Capítulo 37: Let's Go! Shopping!
The Same Day - Monday - 11 AM - Seido
"Sawamura," Kuramochi says, rounding the corner, "did you come to a conclusion yet—oh, never mind. Kominato's here."
"It's fine," Eijun states, "He knows, too."
Eijun and Haruichi are relaxing on the staircase. Kuramochi joins them, leaning against the railing.
"So, guys," the brunette begins, turning his head back and forth between the two of them, "I've decided not to tell Kazuya. I mean, I'm not his problem anymore. Bringing up another issue would distract him while he's trying to take care of Furuya, ya know?"
"We know," Haruichi says, "but it's not just any old issue. You were beating yourself up about it the other day, so you can't put it so casually."
"He's not lying," Kuramochi chimes in, "You really don't think Miyuki deserves to know?"
"No!" Eijun shouts, "I've done the math and I'm dead set on this, so don't try changing my mind! Let bygones be bygones and let's move on, shall we? I didn't cheat because I never told Sanada-senpai that I liked him or wanted to do anything with him while I was dating Kazuya.
"The flirting part? As I said, I had no clue, so that doesn't count either! Besides, you were the ones that said Kazuya did a much more horrific thing and this barely scratches the surface, so honestly, why should I care? Got it?"
Haruichi raises his hands up defensively as the pitcher gets up and hops down the stairs, "We hear you, we hear you. No need to shout. It's your life; we just wanted to ensure that you were making the right decision."
"Stop questioning me before you make me all confused again, Harucchi!"
"Okay, okay!"
Eijun tells them he's going to meet Chris, so he waves goodbye and marches away.
Kuramochi sighs in disbelief as he pushes off the railing and sits next to Haruichi, his arms dangling between his legs, "You know damn well his mind is like a plate of scrambled eggs right now. He still feels some type of guilt and wants to bury it as fast as he can."
"You can say that again," Haruichi chuckles, "I wonder if he'll be alright, though. When he gets into his own head, it's tough dragging him back out."
"Hyaha! That's where threatening him with violence comes into play. Ain't nothing a headlock can't handle."
"You both are going to be the death of me. Anyway, how's the plan coming along? Are you getting any closer?"
Kuramochi's face softens, an extremely rare sight, "Yeah, I'm real close. I need a hundred more dollars and I can finally get my hands on it. I'm scared shitless, honestly. I have no clue how it's gonna go."
Haruichi gently places a reassuring hand on the shortstop's knee, "Don't worry, Kuramochi-senpai. I know for sure everything will turn out fine. You've been planning this for months; I don't think your efforts will go down the drain so easily. Life isn't that unfair sometimes." 'Emphasis on sometimes.'
"I know, but—"
"No buts. What happened to the Kuramochi-senpai that I know? He's always ready to face challenges head-on and lives his life with no regrets. Isn't that right?"
Kuramochi jumps up from his spot, empowered, "Hell yeah! What am I anxious about? I got this! I ain't no bitch!"
"Uh-huh, there we go!" Haruichi cheers.
"Say it with me, Kominato! I ain't no bitch!"
"Th-That's a little excessive for me…"
--
4:06 PM - Tomakomai, Hokkaido
Miyuki had a nightmare last night.
A ruthless one, where his mother was strangling him and his father sat in the background reading a newspaper, listless and unbothered. He was getting the life wrung out of him like laundry and not a soul was helping him. He clawed at Nana's face, spitting and kicking and screaming, but his limbs turned into a thick sludge, slimy, slippery, and useless.
He woke up right before he could die and succumbed to a panic attack. For the purpose of getting over Eijun, he didn't bring the photo of them he normally used to ground himself.
Counting numbers, controlling his breathing, and any other techniques he employed failed him, so his legs found themselves stumbling out into the hallway. His vision was warped, blurry with tears and blindness without his glasses. He tried feeling for the walls but missed and fell to the floor, the noise causing Kasumi to run out of her room.
Half-dressed, she crouched next to him and asked what was happening, if he was okay. Miyuki, through his hyperventilations and tremors, explained what he was experiencing. Kasumi wasted no time in bringing him to her room, then opened the door to another room within—Therapy Time.
It was her self-designed safe haven. It was embellished with a fuzzy white carpet, bookcases, yellow strobe lights, artificial vines, and vanilla-scented candles. Situated in the center between two wooden posts was an oversized salmon pink beanbag. Sheer white curtains draped from the posts by a metal rod. An LED Therapy Time sign was displayed on the back wall.
Prior to becoming a baker, Kasumi studied to become a psychologist, so she built this room to offer her son and Shinichiro a place to destress and alleviate their problems.
Now it was Miyuki's turn.
Sitting on the beanbag, Kasumi held Miyuki in her arms lovingly, threading her slender fingers through his hair.
"Think about the memory that brings you the most joy," she had advised in a sweet voice, "Try holding your breath then exhaling rhythmically as the memory plays in your head. Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
Miyuki was clueless as to what was happening. His head was a throbbing whirlwind, heart beating erratically, body convulsing violently. He was unaware of his surroundings, but the only thing that was registering was Kasumi.
Her warmth was entirely foreign, unfamiliar. The softness of her bosom against his face, the way her fingers stroked his hair, the way her arms held him tightly as if she'd never let go. It was alien, but he miraculously felt his panic attack waning, like a wave returning to sea after crashing on the shore.
His most joyous memory was with Eijun, seeing him smile toothily after being asked out. At that point, it was the happiest moment in his life, and he paused that moment and created a freeze-frame. He used it to inhale and exhale as Kasumi said.
Minutes later, he was calm. Kasumi grabbed a few tissues and wordlessly wiped his face with them. Miyuki, who felt the safest he had ever been, unloaded his past on her. His negligent mother and eccentric father, his insomnia, his nightmares. It all projected from his mouth like vomit and he couldn't control himself.
He never confided in anyone about his troubles because they were solely his traumas to grapple with, yet he felt no restrictions with Kasumi. She sat with him quietly, soaking up every detail without an ounce of judgement.
His voice slowly drifted into silence, and Kasumi looked down to notice that Miyuki had fallen asleep soundly, like an infant that had grown accustomed to its new crib. She was his crib, his place of security and solace.
Determining it was best not to stir him awake, she clapped the strobe lights off and they slept on the beanbag for the night.
"When I woke up, you weren't in my room," Furuya says, "How odd."
Currently, the three of them are out shopping, spending the afternoon together as it was their last day in Hokkaido.
"I went for an early morning jog," Miyuki lies as they step off the escalator, "I apologize for being unable to bless you with my heavenly visage upon the termination of your slumb—"
"Stop," Furuya interjects, nudging his arm, "I regret saying that. How do you always manage to make it about yourself? That's not a good personality trait to have."
"You just noticed? Wow, are you sure gonna have fun dealing with me for the rest of your life."
"I can't wait," the pitcher says sarcastically.
After last night's incident, Kasumi feels like spoiling the shit out of Miyuki, so she hooks her arm around his and tells Furuya that they're going into a department store.
"What about me?" he asks, "Are you just going to leave me out here?"
Kasumi cocks her head, "I gave you money, right? Walk around, buy stuff. I wanna spend some quality time with Kazuya-kun."
"You would rather spend quality time with him than your own son?"
"I've raised you every single day for fifteen years; don't you think I deserve a break for one freaking hour? So selfish. Let's go, Kazuya-kun."
Miyuki turns his head and sticks out his tongue as they skip into the store, then disappear.
Furuya wishes he can roll his eyes so far back they get stuck, but he brushes it off. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets and ambles around the mall.
His default interests excluding shopping, nothing grasped his attention except a sports center, which he refrains from entering. With his pregnancy, his career was on hold.
A pair of spiffy new cleats vanish from his peripheral as he continues walking, his fingerprints on the glass window leaving the sole trace of his presence at the shop.
He rides the escalator to the third level of the mall and as soon as he steps off, he's rushed by a person distributing flyers.
"Hello, please visit our new baby department store!" the person says gleefully, handing him a flyer, "From cribs to toys to clothing, we've got it all! Please check it out!"
Furuya accepts the flyer timidly, 'Motherly instinct?' he thinks, 'Again? Give me a break. It's like everyone and everything can sense that I'm pregnant…it wouldn't hurt to visit the store, though. I have nothing better to do.'
Entering Beaucoup Babies, he is, yet again, the outsider. The store recently opened and it was bustling with curious parents and grandparents, carrying their little ones or pushing them in strollers.
'You're a parent, too,' Furuya encourages himself, placing a hand on his stomach, 'It's offensive to your child if you feel uneasy being here.'
Discreetly pumping a fist in the air, he heads further into the store, captivated by the sheer amount of baby-oriented products in stock. There was a device to heat up milk bottles, weighted blankets to help them sleep, swings with settings to modify the swaying speeds, and more contraptions he couldn't digest.
"Does a baby really need all this stuff?" he mutters, checking the price tags with a sour face, "And they're expensive. Why does this crib cost four hundred dollars? It's just a bed for babies, I don't understand why the price has to be so high."
Like a flash of lightning, a thought strikes him.
'Wait. Do I…do I have to get a job to afford this stuff?! Miyuki-senpai, too? No, Mom said she would support us, but she already has other things to pay for, and so does Dad. Oh, no. How did I not think this through? I have to actually become an adult…I should see if McDonald's is hiring after I give birth.'
Cognizant that people were staring at him peculiarly, Furuya ends his inner turmoil. His feet take him to the clothing section, and for some unknown reason, this section sends his heart aflutter.
Tiny bodies were capable of wearing these onesies. Tiny, stubby feet were able to fit into vibrantly colored, knitted booties, designed especially for them. It all seemed so surreal, that everyone in the world was once a size where these clothes were for them.
Furuya is in awe.
He holds a pair of pink booties and fiddles with it, 'It's a bit early, but I should buy this in case I have a girl,' he thinks, then eyes the other two colors, 'What if it's a boy? Blue is another option…should I buy gray to be safe? Neutral is smart.'
He can't make a decision, but the money he's spending isn't his, so he happily gets a pair of each color.
"Thank you for your purchase!" the cashier says.
--
7:50 PM
"Where the hell is Ruru?"
Kasumi fastidiously dredges several prawns in a tempura batter before laying them into a pan of oil.
"He said he went out for a walk," Miyuki answers, shuffling into the kitchen, "Do you need any help?"
"Here comes Prince Charming, swooping in to save the day. Yeah, if you could devein the rest of the prawns, that would be lovely."
Miyuki washes his hands, snags an apron from the apron rack, and then readies his hands for the delicate task before him. He holds the knife at an angle as he glides down the back of the prawn, peels its shell off with two thumbs, then fishes out the poop sack in one swift pull.
Kasumi's eyes glimmer as the catcher repeats those steps with speed and accuracy, "I didn't know you could get down like that," she marvels, "Not a day goes by where I don't keep falling in love with you, Kazuya-kun. At this rate, Ruru better watch out."
"You're married," Miyuki stresses. He still winks at her so she won't be too disappointed, "You can't have a teenager who impregnated your son snatch you from your husband, now can you? That would be quite the conundrum."
"Y-You're right…sounds like one of those bizarre stories people write online."
"Tell me about it."
Their laughter is short-lived as they focus on making dinner, tempura udon. Their synergy in the kitchen is exceptional, complementing each other's actions and movements like a pair of professional ice skaters.
Miyuki speaks over the sound of oil frying, "Kasumi-san. Thank you for today. The clothes and shoes, new glasses, a new phone, everything. I didn't ask for anything, yet you went out of your way to do that. For me. Thank you."
"Hey, don't get all soppy on me," Kasumi says, drying her hands, "I felt obligated, especially after what happened with your panic attack, I've never had my parental instincts kick in so hard before. Seeing you on the floor in such a state…hearing about your struggles almost broke me.
"You've suffered for too long, Kazuya-kun. Senseless suffering at the mercy of your parents who hadn't the slightest idea how to raise a child…you have my sympathy. Truly."
Miyuki's face is aquiver with emotion. This woman he had only met a handful of days ago was feeling sympathy for him, an emotion his own mother couldn't emulate even if she tried. That was a common theme in his life—older women pitying him for the treacherous ways in which life treated him. Natsuki-sensei, Rei, and newly Kasumi.
His experiences with them had him longing for a competent mother. All three of them possessed the maternal attributes Nana severely lacked, and Miyuki found himself attached to them like a leech. A measly "thank you" or "good job" intoxicated him with a superficial high, a sense of belonging holding his sanity together.
But they weren't his mother. He could daydream and weave myriad fantasies of what could've, should've, and would've been, but reality always clawed its wretched, grotesque fingers around his neck and suffocated him, reminding him.
For now, though, he suffocates in Kasumi's chest as she hugs him. She suggests therapy, saying that it might lessen the severity of his issues if he attended some sessions. She still has connections to offices and facilities in Tokyo, so she offers to sign him up and cover the costs.
Miyuki stays quiet. Therapy was a thought that scarcely crossed his mind. Belting out years of trauma to a stranger was an odd concept. However, seeing as how he deliriously subjected Kasumi to that last night, he deems it not a shabby idea.
Whenever he was ready.
His phone vibrates and he looks at the lock screen.
"It's Furuya," he says, "He just sent me his location. It's an address. Weird."
"What's the address?" Kasumi asks.
Miyuki reads it out loud and she immediately shuts off the stove and rips off her apron.
"That little shit!" she curses, dashing upstairs, "Put on your shoes, Kazuya-kun!"
"What's going on?"
Miyuki is confused as Kasumi races back with her keys, her phone, a baseball from Furuya's room, and a slipper.
"Ruru's at Masamune-kun's house!" she exclaims, "He's in danger!"
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