Learning To Fly: A Saki Enomoto Pseudo-Route

Ignition :: Melting Pot

The bubbling water envelops me up to my neck as I sink in, the heat leeching the tension from my body with an audible sigh. I haven't had much of a chance to use the spa here, but I really should make more of an effort to incorporate it into my morning routine. I got a dozen laps or so in before jumping in here, so I feel less guilty about it.

With my mind and body slowly dissolving into a satisfied blob, the mental block I had in place from last night fades away and I'm remembering the unexpected piece of mail I got.

Iwanako.

I hadn't even thought about her for at least a week or so. I hadn't really thought about anything from my time before Yamaku, besides reliving some memories that are distant enough to be nostalgic and not threatening, like the last time I went to the beach. I've been making a conscious effort not to, simply because I haven't found anything in it to help keep my spirits up. Yesterday was a perfect example; I had an amazing time in town with Saki, Chisato, and Mitsuru, and the night ended in a fantastic way...then getting that letter pulled me right back.

Why would Iwanako have taken the bother to write me a letter, anyway? The last time I saw her, the sense of awkwardness was only surpassed by the sense of finality. After sitting together without talking for around half an hour, she didn't even look me in the eye when she said goodbye.

It was horrible, but in a small way, when she didn't come the next day, I was relieved. I went from looking forward to her visits to feeling indifferent, to actually dreading them. Neither one of us were enjoying them near the end, but Iwanako just couldn't muster up the strength to stop coming, and I couldn't muster up the strength to tell her to stay away...both of us victims of appearances and expectations.

That sense of forced cordiality was brought back full force when I sat down and read her letter.

It started out easily enough. She wished me well at Yamaku, saying how everyone missed me and that most of the class got put together for the final year of school. She went on to talk about final exams coming up, and the pressures that the class was feeling.

It was the same type of casual conversation you would expect to have among friends...but when the friendship is damaged, or nonexistent...it comes across as something else entirely.

Like a buildup before some bad news. Invoking familiarity, trying to soften the deadblow that's sure to come.

And it did...but not in a way I expected.

I wanted to express my feelings, but I couldn't find the right words. I didn't know what to say to comfort you. I'm so sorry I couldn't support you when it mattered the most, even though you're important to me. At least now, I feel like I can be more honest, even if it's through a letter.

I wanted to tell you not to give up on yourself. That's what I wanted to say, but I couldn't. Maybe you wouldn't have shut yourself up so tight if I could have just said those words. I hope you've managed to get back on your feet where you are.

It's so strange. Now that there's real distance between us, it feels more final, somehow. I wonder if we'll meet again. Perhaps it's for the best if we don't? Still, if you want to correspond with me, by all means, please write me back. I really want to hear about how you're doing. I wish you all the best.

Iwanako

I'm torn between wanting to write her back, and remaining silent. She said it might be best if we never meet again...but I know she did that to either give me an out, or to make it easier on herself if I don't reply.

At the very least, I thankfully don't need to decide now. I should probably spend a few days at least trying to analyze why the letter was so shocking to me. I think I have part of the answer, but not all of it. Regardless, I'm going to have to make a decision in the next few weeks, before summer break. I'll be heading home for it, and if I do anything besides sit in my room, I know that word will get out among my friends that I'm back in town. My parents will talk to someone else's, someone will see me at the grocery store, or taking a walk in the park, and word will spread.

Government intelligence agencies have nothing on teenage grapevines.

I hear footsteps approaching from the entrance to the pool area. I think it must be Saki, but the sound of flip flops are...too even. I don't hear the pause between steps that I would normally hear with her cane. A few seconds later, I can't hide the surprise on my face when I see who actually walks in.

"Chisato?"

Chisato gives a small yelp and jumps as she hears someone call her name, frantically looking around before she finally sees my head barely above the surface of the water in the spa.

"Hisao? Is that you?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

Chisato starts to make her way towards the spa, clutching a large towel to her chest and shooting me an evil grin that starts to set off warning bells.

"Well, since we decided yesterday that we're going to the beach in two weeks, I wanted to try on my new bikini. What do you think?"

Before I can even process those words, Chisato slings the towel over her shoulder, unashamedly and completely baring herself, and what I see derails any thoughts I was actively trying to form. The string bikini she's wearing covers just enough to be decent while at the same time leaving precious little to the imagination. While Saki's black suit hints at the figure underneath, Chisato's puts it on full display. The white fabric clings to her in the right places to accentuate her physique, connected to each other by black strings that wrap around her back and hips. It appears those same black strings actually tie the top together in the front, focusing the attention on her...assets.

I'm not sure what's hotter at the moment – Chisato, the water in the spa, or my face.

Chisato breaks the trance with a victorious cackle. "Good! I hope Mitsuru has the same reaction as you just did!"

"Sorry," I stammer out, turning my head to the side. I think...no, I know I've never ogled someone like that before.

"Oh let me assure you, no need to be sorry. It's flattering. Besides, I wouldn't wear this if I didn't want to show off."

I cast another glance at her. That suit leaves absolutely no hiding places, and a question rises through the haze of red-bloodedness.

"Where's the, um..."

"Oh, my pump?"

I nod dumbly, which causes her to laugh. "Yeah, I guess you'd notice it if I was wearing it. I change my needle today, so I decided to go for an hour or two without it." Upon closer inspection, I see the white circle of a bandage on her left arm, about halfway between her shoulder and elbow.

"You plugged it into your arm?"

"This time."

"I thought you wore your pump on your hip?"

Chisato closes the distance and takes a step into the spa, sitting down on its edge facing me. "Yeah, but I can put the needle in anywhere as long as I change it every few days. Check it out." She holds her arms out towards me and twists them so I can take a closer look. Next to the bandage, I see a cluster of small white dots of scar tissue...and now that I know what to look for, I see them on her other arm, her hips, and her abdomen.

"I cringed every time they drew blood or put a new IV in. Ugh, I can't imagine going through that every few days."

"You should know better than most what you can learn to put up with when the alternative is dying," she answers brightly, hopping off the edge and plunging into the water, causing a wave to move across and me to stand up to escape it.

"Damn," I hear Chisato say in a low, awed tone, something completely uncharacteristic given the conversation. A quick look at her face shows the reason why, as her eyes have widened and settled directly on my chest and the scar residing there. With a quick flush of embarrassment, I move my hand to self consciously cover it.

"Hey, I showed you mine. Only fair you show me yours," Chisato says, pouting at me.