Feel free to go to http://gladstone.uoregon.edu/~matt2518/
There, you'll find episodes of this and my other fanfic series,
the well-received "Boku No Marie: Music-Box Angel".
"You need to get in touch with your muse. Do you know how
to do that?" Mr. Motojima cleaned his glasses.
"No sir."
"Here's what I do. Write something about your dream girl.
Your perfect companion. It doesn't have to be a good
paragraph, just something to get you started. Then, fold
the paper, put it under your pillow, and take a nap."
"A nap, sir?"
"Yes. A good hour or so. Really sleep it off." He smiled
kindly, the wrinkles around his eyes nearly pinching them
shut. "When you wake up, you'll be inspired again."
Kenji Terada had writer's block. When his teacher offered him a
solution, he tried it immediately. Only, his teacher never told
him what really happens when you wake up...
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* * * *
I T ' S A R A I N Y D A Y
S U N S H I N E G I R L
Episode 03
"...Suspended Seconds"
* *
"Sunshine Girl" (c) 1999 Matthew Johnston.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters
to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
* * * *
------------------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, April 20th
4:12 PM
The munchings and crunchings of oatmeal cookies followed
jovially behind Kenji as he trudged downstairs to the living room.
Flopping on the overstuffed blue-gray couch that faced the
television, the boy pondered the sudden twist his life path had
offered him. Questions flew at him from all directions,
originating in tiny, logical corners of his mind. Answers to
these questions were in short supply.
"You know," Kenji began as Caravan sat beside him. "My life
has taken a turn for the weird lately." He let the sentence fall
as it was, an introduction to an unfinished thought.
"That it has," Caravan agreed. She wiped a few crumbs from
her shirt. "White isn't my color," she murmured.
"I don't have too much else for you to wear."
The young muse grinned. "Okay then, let's go shopping."
"You mean now?"
"Of course."
"But I've got homework to do."
"You're not doing it now... C'mon, it'll be fun."
The boy sighed. "Okay, I'll make you a deal."
"Ooh," his companion giggled. "I didn't take you for a
businessman."
"I'll take you shopping," Kenji offered, "if you answer a few
questions first."
Caravan furrowed her brow, considering the proposal
dramatically. "I don't know," she murmured. "What kind of
questions are they?"
Kenji tried to smile innocently. "Oh, just a few general
ones. You know, 'Who are you?', 'What are you doing here?'.
Things like that. Nothing fancy."
"I'll have to think about it." With that, Caravan sat back
and thought. The moment drew out into a minute before she spoke
again. "It's a deal."
"Great! Now, just what--"
"--If you let me buy two outfits. Full outfits."
Kenji paused. "How expensive?"
"It'll depend now, won't it?" Caravan crossed her arms.
"That's my price. Answers aren't cheap, y'know."
"Fine, fine. But you better give me some good answers."
"Only the best," she assured.
"Okay then. Are you really a muse?"
"Yes."
"Prove it."
Caravan shook her finger and smiled. "That's not a
question." She crossed her arms again. "I only answer questions
in this deal."
Kenji stood, pacing slowly to the end of the room. Caravan
followed him with her eyes, remaining still otherwise.
"Would you please prove to me you are a muse?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I can't. You either believe in me, or you don't."
"I see..."
"And, since I'm here, that automatically means you believe in
me, right?"
"I suppose..."
"And since you believe in me, I'm real. And, given that, I
am a real muse, because, if I wasn't a muse, you wouldn't have to
believe in me for me to be real. But you do, so I am. Got it?"
"I think so..." Kenji paused. "No. Not at all."
"Okay, I'll try again. You need--"
"That's okay."
"Any other questions?"
"Yeah. How long have you been a muse, anyway?"
Caravan's eyes fell to look at the carpet. "Well, that's a
little difficult to explain."
"I've got time."
"That's what I was afraid of," she muttered. With a quick
sigh, and a few false starts, she began her explanation:
"We're all sisters, in a way. We're not related by blood or
anything, but we're a sisterhood. Kind of a like a club, but not
really. We provide inspiration to artists, musicians, writers,
and what-not, just like you'd expect."
"How long?" Kenji reiterated. Caravan paused, but continued
her speech seemingly without change.
"However, there's an intensive training program each
prospective muse must go through. By the time you're done, you're
as qualified as you can be. So, when I said I had only been a
muse for a month, it wasn't as if I was just some hack sent to you
at the last minute. I'm a skilled technician."
The defensive tone that had crept into Caravan's speech
pressed a small bit of guilt against his senses. Kenji nodded
seriously. "I'm sure you are," he agreed, trying not to seem
patronizing.
"It just took me a little time to get used to actual
inspiration. The simulations are a little different."
"I bet."
"But I'm fine now. Really."
Kenji nodded.
"You don't believe a word, do you?"
The first word that flashed in Kenji's mind was 'no', but he
refrained from speaking it. "I guess I have no reason not to
believe you." He smiled and shrugged. "Your story's as good as
any, I suppose."
Kenji's muse nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now, are we
gonna talk ourselves to death, or are we going to shop?"
"Sure. One last question, though."
Caravan paused, standing in mid-stretch. "Yeah?"
Sunlight from the west-facing window burst through what must
have been an afternoon cloud; it filtered easily through the thin
white cloth draped over the girl's form. Kenji's eyes dilated
slightly. The golden ambiance blurred her; her inner details
faded, leaving only lean shadow blocking the retreating rays.
As another unseen cloud smothered the sun, Caravan's body
returned to its normal shape, finding thin shade behind his shirt.
The gentle curves once shown in gold-soaked outline became
distant, subtle shadows barely rendered on plain white cotton.
"Uh..." Kenji scratched his nose self-consciously. "Nothing.
Shall we be off?"
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"No, it just wasn't important."
"Do you know how long you've been staring?"
Kenji turned to look for nothing in particular. "I was
thinking."
"Yeah, I know what you were thinking about." The girl
glanced behind her at the window. The sun was once again peering
tentatively from behind a particularly silver cloud. "I thought
you were a one-woman man."
"Huh?" Even as he feigned ignorance, the blood coursing to
his face betrayed him. As he warmed in a flush, Caravan's grin
grew, at once sympathetic and malicious. She returned to a normal
standing position, lingering on the subtle poses between. Her
arms remained extended, her weak fists wrapped around the ends of
the long sleeves.
Kenji opened his mouth to defend himself, but the white-
shirted girl cut him off.
"C'mon, playboy." She brushed her bangs from her eyes.
"Let's get going."
Kenji offered no objections.
* * * *
Shopping was an experience Kenji generally avoided. Clothes
shopping, especially, created in Kenji a sense of dread. No
matter who helped him pick a style, it never looked good,
regardless of how much they tried to tell him it looked "fine".
It never looked fine. Kenji had realized early on that he looked
fine in nothing. He tried to tell himself on the train that this
time would be different, that, because he was not really shopping,
only paying, that he'd be okay.
"You don't look so good," Caravan murmured from her seat.
Kenji stood beside her, noticing the cold sweat on his palms.
"I just... I'll be fine."
"Okay," Caravan replied, less than confident in her friend's
answer. She watched him the rest of the way to the downtown
strip; Kenji felt her eyes on his neck, and tried to look cool.
When they exited the train, Kenji took a quick glance down
each direction of the downtown shopping area. He had no idea
which way to go, but knew that, no matter which way he went, he'd
find some shop that'd try to sell him something he looked ugly in
that would cost more than a year's supply of anything he'd
actually want to buy.
"Well, here we are. Pick a direction, I guess."
"Does it really matter?"
"I don't think so. That way has more lights, so it probably
has more electronics or music stores or something like that." He
pointed with forced enthusiasm. "I don't really shop much," he
added.
"I see." Caravan gazed down at her borrowed shoes and hummed
to herself. It was a simple tune, barely audible over the
background chatter of a nocturnal city just waking. "We'll try
the other way, then." She grabbed Kenji's hand and ran. He
followed, more or less under his own volition. There were
moments, however, when he could feel both feet leave the ground,
and not even for a moment lose forward momentum.
The first store seemed simple enough. They were greeted
warmly, and left to their own actions for a number of minutes. It
didn't take long for Caravan to scan the store, and find exactly
what she was looking for, or, at least the best of what was
available. She made little faces at each outfit, as if to test
its willpower or patience. Some she liked, others were rejected
once they met with a mirror.
"How about this one?" She tried one only one outfit in the
store -- a boyish baseball jersey with denim shorts that remained
mostly hidden behind the length of the cavernous shirt. He took a
look significantly shorter than the sun-drenched moment before,
and deemed it "okay."
"You could live in that shirt," he remarked as she handed the
outfit to the clerk.
"With what you're paying for it, you might want me to." She
grabbed a pair of imported Vans and added them to the pile.
After the clerk had politely rung up the total, Kenji could
only agree with his shopping partner.
"Now you know why I don't shop," he muttered, handing over an
inordinately large amount of cash.
"One more to go," Caravan sang, swinging her bag to an
inaudible beat. She skipped up ahead a few steps. Kenji let his
eyes take in the fluorescent glow that bordered Caravan's blissful
march forward. For a second, even shopping seemed a little less
dreadful. Just a little.
"Kenji!" The voice harbored a melody familiar, yet, at the
moment, only distantly so. It didn't change nor slow his
reaction, however, and any feelings of stress Kenji had lost in
the previous moment returned, doubled in intensity and quantity.
"Tanako." Kenji turned in slow-motion, his eyes panning to
meet with the smiling girl's. She waved pleasantly, her other
hand locked purposefully on her purse.
"Funny catching you here," she approached easily, flowing
across the sidewalk to his side. "I thought you hated to shop."
"Yeah, well..." He tried to think of something witty, but
his mind filled instead with a cavernous wind.
Kenji felt Caravan's slender hand grasp his. "Hey, Kenji! I
just found this... oh, hello." Caravan's eyes, still bright from
a triumphant find, locked on Tanako.
A moment strained passed. A car honked its horn
inadvertently, and a number of people came and went, uncaring, on
their way to someplace calmer.
"Why don't you introduce your friend to me," Caravan
suggested quietly.
"Oh. Caravan, this is Tanako, a classmate of mine. Tanako,
this is Caravan. She's my... my..." The truth was impossible to
say, but Kenji lacked a plausible lie to replace it.
"Cousin," Caravan interjected cheerfully. She let go of
Kenji's hand and bowed. Tanako returned the bow, her eyes leaving
Caravan's for only a moment.
Kenji laughed nervously. "We were just shopping for a couple
of new outfits for my cousin. She's from the country, y'see, a
bit of a yokel, so she doesn't get much of an opportunity to shop.
Isn't that right?"
Caravan nodded, her forced smile laced with a snarl. "Yep,
that's damn straight. Ain't never seen Tokyo like this 'fore."
Kenji wished Caravan would stop overacting.
"I see," Tanako smiled warmly. Kenji's gaze fell to it and
lingered there, magnifying it in his view. "Well, I'll let you
two be on your way..."
"Wait!" Kenji had thought the word, but Caravan had said it.
"The store I found is right up your alley. You'd... " She groped
for a colloquialism. "...you'd really dig it. It's funky." She
instantly regretted her word choice, and Kenji joined her in a
mutual cringe.
Tanako took a short pause, but nodded. "Sounds like fun.
Lead the way."
"Aye aye, Cap'n." With her last misplaced phrase, she
stormed ahead, leaving the pair several steps behind, trying to
keep up.
"She's quite energetic," Tanako chuckled.
"No kidding."
"You never told me you had a cousin, though."
Kenji searched for a likely reason. "You never asked," he
attempted.
Tanako's smile welcomed a healthy look. "I guess not," she
murmured. A spark flashed in her eyes, and she looked at him. "I
got a poem today. From Masao."
"Really?" Kenji tried to remain calm; he wasn't sure if he
was suppressing a sob or a laugh. Regardless he suppressed it.
"I want you to read it."
"Why?"
"'Cause you're a writer. There's a lot of stuff I didn't
understand in it. I thought you might be able to help me figure
it out."
"I see." A question begged, and was eventually asked. "Was
it good? The poem, I mean."
Tanako shrugged. "It was okay, I guess. Nothing really
great. But I'm not much for his type of poetry. Too many weird
images." She smiled. "You could probably write a lot better than
him."
Kenji forced a smile.
"It's over here!" Caravan pointed to her left. The
storefront hung in front like wrapping paper for the wrong
holiday. "Welcome to Mega Show!"
"Oh no." Kenji hung his head.
"A retro shop!" Tanako almost squealed as she trotted ahead
to meet Caravan at the door. "I love these!" The pair of girls
giggled into the store, leaving the sole boy alone to remember
where his life had gone so horribly wrong, and wonder if it would
ever right itself.
"Kenji?" Tanako broke him from his self-pitying trance.
"Are you coming or not?"
Kenji stuttered an affirmative and followed her inside.
* * * *
Kenji's parents never attempted to follow the American hippie
culture when they were his age. At the time, even a few Japanese
college students were becoming politically active, staging minor
protests on the war in Vietnam, and generally, as Mr. Motojima put
it, making the world socially aware.
It seemed odd to Kenji that relics of that culture, so far
removed from commercialism, would find their way to be sold as
trendy goods. He mentioned as much to Caravan, who nodded
approvingly.
"Irony," she announced firmly. Kenji frowned; he knew irony
when he saw it, and didn't need to have it identified for him.
"It's a good thing to be able to see if you're gonna be a writer."
She went back to her rack, picking out a pair of stretch-pants
barely larger than Kenji's arms. She grabbed an equally
undersized shirt and headed for the changing booth, grinning
maliciously.
"Go get her, kiddo," she whispered as she passed her new
cousin. Kenji made a point of frowning in disapproval, but
Caravan was already half-way to the booths. He tried not to
linger on her; the more he looked, the less he felt in control.
Just a little. And the image from the afternoon remained, almost
palpable, on his brain; even the slightest glance at her made his
pulse quicken. Just a little.
Kenji shook his head. She wasn't there for him. Not like
that. He *was* a one-woman man, even if that woman didn't know it
yet. "Caravan's right," he muttered.
"About what?" Tanako's sudden reply from just over his
shoulder stiffened every hair on his neck. As they reluctantly
fell back to their normal state, Kenji turned to see Tanako
holding a skirt and blouse in one arm, and a pair of white knee-
high boots in the other. She smiled, her head moving away coyly.
"Irony," Kenji muttered. "It's a good..." Kenji looked at
the skirt. "...thing to..." He realized she where she was
heading. "...booth. I mean use." He instinctively rubbed the
back of his neck. "Is it hot in here?"
Tanako laughed as she took light steps past him. "It's
April," she commented, and left it at that.
Kenji wanted to weep. As he watched the girl of his dreams
saunter to the booth next to Caravan's, he felt his ears burning,
both with the lilt of her words, and the embarrassed flush of his
own. He discreetly checked his pulse. It was much too fast to be
just standing there; rather, it seemed as if his heart thought he
was sprinting around a baseball diamond.
"If only," Kenji murmured.
"Tah dah!" Caravan exited first, announcing her presence to
the store with her arms wide and stance masculine. For an
instant, she looked very much like a boy Kenji once played with.
Once Kenji's eyes adjusted to the image, it became apparent that
she was no more a boy than Tanako.
Kenji turned on his heels and crossed his arms. "How much is
it gonna cost me?"
"You didn't even take a good look." Caravan sounded more
disappointed than she probably intended. Steps from wooden
platform soles signaled her approach. "Turn around."
"I'm not here for a fashion show."
"Oh, come on, Ken... wow."
Kenji turned around; he knew what Caravan had just seen.
For a second, he didn't recognize Tanako. She had pulled her
hair back in a ponytail, and the style changed her entire look.
Not that the clothes didn't make her look any different. As the
initial surprise faded, enchantment set in.
"It's a little shorter than I thought it would be," Tanako
murmured genuinely, tugging at the bottom of her skirt.
She stood at least eight centimeters taller than before,
making up twice over the difference in height between them. Her
legs seemed all the smaller in the massive boots, barely filling
them. As his gaze moved slowly upwards, he finally noticed the
skirt. It clung scandalously close to her thighs, and, as she
turned around, barely covered her.
"Oh my goodness." Kenji hadn't intended the words as a
response to Tanako's comment, but, given the circumstances, he
supposed that, if they were coherent, they were the best he could
hope for.
His half-closed eyes never made it past Tanako's micro-mini.
The thumping in his chest intensified, drowning out Caravan's
praises and Tanako's humble thank-you's. His heartbeat jumped
again in tempo, almost doubling, and he could feel the thin
membranes in his sinuses start to give way. Instinctively, he
grabbed for his nose and bolted from the store.
"Are you okay?" Tanako asked after him, but Kenji couldn't
respond.
It took the boy a few seconds outside in the retreating
spring warmth to get his cardiac system back to a manageable
level. Once outside, however, he found re-entering the store a
challenge of will. He didn't dare even peek in, for fear of
catching a fragment of Tanako's image. He knew it would only
exacerbate his problem.
The tiny bell tied to the door jingled pleasantly, heralding
Caravan's approach.
"She's changing back to her old outfit," the girl mentioned
without an iota of interest. "You'd better come back, before she
realizes you're a pervert."
Kenji frowned, but nodded. "I'm not usually..." He stopped
his explanation, noticing Caravan smiling and shaking her head.
"Say no more," she smirked. "I can't say I really blame you.
Not much, anyway."
Kenji paused at the statement, but tried hard not to think
too hard about it.
"I'll take it!" Caravan said of her new outfit. She turned
to Kenji. "Now all I need is a uniform and I'm set."
Kenji huffed and handed over another wad of cash. The clerk
handed back half a handful of coins and told them to please come
again.
"A uniform?" Tanako inquired. "Are you going to stay with
Kenji for a little while?"
Caravan nodded vigorously.
"Well," she began, looking Caravan over momentarily. "I
think I have an extra one you could borrow for a while." She
turned to Kenji. "My house isn't far from yours, so you could
pick it up on your way back."
The boy managed a nod. He hoped it looked cool.
"It's settled then." Tanako turned her sunset gaze back to
Caravan. Kenji blinked, hoping to have it back for just a moment.
"Thanks for showing me the store, Caravan. It was very nice
meeting you." She bowed, forcing Kenji to lift his gaze to the
skyline.
"You're welcome. It was great meeting you." Caravan
probably returned the bow, but Kenji couldn't be sure. She was
still wearing his old shirt, and, knowing her, she was bowing deep
enough to...
Feeling his pulse quicken again, he shook the thoughts from
his mind. "You've gotta go?" He asked more indignantly than he
had intended.
"Yeah. I have to fix dinner tonight, and my dad gets off
work in an hour. I still have to get a few things from the store,
so..."
Caravan smiled. "Well, we'll see you in a little while then!
Thanks fer the uniform and stuff!"
"You're welcome." She turned once more to Kenji "I'll call
you tonight about the poem, okay?"
The boy nodded.
Caravan waved as Tanako disappeared into the crowd, leaning
on Kenji like a genuine cousin.
"You're overacting again," Kenji commented.
"Oh, give me a break. I'm not an actor, y'know." She
punched him on the shoulder, harder than Ichiro usually did. "And
what about the poem, eh? She knows, doesn't she?"
"No, actually--"
"--Don't lie to me. I can tell."
"It's not like that." Kenji's eyes fell to the sight of feet
criss-crossing the sole-smoothed concrete. "She said that she
didn't..." He looked up, hoping to see his companion's
sympathetic gaze. Instead, he saw her leaving.
"C'mon. Let's go get some dinner. I'm starved."
"Hey!"
"You can be introspective later. Our train's here."
Kenji shrugged defeatedly, and followed Caravan to the
impatiently waiting train.
* * * *
Dinner went unusually well, considering the presence of
Kenji's mother and the absence of his money. They ate at home,
and Caravan implored that his mother tell another story. She
complied sheepishly, and told a story Kenji had heard before,
about a vacation she took to Hawaii in the early 70's. There were
details in the story, however, that had either escaped Kenji's
attention the other times he had heard the story, or had been
added since the last telling. Kenji couldn't be sure.
After dinner, Kenji and Caravan left the house under the
pretense of "walking Caravan home." After they were well out of
sight of the house, Kenji stopped.
"What's wrong?" Caravan had a vague idea of what Kenji was
worrying about.
"How are we gonna get you back in the house?"
Caravan shrugged. "I guess I could stay in a motel
tonight..."
The boy shook his head definitely. "Never."
"We'll figure it out on the way."
Kenji almost asked, "On the way to where?" before his memory
once again took hold.
"Tanako's," he murmured. He nodded and began walking. His
companion kept pace right next to him, arms folded behind her,
giving her the look of an inquisitive underclassman. Her voice,
however, was hardly as innocent as her stance.
"Don't go cardiac on me this time," she warned. "It'll only
embarrass us." Before Kenji could retort, she added, "and by us I
mean me and Tanako."
"I got it, I got it." Kenji huffed. "I'm not usually like
that, y'know."
"I know. You can't help it, being surrounded by such beauty
all the time." Kenji thought for a moment she was talking about
Tanako, but, after seeing the smirk on her face, that moment
passed.
They walked silently and directly to Tanako's. Kenji felt a
pang of guilt in his stomach for knowing where she lived, but
couldn't help it; she was only a few blocks away. He felt
compelled to explain, even though Caravan never posed the
question.
"When we were in grade school, Tanako and I would walk home
together."
"Did you have a crush on her then?"
"No. Not until junior high."
"What happened?"
Kenji thought for a long minute as the approached Tanako's
gate. "I don't know. I guess I just saw her differently all of a
sudden."
Caravan rang the doorbell before Kenji could properly collect
himself. The thought was nagging at him, taunting him, as if the
reason should be obvious.
When Tanako answered the door, Caravan smiled genuinely, and
Kenji looked decidedly pensive.
"Hey, Tanako!"
"Hello, Caravan, Kenji." The first thing Kenji noticed was
Tanako's voice. She sounded flat, dischordant. He immediately
looked up, and saw her reaching next to her just inside the door
frame. She handed the uniform to Caravan and smiled blandly. "I
hope it fits."
"Thank you!"
"Tanako!" The voice from inside the house sounded male.
"Who's at the door?"
"Nobody," she shouted inside. She turned back to the pair.
"I gotta go. We're still having dinner."
Kenji bowed instantly. "I'm very sorry."
Before he could stand straight again, Caravan slapped him on
the neck. "Get up, you." He looked up; Tanako had gone, and was
closing the door behind her.
"That was odd," Caravan commented after they were half-way
home.
Kenji nodded in agreement, but remained silent. The night
seemed darker suddenly. It was already dark when they went to
Tanako's, but now it seemed even darker, more dense. The
streetlights pushed against the inky atmosphere, but it seemed to
be pushing back even harder, blurring the edges of the lamp-glow
until the light and darkness mixed into a dirty gray.
"I've got it!" Caravan's realization felt like a spark on
Kenji's ear.
"What?"
"I'll climb in through the window!"
Kenji stared for a moment, then realized she had silently
changed the subject.
"Okay," Kenji agreed. He wasn't in the mood to argue
anymore. At the end of Kenji's block, Caravan stopped.
"You go home, and tie some sheets together for me to climb
up. I'll come around the side and wait until you throw them down.
It's better if we go separately, okay?"
"Whatever." The air felt thick; each word required more
effort than the previous one. He walked forward, in a half-
trance, and eventually turned left, entering his yard listlessly.
"Man," he finally commented under his breath. He shook as
much dull confusion from his head as he could, and entered the
house with a weak smile.
"I'm home."
"Oh good. Ichiro called. He said he'd stop by in a few
minutes to talk about the homework tonight."
"Thanks, Mom." Kenji was half-way up the stairs, and
answered without actually registering the words.
Once in his room, Kenji looked for sheets, blankets, anything
that would add up to the eight meters he needed to lower the
makeshift rope to the ground. Rummaging through his closet, he
found everything except sheets or blankets. He did find that
videotape he had borrowed from Ichiro last summer, and a set of
keys to something he had since forgotten existed. When he
unearthed his baseball bat, Kenji paused. With shaking hands, he
picked up the relic from sixth grade. It still felt warm at the
worn, taped handle. He weighed it in his grip, and rested it on
his shoulder.
"That pitch was inside," he heard Mokie murmur in protest.
"Way inside."
Kenji shook his head, but Mokie's voice continued, murmuring
wordlessly at the edge of his hearing. He set the bat back in its
corner, and looked for the box of old clothes his mother insisted
he keep, just in case.
Mokie's whispers faded in and out as he tied ten pairs of old
slacks together at the legs. When he finished, he moved to the
window and threw one end out. It flopped to the ground plainly.
Satisfied with his work, he tied one pant leg to his arm and
waited in his office chair. He didn't have to wait long.
The tug alerted him; the sudden yank nearly tossed him out
the window.
"Hey! I've been waiting here forever!" The voice was
Caravan's.
"Sorry. I was tying them together."
"Hey, is this a party?"
"Huh?"
"Oh. Hi, Ichiro."
"What's with the Rapunzel act? Door jammed again?"
"It's a long story."
"I bet."
"Why don't you come in and wait in the living room. I'll be
with you in a second."
"Nah. I'd rather climb like Juliet here."
"The name's Caravan," the girl announced indignantly.
"Which junior high did you find this fireball at?"
"You sicko! I'll have you know I'm--"
"--It's a really long story. She's my cousin."
"Riiiight. Suuuure." Kenji could see the shadowy form of
Ichiro begin to retreat. "I'll see ya tomorrow."
"Wait. Didn't you want to talk about the homework?"
"Not really. I just came over to be entertained. I've run
out of Simpsons fansubs."
"I see..."
"Besides, I've been plenty entertained by this little...
project of yours."
"Hey!"
"Cool it, Caravan." Kenji tried to sound older. "I guess
I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Oh yes. Definitely. I wouldn't miss your explanation for
the world." He turned and bowed to Caravan like a Musketeer
would. "Madame. It was a pleasure."
Caravan growled and started climbing the pants.
* * * *
"I'm sorry about Ichiro," Caravan attempted, looking at
herself in Tanako's old uniform. "I see Tanako had a late growth
spurt. This skirt's a little short." Kenji dared himself not to
turn and look. For several moments of silence, he bit his upper
lip and occupied himself with paper clips.
"It's okay," Kenji finally responded. "He's a bit of a
smart-ass. He believes me, though."
"How long have you known him?"
He searched his memory. "Since sixth grade. He was watching
a baseball game I was in."
"You played baseball?" Caravan sounded honestly surprised.
"A little. Anyway, he came up to me after the game and we
started talking. He was a transfer from Kobe, so I showed him
around the school. I guess we just hit it off."
"I see. And you stopped playing baseball?"
"Yeah." Kenji's smile lay tinted with sepia-toned
melancholy. "It wasn't really all that much fun anyway. Ichiro
and I started working on his computer. He's a programmer."
"Uh huh."
"He's not really great with ideas, so he and I sorta made a
team together." He sighed. "We started a software company, but
it didn't get past the planning stages. Not much of what we did
ever got past just talking about it. But it was fun anyway."
"I bet."
A long moment, then, "Caravan?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you have any friends when you were a kid?"
"I had a couple. Argent and Ange and I used to pretend we
were wish-givers. You know, where you pretend to appear magically
and grant some imaginary kid a wish? I remember we pretended
there was this boy who dialed a wrong number and Ange--"
"--Sounds like it was fun. For girls."
"Hey, I wasn't finished."
"Oh, c'mon. All those games end the same way. Eventually,
you marry the imaginary boy and live happily ever after."
"Well, actually, we never got to--"
"--I only wish real life were like that. Tanako and I used
to play house." He turned around. "When we were really little."
"I see." Caravan let her uninterested tone act as her
revenge. "I get the bed tonight."
"No you don't. I've got a sleeping bag around here. You can
use that. You're the one who barged in on me in my house."
"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here in the first
place!" Caravan flopped on the bed and pulled the covers over her
head. "Good night."
Kenji didn't dare protest, lest his mother hear him. So he
reluctantly unrolled his sleeping bag and fell into a dreamless
sleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
There's really not too much to say about this one -- it's a little
longer, and a little more extreme in the pendulum-swing of
emotions. If you enjoyed the episode (or, even if you didn't),
please e-mail me at matt2518@gladstone.uoregon.edu and tell me
what you really think.
Now, to the references:
Mega Show: Not a real store as far as I know, but I'm pretty sure
they have some sort of retro shops in Japan. It's in fashion
these days, as far as I know...
"[We] used to pretend...": Hopefully the game they played sounded
familliar. Are muses goddesses? In a way. Are they really
*those* goddesses? It does bring up an interesting thought...