chapter twenty-nine

floral and fading

"Can somebody tell me why I want to commit manslaughter at every minor inconvenience?"

I was sitting on the floor in my room, surrounded by discarded clothes, undergarments and bottles of Bath and Body Works perfume. I was supposed to meet Tsukasa in two hours, and the only thing I had done to remotely prepare myself for the evening was to shave when I got out of the shower.

"If you commit manslaughter, you'll go to jail, which means you'll never be able to make love with your boyfriend." Yui pointed out from the other line of a video call.

"What am I supposed to do, Yui? None of my bras are even remotely sexy. In case you haven't noticed, I tend to wear the ones with fun patterns as opposed to the ones with lace."

"Sweetie, he's not going to care. At least, not for the first time." Madoka remarked. "Over time, you build up the sexy lingerie."

"If this has anything to do with what you and Shinya did last week, I really don't want to know."

I frowned, looking down at the barely padded bras in my lap, each one with a different floral, fruit, or otherwise un-sexy pattern. I didn't even wear push-up bras, so it's not like I could make my boobs look better.

"Don't listen to her, Kiri! If he really loves you, it's not going to matter what bra you wear." Yui insisted. "Just be yourself!"

I rolled my eyes, groaning before saying goodbye to my friends as I reached to hang up the call. It was a sad sight, if you asked me. Sheer curtains drawn, fairy lights turned on and seventies rock and roll playing off my Bluetooth speaker as I sat in my lace-trimmed cotton robe, surrounded by every bra and pair of panties that I owned.

Who knew that I would be so stressed about losing my virginity before I was even in the apartment with him?

The bra in my hands seemed like the most likely option. It was tidy and sunflower yellow, a light layer of lace dotted in little daisies, each daisy center made of a false gem. It had been a gift from my stepmother after I turned sixteen, and it was a pure miracle that I was still the same overtly large cup size. I sported a 32D, which was unheard of for the women in my family. This bra was thicker than the others, which created a minor push-up bra effect. I could pair it with a pair of bright yellow cotton panties that had a lacy waistband (and made my ass look quite nice if I did say so myself).

I took painstaking care in getting ready. I was usually careful, but this was a night where the care that I used meant everything. Tight, bell-bottom jeans, a billowy knitted cardigan embroidered with red hearts that made my boobs look flattering, and my usual pixie necklace resting comfortably above the hollow of my breasts.

Finally deciding that I was ready, I spritzed my perfume and grabbed my shoes, kissing Pierre on the head as I passed through the living room towards the front door. My mother was still out, and Seki had gone to look at suits with Murayama. Murayama insisted that it was still too soon to look at the more serious wedding things, but Midori had insisted. She didn't want to wait to get married and was already attempting to organize something back home in Okinawa.

Truth be told, I wanted the kind of love that they had. I secretly hoped that one day, maybe not a day soon, but one day nonetheless, that Tsukasa and I would be planning a wedding of our own. I already knew what songs I wanted to play and had a Pinterest board devoted to dresses. I was a hopeless romantic at heart, the kind that got hurt easily.

It was cool outside as I crossed the courtyard to the Ghost Block, earbuds in as I walked, heels clicking against cobblestones, a playlist of 2010 throwbacks on to ease my nerves. Tsukasa lived on the second floor, in a corner unit that gave the illusion of being bigger than it actually was. The Orochi's used to live in a unit like this: two bedrooms, l-shaped with a closed-off kitchen. It had been too small for the four of them then, and was still too small for three when they took the insurance money and ran.

The outside of the apartment was tasteful: a weathered plastic stand held hanging baskets of hydrangeas, a worn wooden sign bearing the Takajo name hanging next to the door. There were windchimes hung on the door itself, like Mrs. Takajo had done everything she could to try and make Hope Hills feel like home.

I took my earbuds out mid "Super Bass", rolling them up and slipping them inside my purse before knocking on the door.

The door swung open, Tsukasa standing in the doorway with a flustered expression and a dash of tomato paste on his face. "Hi." He laughed, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder. "I'm running a little bit behind schedule."

"That's fine." I giggled, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. "You have tomato paste on your cheek."

"I know." He rolled his eyes, ushering me into the front hallway. "I got a recipe from Midori this morning for some fancy Greek pasta. Shibaman and Tsuji managed to set it on fire, but Yasushi and Junji managed okay."

"Well, if Yasushi and Junji can cook it, so can we." I joked.

The front entryway was bright despite the lack of windows, painted a cheery cream color. A table set up by the wall showcased pictures of Tsukasa and his brother as they grew up, the biggest picture in the middle being of Tsukasa, his mother, his brother and his sister-in-law at the wedding. Off to the side was my favourite snapshot: seven-year-old Tsukasa at his first house league baseball game.

"So, do you want the tour first, or do you want to eat?"

"I'm actually starving, so maybe we should take a crack at this pasta thing?"

Tsukasa smiled, reaching for my hand. "After you, milady."

The kitchen was smaller than ours, but didn't feel that way. What Mrs. Takajo's kitchen lacked in size, it made up for in warmth: white subway tile and pine cupboards with stainless steel appliances. The granite counters were strewn with supplies, most of them in packages written in Greek letters. Her fridge was covered in sticky notes and pictures she hadn't gotten around to framing.

Front and center, was a military headshot of a dark-haired man with kind eyes. Tsukasa's father.

"Your dad was in the army?"

"Navy." Tsukasa corrected. "He's been absent without leave for about ten years. Hiding in countries without extradition. He saw things in the army that jaded him, turned him into a man he didn't recognize. He walked out a few months after he came back from service. He still writes, sends postcards. But he's been gone for so long that if he ever came back to see us, he'd be arrested and tried without question, probably shot in military court."

"Jesus. How old were you?"

"Three. It's always been easier to say he walked out before I was born. Saves me from explaining the whole thing. Fujio is the only one that knows. Not even Midori."

"Its his dog tags that you always wear, isn't it?"

"I have the necklace; my brother has the bracelet. I'm sorry for being such a downer, I didn't want the night to start like this."

I frowned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Baby, it's okay. I shouldn't have asked. But I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me the truth."

He kissed me softly before pulling away to hang the dish towel back over the oven. They had natural gas in this unit, much like mine. The Nishikawas only had electric.

"You ready to put those cooking skills to the test?"

Truth be told, I always had the most fun with Tsukasa when we were doing the mundane and normal things, like standing in the middle of his kitchen and trying to mix a lamb pasta sauce without getting tomato paste everywhere, singing awful karaoke versions of Doberman Infinity tracks as we cooked. He was always close by, his hands on my hips or around my waist, head on my shoulder as he leaned over to put the bay leaves in the sauce.

We actually did a pretty good job. It was one of the best things I had ever tasted, and beyond the scope of what I thought I could reasonably cook on my own. We sat by a large window while we ate, sitting around the circular dining table and next to a display cabinet that Mrs. Takajo had filled with trinkets. Tsukasa explained that his mother had loved to travel and had been in Australia when she met his father. He had always wanted to go to Perth, but a part of his was petrified of the spiders and the snakes.

Soon enough, the meal had come to an end, the dishes washed. The tone of the night seemed to have changed as Tsukasa pulled me in for a deep, sensual kiss in the middle of the kitchen.

"Are you sure you still want to do this? You can back out at any time." He said gently, running his thumbs over my waist.

I nodded. "I want this. I want you. Just be gentle with me, please."

"Of course." He smiled, kissing my forehead. "Remember, this is new for both of us."

After tonight, there would be no going back. But I felt the nerves seep from by body, soaking into the carpet as Tsukasa lead me to his bedroom.

I wasn't scared anymore. Not as long as I was with Tsukasa.