What
Noriko just did was incomprehensible. Still, no true malice, of that
Kyoko was certain.
She
held Noriko's hand and squeezed a little to show there were no hard
feelings, despite her own heart falling apart. Noriko had been there,
the last time Kuri broke down. She kept the rest of them away. Anyone
turning against them all to protect her friend couldn't be a bad
person.
But
it was incomprehensible.
Over
the gravel, steps with a broken rhythm announced Yukio's arrival. His
foot never healed perfectly, more a fault of his than his
assaulter's. One more week properly on crutches, just as the doctor
had said, and he wouldn't limp like this.
“See
you, man. Six? I have it. Will tell Kyoko.”
Too
many words. Too much willingness to please. Sometimes it was easy to
forget how broken Urufu was, and how much Yukio tried to help his
friend.
Four of us in
3:1. They're only two.
“Yukio,
over here,” Kyoko called as if he could possibly have missed her
where she stood with a crutch in one hand and Noriko in her other.
And
there he goes. Kyoko followed Urufu's back with her eyes. They'd
meet later. Six o'clock apparently. Their main customer probably, as
neither Noriko nor Ryu was wanted. There was no end to how many
sessions they bought.
“Stay
with me, please.”
Kyoko
looked at Noriko and saw how much she hurt. Kuri, you and Urufu
owe both Ryu and Noriko an apology. They're not adults like you. “I
will. Care to join us?” Kyoko added and tilted her head in Yukio's
direction.
“Where?”
Where?
Somewhere it didn't hurt. “The mall,” Noriko suggested to her own
surprise.
Those
were happier days. She could still relate to them, and somewhere
inside her she cherished the memory of what hadn't happened. Walking
home from cram school that day almost a year earlier and noticing two
Himekaizen blazers hanging from a hook a floor upstairs in that café.
One of them belonged to her Yukio.
He
looked at her, and she could almost see the cogwheels turn inside his
head. Yeah, I saw you, so what? But she had nursed a mild
crush on Urufu shortly after, not Yukio, and she hadn't even known
Urufu was Urufu at the time. Well, I got the best guy of those in
the end.
“Remember
Urufu's bike?”, Noriko began.
Yes!
Kyoko's impulse looked like it would pay off.
“He
still rides to to school,” Ryu said. “That overpriced racer of
his.”
“Overpriced?”
Kyoko hadn't thought of Urufu's stuff that way. He preferred high
quality items, that much was certain, but overpriced?
Ryu
took a few steps, turned and bowed like an old style westerner. With
an invisible hat in his hand he returned upright. “May I, dear
lady, present for you Urufu's, or moron-sama's' shopping habits?”
“By
all means,” Kyoko said. She had learned a little helping Yukio with
his part in the play 6:1 did for the cultural festival. She even
curtsied a little on the pavement.
“A
bike, a mere 300 000 yen, an offer you can't refuse. A backpack. It's
a give-away, a fantastic deal in orange that would make its namesake
proud. Almost free, just 15 000 yen!”
Kyoko
bowed. If she was supposed to curtsey or bow she didn't know, but she
wanted to continue the game. A few cars passed and Ryu made a pause
for some relative calm to return again.
“When
it rains, why settle for an umbrella. No, I've found you a light
weight rice boiler for a mere 60 000 yen, trousers included. If it's
merely windy, why not have this orange atrocity for 10 000 yen. It
doesn't even come with a hood.”
By
her side Noriko had started laughing, and Kyoko could see how Yukio
stood grinning wildly. Apparently he approved of Ryu's exaggerations.
“For
more formal occasions, a business suit. A find at a mere quarter of a
million yen.”
That
was unfair. It had been a gift from Kuri.
“A
watch, same price, but the phone, alas, is a mere hundred thousand.”
Maybe
you should stop now. Then it struck Kyoko it was exactly what Ryu
shouldn't do. The list of excessive prices put Urufu's White Day gift
to Kuri in a different light. Presented like this it was just a
reflection on the only way Urufu knew to buy things. Expensive,
always horribly expensive, because he lacked the knowledge needed to
find find something good without paying in excess.
In
front of her Ryu had gone silent, and Kyoko found herself standing
still as well.
“He's
a self-made man. Dad taught me about those. They're powerful people
in their own right, but they never have contacts from birth. They
always, always compensate for what they weren't born with.”
What
Ryu just said went past her. Maybe it mirrored his upbringing, but
Kyoko couldn't place herself in that kind of world. Noriko nodded her
understanding, and her smile displayed something akin to respect for
her own brother. Yukio just shrugged his shoulders like Urufu would
have done.
But
I wonder what Kuri-chan would have done. Shrug, most likely. But
there would have been that flash in her eyes that said she understood
more than anyone else. I think I understand you a little better
now. Didn't you say you never bought jewellery but always bought the
jeweller?
While
the conversation had fallen flat there were smiles on their faces.
When they rounded a corner and saw the old mall ahead of them Kyoko
pointed at the stand where Urufu's bike used to be locked.
“Right
one?” she asked Yukio.
“Damn
girl even knows where he placed his crap. But I got her in the end
anyway!”
He
was never interested in me, but I love you all the more for making it
sound like he did. “You got nothing. I reeled you in,” Kyoko
said. Loving what Yukio said wasn't the same as allowing him to grow
too large a head.
“Upstairs?”
Ryu asked.
“Yeah,
let's celebrate the absence of Kuri and Urufu,” Yukio said, and
Kyoko watched how the two of them high fived each other out of
nowhere.
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