I think it's lovely getting the chance to spend this extra time with you. Just us together, you know. I only wish…”
Haruka bows her head.
Bollocks. She knew there was something more to this than feeling a bit crappy about dancing. There might be some truth in that – Haruka is dreadfully self-critical beneath that sunny veneer – but there’s something else there, some nasty little thing maggoting its way into their happy little rose garden, and she needs to find out what it is. Kaoruko stares, waiting for her girl to finish that sentence; willing her to open her mouth and say something, anything, to explain what is going so badly wrong.
Eventually, her patience is exhausted. “Yeah? You, um… you wish?”
Haruka swallows, then licks at her lips.
“The thing is…”
It is at that moment that the bus begins to slow and there is a general shuffling and murmur of noise on the seats around them as their fellow passengers gather up bags and umbrellas. Haruka flashes another of those lightning-quick sideways glances before swaying unsteadily up onto her feet and picking her way along the aisle towards the front of the bus, reaching for each handrail in turn like a drunken sailor. Kaoruko glares after her in frustration, but she knows, from long and bitter experience, that neither sulking nor arguing is likely to get her what she wants. So, she bites back her impatient rebuke and, with a single, scarcely-voiced expletive to vent some of her temper, she stands, edging herself out from behind the seat in pursuit of Haruka.
There is no chance to continue the conversation in the bustle at the front of the bus. Kaoruko keeps her lips sealed until they have disembarked and the small crowd of passengers is beginning to disperse.
The sleet hasn't eased off at all. It is a foul night; certainly not one where there is any pleasure to be had in lingering outside unnecessarily. The pair of them huddle close beneath Haruka's umbrella, arm in arm, and hurry off along the pavement, dodging puddles and swept along by the icy wind. A left-turn, off the main road and into a quiet side-road, devoid of traffic and with only the occasional street-light to break the gloom. Curtained windows glow on either side of the road as the bare branches of the maple trees overhead creak and groan in the stiffening breeze.
It's only a short distance to Haruka's house from here. If she's going to say anything, she needs to be quick about it. She can’t leave things like this, though.
As Haruka swings open the gate to her house, Kaoruko comes to a halt, keeping her arm tightly locked around Haruka’s own to keep her in place. The other girl turns, surprise blooming across her face. “Kaoruko-chan? What’s wrong?”
They are standing in a pool of pale golden light, cast by the street lamp over their heads, but beneath the shadow of the umbrella Haruka’s face is bathed in darkness. Only those eyes – those beautiful sea-green eyes – retain their customary sparkle.
No more pretending. Courage, Tenkawa-san.
“Well, see…” Kaoruko takes a deep breath, nodding her head as she steadies her nerve, “I was kinda hopin’ you could tell me that yourself, mate. You ain’t been at the races all night, and you’re makin’ me scared now, yeah? Is it, like – did I do somethin’ to upset you, or what? Coz if I did – fuck, I’m so sorry, I’d never want -”
“Gods, no!” The genuine shock in Haruka’s voice is palpable. “Wah, Kaoruko-chan, how could you even think that!? No, of course not, I promise you.” Haruka untangles her arm and brings her hand round to rest against the nape of Kaoruko’s neck, gently easing her in closer. “Please believe me. I’m the one who should be apologising, I know I’ve not been fair with you.”
A shiver of mingled relief and fear ripples through Kaoruko’s body. “It’s just – tonight, like, every time I’ve looked across, it’s like – I dunno, Haruka. Are you…?”
Shit. Kaoruko needs to make a decision; she knows it. Does she ask about the worst-case scenario, or dance around the issue?
No more pretending.
“…Are you thinkin’ that… that maybe, um… you don’t wanna do this no more?”
She hasn’t raised her voice above an apprehensive murmur, and her expression and tone are still gentle. But Haruka flinches as though Kaoruko has slapped her across the cheek.
The girl’s mouth falls half-open, lips trembling, as she inches away. Her nostrils flare briefly, and then, with a visible effort, she forces a wobbly smile onto her face, tears starting to well in her eyes. “No, silly!” Haruka’s forced jollity is painful to hear. “Nothing like that, ha ha! I’m just… like I said, a bit tired, and a bit down in the dumps. I still want to do this, Kaoruko-chan, I promise you. You’ve been very patient, and so understanding, and I’ve loved having our time together. I just… I need to think about things. Not about us – not just us, anyway. Lots of things. Family things, school things. Oh, you know me, always too much on my plate and not enough time to deal with it all, ha ha ha! I’ll… I’ll see you in school tomorrow, yes?”
“Y – yeah, course. Look, Babes, you’re kinda scarin’ me right now, I ain’t gonna lie. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really, I swear. I just need to have a bit of a think – by myself. But please, Kao-chan,” Haruka bends in closer, suddenly deadly earnest, “I meant what I said. It’s nothing to do with you, truly it isn’t. Here,” she passes the umbrella handle to Kaoruko, “it’ll save you getting soaked on the rest of the walk. You’ll be okay getting back, won’t you?”
The faint ringing of the alarm bells in Kaoruko’s mind is getting more insistent. “Course I will, I’ve done it a thousand times, ain’t I? But y’know, you’re still –“
“That’s fine then!” The smile is apologetic, but at least it seems genuine this time. “Mind how you go, and thank you for a – a lovely evening. I’m really glad I went, and I’m really glad I went with you, too – so don’t go fretting, please! I’ll message you later. Come here!”
Haruka cranes in as Kaoruko closes the distance between them. There’s a sudden wash of warm breath and that mingled scent that is indefinably unique to Haruka, and then pillow-soft lips are pressing down against Kaoruko’s cold cheek, and for the most fleeting of moments all her other worries and pains seem to melt away like the remnants of last week’s snow in a sudden heatwave.
She doesn’t remember closing her eyes, but by the time she’s reopened them Haruka is already halfway down her garden path and travelling at speed without a backwards glance. There’s a brief flare of light as she swings open her front door, and then Kaoruko is alone, standing stupidly out here in the freezing rain, the cutting edge of the cold given an extra keenness by Haruka’s absence.
She absentmindedly presses her fingers to her cheek, where the impress of Haruka’s lips still lingers, and then starts walking, head bowed, the grimness of the night forgotten in the whirling confusion of her thoughts.
* * *
By the time she gets home, Kaoruko is soaked to the skin, and those vague anxieties about Haruka are inexorably curdling into something altogether darker. It might only be a five-minute walk from Haruka’s house to her apartment, but that is plenty long enough for her brain to begin the self-inflicted torture of running through hundreds of possible permutations of what, precisely, Haruka had been trying to tell her - or not tell her, as the case may be. As the possibilities flutter by in turn, each more depressing than the last, her pessimistic suspicion hardens into something more like doomed certainty.
Something is seriously amiss. And if she can't work out what the problem is and sort it out…
Urgh. The thought is too horrible to even contemplate. After waiting so long, and pushing herself through such heartache, she can't let this thing blow up on the launch pad.
Once upon a time, she had convinced herself that hope would be much easier to bear than despair.
Kaoruko swings open the double doors to the dingy lobby of her apartment building. The setting matches her mood perfectly.
Leaving a trail of cold puddles across the terrazzo floor, she ignores the out-of-order elevator and heads straight for the deeper gloom of the stairwell on the far side of the room. Kaoruko squelches her way up the concrete steps to the second floor with sore feet and bowed head, feeling the dead-weight of her worries and woes dragging her down with each weary tread.
She has scarcely managed to get her key back out the lock and shut the door behind her when her mother's head appears around the door of the kitchen. The older woman looks Kaoruko up and down, sniffs, and then lets her mouth twist into an amused little grin. “Nice out there, is it?”
Kaoruko rolls her eyes and says nothing. She really isn't in the mood to play the stooge to her mother by feeding her a stream of one-liners.
“Here, lemme take that off of you.” The woman helps Kaoruko out of her soaked jacket and folds it delicately over her arm. “I’ll hang it up in the airing cupboard, it’ll dry out loads quicker in there. If you leave it on the hooks, it'll only drip all over everything else. Oh, an’ gimme me them boots, an' all."
Kaoruko balances precariously on one leg at a time as she awkwardly slides her boots off, then holds them out with a tired sigh. She stares up into her mother's eyes. They are a deeper shade than her own - cobalt, whereas hers are cornflower blue - but they remind Kaoruko so much of her own reflection that sometimes it's quite disconcerting. That same cool, calculating intelligence, that the same spiky attitude - although, in her mother's case, that tends to take the form of a careworn brand of cynical sarcasm, rather than her own typical ‘shout first and ask questions later’ approach.
At present, behind the wry amusement, there is a something else – a suggestion of a knowing, unspoken sort of sympathy.
Kaoruko abruptly deflates, letting her anger dissipate and shoulders sag. “Come on,” her mother reaches out with her spare hand and ruffles Kaoruko’s damp hair before turning away, heading for the walk-in cupboard at the end of the corridor. “Never mind about it all now, Hon. You need to get out that lot soon as you can, else you’ll catch your death of cold. Just strip off and dump them wet things there, save you gettin’ the carpets all wet, then go an’ get yourself a nice hot bath. It’ll make everythin’ seem a bit better, y’know?”
“I guess.” Kaoruko shrugs in acknowledgement and starts to peel her way out of her sodden clothes, keeping up a steady stream of muttered curses as she does.
“How’re you two gettin’ on with the lessons, then?” The voice reverberates from the end of the hall, amplified by the poky confines of the inside of the airing cupboard.
With a grunt Kaoruko manages to pull the wet t-shirt up over her head and drop it on the floor. “Yeah - alright, y’know?” She really doesn't want to have this conversation now. If she can just keep her interrogator fended off until she's made it to the sanctuary of the bathroom, she can lock the door between them and get some proper peace and quiet.
“Ha! Sounds mind-blowing! You ain’t sellin’ it, young lady. But Haruka-chan's enjoyin’ it too, is she?”
“Yeah… I guess.” She stifles a curse, trying to drag the reluctant pair of leggings down her thighs, but they’re putting up a hell of a fight, clinging to her skin with a tenacity that any limpet would be proud of. “Oh, come on, you fuckers…”
“Oi! Language, Missus!”
Her mum is a dreadful hypocrite about this sort of thing, it has to be said. Kaoruko has experienced many years of feeling the rough edge of Mrs Tenkawa's tongue when she's been in trouble, and she knows full well the woman can swear like a hairy-arsed dockworker when she's in the mood. But Kaoruko has lost more pocket money than she gets to remember in fines for obscene language, and has always been told “do as I say, not do as I do” when she’s tried to raise objections. So, with a ferocious scowl, she purses her lips tight together and takes out her frustration by extricating herself from the last few inches of fabric.
She is straightening up just as her mother gets back, bundling up the discarded wet clothes in a single smooth action before giving Kaoruko a thoughtful look. “Go on, get a move on, my little drowned rat. You're already shivering; last thing you need is to catch a cold, ain't it? Just leave your socks and undies in the sink and hop in the bath sharpish, an’ I'll order us some pizza, yeah? Carpaccio’s have got an offer on - we can pig out, just you an’ me. That sound okay?”
“Um… y – yeah, that sounds great, actually. Cheers, Mum.” The woman is right, curse her. Kaoruko can feel the shivers starting to rack her body, and her teeth are chattering. The central heating in this place has never been the greatest at the best of times, and this, assuredly, is not the best of times. She gives her mum a grateful little nod and a smile. “Perfect. I’ll, um… yeah.” She hobbles off along the corridor, stiff and bent over with cold and tiredness, arms wrapped tight around herself for warmth.
It's less drafty in the close confines of the bathroom. Kaoruko gets the hot water running straight away, pouring in a generous dollop of bubble bath in the hope it will smooth the more abrasive edges off her mood. It doesn’t take long for the rising heat, saturated with the floral scent of the foam, to begin lifting her spirits.
Kaoruko busies herself in shedding the last few scraps of her clothing, chucking them in the sink and wrapping a towel around herself while she waits for the tub to fill. She wobbles across to the toilet and half-collapses down on it, letting her head come to rest against the wall as she closes her eyes with a weary sigh.
The warm steam is starting to billow agreeably around the small room. She breathes in deeply, slowly, letting her lungs fill.
Holding, and then releasing.
In, and out.
As her body begins to relax, that incessant whirring in her brain gradually slows as well.
Was it a mistake she had made, or something else? Perhaps just some fundamental truth of Haruka’s character, of her feelings, that Kaoruko can’t do anything about. The heart wants what the heart wants, after all – and doesn’t want what it doesn’t want. And if Haruka, deep down, just doesn’t want her, doesn’t love her in the same way that Kaoruko loves Haruka… well. If that was the root cause of the tension this evening, that was never going to be something she could wish away or try to change.
Was it all doomed from the start?
The warm, foggy air is already making her drowsy, and the sound of the falling water drumming against the bath is only adding to the soporific atmosphere. With an effort, Kaoruko opens her heavy eyelids, levers herself upright and glances across at the tub. Deep enough. She creaks across to the side of the bath, turns off the taps and lets her towel drop to the floor, pooling on the bathmat in easy reach.
Even swinging her foot up over the side of the bath is surprisingly hard. She has always been as supple as a cat, but right now her joints are groaning like rusty hinges in need of oil. Maybe she should have gone with her first instinct and suggested yoga classes instead?
Huh.
An image of Haruka, clad in skin-hugging Lycra and wearing a blissful smile as she stretches out sinuously, floats enticingly before Kaoruko's eyes. Another missed opportunity.
She dips her toe in the water, and winces. It's painfully hot: just the right side of scalding. Perfect. She needs a proper soak, immersed in water hot enough to boil the flesh from her bones. Eyes screwed tightly against the discomfort, she steps into the bath and crouches lower, arms braced against the sides to support her body weight as she slowly sinks down through the bubbles.
And then… she lets go, dropping the last few inches with a soft splash, and a high-pitched squeak of shock as her thighs and buttocks enter the water. There is a short-lived throb of pain and then...
Oh… that is wonderful!
Kaoruko melts into the bath, sliding down lower and lower. As her back and shoulders sink into the water, she can’t help letting out a low groan of pure pleasure.
One of the advantages of being a bit of a short-arse is that she scarcely needs to bend her knees to be able to lie flat against the bottom of the tub, letting the water envelop her and caress every inch of her body as her hair billows out around her head like a golden halo.
Kaoruko lies still for a long while, revelling in the sensation and letting a measure of serenity crawl its way into her troubled hearts, one millimetre at a time. She is calm now, and that methodical, logical side of her brain that is always quietly whirring away in the background has taken charge once more.
Things are not as they should be. So, first identify the problem, and then think about how to fix it.
When did this start to go wrong?
Not with her confession; she is certain of that. Few actions of hers have ever given her such a powerful sense of relief; that sense of an intolerable burden finally being shed. She had carried that humiliating secret for so long. Managing to find the strength and resolution to finally cast of that disguise and lay her heart bare, to tell the girl she loved exactly how she really felt about her, had been her greatest accomplishment and greatest reward, all rolled into one. Granted, it might have been better with a few more eloquent words, and quite a lot less in the way of tears and snot... but now, she wouldn't change it for the world.
And Haruka had been happy about it. More than happy; she was certain of that. Haruka as near as damn it never lied - she was as close to being physically incapable of practicing deception as any human being on the face of the planet - so when she had taken Kaoruko’s hands in her own and promised her that the admission had given her joy, she must have been telling the truth.
Good. Let's start from that point and go on.
Kaoruko rolls her head gently side to side, loosening up the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders and letting the aches and tension ease away.
And then the next day - Christmas day - well…
It was true that there hadn't been some dramatic romantic scene, with Haruka professing her undying love and devotion in a flurry of kisses. But there had been smiles, and cuddles, and laughter, and that overwhelming sense of things moving in the right direction. Kaoruko has scoured her brain repeatedly over the last few weeks, but even at her most pessimistic she’s as sure as she can be that there was nothing wrong, that Haruka was absolutely accepting of how she felt, and that… well, at least that she had reasonable grounds to keep hoping.
Everything had been fine. She was sure of it.
She runs her fingers through her hair, massaging the tips against her scalp in lazy circles, while her other hand traces lines from her sternum to navel and back again.
Come on, girl, keep thinking. Work it out.
Which of them was it who’d decided inviting Matama and Nemo along to the dance classes was the way to go? She’s a nasty feeling it might have been her. How had the conversation gone again…?
“So, like - I dunno, maybe we could just, like, do somethin’ to spend time together, y’know? Like – not a date, I know you ain’t ready for nothin’ like that, an’ I don’t wanna put no pressure on or… well, anyway, just somethin’ that ain’t school, or hangin’ out, or magical girl bollocks, yeah?”
“Ooh, yes, that sounds fantastic! We could go and do something fun as a couple – something we both enjoy, just making the time for it.”
“A couple?”
“Of course, silly! There’s not much point otherwise, is there? But just because we’d be there as a couple, it wouldn’t mean it’d have to be a date, or that we couldn’t be there with other people, too.”
“Err… that sound’s kinda –“
“So what d’you think you’d want to do, Kao-chan? We could try that new karaoke place down by the bus station, that’d be easy to get to, or – no, what about doing some cookery classes or something like that, hee hee hee! I’d love to try some proper baking, I never get the chance here, it’s always just stuff for the girls – or maybe we should do roller-blading or something like that, you’re so good at ice skating already I’m sure it’d be easy for you! Or how about –“
“Yeah, yeah, any of those’d be great. Or, um, well – maybe not the baking thing, I guess. But, um…”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’ve, um, I mean it’d be sorta like work, I guess, but um well heh maybe um we could, oh, I dunno, do dancin’ or…?”
“Wah! Yes please, yes yes let’s do that! That’d be incredible, I’ve always wanted to learn a proper proper dance, y’know, not like the stuff we do for the shows oh wow and you’re so cool when you dance and I love it too, ooh and we’d have a great time - oh but what sort of dancing do you want to do, you mean like proper lessons or something don’t you, only I think they do proper lessons down at the gym, don’t they, so what d’you fancy then, we could do like breakdancing or something or ooh no I know what about like proper ballroom dancing with waltzes and big sparkly dresses or maybe tango classes or what’s that thing they do in Brazil like at the carnival with the fun outfits squeee! Yes please, that’d be amazing, oooh, say yes, Kao-chan, say yes say yes say yes say yes!”
“Um.. y - yeah, okay. Only, not, like, them big-arse spangle dress stuff, please. Nor the carnival one, either - I don’t fancy showin’ my paps an’ flaps off to every dirty fucker in town. But…”
“Oh wait, hang on, I got pinged something the other… wait… wait wait wait - yeah, here, look, they’re doing salsa classes down at the gym! That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it?”
“Salsa? Isn’t that - ?”
“Oh, it’s so cool! We’ll just have the best time ever, ha ha ha! I’ll get in touch and see if we can’t get signed up for a class, I’m sure they do like free taster sessions or something. Only…”
“What? What’s up?”
“Well – didn’t you say we could bring some other friends along, too? Only I’m a bit worried I might be rubbish, and I don’t want everyone laughing at me!”
“Nah, I’m sure that won’t happen, you always pick up the – hang on, weren’t it you who – ?”
“Oooh! I know! We could ask Utena-chan and –“
“NO.”
“No? Well, um… if you’re sure? Only I thought that, y’know, we get on so well with Utena-chan, and I know you’ve had one or two moments with Kiwi-chan, but I’m certain that if the two of you only –“
“No. Please. Look, I’ll think of someone else, yeah? Don’t worry about it – in fact… yeah, I know who might be up for it…”
Fuck. It had been her fault, all along. Just like she’d feared.
Resisting the urge to fully immerse her head until the pain stops, Kaoruko pushes herself back up out of the water and reaches for the shampoo bottle.