45 posts tagged “between wit & sarcasm”

My readers know me as many things: some in the Harry Potter fandom call me Diotima Lestrange, RPG friends call me either Murasaki or Saki-chan, online Arashi friends call me Shoko. Who am I? That's a very good question. But if you are looking for a simple or easy answer, I am sorry to say that I haven't one. Since existential angst on 'what' and 'who' I am will likely bore you, I shall say nothing more on that score. If you must call me something, you may either call me Shoko or Lady Strange.

Here be a repository of my Arashi fangirling, fanfics, and other ramblings. Occasionally, there will be some serious talk on life, as well as original fiction and poetry.

To make life easier for my readers, I have created "easy navigation" links if you're looking to read my fics. Do not abuse these links or I will lock down on everything. D'accord?

Between Wit & Sarcasm - Omake

‘Gimmick Game’

~ ~ We open thus… ~ ~

In a dark room lit by the yellowish flame of a single candle, a lone figure sat shrouded in the shadows of an escritoire. This personage put down a quill and removed a ring from an elegantly tapered finger. The figure proceeded to seal several envelopes with wax and the signet ring. As soon as the sealing wax dried, the smart, trim wrist reached across the table, picked up a silver service bell and shook it twice before returning to dipping the quill in the ink stand and recommence writing.

A few moments later, the writer was alerted to the butler’s presence at the door of her private sanctuary.

“You rang, milady?” the butler coughed obsequiously.

Without looking up at the butler, she impatiently commanded in a faint Public School English accent, “Be a good man, and send these out for me by owl.”

“That’s highly irregular,” said the manservant slowly, shifting his weight between his feet. “But if you insist…”

“Indeed, I do,” she replied in a cold, disinterested way.

With a shrug at his orders, the butler limped away to do her ladyship’s bidding.

~ ~ Later that afternoon…~ ~

“Sho! Registered post!” Chiaki Nakahara, logical botanist and biotechnologist extraordinaire called out upon closing the kitchen window of her boyfriend, Sho Sakurai’s flat. Her brow furrowed when she turned over the envelope and saw a neat, slanted, old-fashioned curlicue, feminine hand. “Sho! This is a woman’s handwriting. Who would send you a letter by owl?” The envelope tingled in her hand and she dropped it with a gasp. “Sho! An explanation is in order!”

The said boyfriend pottered out with his mobile phone on his ear and placed a finger on his lips, requesting most humbly and silently that she remain silent. “You too, Ohno-kun? What do you mean this is cool? This isn’t cool! A crazy nut of a woman just sent me a letter by owl. What do you mean I should read the note?” Sho approached the envelope and kicked it lightly in suspicion. “Are you sure? What if it’s something deadly like anthrax or the bubonic plague?”

Gingerly picking up the envelope and opening it, he found a note on very fine parchment paper which read:

Dear Mr Sakurai,

You and Miss Nakahara are cordially invited to dine at five o’clock this evening. To arrive at the destination, remove the silver crest portkey attached to the end of this card. I shall be expecting you.

Yours &ca,
Lady Strange

“You mean we’ve been summoned by she-who-must-not-be-crossed?” Sho gasped into the mobile phone, meeting the equally anxious eyes of his girlfriend.

“It couldn’t be anyone else, ne?” Satoshi Ohno replied, sounding highly impressed. And he was, mind you. He was looking with complete and undisguised fascination at the artistic design of the silver crest and the letter he had received.

~ ~ Meanwhile, at Merton Building near the Komaba campus of Todai… ~ ~

Lounging on a sofa and periodically flipping the pages of a leather bound book, was a slight lady extremely pallid in countenance, with eyes of dark chocolate, as well as very dark eyebrows and black hair that was forcibly wound into a chignon close to the nape of her neck. Her face was unpainted; her mouth firm; her air was blasé; two strains of silver peeked out from her hair, but they never bothered her. She wore a charcoal grey Victorian suit-gown with black facings and dove-grey lace at her throat. Her spectacles slid down her nose as she flipped another page. This was the heroine of Between Wit and Sarcasm, one Professor Alys Teng.

Seated with this lady’s head on his lap was the hero of our piece, one Kazunari Ninomiya (commonly known as Nino). He was lazily half-smirking and half-watching her while playing his Nintendo DS. Although he was no longer in the first blush of youth, he still looked younger than his age. He possessed the ability to combine grace and mordant wit even more successfully than the woman half-commanding his attention. His dress, while as plain as hers, was something more careless in appearance. He did not tap his fingers on his DS, nor did he constantly adjust the cushions as did Alys. However, he had the same habit of showing what he thought of the world at large in the twitching of his thin lips.

Alys, though to all intents, wholly absorbed in her book, was studying her companion with faint amusement. Despite courting for slightly over a year and a half, they never concerned themselves with defining what they were to each other or where they were headed unlike a certain Arashi singer-actor and a certain novelist-mangaka. They both had the same lazy unconcern for Society and the same tendency towards stinginess. Individually, they had few friends, and some enemies. There were those who openly disliked her for her razor wit, and resented him for his acid tongue. While no one dared to intentionally annoy them, they enjoyed throwing barbed remarks at each other.

At that moment, Nino’s eyes flickered downwards and met Alys’s in an appealing glance as they caught each other in mutual observation. His eyes crinkled in unspoken laughter as she raised a brow in issuance of a mock challenge.

“Why are you in layers today? Are you in league with she-who-must-not-be-crossed? She intends that in Riida’s story, we…” he enquired in a lilting purr as he put aside his game.

“Shut up, Freeloader! You’ll give the plot away,” Alys cautioned with a finger at his lips. “It would be easier for you if you said ‘yes’. That’s all you have to do.”

“So sure you’d be able to tempt me?” he smirked, seizing her hand.

“So sure you’d be able to resist?” she returned, meeting him smirk as she flicked aside his hand before he could thread their fingers together.

“Who would be able to unable to resist whom, Alys-chan.” He bent his lips back into a disarming smile – the same smile that would have launched all the ships from Ilium if he had been cross-dressing as Helen of Troy.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do, darling,” she purred in English, rising from the sofa and his lap before he could lean in for a kiss. Switching back to Japanese she continued, “Remember that little thing I promised while you were away?”

“The thing MatsuJun overheard in his story…”

She curled her lips and threw him an arch look over her shoulder as she put on white wrist-length gloves and took up a veiled riding hat that matched her outfit. “Yes, that.”

“Now?” he gasped, his throat suddenly parched as he drew his knees close to his chest and hugged his legs close to himself.

“If you like it…”

“I’ll let you wear my family's Tomesode any time you like.”

“That's not necessary. I want what she-who-must-not-be-crossed plans should happen in one of the later stories. It would be cheaper for us with only one...”

Nino interjected before she could elaborate, seemingly understanding that which she was intimating. “Well then, convince me, Teng sensei. Give me an outline, lecture me,” he smirked devilishly at her, wanting to goad her to continue that which she was about to do.

“Let me begin by outlining the benefits of my proposition.” She paused to hit ‘play’ on the remote of the sound system.

As the strains of his solo, Gimmick Game, drifted through the air, Nino watched riveted, resting his head on the knees he had drawn to his chest when she threw off the veil of he hat before flinging her hat at him. He wasn’t expecting that, he smirked thoughtfully as his eyes half-followed all her gestures. She was highly unpredictable, that much he knew, and he had to give her credit for trying. It wasn’t everyday that she played coy with him like this. Even if there was something wanting in her execution, he said nothing, preferring to whistle appreciatively at her as she flung a glove at him On account that she was not a professional in that line of work, he would make do. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a chap had his girlfriend performing a striptease for him. He smirked, lazily leaning forward in his seat, sniffing at the lily-of-the-valley scent on the glove he had caught.

“Alys-chan,” he murmured as she painstakingly teased him with the unbuttoning of her coat that she had swung at him.

“Hmm?” She continued to sway and unbutton the cuffs of her blouse.

He fell forward on to his knees and prostrated himself, holding on to the hem of her ankle length skirt. “It would be faster if I helped,” he suggested, kissing the hem. “Petticoats too?” He smirked and seized a slender wrist, taking a finger into his mouth. “I need more than this…”

“No touching,” she teased, flicking a wrist at him as she proceeded to undo the jabot at her throat.

“You’re just making things difficult for me,” he sulked, obeying her injunction anyway.

“And what sheer joy I derive from tormenting you,” she laughed, blowing a kiss at him.

“There isn’t a day that I don’t despise you for it,” he snapped, his eyes still following the movements of her fingers as she undid the first two buttons of her blouse.

“Eh? What the hell!” exclaimed a chorus of voices as they materialised in the room in a loud crash, knocking over a vase on the side table.

Our hero, who had seized the gravity of the situation, promptly stood up and held his lady in a supportive embrace. Our heroine, shocked at this unwanted intrusion could only mutter Latin curses unfit for the ears of children as she clung to her partner.

“What are the two of you doing?” the group of newcomers chorused.

“What are you doing in my flat!” Alys demanded when she had regained some sense of dignity.

“Yeah! Our story’s over! Don’t we get some privacy!” Nino complained, doing his best to shield Alys from prying eyes as he coaxed her to sit. “Did you put them up to this Sakurai? You have your story, go meddle there. Leave Alys-chan and me to our own dissipation.”

“I knew it was a bad idea when the letter and the portkey came,” the hooked nose, dazed looking one known as Ohno proclaimed.

Nino and Alys shared a speaking glance as she settled down on the floor with her skirt spread around her, and he beside her.

“But what a lovely picture you make! You must sit for me! Just so. Like that!” exclaimed a pretty girl with pigtails and a sketchpad.

Sho groaned aloud and slapped his forehead. “I should have known this would happen! Kaoru-chan, this isn’t the time or place for drawing. The two of them were about to do something unmentionable.”

“I see nothing objectionable now,” Chiaki said in a bracing tone, trying to calm her beau down for his veins were just beginning to pop up along his neck.

“They were going to... Gah! Thanks to them, I can never listen to Gimmick Game without stripping coming to mind!” Sho lamented, turning around to face the wall and banging his head lightly there.

“Who knew a portkey invitation to dinner could lead to this?” Chiaki shook her head apologetically.

“Okaasan always said there is no such thing as a free meal,” Ohno added, quoting the wisdom of his mother. “Maybe Nino-chan and Alys offended her?”

“And what were we supposed to have done?” Alys questioned testily, spreading her hands in a gesture of irritation.

“Yeah, like we ever do anything that she doesn’t sanction?” Nino corroborated, lying down on his heroine’s lap as Kaoru busily sketched them.

A crackle of thunder broke across the room and a loud, imposing voice boomed, “You know very well what you have done!”

“Yabai!” Ohno and Sho cried out, hugging each other as they trembled in fear. “She-who-must-not-be-crossed!”

“I’m sure there is a logical explanation to all of this,” Chiaki stated with admirable firmness.

“Such as?” the acerbic couple spat.

“Let this be a lesson to you! Cross me, and as your authoress, I can make terrible things happen to you. This interruption to your ‘private time’ should be warning enough.” the voice rang out sternly.

“Listen, you!” Alys stated authoritatively as befitting someone who would not cow to pressure of whatever kind. “The rest of the Arashi boys stare at us. You wrote it that way! It is a simple equation. They like to stare, we give them a show. Kazu darling and I have a great deal of self-control. We never go overboard in public.”

“Like you would let us have our own way, Lady Strange?” Nino smirked and laced his fingers with those of Alys.

“Why then, do you or do you not try to take over any of the plots I write?” the voice continued.

“Name an instance!” the couple demanded in unison, still very much miffed at the interruption of their early evening recreation.

The voice harrumphed and boomed, “I’ll name you four – blatant touching backstage in Sho’s story, which progresses to blatant groping in the art gallery scene in Ohno’s story, which progresses to the over zealous snog in Jun’s story, and which progresses to the…”

“That much happens?” Chiaki gasped in astonishment. “Have you two no shame?”

“Shame? What’s that?” Nino laughed acidly, idly wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around Alys’s hand.

“It’s not in our vocabulary,” Alys said, meeting her freeloader’s eyes with a smirk.

“And you dare claim you’re not trying to take over the other stories!” the voice bellowed, causing the ground to quake and the walls to shake violently, much to the alarm of Sho and Ohno who were still cleaving to each other. “This is the only warning you will receive, Mr Ninomiya, Professor Teng. Allow your megalomaniac tendencies to overtake you once again and I will make it so that you two will have to go through living hell. Finite incantatem!”

“Is it over?” Ohno asked when the lights came on again and everything appeared to be normal once again.

Sho rubbed his arms and carefully looked around for falling debris or dead bodies or fire ants. “She’s scary when she’s cross.”

“It appears her reasons were legitimate,” Chiaki sighed fatalistically. “The Ninomiyas are incorrigibly evil.”

“They just have a good grasp on themselves,” Kaoru gently stated while continuing to sketch them. “They don’t try to hide what they are. I think it’s very natural of them, don’t you?”

“Well said. We’re not evil, are we, darling?” Alys asked Nino with a devilish smirk.

“Of course not, dear. We were merely giving the rest of the guys what they want. Those voyeurs and perverts!” he laughed in response. “Besides, lots happen in the other stories aside from our antics.”

“Indeed it does,” affirmed Alys, gesturing for Sho, Chiaki, Ohno and Kaoru to sit on the sofa. “There will be ants….”

Nino added seriously, “Drama…”

“Minor angst because of the rehashing of what happened to the Ninomiyas…” Chiaki continued with a playful askance look at the said couple.

“Who are determined to be the centre of attention,” Sho chortled while dodging crushed paper balls thrown by the couple.

“A revelation about a certain JE artiste and a certain novelist,” Kaoru said, holding up her sketchpad to block the incoming assault of the paper balls as Sho could not be trusted to block all of them.

“Art on the news!” Ohno exclaimed brightly before turning to all the blank faces staring quizzically at him. “It does! In the epi…” Sho’s hand clamped over the mouth of Arashi’s leader, arresting the rest of his speech.

“Well then, interested to see what happens to the rest of us?” Chiaki guffawed in earnest at this method of shutting up the unfortunate Ohno.

“And us!” interjected Nino and Alys in unison with smirks on their lips, and the promise of mayhem dancing in their eyes.

“Until we meet again in The Wages of Managing Sense,” the characters chorused cheerfully.

“The story about Chiaki and me!” Sho interjected, waving his hands in the air.

“Ja ne!” all and sundry cried out.

NOTES:
Tomesode is the most formal Kimono (usually black, but it does come as Iro-Tomesode or coloured Tomesode) and it comes with 3 to 5 family crests on it.

~~~~~ to be continued… or not… who knows, eh? ~~~~~

Those of you following the 'Whither my Love' Arashi fanfiction series such as my dear friend, Junko, will know that I have completed the Nino-Alys story entitled Between Wit & Sarcasm. That story was fun to write. I enjoyed portraying the dynamics between Nino and his professor. There is definitely a hint of something sadomasochist about them - she hits/bites/kicks him and he takes it; likewise during their enforced separation over the whole tabloid issue, he abuses her emotionally by deliberately manipulating her so that she will chase him away, and she takes it. The two of them are a wonder, but I enjoyed writing them. Accordingly, they will make regular appearances in the stories of the other chaps.

Currently, as things stand, the typescript for Sho's story, entitled The Wages of Managing Sense, is in the editing stages. The same may be said of the typescript for Ohno's story, Life's Colours & Sounds. The plot for Life's Colours & Sounds is by and large complete, save for the epilogue, which currently being rewritten. In between my real life activities of work, education and whatnot, I am currently writing Jun's story (presently untitled). 

An old friend stumbled Between Wit & Sarcasm yesterday and told me that the relationship between Nino and Alys reminded her of Nino's new solo "Gimmick Game". Our discussion went something like this --

NH: Ne, thanks for letting me read the preliminary draft of Managing Sense.

Me: Pish posh! You'll be in the wilds of Burma without a computer for a spell, least I could do to keep you amused. Do write to me when you can spare the time from the Thai and China borders.

NH: Shoko, about your Nino and Alys as they are in Wit & Sarcasm and Managing Sense... Were you listening to Nino's Gimmick Game when you wrote them?

Me: The first story was conceptualised in February 2008 and the original typescript was completed in mid March. What do you think?

NH: You know how I'm always saying you have a 'feel' for things? Your Nino and Alys seem to having the kind of relationship depicted in his new solo. Have you heard the solo?

Me: My dear Hetty, I'm already on Jun's story, what do you think? I write what I feel needs to be said for the plot. And think for once - the solo was only unveiled recently, by which time, I was on the last legs of Riida's story and beginning Jun's. Please think things carefully before you ask me these things.

NH: The solo, Shoko-chan, have you heard it?

Me (exasperated): Yes, I have and I rather liked it. Very different from his previous ballads.

NH: Do you know what it means?

Me (irritated): European languages are more my forte than this. I don't speak Japanese. If you're going to tell me what it means and what this has to do with Nino and Alys, please do so quickly and put me out of my misery, 

NH: The lyrics speak for themselves. It's actually a song about a man's possessiveness over a woman, how they lie to each other, but are in the know that the words are lies. Denise Dinc has a translation on her vox. Let me copy it here for you.

Gimmick Game

3...2...1… Let's Go!

どうしてだろう　あなたの指が　私だけには汚くみえてるの
Why is it that I’m the only one who can see that your fingers are dirty?

だからお願い　その汚い指で　私の体そんなに撫でないで
So please, don’t touch my body with those dirty fingers of yours

なんでだよ）そりゃそうでしょ　だって
(Why is that?) Well of course it’s like that

無茶だよ）その言葉あなたにあげるわ
(It’s unreasonable) That word, I give unto you

また違う世界で　自分だけ満たして
Once again in a different world, you only satisfy yourself

それでなんで知らぬ顔で　私を愛せるの
Then, why love me with that ‘I-know-nothing’ face?

あなたは今日もまた　愛してるが去ってる　
You’ll do it again today, letting “I love you” pass away

だって（オレしか愛せないの）
Because (ain’t I the only one you can love?)

あなたの首筋　ほら嘘がみえた
Right at your nape, look I found a lie

---
真面目な顔して　その気はあるのに　なんでしてくれないの悲しい顔
Making a serious face, that aura is indeed there; why don’t you show a sad face for me instead?

お望みならば　涙ぐらいならば流してもいいよ　なんかそれっぽいでしょ
If you wish, you can make it seem like your tears are gonna fall too; it’ll look quite real, won’t it?

泣かないで）あなたもそうなの
(Don’t cry) Aren’t you like that too?

笑って）終わりには　優しいふりばかり
(Smile) In the end, it’s just some pretentious kindness

---
出て行くのもいいけど　ねぇ持って行ってよ
It’s fine with me if you want to leave, but please bring them with you

何もかもすべて全部　思い出も全部
Anything, everything, all of them; the memories, all of them

あなたがいらないのは　私もいらないの　
The things you don’t want, I don’t want them too

だって（もうやめにしよう　ねぇ）
Because (let’s just bring it to an end)

わたしの首筋にも　嘘はあるの
Right at my nape, there’s a lie too

---
壊れた時間に戻れるなら　今ならすべて分かるのかな
If I can go back to the broken times; perhaps now, will I’ll be able to understand everything?

その言葉　仕草   愛
Those words, gestures, love

---
なんてかわいい振りして　嘘を着て歩いて
Pretending to be adorable, walking around wearing a lie

なんでだろう　街の色が綺麗に見えるの
Why? How can the town look so beautiful?

それは私が汚れているからなの
Indeed it is because I’m the dirty one around

でもその世界でしか　生き方知らないの
But I only know how to survive in this world

寂しい振りしてすぐに涙流すの
Pretending to be lonely, letting my tears flow immediately

するとほら来た次の世界が　また
Then, look it’s here, the next world, again

（その手に________）
These hands *something*

君の首筋　ほら唾をつけた
Right at your nape, look, I’ll leave my spit (to indicate that you’re mine)

Me: Are you sure, Harriet? Are you absolutely sure?

NH: From what I can tell listening by ear to the song, the transcription is accurate. Your Nino and Alys never say 'I love you' to each other. They lie and claim that they hate each other; they call each other  names; they're the only ones who can catch each other lying. He complains that she is impassive towards him; he pretends to be dispassionate when she's mentioned. But throw them together and they can't stop subtly touching each other. Half way through Wit & Sarcasm, he complains that she kills with her kindness, that her kindness is only pretend. He obsesses over her tiny gestures.  And then you had the brill idea of letting Nino do exactly what he says in the song to Alys in Managing Sense.

Me: Now, I'm getting frightened. I may have to edit Sho's story to purge that bit.

NH: Don't. It's good in there. I can see Nino being obsessive and possessive about Alys.

Me: This only means I will now have to edit Managing Sense to throw in a line about that song. Or I could throw it in Jun's story. I am most seriously disturbed by the lyrics. 

NH: Because it's overtly sexy?

Me: Because I can actually picture Nino and Alys in the lyrics and then having a passionate make out session to this song. By Athena's mighty breasts, you're devilishly on the ball today.

NH (incredulous): You're bothered because of that?

Me: I have hinted in the epilogue of Wit & Sarcasm that they have a physical relationship; Managing Sense makes it more explicit with another hint; and Colours & Sounds does offer another hint.

NH: I'm just amazed that you had Sho and Chiaki witnessing Nino and Alys doing what the song is suggesting.

Me: Keep going at it and I will purge it from the actual story.

NH: I'm just saying, Shoko... It's great that you can make it work this way.

Me: That's because my writing is dense. Look, petite, I have to get back to work. I need to get this manuscript edited for Dr G before the weekend's out.

Well, shocking, n'est ce pas? This was more so after I reread the relevant section my friend referred to. Let me just give you a brief snippet of Chapter 28 of Managing Sense:

“Eat now, or…” he stopped, whispered something in her ear with his trademark smirk of doom, and nuzzled her neck.

“You wouldn’t dare, Freeloader! Not now! Not here!” She glared at him, paling quickly and then blushing.

“Try me, Teng sensei! You can’t always be the one dishing it out. I can bite too or have you forgotten?” He smirked again, planting a series of kisses on her neck when she continued working on the laptop.

I coughed and looked to the side for the moment, hoping that it would serve as an adequate reminder to the perverse pair that Chiaki and I were still there and anything but oblivious to whatever it is they were doing. On her part, Chiaki took a few steps back and urged me to do the same. Perhaps it would be better if we let them get over with whatever they seemed to be doing. I would have followed my girlfriend’s excellent lead and left the world’s most perverse couple to their own devices if the professor had not let out a small almost whimpering sigh. Chiaki’s eyes widened as she tugged my hand pressing me to leave with her and leave them be. But I couldn’t just leave the professor unprotected alone with Nino.

“Damnable freeloader,” she purred, slanting her head to the side thereby allowing him freer excess to her neck. “I hate that. If you don’t stop, this is going to be your murder weapon,” she continued unevenly, pulling down the cover of the laptop.

“Don’t lie this time. You know you want it!” he taunted, with a final nip at her neck.  I could not approve of that, not if he was using teeth, and I had indeed caught sight of teeth. I was beginning to think that the two of them were not for public consumption at all and would have said something about it if he had not snatched away her hands from the notebook and continued, “Eat now, or I’m not going to stop with just that!”

I am disturbed that it mirrors the lyrics more or less... Oh my! I know I implied that my Nino (in Wit & Sarcasm) had certain tastes, as he did reflect that sex on the washing machine has its potential, but this is... this has left me perturbed.

Chapter 41 - Epilogue

“Oi, Nino, dinner? Supper?” Oh-chan asked, towelling my back for me.

We had returned recently to Tokyo after another summer concert tour and were busy filming our new PV and everything had gone into overtime. We had only just finished our showers. I glanced at the clock. It was already 8pm. I couldn’t keep her waiting any longer. The agreement was to meet at 7pm. What was more worrying was the fact that she didn’t bother to text me asking why I was late. Did something happen to her?

We had been having an easy and free routine for the better part of a year, seeing each other when we could, but mainly texting each other or insulting each other on the phone. She had her lectures, conferences and papers; and I had my film, singing and photo commitments. It didn’t make for much of a relationship. But when she found the time, especially on days when she didn’t have to give classes at Todai (sometimes even going so far as to cancel consultation hours), she would make her way to JE Central to peddle her poisonous drinks and soups and work quietly on her laptop or read while I did whatever I had to do at work. Similarly, when I found the time, I would drop by her office for a chat where we could share a cup of tea, or I would go to her place on weekends to watch her work, or bring her to my place where we would play games. It was an easy routine spiced up by the verbal sparring that took place whenever we felt like it.

It had been a long while since we made a concerted effort to go out, and I had no wish to muck it up. This was especially since she had only returned to Japan that day, and had agreed to meet up after much persuasion involving promises of monetary bribes that I would never pay.

“Not today. I’m running late,” I explained, trying to do something to my hair, much to Sho’s amusement.

“Afraid she’ll really dump you this time, ne?” MatsuJun laughed, prodding at the long sleeved black collared shirt I decided to pull on. “Shirt before hair, Nino. You’re messing it up again. Here, let me help.”

I slapped his hand away as I turned my attention to my hair again. “Even if we break up, there’s no chance she’ll go for a skinny butt-less baka with nicer clothes than she does and who thinks romance novelists are far prettier than her. Alys-chan may not be beautiful in your eyes, but at least she doesn’t have more hair than wit like you do.”

He shot me a brief warning glare at the mention of the novelist. Ha! I caught him where I wanted him. But he recovered himself soon enough. “At least she doesn’t call me freeloader.”

“Don’t say bad things about mama, Jun-chan! Ne, what does Sora-chan call Nino?” Aiba asked idly, looking up with a silly smile. That baka had a really annoying habit of interrupting whenever I mention anything to do with his precious ‘mama’. When will he learn that it bothers me to hear him talk so about my Alys? I had already closed an eye when he bought her a panda soft toy, but only because she named it after me. I swear, sometimes, I think Alys loves that panda more than she loves me. But then again, Alys-chan loved lots of things more than me like philosophy, knowledge, her mother and grandmother. She always said that there were three to four kinds in the ancient world and that each would have its own place in time. I didn’t understand any of it. Not that it mattered. My main gripe was that Aiba had bought her that panda. Would you believe that woman claims that it’s cuter than me, than me – imagine that! That wasn’t what bothered me. What ‘twisted my knickers’ as she would say in English is that she didn’t tell me she wanted the panda. If she wanted something, she could have asked me for it. I may not get it for her but at least I knew what she wanted, and I could con someone else to buy it for me.

I was brought back to reality when Jun answered and rolled his eyes. “The same thing everyone but your mama calls him. Pants, Nino. Don’t forget the pants. Alys’s not going to see you if you’re not properly dressed.”

“Eh? You’re meeting mama?” Aiba exclaimed, bounding up to me in excitement. “Mama’s back? Will she bring back the wife biscuits from Hong Kong for me, you think? I want to go too!” Matsumoto lashed a towel at him in between checking his nails. “Ow! What was that for?”

Sho-kun laughed in a hearty low rumble as he put on his socks. “Has it occurred to you that she may not be there? She would have only touched down at the airport early this morning after a twenty hours flight.”

“I thought she went to Hong Kong!” interjected Aiba when Oh-chan slapped me on the back and gave me an encouraging look. No doubt he was meeting his Kaoru-chan for supper again to discuss her upcoming exhibition. Alys had insisted I go because she was buying one of the paintings for me. From what I could tell from the sketch version, I wouldn’t mind having the actual piece. Maybe I would have to cajole Oh-chan to persuade Kaoru-chan to give my professor the painting. That would save us some money.

“If we’re going to Hong Kong, tell my Okaasan!” Oh-chan announced randomly with a final slap on my back. “See you tomorrow.”

After waving goodbye to him, Sho added thoughtfully. “Cathy Pacific transits at Hong Kong, Aiba-chan. She’s flying back from Britain.”

“Why Britain?” asked Aiba petulantly.

“She went home for the summer. Her mother’s there, remember?” I snapped back, sitting down and putting on my pants, omitting the fact that she wouldn't want to return to Hong Kong because her scoundrel of a father was there.

To own the truth, I was relieved that she had returned to Tokyo. I didn’t mind it when she went on conference because I knew she would be back within the week. My only fear for her on conference was that discerning philosophers who could see the elegance and intelligence in her would start sniffing around her. However, I trusted her enough to know that she would give them a rich a set down. Having her away for nearly two and a half months was less tolerable. She wanted to go home for the summer when the academic year was out, and I supported the idea. It wasn’t like she wanted to attend our concerts. She hated crowds and had difficulty breathing in large crowds. And she did miss her mother and grandmother. She emailed and texted once a week with random pieces of news like the weather and the books she had read, but it wasn’t the same as having her around. Ironic isn’t it? It wasn’t like I saw her everyday in Tokyo, but at least, I knew she was nearby if I needed her. Having her half the world away was more trying, not that I let it show, of course. I wasn’t worried for her health – she had her mother to take care of her. A part of my mind feared that she wouldn’t return. It was irrational because she still had the rest of her five-year contract with Todai, but it didn’t stop me from worrying.

MatsuJun consulted something on his newly acquired PDA. “Her connecting flight was delayed. She only landed this afternoon.”

“How do you know that?” asked Aiba, peering over Matsumoto’s new gadget.

“Airport schedule. I checked her flight number.” He grinned unapologetically.

“She’s probably sleeping off the jetlag. The last time I called her when she came back from an overseas conference, she sounded like she wanted to tear me limb from limb because I woke her up – so scary,” Sho said in his best ‘I-told-you-so’ tone, and received a pat of consolation from Aiba.

I looked up briefly, begging kami-sama to grant me the strength to obliterate my bandmates for their interference and incessant chatter. “Yeah, you had the brilliant idea of thinking that she would know where I was. She’s not like your Chiaki. Alys-chan doesn’t always know where I am. Just because I don’t come on time to play football, doesn’t mean I’m not showing up. I did turn up, you remember,” I reminded him.

“Like an hour late because you wanted to make soup for her so that she wouldn’t be hungry when she wakes up,” Matsumoto rejoined, pulling my beanie over my head.

“You could have called my keitai!”

“I did, you didn’t pick up,” Sho explained.

Oh yeah… Sho had called Alys that time because I was late. I was late mainly because it involved renkon soup, a bathtub and blindfolds. I hid my face in my hands for a while hoping that Sho wouldn’t say any more. “It must have been in the pants I lost somewhere,” I answered sharply.

“What were you doing without your pants?” Matsumoto shot me a lecherous look at the same time Sho muttered ‘you really do not want to know, Jun’.

“Making soup. I cook in the nude,” I smoothly deadpanned. That guy was seriously annoying… Maybe I should threaten publishing something about a certain JE artiste and a certain novelist. The guys fell silent and stared at me gaping. Come on! Did they honestly think that I would cook in the nude? I still had briefs on, thank you very much.

“You don’t make me soup!” complained Aiba, sitting down again with a dejected look on his face, breaking the tension.

“You can have soup too if you pay for it,” I retorted tartly, putting on my black plastic rimmed glasses and looking at myself in the mirror. Good. I looked more like a skinny businessman with bad posture than my usual self. That would do. “Sho-kun, I need a ride to the speciality store we went to with Riida two plus months ago.”

“What time were you supposed to be meeting her again?” enquired MatsuJun.

“Seven.”

“Eh? But it’s eight now!” Aiba exclaimed.

“Points-out-the-obvious-a-lot dono strikes again!” I hissed and would have thrown something at him if there was something within reach that was capable of knocking him unconscious. “That’s why I’m going to the store first before it closes! Sho, let’s go!”

“Night, guys! Don’t get into trouble!” Sho waved to the other two Arashi loafers who had clearly nothing better to do, and walked me arm-in-arm to his car. “She may not be there, you realise.”

I made a face at him. “If she’s not, I’d get her at her place.”

“She’d kill you if you wake her up,” warned Arashi’s second in command.

“She’s supposed to,” I answered in a bored voice as I got into the car. “It’s how she registers delight at seeing me.”

We reached the store in question quickly enough and I retrieved the article and got out of the place in record time with no one the wiser as to who I was. Feeling very pleased with myself, I decided to further exploit my chauffeur for the time being and made him drive me to the small café Alys-chan liked in Roppongi. After ignoring all his nonsense on how Alys-chan wouldn’t be there, we pulled up at the café to find her seated by the corner window engrossed in a book. Her hair loosely braided behind her, and her curled bangs a little crooked. I smirked triumphantly at Sho-kun and left him where he was in his car.

I couldn’t resist tapping at the shop window to let her know that I had arrived. She looked up from her book in annoyance, but curled her lips and rolled her eyes when she recognised me. I pouted and shook my head, pretending that I didn’t want to go into the café to see her. She only looked at me with a bored expression, before raising a brow, smirking, pressing two fingers lightly to her lips, and kissing them quickly at me. Then, without missing a beat, she returned to reading her book like she hadn’t done what she just did. That woman never ceased to surprise me. Well, that settled it. She had never done something like that before. She must have missed me as much as I missed her. That was good enough.

Promptly entering the establishment, I greeted her in a fair imitation of the purr she liked to use on me whenever she was threatening to torture me or something like that. “Teng sensei.”

“You’re not dead yet, I see,” she smiled thinly, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“You’re barely alive, I see,” I returned the volley, matching her impassive tone.

“Perfect opportunity for you to be rid of me, I’d say,” she said, yawning.

“You look terrible,” I pointed out as I placed a hand over hers on top of the table.

“You would look this sexy too if you haven’t slept for the last thirty hours and sat next to a couple with a crying baby in economy class. I highly recommend it,” she yawned and swatted me on the hand before dumping me a bag. “Gifts for the boys and your manager. Their names are labelled on the boxes.”

“You could have called. I could let myself in at your place,” I suggested disapprovingly.

“I know you were busy. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not unreasonable. We said we’d meet today, so here we are, even if I look like this,” she muttered with another thin smirk. “I could never deny you anything -- within reasonable limits.”

“I should have made you wait longer,” I riposted more out of habit than anything.

“Then the headlines next week would read, ‘Todai Professor’s skeleton found at Roppongi café. Believed dead for at least a week. Police baffled. Shopkeeper unable to remove skeleton. Ghost of dead Professor claims to be waiting for boyfriend.’ Deal with that scandal, freeloader boy,” she smirked, suppressing another yawn.

I laughed and poke my head in the large paper bag. “No pressie for me?” Though my tone was light, I felt an unfamiliar twinge in my chest. I had noticed the bags under her eyes and the dark circles there. She was tired; she hadn’t slept in almost two days and she still met up with me despite the fact that I was late. She didn’t mind that I was late. She understood enough not to call and pester me. She even hinted in a backwards kind of way that she would wait for as long as it would take for me. Yeah, that was my Alys-chan all right. At times like these when she made these kinds of backhanded remarks at me, I really felt that I didn’t quite deserve a great girl like her.

“Nothing for you, freeloader,” she yawned again, pushed her glasses up, and closed her book. “You owe me a sizeable bill for everything.”

Bingo! She had brought it up at last. I knew she would if I mentioned something about presents for me. It was joke between us whenever one of us came back to Tokyo from elsewhere that we wouldn’t buy anything for the other when we actually had. She would always claim that she never got me anything because I owed her too much for the desserts, soups and drinks she made. In turn, I would always claim that she was much too expensive for me to upkeep when I had in fact gotten her a book.

“About that bill, Teng sensei,” I began deliberately in a moderated tone. “I made some calculations and found the total cost.”

“Finally! My money back!” she exclaimed in mock relief, suppressing yet another yawn.

I shook a playful finger at her as I dragged my chair to a position beside her and extracted a medium sized, blue velvet rectangular box from my pocket.

She raised a brow. “An empty box! How you spoil me!” she deadpanned, tapping her fingers on the top of the table.

“It’s not empty,” I replied, tugging at her ear to check that she indeed had pierced ears. “Open it.”

“This glass in front of me isn’t really empty either,” she yawned, the sarcastic edge still in her voice. She opened the box and didn’t react immediately. She just looked at its contents without any interest and closed it again. A moment passed before her eyes widened. She pushed her glasses up and opened the box again. “Am I a dog now?”

“Not a dog,” I shook my head, smirking as I removed that which was in the box and casually leaning back the chair a little to put it on her. “More like a cat. A rare species deserves a special collar.”

“In all seriousness, this is worth more than the price of barley grains, sugar et cetera,” she said quietly when I adjusted the chain around her neck so that the black pearl drop pendant would hang right between her collarbones.

“That’s about right,” I smirked devilishly as she touched the pearl absentmindedly. “It’s just one percent of what you’re worth. I’m too poor to afford the other ninety-nine percent.”

“I’m not a cow at the market. I’m not something you can stick a value on.”

“Of course not! You're my cynical little witch. I asked Sho to calculate your worth based on last quarter’s GDP figures. It’s not good enough for you, I know, but hey -- that’s all I can afford.”

“It’s too expensive, I cannot accept. Take it back to the shop,” she said, trying to find the latch. She wouldn’t be able to open it unless she studied it carefully. I was confident of it. I had Oh-chan design the pendant and the latch, so that only those who knew how mechanism operated would know how to take it off.

“You can’t take it off, Alys-chan,” I curled my lips again. She would figure out how the clasp worked eventually, but until she did, she couldn’t take it off. That was my masterful plan. Sometimes, even I am impressed with my own evil genius.

She smiled tiredly and touched my cheek. “Kazu darling, you don’t have to…”

I decided to interrupt her before she could say anything else. “You could always pay me back by continuing to supply me with your poisons and letting me wash your hair,” I whispered in her ear as I took hold of her hand. “I’ll let you blindfold me for free while you could massage my back. But this time, on something soft, not the tub. After that, if you’re up to it we could play this new game I got for the PS2.”

“Sounds lovely, but I’ve already washed my hair and I’m too tired to do anything. Feminine inconvenience, if you catch my drift. You know how my palpitations are worse when it’s that time,” she said seriously without thinking, and I did catch what she meant. It didn’t bother me. It just meant I had to be careful not to get in her way for a few days. Then as she realised what I had just suggested earlier, she sighed in resignation as she smacked my arm, “Blindfolds! Don’t tease! I was the one whose back ended up bruised in the tub!”

“Because you unexpectedly chewed on my ear lobe! My hand slipped! I more than made up for it, if you remember,” I reminded her with dismissive wave of the hand.

“With lotus root soup?” she spat in English, undoubtedly unable to find the Japanese phrase again. I was used to that; I usually understood what she meant anyway. She talked in English in her sleep too, and I had gotten used to that too. “You do realise I could have made that myself!” she snorted, sounding seriously unimpressed with a bored flick of her wrist.

I leaned forward, curled my lips into a smirk and gave her a fair imitation of the way she occasionally purred at me, “After the tub and before the soup.”

Colour rose to her cheeks as she pursed her lips and glared at me in embarrassment. “You’re an incorrigible freeloader, you know that!” she hissed when she found her voice.

Yeah, that was all I needed to hear. I didn’t need flowery sentimental nonsense; this was all I needed.

“An incorrigible freeloader who insists you crash at his place today and tomorrow, and when you’re up to it, we’ll pop by Kaoru-chan’s exhibition next week,” I laughed when I dragged her and her bags outside to hail a taxi.

That was almost as good as an ‘Oh yes, I know Alys-chan, I love you too.’ Not that I would say it, of course. She never said it either. But we did understand each other, and that was all that mattered. If this went well, who knows? I had Oh-chan’s designs for the rest of the set. I’d get the earrings made next year, and another piece for the year after. That was the game plan at any rate. So long as she continued to smack me and call me names, that would be enough. The game with her was unpredictable, but I’d keep playing just for the hell of it. There was nothing I could do. With Alys, however, I was never sure even with a game plan. I had already invested in the pearls; she was costing me a lot of money, I needed to get the returns on the money I spent. Yeah, I’ll definitely have to keep playing this game.

~~~~~~The end for now~~~~~~

Chapter 40

Unfortunately, kami-sama didn’t hear my prayer and I didn’t see her after the butai’s opening night performance. I know she knew I was looking at her at some points of the show because she raised a brow, pushed her glasses up her nose and rolled her eyes at me. I asked our Manager to bring her backstage, but she refused. Our manager said that ‘Miyuki-no-miya’ pleaded a headache and went straight home after the end of the performance. Did I do something wrong that kami-sama had to prevent me from meeting her? Did I do something wrong to her that she wouldn’t come see me? I didn’t manage to see her for most of the duration of the butai, and on her part, she didn’t reach out for me either. It wasn’t that she was avoiding me. Iya. Knowing her, she must have thought that she didn’t want to disturb me while I was busy with work.

I once texted her to demand herbal soup and she only replied once telling me that I was ‘an incorrigible freeloader’. When I texted again to ask about the Prague conference, she said that the wheels were still turning – whatever that meant. When I called to suggest lunch or supper, she said that she would see me only when the butai was over because (a) I would have more ‘breathing space’ then, (b) I would have more money for her to steal, and (c) she was currently busy plotting how to sell my body to the Todai medical school. While a part of me was pleased that she’s so understanding, I was a little hurt that she didn’t think I would make time in between my many commitments and the butai performance to see her. But that didn’t stop her from getting hold of one of the guys to hand me some kind of drink every single night of the performance. It could be chrysanthemum tea, ginseng tea, green bean soup, barley water – I would never know until one of the guys came into the dressing room and threw me a bottle or a container; and after every performance, one of the guys would come to ‘recycle’ the bottle.

For the past two days, Aiba was the ‘bottled-drinks-delivery-boy’ who in between talking about the latest exhibit at the zoo and about some of the animals he encountered on his show, bizarrely compared an albino python to Alys-chan and saying something about Alys-chan slithering in to take care of me before slithering out again. I did not like his analogy. Alys-chan may not be beautiful, but she was certainly more elegant than a python. She was something like a cat, really. She could claw and bite when she had to, but most of the time, she wouldn’t bother to do much but just sit there and curl her lips disdainfully at you. I actually let him go on and on about the topic because he had done me a favour by going to Kinokuniya and buying a book.

I had to tolerate him because he brought Alys-chan’s refreshing barley water with him. She was good to me, my Alys-chan. At times like these, I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve her. I’m not exactly a great boyfriend. All I gave her was that fancy new English translation of that book by Xenophon she mentioned at the hospital.

It was a book I had Sho research the title, the translation and the author. It was a book that I had Aiba buy for me – with my money, I must add. That book was expensive, and I didn’t like how it was too new to exist in a second hand copy. I had no idea philosophy books were that expensive. Would you pay 4400 yen a book? Yeah, it was hardcovered and the paper quality was good. But who blows that much money on a book? I wouldn't in normal circumstances. But seeing how she pampers me in her own way, it would be nice for her to get something she really wants. I could cut down on eating out for a month and I’ll save the money back again. Our manager said he posted it to her office at Todai yesterday morning. That meant it should reach there sometime this afternoon. Hey… As it was, I didn’t have anything to do that day other than the performance at night. Yosh! I made the split second decision that I would surprise her at her office.

Getting out of the bath with that idea, I checked the time, put on my disguise of the day -- dark jeans, a baggy long sleeved sweater like shirt, big glasses, and faded beanie that somehow looked like a really large sock, and was on my way to Todai with my game console.

Things had quietened around there. Since that incident involving that Ootori Marie student had died along with her public apology and retraction, the university, especially the Philosophy department seemed peaceful once again. I wondered whether that was a good thing because the department seemed to be running on ‘low tension’ when I arrived. Alys-chan wasn’t in her office. I should have known that. It was fine weather outside. We hardly ever met when the weather was fine. Kami-sama seemed to prefer throwing us together when it rained. Then there was the little fact that her new teaching and research schedule had changed with the new semester. I should have sent her a text message instead, I scolded myself, sliding down her door and sitting in front of it. Yeah, I could wait just for a while.

“Ah, Alys’s young man!” greeted Goldman Henry sensei as he strode up the corridor with a stack of envelopes and papers. “Is she still locking you out?”

“Iya, I just love squatting outside doors like a loafer,” I responded, fishing out the Nintendo with the latest Fire Emblem instalment she got for me. “Was the conference thing you went to good?”

“She didn’t tell you?” he asked, blinking in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s really easy to talk when our timetables don’t meet, Goldman sensei,” I snapped. Did he think that Alys-chan and I had loads of free time? What a stupid question! I knew she came back from the Prague conference and attended my opening night performance in better spirits than when she left Japan. I knew that she had told Sho that the conference was ‘productive’ and she told me that the wheels for that were still turning. Her good mood didn’t necessary have to be about the conference. It could be because she had made a detour to England to see her mother and grandmother.

“She’s been reinstated as Associate Professor this week,” he revealed with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Who did she bribe for that to happen?” I asked, without looking up from my game. I may have said that, but I was inwardly very happy for her. It was high time those old farts in the department saw that my Alys-chan had more genius, hard work, and spirit in her last finger than they had in their saggy moustaches.

Goldman sensei chuckled softly. “I can see why you are well-matched. Recall, if you will, all that Hashimoto sensei and I told you about the person in question. The Prague Philosophy Conference led to an internal inquiry against Rose de Winter, who plagiarised an article that our dear lass had written called Nietzchean Natural Rights in Philosophy. There were a few of us at the conference who recognised the paper as something Alys had written and published in an obscure German philosophy journal back in the day when she was working as a translator. It seems that dear Rosy is facing her comeuppance, and most previous objections to Alys as a philosopher and academic has been dropped, save the membership at the American Philosophy Association. Entre nous, I think Alys doesn’t want that membership anymore. She’s more a fish-and-chip than a hamburger girl. Now that the British Philosophical Association has reinstated her membership and invitations to conferences are piling up for her, the department has suddenly realised her value.”

“And what is her value worth here?” I mumbled, as my character in the game lost a life. These idiots at the department had better not put a low price tag on my Alys-chan. She was priceless, and far too a good a sensei for them to lose. This incident with that Rose de Winter woman had better teach the department a lesson to value truly good teachers over career academics who went about holding grudges.

Goldman sensei’s voice came out in a wistful tone. “You, her friends, and I know her true value.”

He did have a point there. Alys-chan wasn’t anything remarkable when you looked at her. Her kind of intelligence, elegance and charm only came out when you let her talk to you, and before you know it, you were caught. Look at me, I’m caught in the web on top of her washing machine and I didn’t want to go anywhere else.

“Ah, she’s out of the meeting I see,” Goldman sensei continued. I looked up and saw Alys-chan coming out from a door at the far end of the corridor near the stairs and into another room that didn’t have a door. “That’s the department mail room. Go on.” He jerked his head in that general direction. “Go on, surprise her.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was already on my feet and pocketing the Nintendo console when my keitai vibrated. Goldman sensei gave me a knowing smile before he went into his office, leaving me to answer the keitai and make my way to the mail room. My lips curled into a smirk when I saw that it was Alys-chan’s number. I didn’t have to answer since I was already walking towards her, but I couldn’t resist teasing her.

“What’s up, Rapunzel?” I asked, slowly strolling down the corridor.

“So you are still alive, freeloader! I was beginning to despair,” she deadpanned amidst the rustling of papers.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you haven’t paid for all those drinks and soups I made you,” she rejoined, making my smirk wider. I never tired of this game we played. I could play it with her as long as she wanted me.

“You’ll get paid one of these days when I actually save up enough money,” I laughed and heard the tearing of an envelope.

“Good Lord!” she exclaimed in English, and I could see from where I was standing at the door of the mail room that she had collected her department mail and was looking out the window. “Is this a bad time to call?” she suddenly questioned.

“Iya, I’m free till the evening when it’s closing night.”

“What kind of poison do you want today?”

“The one with gingko nuts, barley and beancurd skin.”

She smiled softly as she shook the book out of the envelope. “I have those at home. Do you want me to bring it to you? Your manager will let me in the back door if I ask him.”

“So eager to see me die in person?”

“Always,” she returned, while touching the surface of the book she had just received in the post with another soft smile on her face. “The department nonsense is finally settled. I deserve a reward. I think watching you die slowly in excruciating pain is in order.”

“Yeah, least I could do for you. I heard that you were reinstated.”

“You and your network of spies,” she chuckled before a serious note entered her voice. “Kazu darling, how did you know I wanted Ambler’s Anabasis translation?”

I turned off the keitai. “I have my ways,” I said with a deliberate air of mystery as I leaned by the door way with one of my more charming smirks.

She didn’t even blink. She only snapped her keitai shut and threw a comeback at me. “I should have known you were stalking me.”

“You see, I can never resist a woman who threatens to poison me and do unspeakable things to me on top of a washing machine during the spin cycle,” I snapped back more for fun than anything.

“Let’s pretend that you’re there gaping at me like a hungry puppy because you were rebuffed when you attempted to fling yourself into my waiting arms,” she responded blandly as if unmoved. But I could see the telltale sign of the corners of her mouth curling upwards.

I took a couple of steps forward as she pushed her glasses up. “For the record, I’d like to point out that your arms are not waiting.”

“You surely don’t expect me to throw myself into your similarly non-waiting arms when all and sundry may see us,” she said testily in jest.

I could play along with this. I smirked and backed her into the pigeonhole mail-slots. “So, after hypothetically throwing myself into your arms, that are not waiting, and ten minutes of name-calling…”

“And weepy hysterics,” she added blandly as if we were having a mundane conversation about the price of vegetables at the supermarket. “We adjourn elsewhere to finish this conversation.”

“What’s wrong with this place?” I asked when her back was to the pigeonholes.

She curled her lips and smacked me on the arm with her new book. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s not conducive for me to ravish you against the wall and fill your head with sweet nothings.”

“Who’s going to ravish whom, Alys-chan?” I responded with another smirk, leaning a little closer and she pushed up her glasses so as to gather her thoughts.

Her voice hitched as she tightened her grip on the book. “Keep looking at me like that and my self-control will unwind.” Her self-control? What about my self-control? Did she know that I wanted to see what she looked like when she first woke up in the morning? Did she know that I wanted more whenever she nibbled on my lips? “I’m not going to throw my soul out of balance for you, incorrigible freeloader.”

“Too bad, Teng sensei, you’re stuck with me,” I grinned as she continually smacked my arm with the book.

“Right, I must have done something ghastly in a past life to deserve this.” She rolled her eyes as we left the mail room and made our way downstairs.

And with that, we were back to normal – whatever normal was for us. She made the gingko nut, barley and beancurd skin soup I liked and we went to the theatre together. Manager-san rushed about getting tea and dim-sum titbits for us when he saw his ‘Miyuki-no-miya’ enter the back door of the theatre with me. For the duration of the butai’s closing night act, she sat backstage in the dressing room working on new lecture syllabi on her laptop without paying any attention to the performance. But I didn’t mind. Alys-chan wanted to be there, and I wanted her to be there. Somewhere along the way, we understood each other, and that was enough. We may not get to see each other or even talk to each other everyday, but so long as I knew she was there for me, and she knew I was there for her, that was enough. Yeah, for now, that would be enough.

Chapter 39

Opening night came, and Alys-chan’s flight, if Hashimoto sensei’s information is to be believed – touched down early that morning. There was a fifty-fifty chance that she would attend, or so that Yuriko woman said. She said that Alys-chan suffered very badly from jetlag and if she was sleeping it off, no one could wake her for at least twenty hours. She added that anyone who did so would suffer a fate worse than death. I made a mental note to attempt to do so at the next available opportunity just to see what she would do. But for now, I had to be realistic. The odds were that she wouldn’t come. However, it was never good to underestimate Alys-chan. She could be rather unpredictable, and I was banking on the 50% probability that she could turn up.

Aiba and Oh-chan came early together with their floral wreaths of congratulations and encouragement looking smart in suits. Oh-chan had skipped rehearsal for his own butai that day and happily whispered that Kaoru-chan would be sitting with his mother in a particular seat. I was on the verge of throwing my game console at Aiba for some baka thing he said when MatsuJun, immaculately dressed, styled and perfumed as usual, swaggered with a large bouquet of some kind of flowers he said were ‘pink heather’ and dropped them on my dressing table. He pushed aside my feet, which were up on the table, and fished out a present from his coat.

“You’ve cut your hair at last!” Jun smirked with a wave of his hand.

I couldn’t tell him it was because Alys had been complaining since I met her that my hair was too unkempt. I settled instead of making an illustrative gesture with a few fingers of my left hand. “It was either cut it or keep walking to lampposts like Sho because I couldn’t see where I was going,” I snapped.

“Speaking of Sho-kun -- he’s outside somewhere. I was told to hand to this to you,” he said, putting on his most smouldering look that normally made fangirls’ suffer from nosebleeds.

I took up the not-quite-flat squarish shaped packet wrapped in sparkling yellow and green paper and shot him a quizzical glance while pausing my game. “From you? I could kiss you, but the Ojisan over there would get jealous.”

“I don’t mind as long as we all get kissed,” Oh-chan said, staring at the open door in thorough fascination. I took a quick glance. There was no one there. Why should he be staring there? Did he see a rat? I hope not. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Need a smoke? I’ll join you,” Jun offered.

“Not for a smoke,” he said, his trademark blank expression breaking into a slight pout. “There was a something with shiny white things.” He made the swan gesture with his arms as if it were self-explanatory. “Brown swan with white shiny things,” he said as a parting shot as he left the dressing room.

“Swans are either white or black! Spoilsport, Riida!” I complained. “Now whose butt am I going to grope to calm myself before going on stage?”

“You could try mine,” Jun offered playfully.

“You have no butt,” I pointed out, "butt-less baka."

“What is it?” asked Aiba, bouncing up and tearing open the present paper. Didn’t he know that that was wasteful and that present paper could be reused? At times like these, I wished Alys-chan would be around to tell him what he could do and what he couldn’t. Only she could mother him without making it sound patronising. “Eh? Nani? It’s only a game. Don’t you have enough of those things?”

Quickly snatching it out of his hands, I saw that it was the latest instalment of the Fire Emblem game for the Nintendo DS. Sugoi! I knew that it was released in Germany and would take a while to reach Japan, but I didn’t know that it had already hit our shores. Aiba no baka! What did he know? It wasn’t just a game. It was the latest game. “Oh, Jun-chan, you shouldn’t have?” I mock-gushed in a falsetto.

“Not from me. The flower basket over there in purple and red is mine. I’m the messenger boy for this,” he grinned shamelessly and flicked his hair away from his eye. “I was instructed to tell you on pain of death that that,” he paused and pointed to the game with his elbow, “is for you to keep sane during the intermission.”

“What about the flowers?” Aiba pestered, taking up the bouquet of pink heather and looking at it upside down and inside out.

“I almost forgot,” MatsuJun folded his arms and leaned on the dressing table. “I was also instructed to tell you that they’re for…”

“Good luck,” Sho-kun’s voice boomed as he stepped in the dressing room, straightening his coat. “What?” he asked when we all just stared at him. “That’s what it means in the language of flowers. It says so in the book. I could show it to you if I had it on me.”

“So she’s come to haunt me after dying in Prague,” I commented, smirking a little as I tightened my fingers over the new game. Of course it had to be her. I was ridiculously happy by the thought that she had specially picked out the latest game for me while on conference in Europe. Only she would take the effort to put something meaningful in flowers instead of going with colour schemes. I should have known that it was her. Alys-chan always left me clues when she wanted me to know she had done something, now was no different. Somehow, I felt that these gestures were more meaningful than outright expressions of ‘I love you’ and all that. She may have never said it, but she did show it. I really should ‘pull up my socks’ as I heard her say the first time I noticed her, and give her some kind of indication that I wasn’t doing all the taking in what we had between us.

MatsuJun and Sho-kun exchanged speaking looks of exasperation at my words.

“Who’s here?” enquired Aiba, snatching the new game cartridge from my hands and turning it this way and that.

“Alys Nee-chan,” Matsumoto said, giving Aiba a look that correctly expressed his opinion of our wackiest member’s sanity.

“Eh?” Aiba tossed my precious instalment of Fire Emblem in my lap and jumped up beaming. “Mama’s here? Where? Where? How come no one told me? Are we sitting together?”

MatsuJun rolled his eyes and folded his arms again with a smirk. “Sho-kun picked us up with Chiaki-chan. Manager called her ‘Miyuki-no-miya’ and bowed over her hand. Would you believe she actually flirted with him for three minutes?”

“Eh? Miyuki-no-miya? Why?” Aiba cocked his head to the side in his best puppy dog imitation.

“The kanji for her Chinese name is beautiful snow, which translates to Miyuki,” Sho explained patiently. “Our manager tried to a make a weak joke of her name because of him.” Arashi’s resident rapper pointed at me, earning a blank state from Aiba.

“Will we be sitting with her? I want to sit next to mama!” Aiba bounced on his seat again.

“Most probably not, she would be at the opposite end from where we are, somewhere near Ohno-kun’s mother. That’s what I judged from the seat numbers.” Sho-kun volunteered with a shrug.

“Nani?” Aiba’s voice fell and then brightened again suddenly. “I’ll go look for her now!”

“Look for Ohno-kun,” instructed Sho-kun as he helped himself to an apple from the fruit basket the KAT-TUN boys had sent. “She was talking to him when I came up. If you see Chiaki, would you tell her to leave Manager-san alone? I live in fear that she may be encouraging him to keep a tighter rein on us.”

I watched Aiba roll out of the room and then concentrated my effort at the game I had earlier paused so as not to look and sound overeager. “Why the fuss? It’s not like you’ve never seen her before.”

“In pants, and baggy pyjama-nightgowns – yes. In a French twist and makeup and a dress like that – no,” MatsuJun contributed with another leer at me.

I affected a nonchalant expression and scratched the back of my hand. “Did she say anything about her con?”

“Only that it was productive,” Sho-kun answered vaguely. “She didn’t ask about you though.”

“She never does.” I snickered, waved their silly words aside and took my game console on a walk.

It didn’t take long before I heard Aiba’s laugh. Following the sound while playing my game, I arrived at a good vantage point behind the corner curtain of the stage where I could see without being seen. “Okay, Alys-chan, surprise me,” I muttered to myself as I paused the game and looked up. What had I expected? Nothing really. I hadn’t expected her to come, and there she was. That was good enough. But I had not expected her to look like that. Her hair in a French twist as MatsuJun had called it, tucked neatly to the side of her head with a comb of artificial pearls, and her modest sleeveless long, flowing chocolate coloured gown cut high to the throat in a turtle neck at both the front and back – the same colour as her eyes showed her to the best advantage. I watched as she turned her to the side to allow Aiba to adjust a black shawl around her shoulders, noticing as she laughed that she had on a dash of powder and dramatic dark red lipstick that gave her an air of sophistication that I had never seen before. She would never be beautiful – that was true. But that night, I thought she was the epitome of class and sophistication. Oh-chan must have thought so too because I saw him say something to her that made her pinch his cheek and laugh. She looked so delicate next to him and Aiba you wouldn’t have pegged her for woman who traded insults as quickly as a stockbroker traded shares.

“I told you she was different,” MatsuJun whispered in my ear.

I spun around quickly and smirked. “Actually, I was checking out Oh-chan’s arse,” I said, leaving him in stitches. Let him think what he likes. If all goes well, I would speak to Alys-chan after the performance, get her to insult my acting skills and comedic timing, and finally find out how the Prague conference went.

Chapter 38

“Ne, I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t be disappointed.” Matsumoto appeared to be enjoying himself. What in the world was so funny that he had try so hard not to laugh when it was obvious that he wanted to. “She will be back in a week and a half. If I remember it correctly, it’s one week in Prague and a few days in England.”

“I’ve already told you that it doesn’t matter to me whether she goes or stays,” I huffed, turning around on the bed so that I wouldn’t see him laughing. Though I said that, I was relieved. If she was only gone for a week plus, then it must be some kind of philosophy conference. She would be back soon, and I would see her again. Yeah, the game didn’t need reloading. I just needed to be more careful when playing it. I could give her tickets to my butai. If she came, she would tell me how terrible she thought I was and we would okay again. Yeah, I would do that, I would phone up Goldman Henry sensei’s office to find out when Alys-chan will come back and then, I’ll take it from there.

“Don’t you want to know why she’s gone?”

“Was she invited to speak in Prague?” I yawned and sneezed.

“No, she’s going as an observer with a colleague. Said something about one of the speakers being someone she admired in the philosophy world, a Rose de something, would be giving the paper of the decade at a con there.”

“Rose de Winter?” I blew my nose.

“Yeah, you know her?” He raised a brow in faint interest.

“That’s Alys-chan’s arch-nemesis.”

His mouth became a grim line. “Explains why she was telling Sho that Prague would be the turning point in her career. She’ll be fine. She’s going with a colleague who’s an old friend.”

“I’m not worried,” I declared. But I was. Who knew what that Rose de Winter woman would do if she still thought my Alys-chan was dangling after her husband?

“You miss her already, ne?” teased the youngest member of our band.

“How can I miss her when I’m looking at the prettiest boy in JE?” I returned with a smirk.

“Aw…. Give us a kiss then!” he laughed. I pretended to pucker my lips and he threw the pillow back at me. “No germs! No Nino germs! Argh!”

“It seems that you’ve had enough rest, Ninomiya-san,” the doctor announced walking in at that moment.

As could be expected, the doctor said everything that MatsuJun had told me about my flu being due to overwork and exhaustion. Something about the immune system being weakened from lack of sleep and proper nutrition or some similar rubbish. Yeah, yeah, I know, I should go home, drink lots of water and rest, and I would be fine after two or three days. Of course I would be fine. In general, I don’t do anything at home but sleep and play games. After nodding every 58 seconds at the doctor’s words, I was told that I could be let out. I sneezed as soon as he said that, which only drew a wisecrack from MatsuJun who said that Alys-chan must be thinking about me while teaching.

The guys, it seemed, kept their word to Alys-chan and took turns to check on me. From the time MatsuJun took me home and made sure that I ate and all that, to the time Oh-chan came in the evening to play games, and to the time Sho-kun came at night, everyone seemed determined to take care of me. The thing is, I didn’t want them to take care of me. It was troublesome for them because they had their own things to do. It was troublesome for me also because I wanted to be left alone with my games. It wasn’t like I was going to drop dead in my own home. Sho however did bring something special for me when he came at night after Oh-chan’s ‘Nino guarding shift’ was over. I learnt that he had taken her to the airport for her flight and that she left a package for me. I don’t know whether it can be called special because she didn’t include any handwritten note asking for money. But Sho-kun seemed to think that it was important.

“Ohno-kun, our orders were to take care of him, not kill him. Do you want Alys-san to bring out the whips?” Sho-kun said me after barging into my house and watching Oh-chan and me attempt to tickle each other to death.

“She said she likes my singing voice best. She won’t do anything,” Oh-chan declared with full confidence. “Did you bring food? I’m hungry. Nino never has any food around.”

“Um.. yeah, takeaway sushi for you and water cress soup for this other thing,” revealed our second in command when he sat down and poked me on the arm. “Oi, Nino, she left this behind for you.” He handed me a bulky envelope. “She desires me to assure you that it is not a love letter replete with sentimental tripe.”

I tore open the envelope while Oh-chan helped himself to my soup. “Oi, that’s mine!” I protested half-heartedly because I was more concerned with what fell out of the packet. It was the Kungfu Penguin game cartridge and twelve sheets of paper containing the walkthrough ‘if I needed it’ or so her writing at the top of the first sheet said. That’s right, I didn’t complete the game. She knew I would stay home and do nothing but game. Yeah, she knew me through and through. But she shouldn’t have added the walkthrough. That was insulting! Did she think I couldn’t make it through on my own? I smirked at that thought. Oh… She was biting back at me backhandedly at me. Ha ha! She was good.

I spent the following seven hours and forty-nine minutes completing the Kungfu Penguin game without resorting to her stupid walkthrough, although I must confess to consulting it to locate all the Easter eggs in the game. I overheard Sho-kun tell Aiba when he came to take over the morning ‘Nino guarding shift’ that Alys-chan must be mad to encourage me to play games all night when I should be resting. Ha! What did he know? I needed to play games otherwise I would die from boredom. It was something Alys-chan never complained about and understood. Sho no baka!

The two days of resting and doing nothing but gaming did recharge my batteries and I was able to make it through butai rehearsals and all the other nonsense that Arashi were expected to do without any mishap. I did call up Goldman Henry sensei’s office but learned from the answering machine that he had gone on conference. I called up Hashimoto Yuriko sensei to find out when Alys-chan would be back and learnt that she would be back in time within the timeframe of the butai performance. Bearing that in mind, I ordered – okay – requested – our manager to see to it that she had a ticket with the rest of the guys. Manager-san seemed to find that a reasonable request and told me to leave things in his hands.

I tried texting and emailing her but she never replied. Maybe she didn’t have international roaming on her keitai, or maybe she didn’t want to be distracted when she was busy at her conference. She had to deal with that Rose de Winter bitch, and reclaim what’s left of her professional dignity. My Alys was the kind to put her career before anything. She was kakkoi that way. Either way, she didn’t write back. But I knew the damn vixen would be back. She did tell me to wait, didn’t she? How’s that for a woman’s vanity, eh? If she wanted to play it that way, I could pause the game. This stage was a gamble anyway. I had to take a gamble that she would come to my performance. That woman has to be the toughest game I ever played because I never know just what to expect from her. And know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter 37

Obviously, there was something wrong with my bed. It was firmer and harder than usual, and my pillow was too soft. That however didn’t prevent me from wishing that I could go back to sleep. I could spend the whole day sleeping. Sleeping was a form of leisure activity, whatever others may say. The smell in the air bothered me. It was preventing me from falling back asleep. It was so clean… so clinical… Hmm, that was it. I must be in a clinic or a hospital. Yeah, that would be it. Otherwise I would be in my own bed or my favourite red bean bag sofa or on Alys-chan’s sofa. I could open my eyes and see where I was and then start asking questions. But what would be the point? The fact that I was here in a clinical environment must mean that I was recovering. Yeah, that was logical. I couldn’t ask for more as there was a hand in mine. Only two people would hold my hand like that – Oh-chan and Alys. Since it was a cold and slightly clammy hand, it had to be hers. If she was here with me, I should be safe, more or less.

So, what had happened? I remembered going to Merton Building where Alys-chan lived. I could remember her pale bare feet and her calling me ‘Kazu darling’. Ah, I must have either (a) fallen down, (b) fainted. Both of which would have been very, very, very embarrassing if I couldn’t make an excuse of it. Yeah, I would have to think of an excuse. What would be a good excuse I wondered, and while wondering about this in the state of pretending to be asleep, I heard the telltale signs that I wasn’t alone in the room or ward. Most likely it was a private ward, we JE boys can’t be seen lying in hospital beds next to the hoi polloi – another phrase I picked up from my Alys-chan.

“If you try to leave for hell again without me, I’ll kill you myself,” she murmured in English, pressing what I presumed what were her lips to my knuckles for I did feel a little of her breath on my hand.

“Knock, knock. Time to change shift, Teng sensei,” MatsuJun’s voice whispered. “How’s he?”

“Still alive unfortunately.” I willed myself not to smirk at Alys’s comment. Only she could make light of something sarcastically and still sound like she meant it. She’s a great woman.

“Disappointed?” he chuckled. I imagined he was leering at her again. When will he learn to stop leering at women who were immune to his charm?

“Terribly,” deadpanned my philosophy sensei, tightening her grip on my hand.

Matsumoto snickered. “It’s a shame, ne?”

“Quite right,” Alys-chan replied in mock indignation and a fake sigh. “We’re in the hospital and I can’t even sell his body because he’s still alive. How am I going to afford the latest English translation of Xenophon’s Anabasis?”

“Ne, we could suffocate him with a pillow now before our manager gets back,” Matsumoto suggested, still snickering.

“As tempting as that sounds, he hasn’t signed over his insurance monies to me yet,” she pretended to sigh in distress, but her thumb was slowly stroking over mine. Was she doing in unconsciously? She could be… We both needed a lot of touching. I didn’t need her to say anything, so long as she touched me, I knew she was there and I would know what she really meant. That was enough. Even in the days when we just got together, I would be on the sofa with the Nintendo DS playing and she would lean over while she read, or I would lean on her depending who was near to the armrest. We didn’t say much, but it was comfortable, you know what I mean?

“He’s a stingy, ungrateful bastard, ne?” laughed MatsuJun softly. “Ano, did he apologise? Is everything okay between you two?”

She sighed and I heard some sounds of a book closing. She must be removing her glasses and pinching the part between her eyes in thought. It was one of her little habits I liked watching because it meant she was off-guard for about ten seconds and I could attempt to scare her or tease her or something. “I don’t know; we’re not terribly communicative on those things as a rule. He shouldn’t have come all the way to my place in the rain. He must be working himself to the bone, poor thing,” she muttered, placing another chilly hand on mine. As much as I objected to being called ‘poor thing’, I didn’t mind both her hands on mine. It meant she still cared. As much as I wanted to thread my fingers with hers to warm her, I couldn’t. Doing that would only give the game away. I didn’t want them to know I was awake – not yet.

“It’s only the flu. He’ll recover. He’s like a cockroach. You can’t possibly kill him, not when he hasn’t horded enough money,” answered Matsumoto seriously.

She chuckled. “He is an irritating little sod, I agree. Alas, to my great misfortune, I am fond of him,” she patted my hand. That was it? She was ‘fond’ of me? That was very lukewarm. She and I didn’t use the usual words couples would say to each other. Did she mean it though, that was what I wanted to know.

“Ne, sensei, you could dump him. I’m very available the last time I checked!”

“Oh? Back to that again, are we?” she laughed and I heard a smack. Good! Hit him somewhere on the arm or the back of his head and make sure it hurts. He shouldn’t be talking to her like that. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Then they both shared a laugh. “It’s very sweet of you, Jun-kun, but my washing machine can only accommodate one annoying brat on top.”

“You do love him, ne?” MatsuJun intoned quietly as footsteps came in.

“Utter tosh!” She said in English before continuing in Japanese in a mock affronted tone, “Him? Let me disabuse you, poor boy. He has enough flaws to rival all the entries in the Encyclopaedia Britannica if they were catalogued. His merits, if they may be called such, will only be listed in a short paragraph. There is nothing lovable in a person like that.”

“But mama does think he’s lovable, because mama’s still here in her nightie with her head going don-don-don when she wants to sleep but keeps telling herself to stay awake,” Aiba’s buoyant voice resounded. “Oops.” Why did he say oops? Did he nearly trip? Given how clumsy he can be at times, I’m not surprised.

“Baby-chan is mistaken. This is the latest in Parisian fashion,” she deadpanned and MatsuJun snickered.

“Eh, honto?” exclaimed Aiba. “Mama needs a hug. Nino loves you, you have to believe that. He just won’t say it. He’s always like that.”

“Ha! The only things he loves are money, his games, acting, and music,” she said with an artificial laugh. “He merely finds me intriguing. Sometimes I feel that he looks at me as a game puzzle. One day, he may wake up thinking that he has figured me out. When that happens, he’ll discard me like an old game he thinks is boring.”

“Mama’s more than a game because he never knows what will happen. In a game, he will know what happens. Mama’s different. He wouldn’t have gone to see you if didn’t care,” declared Aiba stoutly. “Oi, Jun, catch. ‘Kaachan said to give everyone one. Yakisoba.” Sounds of a packet being opened and ‘umai’ came from the now (I presumed) happily eating Matsumoto. “Mama, Baby-chan has been very good! Lookie, lookie! I brought porridge from my parents’ restaurant.”

“Mama will eat it after lecture,” she said and I heard a chair being pushed back. “Baby-chan, would you mind taking me back to my place? I have to teach in an hour.” Then I felt her fingers tightened over my hand and soft lips brush my forehead. “Wait for me, Kazu darling,” she whispered. She didn’t have to say more. Of course, I would wait. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. I settled for lightly squeezing the ends of her fingers, uncertain if she could feel the slight increase in pressure.

“Alys-chan should try getting some sleep. The rest of us will take turns to watch him,” recommended the youngest member of Arashi.

“I have hours for that later, Jun-kun. I was never here, you understand, not to him,” she said tonelessly, digging her short nails almost painfully into my palm.

“Is that wise?” he asked.

“Lie to him. He knows how to take it. Until I settle everything at the university and the department, I do not want to see him. He has his schedule cut out for him. I do not need him worrying about me on top of that. He has to concentrate on everything he’s supposed to do before your manager kills him.” Her cold fingers brushed aside the hair from my forehead as she made her resolution, and she added in a whisper in my ear, “Or before I kill you.” She paused and then added with false cheer, “Come along, baby-chan, loan me your arm please. My foot’s asleep.”

I waited until the sounds fell silent, counted to ten and then pretended to stir. I made a great act of trying to sit up and slowly opened my eyes. So, I was right with almost everything. I did have a private room. There was an IV drip, another pillow near my feet, and there were five chairs scattered around the bed. My beloved guitar was lying on the sofa by the window, and Matsumoto was in the corner to my left eating yakisoba.

“Hey there, Nino, welcome back to the land of the living,” he greeted, wiping his mouth. “How’re you feeling?”

“A throbbing pain in the left temple and a blocked right nostril makes me really sexy, I’d bet,” I commented, dragging up the pillow at my feet so that I could hug it. It was soft and still warm, and smelled faintly like her shampoo. I smirked a little. She may not want me to know that she stayed the night with me at the hospital, but she left clues to tell me otherwise. Yeah, she was playing with me. Just you wait, Alys-chan, I will get back at you.

“That, my friend, is a clear sign that you’ve caught the flu. As your physician, I recommend you take lots of fluids and a good rest for at least two to three days,” MatsuJun announced with all the professionalism of a proper medical doctor

“Cut the crap, Jun,” I said with an air of finality. “How did I get here? Which hospital is this and who called you guys in?”

Matsumoto folded his arms and looked at me disinterestedly. “This is the University of Tokyo Hospital. Alys Nee-chan made the necessary arrangements when you fainted from overwork apparently. You, my friend, also have the flu. She phoned for Sho-kun and me to find out the procedure for admitting you without alerting the who’s who. We called Manager and we checked you in after Alys-chan had taken the measures to keep you alive.”

“It can’t be that difficult!”

“She changed cold compresses for you and had warm glucose on standby that she forced down your throat,” Arashi’s youngest member stated, leaning against the wall. “She said she used to have fainting spells when she was younger, so she knew exactly what to do.”

“Where is she? Did she come?” I asked despite knowing the real answer and the answer my friend would give me.

“She’s a university sensei, Nino. She has better things to do than to watch over a pathetic invalid who instead of serenading her, faints at her feet.”

I smirked at his come back. That was true. I did muck up my attempt to win her back. But it didn’t seem like she minded. She still cared for me, that was enough. “I couldn’t help myself; I was blinded by her wit.”

“You should have squinted,” MatsuJun responded without missing a beat before shaking his head in disapproval at a thought. “What are we all going to do with the two of you? It’s like you two have some kind of complicated complex. This isn’t one of your crazy S and M games, is it?”

I lay back down in bed in a noisy flop after drinking a glass of water. Matsumoto Jun had a valid point. Sometimes, it was as if Alys-chan and I were in some kind of S and M game, that is, the type without the whips and wax. Our game was on a totally different level. I’ve always known that we were playing some kind of game with each other, but I never really knew what type. Thinking about it, maybe it all really did boil down to some kind of complex. I didn’t want to answer him, so I settled for another question. “When can I get out?”

“This afternoon if the doctor gives the all clear. But we have clear instructions to see that you don’t do any work, eat, sleep and drink lots of water for at least two days,” he continued, looking suspiciously at me.

“Where did you put my keitai?” I asked, and our pretty boy darted his eyes to the drawer of the bedstand.

“You don’t have to call your butai people. Manager handled that already. You have two days off,” he explained.

“Iya, not that. I know he always covers our tracks for us. I need someone to feed me and insult me every other hour.”

“In other words, you need Alys.”

“Unless you want to make herbal soups for me?” I pasted on my most winning smile.

Matsumoto sat down in a chair and put his feet up on the bed, his arms still folded and his expression serious. “There may be a slight problem in getting hold of her after today. She’s leaving for Prague.”

“Yeah right, and I’m leaving for Hokkaido this afternoon,” I laughed, throwing a pillow at him.

Matsumoto didn’t seem to find it funny when he caught the pillow. “She’s leaving on a KLM flight at about four.”

“So she’s leaving permanently. Good riddance!” I folded my arms and put on a look of unconcern on my face. Was she leaving for good? How long had she been planning this? Why didn’t she tell me? Was that why she didn’t want to see me?

As if to answer me, he broke out into a fit of snickers. “You two are just so funny, on a whole different level from your Ohmiya SK skits. You two won’t say that you love each other when everyone can tell you do, and when you two hear about some kind of shocking news about the other person, you pretend that you don’t care and successfully act the part. You two have some major issues.”

“You’ve misunderstood me, MatsuJun. It doesn’t matter to me where she goes or what happens to her. Maybe now that she’s permanently gone, my life will get back to normal,” I said seriously although my brain was panicking. Why didn’t she tell me? How could she leave without saying goodbye? Was that what she meant she told me to wait for her? This wasn’t part of our game. I demand that the game be reloaded so that I can replay it. It can’t turn out like this. There were no signs that the game would turn out like this! I demand a reload!

“You sure about that, Nino?” he asked, looking me in the eyes.

Between Wit and Sarcasm – Chapter 36.5 Special

A breakdown of Chapter 36 from Alys Teng’s viewpoint

Everything should be packed – underwear, clothes, moisturiser, toiletries, towels, court shoes, tape recorder, cassette tapes, writing material, books, money, passport, address book. Everything looks to be in order. Ah, medication – can’t forget that. How many do I need? A strip and a half of each should last me. Confound it! Enough diazepam and enough radioactive iodine but not enough enalapril for the heart. That would be dashedly inconvenient. I knew I forgot something. Blast! I hadn’t been touching the radioactive iodine of late because the thyroid had not been giving me trouble. Rather, the most problematic organ of late seems to be the heart. I’ve been taking the doses for the heart regularly since the whole fiasco over that scurrilous piece of journalism blew matters out of proportion. It is most uncomfortable when you know your heart’s valves do not close properly and it literally skips a beat. I shouldn’t allow myself to be agitated to a state, but I couldn’t help it. Whatever happened to my much vaunted self-control? Ah well, no matter. I had enough of the heart pills to last me a week or so. If it came to it, I could always go back to London or Oxford for another prescription.

Lately, I’ve been over-excited, or so I think my body is trying to tell me. Either that or my heart is getting weaker. For a large muscle, the heart does not seem to be doing much for me. Originally, I had fretted over the tabloid’s revelation of my private affairs with a certain individual I decline to name, and had to bear everything while appearing impassive and collected. I could draw on inner dignity, I was British by citizenship and birth, and therefore able to appear calm, cool and collected. However, even I draw the line when someone calls me a tart. I may have been rather foolish in my salad days, but I am most certainly not a tart. When that matter had finally be resolved, the newspaper retracted that disgusting piece it had circulated, and the culprit suspended, another slew of insanity descended on me.

Trouble always comes in threes as my sainted grandmother would frequently say in Cantonese. It always rang true in my experience. First, the fiasco over an aspect of my personal life; then came the whole madness of the departmental inquiry over my credentials. My credentials? Bah bloody humbug! I had a doctorate like the other academics. Why did they have to question them? Damn that Rose de Winter! Francis and I had long been over. What could that woman gain from this? Does my being half the world away mean nothing to her? Women are far worse than men when they plot revenge, and people wonder why I am uncharitable to my sex! With women like Rose de Winter running amok in the world, I am sometimes ashamed to be a female myself. Oh, but revenge will be mine. Die ist mein rache! Ha! Who would have thought that the great Rose de Winter, toast of the philosophical world for her beauty, position, wealth and whatnot would have plagiarised the work of a little known academic from years ago and used it as the centrepiece of the paper she would be presenting at the Conference on Nietzschean studies? While I did not receive an invitation to that as a speaker, I could always go as an observer. I wanted to see that woman’s face when she saw me there as she passed off a paper I wrote years ago as her own. Had Henry Goldman not informed me of it, I would not have known. Oh, it would be delicious tearing that self-satisfied look of superiority from her face. At last, I will have my day and the European philosophical circuit will know that Alys Teng truly has the substance to make it in academia.

The only residual issue on my mind was the matter of the third trouble. Trouble always came in threes in my experience. The first two had appeared. What about the third? I wished that it would not be something damaging to my career. It was the only thing I had left now. As I bustled about rereading my old article on Nietzsche and rereading Beyond Good and Evil so as to better show that de Winter woman what the true authoress of that piece knew about the article, the mobile phone rang.

Where was that blasted phone? It wasn’t in the boudoir with me, that’s for certain. Just follow the sound, Alys, just follow the sound. It’s not every mobile that rings to Madama Butterfly. Dragging the small suitcase out and placing it by the single sofa where I usually sat to sew (the long one was for lounging and reading – I am nothing if not methodological), I pottered into the study and found the mobile by on the seat by the desk, ringing furiously.

When I saw the caller’s name, I raised a brow. No wonder the ringing sounded more protracted, more demanding. Well, well, it was him again. What did he want? It was the second night in a row. It’s bad ton to call someone at that late hour. I was adjusting myself to Prague time and didn’t want to sleep yet despite the latest of the hour, but that imbecile – when will he learn to take care of himself? I could just leave the mobile be and ignore him. He would go away after a while.

The mobile however disagreed and continued to ring. Very well, I would answer it to see what he wanted. After all, he is a fairly consistent character, and he did go away after I spoke to him the previous night. I had every confidence of persuading him to leave me be again. The answer button was promptly pressed, the mobile duly cradled next to my left ear, and I remained silent – waiting to hear what he had to say. Very likely, he was the third trouble to befall me. I should have left him shivering in the rain like a wet kitten last night. It would have certainly obviated all the resultant unpleasantness.

He must have realised that I wasn’t going to say aught, for he gave me the usual, rather laconic, “It’s me again. I’m downstairs”

Good Lord! He couldn’t be serious. It was pouring heavily for heaven’s sake. From the way he worked himself, undertaking project after project, with little sleep, exposure to inclement weather could result in a putrid infection. He couldn’t possibly be out in this weather. He had more sense than that. I would have expected it of Masaki who would do these sorts of things for larks, but not him – not the freeloading idiot. Quickly sliding open the panel to the balcony adjoining the study I looked down and found him standing downstairs under the shade of the umbrella I gave him the day before. “What do you want this time?” I snapped out of concern.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair so that I may climb the golden stair,” he chanted in a sing-song manner over the mobile line.

I had to suppress a laugh, and ended up sniggering instead. The boy must have been foxed as we used to say back in my days in Oxford. I wasn’t blonde, and never was. I did not believe in dyeing my hair. My ebony locks were starting to silver, yes. But it didn’t matter. I was never beautiful to begin with. Was the poor fellow drunk? To be quoting fairytales at an ungodly hour was a clear sign that he was drunk. Who could I call to retrieve him? Sho perhaps, if Chiaki could spare him. Perhaps Jun could do it, and then he could at least throttle the imbecile while dragging him away. Holding on to the curtains for support, I asked, “How drunk are you? My hair is starting to silver not blonde.”

“I’m not drunk,” he claimed petulantly. Ah, a smirk must be playing on his lips. Oh, that incorrigible swine!

“That’s what all drunks say.” I pointed out, rolling my eyes.

“Are you going to let down your hair or not?” he questioned. Good Lord! Was he serious?

Well, I could taunt him, just a little bit. I needed entertainment after all, and he was highly entertaining while bantering. I curled my lips into a smirk, wondering how I could turn the conversation to my advantage. “It only extends so far; you would have to jump the rest of the way,” I intoned with the utmost gravity before deciding that I could not leave him standing out in the rain. I was older and responsible for him in a way. Furthermore, I had no right to keep him there. I no longer had any claims on him. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on me; I should make that clear to him. “It’s late,” I continued, “You’re likely drunk. You’d catch a cold if you stay out at this hour. Go home, Ninomiya-san.”

I should have known better than to think that would have put an end to things, for he called back. How terribly inconsiderate of him! Did he want a flowerpot thrown at him? Bloody humbug! Flowerpots cost money. Surely he would know that I was not going to fritter money on flowerpots.

“Is it still too late?” he asked. Of course it was. He couldn’t seriously imagine that we could go back to way things were, not when we were practically at each other’s throats.

“It’s almost three in the morning, go home,” I sighed, hung up and retreated indoors. I really didn’t have time for this. I would have to go to the airport tomorrow after giving a lecture to my third year class; I didn’t have time for his nonsense or his games.

The mobile rang again, and I contemplated ignoring him but I couldn’t, not when I wasn’t sure he would take me seriously and go home. The moment I picked up, his voice rang out clearly, “How long can we go on like this?”

“Until the cows come home,” I replied automatically in English. It was something I used to say back home to people who annoyed me. Was that idiot still out there? I went out to the balcony again and saw that he was still there. Imbecile! He even flung aside the umbrella. Was he trying to catch a cold? And what was he doing with that other thing around him. What was I going to do with him? Could he not see that I wanted him to go home before he caught a cold? If I could but change eyes with a basilisk, I would have just killed him then and there.

“Who are you trying to hurt? You or me?” he demanded.

That only made me defensive. Did he want me to hurt him? I would do that if I had to. If it would get him to leave me alone, I would do it however much it pained me. “Isn’t it obvious?” I retorted.

“You can’t keep hurting yourself,” he said quietly.

Moving back indoors, I coldly told him off. “Who said anything about hurting myself? Good night.”

“If I don’t see you, I’ll start singing and you’ll have a scandal at your doorstep,” he threatened before I could disconnect the call. How dare he! He didn’t know who he was dealing with. I did not cow to threats.

“You wouldn’t dare!” I hissed, trying to think of something I could do to prevent him from undertaking such a foolish course of action.

“Then let down your hair and let me climb up.”

That chap was bloody infuriating. “You’re horse-pissed drunk, freeloader boy!” Blast! I said it in English. That’s the trouble with me – I think in English. I didn’t know whether he could understand me. In that case, I would say something that he would understand. “I’ll call one of the boys to get you.”

Before I could disconnect the call, he taunted, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I leant on the railing to see if there was anyway I could persuade him to take up the umbrella. Appealing to reason was the only method I could use in moments like this, so I merely exhorted him to use good sense. “Take up the bloody umbrella and go home. It’s raining and it’s damp. Do you want to catch pneumonia?”

“I don’t care what happened in the past. It’s the ‘now’ with us that I’m interested in. I’m sorry for everything. I’m not leaving until you acknowledge that we have something going on,” he insisted in a tone that was much too sombre to be drunk.

He wants what? Surely, it must be a jest. What could he want from our exchange? If I said that I thought he had Machiavelli’s smile and that I was excessively fond of him for his flaws and all, would he understand? I highly doubted that. He may fail to understand the British reserve with words. Surely, there could be no doubt from the way we were always leaning on each other on the sofa or lounging around on the floor that I was more than commonly fond of him. I did not know how to answer or what I ought to say. I settled instead for snapping irritably into the receiver, “Whether the concept of ‘us’ existed or otherwise is immaterial! You’re getting drenched, baka! Go home!”

“I need your soups,” he whined, his voice shaky. Imbecile! He was catching a cough, I just knew it. I would have to arrange for one of the lads to look after him if this kept up.

“Hire a cook,” I hissed, mentally weighing whether it would be more expedient to call Jun or Sho to fetch him.

“I only need your soups,” he insisted in a tone that suggested a slight smirking pout of a smile.

That smirking pout always distracted me. The shape of his mouth when he did so resembled a chocolate marzipan that they sold in Bath – one of my favourite comfort foods that I only allowed myself a taste once a year because of the expense. That smirking pout always tempted me to nibble at him. But not this time. I was determined to be firm. “Like a fish needs a bicycle,” I reminded him.

He evidently found that amusing. “Remember that song you liked? The English song you sang off-key? The song about dancing and playing the bill? You brought the CD over when we played Final Fantasy XI, remember?”

“You’re obviously drunk! You’re thoroughly maudlin! Go home!” I tried reasoning from my perch by the balcony. Even though it was freezing, I wasn’t going to go in until I had seen him off.

He sneezed with a half deprecatory laugh. “Remember, you translated the lyrics for me? I learnt it!”

I rolled my eyes. What in the world was he raving about? I had the impression that Ohno was the scatological thinker, not him. Just in case he was drunk, I had to soothe him lest he do something stupid. Drunk people were hardly rational in my experience. I snorted disbelieving, “Very clever. Well done. Now, run along and go home before you die from hypothermia!”

What in the world was he doing down there with his head at tilted at that odd angle and swinging the object – was that a guitar – to his front. “I just got the chords right after listening to that CD you left behind. I told you, Alys, if I don’t see you, I’ll start singing. What ever will you do when I create a scandal at your doorstep?” he taunted.

Foolish, foolish freeloading brat! I wasn’t so easily cowed. But I was getting worried. The rain had become heavier. He was going to be soaked at this rate. “Go home. You can see me from where you are, just as I see you. Stop making a nuisance of yourself,” I reasoned, willing myself not to throw a flowerpot or an iron at him. If there’s one thing I learnt from dealing with annoying academics who think they are better than I am because they had sticks permanently up their arses – it’s never give them what they want when they want it. Dangle it before them but never give it to them – it would amount to torture, and I was inordinately fond of torturing others psychologically when I’ve had a bad day in the lecture theatre or whilst writing.

His voice took on a laughing tone. That bloody devil must be smirking again. Did he think he had the upper hand? Ha! We shall see. No one gets the better of me in mind games. “I’m not a nuisance yet. I can be a bigger nuisance, especially if I start singing. Try me, Teng sensei, I dare you.”

“You and I can lie without batting an eyelid. Stop pretending to be something you’re not and go home,” I warned, informing him just how lowly I thought of his tactics. Enough. I had enough. I would go back indoors and leave him outside to die if he so wished it. The nerve of him! Threatening me, indeed! Bah bloody humbug! I must have been muttering aloud because I heard him laugh on the line and a few notes on the guitar before he started on a rendition of ‘Let’s face the music and dance’. My favourite song and he remembered even if he couldn’t wrap his tongue around a few syllables. I would have to teach him proper English in time. The dear boy – he could be surprisingly thoughtful at times. However, he should know that now wasn’t the time. It was late and he could wake the inhabitants of the lower floors.

Good Lord! He was actually singing and making a spectacle of himself when she shouldn’t! Curse that confounded fool! “Imbecile! Stop it! People living on the lower floors will know it’s you and the whole fracas will blow up again.” I hissed sharply, turning around to the balcony and looking down, where sure enough, he was still singing. Did he think this was Venice and he was doing Shakespeare?

“Now you know what I have to put up with,” he teased. Bloody devil! He was smirking again. Bloody hell, I fell for his trap. He was getting better at this and I couldn’t help but smirk at the way his mind worked. “I’m not leaving until I see you, Alys-chan,” he added, bringing us back to the topic at hand.

Just what was he trying to prove? It wasn’t amusing to have my hand forced, and I intensely loathed situations over which I had lost control. I generally didn’t engage in mind games I didn’t have confidence of winning. Now that I lost my first mind game in six years, I retaliated in the only way I knew, viz., verbally. “Is it rich hurting me?” I asked without malice, so as to buy time for my thought processes.

I returned indoors and closed the curtains and the sliding doors to the balcony, and paced briefly in the study facing the book shelves. While so doing, I knew that a gracious lady always conceded defeat. Very well, I had lost this match, I would give him what he wanted, but he would pay for it. I would dangle it before him and withhold it until we could parlay an endgame. I specialised in chess endgames in my Oxford days, I could still ensure that he had a pyrrhic victory if I was careful. Quickly grabbing the shawl from the sofa, and the keys from the hook by the bookshelves in the living room, I continued my verbal assault on that impertinent pup as I got out of the flat. “Is it rewarding? Is it pleasurable? Is it enjoyable, hurting me?”

By the time the shawl was around my shoulders and the front door locked, he replied. “I could ask you the same,” the freeloader intoned in mock chiding.

“Then stop it! You’re only being an irritant,” I riposted, dashing down the stairs. Thank heavens for gravity. Running down eleven flights of stairs couldn’t possibly be good for my heart. Damn him, I needed to buy time. I couldn’t use the lift lest I lost the mobile reception.

He sneezed and stifled what I assumed was a cough. “Am I supposed to care? Am I supposed to be concerned with what you think?”

“You could try for once,” I tried to steady my voice as I checked the floor number. Just four more to go. He had better be there when I got downstairs or I would kill him if I ever saw him again.

He seemed to think that I wasn’t serious for he responded with a volley of his own. “And you? Do you think you didn’t hurt me?”

Curses! Did he think that he was only one who was hurt? My word, did he really want me to throttle him or worse? Just wait till got my hands on him – I would do more than strangle him with the shawl. “Good to know I succeeded,” I spat on reaching the second floor.

Bilveer, the security guard looked askance at me when I pushed open the door to the stairs and came out into the lobby. I quirked my lips a little in apology and dashed out to the car park. It was then that I realised I had come out into the graphite-asphalt without footwear. Ah well, it did not matter. That idiot was more important than shoes or slippers.

“Shouldn’t you stop if that’s the case?” the freeloader threw out rather bitterly. He was easy to spot even in the rain. His mop of hair was positively tangled and matted to his head and he was still looking up, presumably at my flat. He looked like he was suppressing a cough, the poor darling. I kept him out too long in the rain. Foolish boy, he needn’t have come.

Clamping the mobile together to close it, I tried to catch my breath. Never again will I run down eleven storeys. “How can I stop? It’s what I live for.” I retorted tartly, trying to find a mode of standing so that the graphite-asphalt of the car park wouldn’t dig into my soles.

I couldn’t resist casting him an evil knowing smirk that expressed the sentiment that it was a stalemate. Touché, my annoying freeloader. All I needed him to do was to take a few steps forward, and I would bundle him upstairs away from the rain, give him a nice cup of tea, wash his bedraggled hair and put him to bed.

“You shouldn’t be out in the rain,” he sneezed as he took a tentative step forward.

He was getting sick, that royal idiot. I couldn’t take him upstairs with me. I couldn’t take care of him if I was going to be gone for a week and a half. Well then, plan B – he would have to be persuaded to go home. “Speak for yourself, freeloader boy,” I smirked at him with a sigh. What did he want me to say? I didn’t make flowery admissions of love. I was past the age for that. The romantic part of my soul died when Francis Eyre left my academic future to flounder and die. I only wanted contentment now, and I was rather content with the freeloader, oddly enough. I doubt it would last. There were many factors not in my favour. He was younger, and he would undoubtedly find pretty girls, younger girls. But if I could be content in my private life for just a while, then it would be good enough. However, now wasn’t the time for sentimentality, I had to send the idiot home. I pursed my lips and sighed again, “Take up the umbrella, Kazu darling; you’ve seen me now. Go home.”

“Alys-chan…” He gave me a winning smirk. It took all my self-possession to remain impassive when he held out an uncertain hand. What now, I wanted to ask. However, I did not count on him dropping without warning at my feet.

Good Lord! All right, first thing’s first – check if he’s still breathing. Yes, he’s still alive, but he was feverish to the touch. Confound it! Why did he have to do this to me, at my doorstep! Didn’t he know that he would be implicating me in this if he were to be found? Well, there was only one thing to do then. I still had my mobile with me, and I promptly called Bilveer at the guard’s post in the lobby of my building, requesting that he take my useless freeloading beau upstairs to my flat.

As soon as the freeloader was deposited upstairs, I divested him of his wet clothes, dressed him an old pair of pyjamas that I no longer wore and telephoned Jun. Rather Jun than Sho, Jun had a far leveller head. He would know how I would get hold of their manager at this ungodly hour. Damn that bloody freeloader! If he recovers from this, I would kill him myself. But first, I needed to call Jun. Hopefully, he would pick up…

NOTES:
diazepam = medication for epilepsy
radioactive iodine capsules = medication for thyrotoxicosis (wiki for more information)
enalapril = medication for weak heart

~~~~Next chapter reverts back to the usual Nino POV~~~~

Chapter 36

I returned the next day after butai rehearsals and filming for one of those nonsensical variety programmes we did. The guys were pretty normal with me except for the fact that Oh-chan was grinning at me, Aiba pretended not to notice what I said or even acknowledged that I existed except to make commonplace remarks like ‘bring that here please’, Sho-kun was determined to fight with Oh-chan for the honour of placing an arm over my shoulder, and MatsuJun kept his arms constantly folded whenever I spoke. When I left the studio, it was raining again. I took it to be a good omen – an omen that kami-sama was watching over me and Alys, even at the ungodly hour of 2.45am. Fortunately, I was suitably armed with her umbrella and my trusty guitar. It wasn’t something I calculated on bringing. I just felt like playing a little in between games and rehearsals. It was impossible to play right now with an umbrella held overheard so I lit a cigarette instead and called her again when I saw that her light was still switched on.

She picked up after a brief interval and was silent. She must have seen my number appear. That she picked up despite knowing it was me must be good a sign.

“It’s me again. I’m downstairs,” I began. Were you expecting something more romantic? I’m nothing like the characters I play in dramas. Besides, I was really running out of things to say. What else could I say? ‘Hello, dear, here I am, I’m sorry, let’s pretend nothing happened and go back to the way we were’? That wouldn’t work with her or with any sensible woman. Alys was the type to dissect the meaning of those words and use them against me. I couldn’t say something like that to her.

“What do you want this time?” Her voice had a harsh overtone to it. Was she upset or angry? I didn’t know. It was difficult to tell when I couldn’t see her eyes. Standing at the bottom of eleven stories and staring up at the balcony in the rain, did that to one.

What was I going to say? I’ve not planned what I wanted to say. Did I have to improvise? I might as well. I’m always doing so on Arashi no Shukudai-kun and our other shows. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair so that I may climb the golden stair.”

There was a funny sound on the line that sounded like both a sneeze and a hiccup. That could only mean she was trying not to laugh. Not that it worked. I could hear her snickering. Was she snickering at me? I had hoped she would. It wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t snickering and shooting off a comeback at me.

“How drunk are you?” she said, the faint traces of a laugh still clinging to her voice. I looked up and saw the curtains move and her silhouette at the balcony, looking down – presumably – at me. “My hair is starting to silver not blonde.”

That was true. Her perfect black hair had a few strands of silver in them, not that I minded. They were well-hidden. Maybe Chinese women did have nicer hair. Wait a minute, if she was talking to me now, she couldn’t hate me. Did she? I thought about the umbrella and the towel she had given me yesterday. What was I to think? Kami-sama, I don’t know what I thought other than the fact that it gave me hope. “I’m not drunk.”

“That’s what all drunks say.”

I smirked at her response. I could just imagine her rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Are you going to let down your hair or not?” I asked again, hoping to hear some kind of an insult or acidic barb.

“It only extends so far; you would have to jump the rest of the way,” she deadpanned. Yes! She was back in form with her comebacks. But the moment was over all too soon. “It’s late. You’re likely drunk. You’d catch a cold if you stay out at this hour. Go home, Ninomiya-san,” she almost seemed to murmur quietly. And as before, the curtains were closed and she hung up.

Not satisfied with the abrupt end to our conversation, I called her back. “Is it still too late?”

“It’s almost three in the morning, go home.” With those words, she hung up. She changed our routine without telling me! Damn her! She was supposed to ask me what I was doing there. I would have told her that I wanted there to be an ‘us’. I didn’t care what happened in the past with that old sensei of hers. That was over. It had nothing to do with what we were. There was no one to left to meet me insult for insult or trade repartee with. There was no one who would give me a knowing look when I lied and no one could see it but the two of us. She could lecture me all she wanted about the ins and outs of the dirty linen of the philosophy world and I wouldn’t care. I would even buy a second-hand version of that damn Princess Maker 5 game and play it with her if she wanted. Why was she making things so difficult? Did she enjoy torturing me?

I called her keitai again, ditching the umbrella to the side, balancing my own phone at my ear and shoulder and adjusting the guitar. Damn her! Was she trying to force my hand? I’m not going to beaten at my own game. “How long can we go on like this?” I demanded.

“Until the cows come home,” she said in English, her voice barely audible above the thunder overhead.

“Who are you trying to hurt? You or me?” I asked, noticing that she had drawn open the curtains of her study again.

She stood by the balcony looking down at me. It was a shame I couldn’t see her expression, but I could be sure that she would be curling her lips disdainfully at the question. “Isn’t it obvious?” she answered back with an edge in her voice.

“You can’t keep hurting yourself.”

“Who said anything about hurting myself? Good night.” And she hung up, turning to move back into her study.

Damn that woman! She was asking for it! With my last game plan in place, I dialled her keitai again. “If I don’t see you, I’ll start singing and you’ll have a scandal at your doorstep.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed as a low rumble of thunder broke out.

“Then let down your hair and let me climb up,” I said.

“You’re horse-pissed drunk, freeloader boy,” she snapped in English before switching back to Japanese. “I’ll call one of the boys to get you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I sneezed into the receiver before she could hang up.

“Take up the bloody umbrella and go home. It’s raining and it’s damp. Do you want to catch pneumonia?” I could just make her figure leaning forward on the balcony. Was she worried? She could read me, why couldn’t she tell that I was serious.

“I don’t care what happened in the past. It’s the ‘now’ with us that I’m interested in. I’m sorry for everything. I’m not leaving until you acknowledge that we have something going on.”

“Whether the concept of ‘us’ existed or otherwise is immaterial! You’re getting drenched, baka! Go home!”

“I need your soups.”

“Hire a cook.”

“I only need your soups.”

“Like a fish needs a bicycle.”

“Remember that song you liked? The English song you sang off-key? The song about dancing and playing the bill? You brought the CD over when we played Final Fantasy XI, remember?” I questioned in a single breath.

“You’re obviously drunk! You’re thoroughly maudlin! Go home!” Though she said that, I could see that she was still at the balcony.

“Remember, you translated the lyrics for me? I learnt it!” I sneezed again, wiping the rainwater from my face.

“Very clever. Well done. Now, run along and go home before you die from hypothermia!” she sounded exasperated. That sarcastic tone was still there, but there was a hint of concern. That had to be a good sign.

I settled for cocking my head to one side to balance the keitai properly between my shoulder and cheek and adjusting the guitar again. “I just got the chords right after listening to that CD you left behind. I told you, Alys, if I don’t see you, I’ll start singing.” I smirked and laughed. She didn’t know what she had coming. “What ever will you do when I create a scandal at your doorstep?”

“Go home. You can see me from where you are, just as I see you. Stop making a nuisance of yourself.” Her voice sounded desperate – worried but desperate.

She was definitely asking for it. “I’m not a nuisance yet. I can be a bigger nuisance, especially if I start singing. Try me, Teng sensei, I dare you.” I smirked. Oh, she would bite. She always did whenever I pulled something like this.

“You and I can lie without batting an eyelid. Stop pretending to be something you’re not and go home,” I heard her snort in disbelief. She must be rolling her eyes again. She went back inside and shut the curtains again, leaving the light on.

Well, if she didn’t believe me, there was nothing else to do but to go through with the game plan then. I could hear her insulting my intelligence in English on the line. She didn’t hang up. Good. This would make it easier for me. For a last boss, she’s a hard one to crack. Harder than in my games. Really now, what did she expect me to do? I didn’t do flowers and chocolate and all that stuff. It wasn’t me. She and me – we were good together even if we were quiet. She would write or read and I would play games, and I knew she was there if I needed her, and she knew I was there if she needed me. That was how we worked. If she didn’t believe me, then I was left with no choice. Strumming the guitar with my head still awkwardly positioned to balance the keitai, I began, hoping that my pronunciation was semi-decent:
“There may be trouble ahead
But while there's moonlight and music
And love and romance
Let's face the music and dance

Before the fiddlers have fled
Before they ask us to pay the bill
And while we still
Have the chance
Let's face the music and dance

Soon, We’ll be without the moon…”

Alys-chan drew open the curtains again and stared out, her keitai must still held to her ear because she interrupted me loudly in mid verse. “Imbecile!” she gasped, sounding like she wanted to smack me with a book. Yes! Yes! Yes! I got her exactly where I wanted her. I did draw a response from her. “Stop it! People living on the lower floors will know it’s you and the whole fracas will blow up again.”

“Now you know what I have to put up with,” I smirked even though she couldn’t see it. But I think she knew. I could almost hear her curling her lips as well. “I’m not leaving until I see you, Alys-chan.”

“Is it rich hurting me?” she asked at last in a quiet voice, closing the curtains and going back into her flat. I heard some kind of a rustling noise in the background, the sounds of something metallic, and a click. She must be pacing around and looking through her books and papers to get a handle on her mind. She was always like that. “Is it rewarding? Is it pleasurable? Is it enjoyable, hurting me?”

“I could ask you the same,” I told her.

“Then stop it! You’re only being an irritant,” she shot back. Oh, she wanted to play it that way? Okay, I could do that.

“Am I supposed to care? Am I supposed to be concerned with what you think?” I riposted with a sneeze, still staring at her balcony, wondering if she would give me a sign to say that she wasn’t going to leave me standing here. As refreshing as standing in the rain was, and as much as standing in the rain constituted a free shower, I didn’t care for the itchy feeling of the clothes on my back or the feeling of water flooding my shoes.

“You could try for once,” she snapped. Yeah, she was good. She wanted to provoke me? Ha! We’ll see who provokes whom to act. I was really getting irritated. Why was I standing in the rain waiting for her? Oh yeah, so that I could kill her in person.

“And you? Do you think you didn’t hurt me?” I answered with a sneeze, slinging aside the guitar. The rain must be beginning to seep into my head because it felt heavy. Big deal! Nothing a hot shower and sleep wouldn’t cure when I got home.

“Good to know I succeeded.” She was goading me again. Did she honestly think she could beat me at this? She didn’t have as much practical experience in games as I did. She couldn’t win if she wanted to play things this way. She wouldn’t know what hit her. Ha! Damn her!

“Shouldn’t you stop if that’s the case?” I retorted sharply.

I heard the sound of a keitai being snapped shut. “How can I stop? It’s what I live for,” came the crisp light British intonation of her voice that was panting a little and sounded suspiciously nearer than a normal phone conversation. I trained my eyes away from the balcony to the source of the voice. There she was, at an arm’s length or two away – my Alys-chan – dressed in a long sleeved floral print flannel nightgown that reached a little above her ankles, a red shawl around her shoulders, her glasses sliding down her nose, and her hair in a long plait in front of her, her bangs fluttering lightly in the chilly wind. She moved her weight from one bare foot to the next when she stopped, choosing not to come any nearer. She had already dashed out without sandals or slippers, why shouldn’t she come any nearer? Did she think I would bite? She was the biter, not me!

I took an uncertain step forward and sneezed. She was right – no one could see one’s tears in the rain. I didn’t know whether I was happy or sad. I only knew I had to touch her – anywhere – her icy hands, her cheek. I needed to know why she finally came down to see me. If she would just take my hand, I would know what it meant. A squeeze on the tips of the fingers always mean that she was there even if she wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing; the way she ran her thumb over my knuckles could mean anything from ‘I want to play too’ to ‘I want a cuddle’. I needed to know. She wasn’t much for sentimental words; she spoke with her gestures and her touches. I needed to touch her because she would be cold otherwise. I couldn’t let her get cold especially when her health’s so poor. Chotto matte, was it me or was the rain getting heavier? I didn't remember visibility being this bad.

“You shouldn’t be out in the rain.” I said, remembering what Oh-chan said about her epileptic seizure.

“Speak for yourself, freeloader boy,” she curled her lips into a smirk. But her voice softened as she continued, “Take up the umbrella, Kazu darling; you’ve seen me now. Go home.”

“Alys-chan,” I greeted with a smirk as I took another step forward, holding out my hand. Yes! She had called me by name at last. She had never said it before. I’ve won the game. Ha! I knew I could beat her at it. She wasn’t going to corner me so easily. I must have lost my footing or something because I couldn’t remember what happened after that.