Chương 365: 158.Rift 2

Once the waiter was out of earshot, the table finally settled back into the proper relationship between food and people. I looked down and cut, pretending all my attention was on the plate, when more than half of it was still stuck on that call. Your body's grown, hasn't it? Fuck that. The damage of that sentence, coming from Steiner, wasn't in the innuendo. It was in the objectivity. That emotionless, shameless, "the data finally landed in the expected range" objectivity — that was what ground your gears.

Because you couldn't even get angry without it looking like arguing with a thermometer.

"Hoshino." Maki spoke suddenly. I looked up.

"Eat."

"…I am eating."

"You've been cutting the same piece for almost a minute." I looked down. I really had been carving that piece of meat into a battlefield map. Jess laughed out loud.

"Wow. Stress this bad? Want me to ask that check-up place whether it comes with psychological counseling attached?"

"Say 'check-up' one more time and I'll make you get a physical on the spot."

"Which department?"

"Trauma." Jess laughed even harder, like almost being hit was a collectible, limited-edition experience of the day. I couldn't be bothered to answer her, so I shoved food into my mouth. The food was hot, and the taste was normal — which somehow made it worse. Because the more normal it was, the more out of place everything abnormal in my head felt. Like a Federation-scale disaster slipping into a family restaurant, ordering only a glass of water, and drinking the air out of the whole table.

Jess — maybe finally growing a conscience, or more likely deciding that poking me further would end with a flipped table — actually changed the subject on her own.

"Oh, I almost forgot to say." Jess picked up a piece of fried food, tone deliberately casual, but it landed like a finger tapping my slow skull.

"I won't be going back to Platinum Bridge Street until the new term starts." I paused.

"…Why?" Jess and Maki looked at me at the same time. In that instant, I felt a very bad premonition. Jess blinked.

"Because it's winter break right now." The table went quiet for half a second. Then I honestly felt my brain get knocked by the corner of a book. Winter break. Right. Winter break. I'd completely forgotten. No — not "forgotten."

"Of course." A person just off the Yukikaze, whose sense of time had been wrung out like an old towel, missing the fact that school was currently parked in winter break — that wasn't exactly a failure. It was the universe's ongoing, legitimate humiliation of me. I looked down at my plate, suddenly feeling that half the anxiety I'd built about enrollment, going back to campus, student IDs, buses, and whether I'd get shoved back into the school machinery tomorrow — was wasted. Not that those things had disappeared.

Just that they were like debt collectors who'd shown up on the wrong date. Clearly coming soon. Not today yet.

"You didn't know?" Jess's face quickly shifted into "I've found new entertainment" mode.

"I know now."

"Hoshino, you react exactly like someone who just came back from another planet."

"Thanks. You're close to the truth." Maki added, very flatly, from the side.

"Hoshino's sense of time has been unstable lately." That line was even, like she wasn't covering for me, just placing a fact on the table. But precisely because it was a fact, I couldn't even be stubborn about it. Jess, for her part, didn't keep hounding me. She just pointed at me with her fork.

"Anyway, don't overthink it. Even if you wanted to storm the school and pick a fight right now, the gates would have nothing but wind and a guard. I can't get back to Platinum Bridge Street until the new term either."

"You say that like Platinum Bridge Street is some kind of rally point."

"Isn't it?" Jess raised an eyebrow.

"It's got weirdos, it's got trouble, it's got the two of you. Very literary."

"Your understanding of literature is really cheap."

"But accurate." Sadly, I couldn't argue. For the rest of the meal, Jess had the genuine skill of dragging the mood back up a little. She talked about a weird shop she'd passed on the way, the spiritual turmoil beneath the clerk's professional smile when I tried on a second pair of shoes, and how if Maki ever lost her job she could always become a dangerous-brand styling consultant — guaranteed to reorganize a client from head to toe, and neatly refold their self-esteem while she was at it.

I insulted her the whole way, and somehow actually finished my meal. That was the scariest part. As if a person could really be preparing to be sent somewhere tomorrow that didn't belong in any campus-life record, and still eat lunch, drink water, and listen to Jess ramble on like normal. So this is what living is. Absurd. But nothing special. After lunch, we carried our bags out of the shop. The light outside had settled — that merciless mid-afternoon glare.

The street was busier than before, the wind cold but not biting. Shop signs, people waiting at the crossing, a delivery scooter turning out of an alley. All of it ordinary to the point of grating. The more ordinary the world was, the more I felt out of alignment. Jess stopped at the intersection, holding her own things, waving at us.

"All right. My escort-and-agitate mission ends here for today."

"I thought you only ever had the second half."

"That's too hurtful. I did cultural groundwork in the middle."

"The culture of dragging people into a crooked shop?"

"Exactly. Without that stretch, where's the redemption arc?" I wanted to say I didn't need that kind of cheap dramatic structure in my life, but before I could, Jess had already moved her gaze to Maki, wearing a smile that knew too much and deliberately played innocent.

"Anyway. I'm not going back to Platinum Bridge Street before winter break ends. You two sort out your own atmosphere yourselves — just don't burn down the block before the new term." I glared at her.

"Your trust in us is really low."

"No. My damage assessment of the two of you is very accurate." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Maki didn't trade barbs with Jess. She just nodded, quietly.

"Keep in touch."

"Will do." Jess backed up two steps and waved at me again.

"Hoshino. If tomorrow turns out not to be a check-up, remember to come back alive. I still want to see you rage at the student ID system on day one."

"You really know how to cheer a person on."

"No need to thank me. I'm naturally built to be mental noise." And with that, Jess turned and walked off. That back of hers, as always — loose, lopsided, like a smoke grenade that laughed before it was even thrown. Honestly, people like Jess are a pain. But the moment she left, the street suddenly felt a block emptier. I watched Jess disappear around the corner, and for an instant, something inside me felt strange.

Like that meal, that shopping trip, everything from the day that had been dragged back into the ordinary — all of it had lost a layer of buffer. Now it was just me and Maki. That combination had never been suited to pretending to be relaxed. Even less so with Steiner still in my head.

"Let's go." Maki said. I didn't object. We didn't talk much on the way back. Not from awkwardness. Simply because the day had already been full — full like a cabinet you've jammed a whole box into, door closed, but the contents still pushing against it. Maki walked me back to No. 22 Platinum Bridge Street, still carrying half the bags. I reached to take them, but Maki didn't hand them over.

"I'll carry them in."

"It's not like my arms are broken."

"Shimo. You've done enough for today." That line was so ordinary. So ordinary that I couldn't even be bothered to think of a retort. So it ended with Maki walking in first, me following, watching her put today's purchases away one bag at a time, moving with such familiarity that it wasn't like she was seeing me home — it was like she was pre-shelving a new version of my life for me. That image was dangerous. Because it looked too much like an ordinary day.

And right now, the thing I feared most was things that looked too much like an ordinary day. Maki didn't stay long. Probably because she could see I was still wound up, or maybe she had her own things to do. Before she left, she only said, in the most ordinary tone:"Dry your hair tonight."

"…I know."

"Knowing isn't doing."

"You really like managing me today." Maki looked at me.

"You really need managing today." And then she left. When I showered that night, I finally had time alone with myself. Turns out being alone with myself wasn't any easier. The hot water came down, and everything from the day stuck to me like wet paper, sheet after sheet. The crooked shop. The main store. The mirror. The pants. The shoes. Lunch. Jess saying winter break. Steiner's "your body's grown, hasn't it." Tomorrow, ten a. m. Joint Operations Command.

I stood in the water and suddenly felt like a sample waiting on lab results. That thought was too ill-omened. I washed it away immediately. When I came out, I changed into the lounge pants I'd bought today. The pair Maki had shoved into the bag earlier. … They were comfortable. Which was another kind of annoyance. Because it meant Maki had even guessed right about "she'll probably be too lazy to pick out clothes once she's home." I dried my hair, cursing her meddling pointlessly in my head.

Two curses in, the doorbell rang. I stood still for two seconds. At this hour, I didn't have to guess who it was. By the time I opened the door, I'd even prepared some very-Maki line — "did you forget something?" or "I just happened to pass by and wanted to check whether you actually dried your hair." But when the door opened, Maki was standing there, holding only a small bag, quieter than during the day, and softer. Not soft-and-cute soft.

More like the sharp outer edges had been folded away a little, leaving the Maki that only exists in front of me. That version was dangerous.

"What?"

"Came to check whether Hoshino soaked herself into a prune."

"Is that concern or a curse?"

"Confirmation." I stepped aside to let Maki in. Maki set the bag on the table. Inside were two drinks and a small box of sweets — the kind of thing she didn't have to bring but brought anyway, which made it more annoying than any direct concern.

"You're free today?"

"A little freer than usual."

"Is the Federation collapsing?" Maki looked at me. Not angry. Just answering very flatly:"Shimo. That mouth of yours is overdue for repair sometimes." … Any other time, I'd have snapped back harder. But not now. Because Maki's voice was low when she said it, and she was clearly not in her earlier teasing mode. She looked a little tired, yet she'd still come, still brought things, still stood in my living room, watching me with an ease that already counted as relaxed.

At times like this, it's easy to forget your defenses. Or rather, it's easy to want to set them down for a while. The moment I thought that, Maki stepped closer. The step wasn't fast, wasn't aggressive — it was almost a piece of understanding I already knew. I knew what was coming next. Maki isn't the type to hang her emotions on her mouth all day. When Maki wants to get close, she usually doesn't ask permission first either.

She's more the type who, before you've even reacted, has already moved to close enough range and folded you into her body-heat radius in a way that feels natural. I used to not think anything of it. I still don't think anything of it now. The problem is— Tomorrow. Steiner. The examination.

An extremely ill-omened image surfaced in my head in an instant: that old man staring at my neck or collarbone with academic fervor — at any mark he had no business seeing — and then, in that "I've discovered a new continent" tone, delivering some analysis that would make me want to slam my head against a wall on the spot. Just thinking about it, I wanted to slam the wall first. So when Maki reached out, I almost reflexively stepped back. The margin was tiny. But for Maki, it was enough. Maki's hand stopped midair.

The living room went quiet in a way that looked very ugly. I knew it myself. It was over. That kind of thing can't be waved off with "the margin was small." No matter how tough Maki usually is, when she approaches me, that closeness isn't a command — it's the default. And what I'd just done was break the default.

"…Not tonight." I spoke first. The moment those words left my mouth, I knew it was bad. Too hard. Too blunt. Too much like a rejection. Maki looked at me, not speaking right away. The change on her face was small. But I still saw it — not anger. Something very brief, very faint, but very real. Hurt. Like a blade that hadn't come down, simply pushed aside by a fingertip. And that tiny push was the deadliest thing of all.

"Why?" Maki asked. Her voice was still steady. The steadier, the worse. Because it meant Maki wasn't throwing a tantrum. She was genuinely asking. And the most honest answer in my head right then was: I don't want Steiner seeing any mark on me tomorrow that's worth studying like a new continent. That sentence was too absurd to ever say to Maki. But I also wasn't clever enough to find a better phrasing in that first second.

So what came out was a version somewhere between truth and a slip of the tongue — the kind that kills the entire mood.

"Isn't tomorrow the thing at the Command." I looked away, my voice as hard as if I were nailing down my own coffin lid.

"I don't want marks left on me, and then that old man sees them, like it's a new continent again." The moment I said it, I wanted to strangle myself. Really. Because the point of that sentence was supposed to be that Steiner is annoying. But what landed in Maki's ears sounded more like: don't touch me, it'll leave a mark. Terrible. Nearly a disaster. Maki was quiet for two seconds. In those two seconds, I felt, for the first time, very clearly, that some things can't be fixed just by explaining them.

Because hurting people never needs a long speech. Most of the time, one word cut at the wrong angle is enough to tilt the whole thing.

"I see." In the end, Maki said only those two words. Flat. Flat as an ice sheet. That was worse than anger. I'd rather Maki frowned, yelled at me, even flat-out said my talking was terrible — anything but those two words. Because those two words meant she'd already pulled every feeling back in, packed it all away cleanly, taking the space I needed to fix this along with it. That was when I really panicked.

"No — that's not what I meant——""It's fine." Maki cut me off. That "it's fine" was also terrible. Because the moments that really matter are exactly when people say "it's fine." I stood there, hair still half-wet, towel in my hand, like I'd just been sentenced to fail verbal proficiency right after a shower. My head was perfectly clear that I wasn't rejecting Maki — I just didn't want that old Frankenstein of a scientist to have extra material for annotations tomorrow.

But the version that came out of my mouth had categorized Maki as "an external factor that complicates the examination." Who wouldn't be hurt hearing that? Even I wanted to hit someone after listening to myself. Maki didn't come closer again. She just pushed the bag on the table a little toward me.

"Don't forget to eat the sweets." …See. That was the worst part. She didn't show anger. Didn't slam the door. Didn't even keep pressing. She just pulled back — politely, with perfect measure, like folding the warmth she'd extended away and putting it back in her own pocket. That was harder to swallow than any fight.

"Maki." I called her name. Maki paused, but didn't turn around. In that instant, my head jammed full of words: it's not rejecting you, it's not hating you, it's not not wanting you to touch me, that's not what I meant, I'm just afraid Steiner's mouth is too sharp, afraid of being treated as a new sample again tomorrow—— But all of it stuck at my throat, and what finally squeezed out was one utterly useless sentence:"I really didn't mean it that way." This time Maki turned to look at me. That look wasn't cold.

Wasn't fierce. And precisely because it wasn't cold or fierce, it read more like I'd done something wrong.

"I know." Maki said. … No. The way you look right now — you don't look like you know at all. Or even if you do know, it's already too late. Because I said the words. I made the stop. I took the step back. Some things are like that. No matter how legitimate your reasons are, if the delivery is rotten, all the other person receives is the hurt. And just now, I hadn't just been rotten. I'd been rotten thoroughly. In the end, Maki left.

The door didn't close loudly, but the sound lingered in the living room for a long time. I stood there, suddenly feeling that the shower I'd taken was all for nothing. My body was clean. My head was a mess. And my mood was like something I'd stomped on myself. The bag of drinks and sweets was still on the table. The new clothes I'd bought today were still there too. The lounge pants Maki had picked were on my legs, comfortable enough to be punchable. The whole room looked like a person properly taken care of.

And precisely at a time like this, I understood more clearly than ever—— I'd just hurt the person who takes care of me. Not over some grand right and wrong. Not a clash of principles. Not even because I really didn't want to be close. Purely because my words were garbage. That kind of failure is the most shameful. Because you can't even blame the world for it.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the box of sweets on the table, and the first thought that surfaced was still: If Steiner really finds something tomorrow, I'll bury that old man at the Command on the spot. The second thought was more honest. Before I go out tomorrow, I'd better coax Maki back first. But the moment that thought surfaced, I immediately remembered Maki's flat "I see" from just now — and the even flatter "I know." … Damn. This wasn't the kind of thing a box of sweets fixes.

I lay down, raising a hand over my eyes. Today had been too long. Long enough that the morning was spent at war with my pants, noon was spent taking a mad scientist's call at a lunch table, the afternoon taught me the school was still on winter break, and the evening, right after a shower, I'd turned a perfectly natural closeness into a crash site with my own hands. If a person can live a day like this, that's a talent of sorts. Just the kind of talent that would get disqualified from any normal competition.

I turned over, staring at the wall. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet enough that I could clearly replay the feel of Maki reaching out — a closeness that had been a given, and that I'd broken with my own hands. I'd only meant to dodge a tomorrow that Steiner would use as research material. But the mark I ended up leaving wasn't on my body. It was somewhere else. And more troublesome.