chapter thirty - two

holding out for a hero

I was awoken by the sounds of birds chirping outside, a reminder that summer was almost here as I rolled over in the bed, groaning as I blindly reached for my lover. His side of the bed was still warm, but empty as I opened my eyes, blearily adjusting to the light. My mouth was dry, throat like cotton, and there was a dull ache between my thighs. I sat up, brushing my tangled hair out of my face with a smile as I remembered the previous night, spent wrapped in Tsukasa's arms.

The bedroom door creaked open and Tsukasa slipped inside, a plastic water bottle in hand and a bright smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful." He said softly, sitting on the bed and leaning over to kiss my forehead. "I brought you some water. How are you feeling?"

I laughed, taking a small sip over water before slipping my free hand into his. "My throat is a little sore and my legs are killing me, but emotionally? I feel great. Last night was incredible. Thank you for making it perfect."

Tsukasa grinned roguishly, the same smile he'd flashed the night before as he slipped his head between my thighs. His grin went straight to my center, a soft hum leaving my lips. "I mean, it's no wonder your throat is sore, you did scream my name pretty loudly last night."

"Tsukasa!" I whined, my face red as I smacked him playfully with the pillow behind me. "You can't just say things like that."

"I'm glad you had a good time last night. I did, too." He kissed me softly, brushing my hair behind my ear as I smiled into the kiss.

This was perfect. He was perfect. I felt more confident, like a changed woman. Finally comfortable in my own body now that I had seen what it could do. Last night had changed the way I saw myself, for the better.

"Also, please don't hate me, but my mom is in the kitchen."

"Your mom is what!" I hissed, turning my head towards the door, suddenly all too aware and conscious. "Oh god, did she hear us last night?"

"No, she didn't get home until after we were asleep." He reassured me, running his hand up and down my arm. "But she can be a lot when you first meet her. She brought croissants, if you're hungry. I should go back out there before she wonders what I'm up to in here. Let me tell you, I think I gave her a heart attack when she saw the nail marks on my shoulders."

I laughed softly, kissing him gently. I felt like I was walking on a cloud, like the butterflies had migrated from my stomach to my brain. Memories danced through my head of the night before: my legs tangled with his, his fingers in my hair, the way he moaned my name.

"Go see your mom. I'll be out in five."

"Take your time. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Once Tsukasa was gone, I slipped out of bed, legs feeling like concrete slabs attached to my body. I winced as I tried to move, wondering if I should have asked Tsukasa for help. The tote bag I brought over the night before was lying next to his desk, the lacy hem of my tank top falling out of the canvas material. There were no mirrors in his room, so I couldn't tell what I looked like standing on shaky legs, wearing on old Samurai Japan shirt of his that fell down to mid-thigh, my hair a tangled mess as I dragged my hairbrush through it.

I tried to dress quickly, not wanting to keep Tsukasa's mother waiting, but also filled with dread as I thought about what I was about to do. I was about to meet my boyfriend's mother, the morning after her son railed me (respectfully) in his childhood bedroom. And she knew all about it. I tried not to think about it, pulling one of his flannels over my tiny white tank top, loosely tying my greasy hair behind my head.

My phone was half-charged, blown up with messages from the night before.

Yui: Soooo, how was it? Tell me everything!

Madoka: How big was it? Do you feel like a changed woman?

Yasushi: Listen, I don't need the gory details. Frankly, I don't want them. I don't even want to think about you in that context. But, I do want to know how you're feeling, I know that this was a very big step for you.

I smiled, shaking my head before I stuffed my phone in my back pocket, pushing the bedroom door open and returning to the real world.

"Ah, Sakura-chan, come eat. I brought croissants home, and I've got a spoon in the freezer for that hickey on your neck!" Mrs. Takajo was a short, plump woman who wore a bright smile on her face, her dark hair cut in a charming bob that bounced as she ran towards the kitchen. Somehow, she was what I had always expected Tsukasa's mom to be like.

I glared at Tsuaksa, who was hiding his blushing face in his hands as his mom returned, passing me the ice cold spoon. "Tsukasa!" I scolded. "I'm going to see my father this week!"

"I'm sorry! You said you were off school, and I didn't realize hickeys swelled up that much!"

"Oh, you're going to Tokyo?" Takajo-san asked innocently, like she was ignoring the small lover's spat I was having with her son as I joined the two of them at the table.

"Yeah, I'm flying out Wednesday night and I come back Saturday morning. Usually I take the train, but my dad wanted to spend as much time with me as possible, so he sprung for the plane ticket this time. It's about two hours on a plane versus seven by train. I've got a campus tour set up for Thursday afternoon, and my dad wanted to show me the place he's rented me." I explained as Tsukasa gently pried the spoon from my clenched fingers, resting the cold surface against the red mark on my neck, his fingers dancing across my skin in a reassuring manner as he brushed my hair out of the way. I found myself reaching for his hand, grabbing a pastry with the other.

I could see where Tsukasa got his easy-going personality from. His mom was a hairstylist in Ebara by day and an Oya bartender by night. She was a do no harm- take no shit kind of woman who could throw a punch if she had to, and that was what had originally attracted Tsukasa's father. She had taken on the second job after he went AWOL and even though it was grueling work, she enjoyed meeting people and hearing their stories. When she talked about her jobs, her face lit up with a certain glow. She didn't have the weathered frown of someone like my mother, who was pushed to the brink at the hospital every day.

"Sakura-chan, how does a girl as sweet as you end up at Oya High?" Mrs. Takajo pondered, taking a large bite out of a custard Danish. "Not that I mind, of course. My son is clearly in love with you and somehow you have managed to push him into pursing a higher education and actually graduating this year like he's supposed to-"

"Mom." Tsukasa warned, narrowing his eyes. "I was holding off until I was certain I could afford it."

"Sure, sure. That's not what Midori-san told me!"

I laughed, resting my head on Tsukasa's shoulder. "He was always a smart one, your son. He just has stupid friends."

"I can't argue with that!"

"Anyways," I sighed, taking a bite out of the croissant. "I ended up at Oya because I smashed a shit ton of garden gnomes."

"That was you?" Mrs. Takajo laughed. "Oh my god, Kubota-san must have been pissed."

"Are the stories about him true? Was he actually in the yakuza?"

"If he was, you'd be dead by now, sweetheart." Takajo-san chuckled. "My husband knew him. He was an undercover cop in the yakuza hey-day, back in the late seventies. Retired when he found out his wife was pregnant. He saw things when he was undercover that he can never unsee. The last good Oya cop, that man was. Masahiro used to go drinking with the old man. The only true friend that he had left since his wife had died. When Masa left, it crushed him."

Tsukasa frowned, reaching for this mother's hand. "You never told me that."

"It never came up. Your father was such a good man."

It was that moment in particular where I saw just how deep the love for Masahiro Takajo ran. Tsukasa put up such a strong front, but he was missing his father just as much as his mother was. The longing was still there in Emiko Takajo's face, how she longed to hold her husband in her arms again. To have him tell her that everything was alright. But she knew that would never happen. That for everybody's safety, it was better if nobody knew where he was. He likely didn't even use his Japanese name any more.

It was a reminder that even in a place like Hope Hills, there was still something worth living for.