A Drop of Rain

Light

A door slammed in the background, the sharp noise of cheap wood slamming back into its frame echoing dully through the empty, carpet like silence of the small, constricted halls of the apartment.

Her dad walked in, shaking his head back and forth, spreading a few drops of water across the kitchen table. They lay there, tiny shining beads of moisture on the smooth tabletop. His neatly gelled red hair, up in its usually swept pyramid of thick plasticy gingery gelled hair glistened with the rest of the storm, beading off the thick, apparently waterproof gel.

"Hey. How's it going?" He had been asking her about how life was going much more often since the thing with Kiki. When Ibaki had come out of the bathroom looking like I had been doing drugs, her eyes the same shade of red all over, she had been forced to explain the entire situation.

"Fine Dad. I already ate dinner and I finished her math homework. I still need to finish the science research notes and her history paper."

"Nice. Is your brother working late?"

"Yeah. I can still work her shift on Friday, right?"

"Yes. I am working late Friday. I need to finish the project planning that my team and I have been working on."

"Sure."

"Do you know when Ketsu is getting home?"

"He said he was going to work an extra hour. I guess he should be hoher by 7:15, since he usually only works until 6 and the bus picks up near Frosted Peaks at 7:00."

"Okay. Are you going to work on your homework in your room or the kitchen?"

"All of her stuff is in the kitchen. I was going to work there but if I'm in your way while you are eating or whatever I can move to her bedroom desk."

"No, you are fine. I wanted to talk to you so I was curious whether or not I would have to coher find you." He smiled, a sheepish expression so like Ketsu's grin that Ibaki wanted to grin herself.

Then again, her own smile probably looked similar. They were twins after all. Ibaki turned on her heel, gliding back around the corner into the warmly lit kitchen and sliding onto the stool she had been working on.

Her fingers clicked away at the keys, the keypad of her laptop clicking under her pads, letters scrolling across the screen in time with her typing. World War Two - a topic that literally everyone had to do an essay on, no matter what country you were from.

Japanese students had a worse time of it in that respect though, Ibaki suspected. Since Japan not only lost the war but also had two bombs dropped on major cities.

Ibaki finished her thesis summary statement, submitting the project and closing the tab with a few quick clicks on the worn mouse pad of her laptop. The silvery coating on the pad and keys had worn away in place where her fingers had repeatedly slammed on the keys.

As old as her laptop was it was a relic that still worked great. Effective for everything from essay writing to late night anime binges.

Her father dumped his plate in the sink, the glass clattering lightly on the bottom of the sink, clinking against the other plates lined up on one side. He came back to the table, the worn metal of the stool creeking a little under his 71 kilograms of weight.

Why there were four stools and only three of them Ibaki wasn't completely sure. Of course they occasionally had guests, but generally her dad took guests out to dinner at sushi places.

Always great when Dad had guests. Vegetarian sushi was the best food ever invented.

Dad never invited relatives over either. They usually went to their place, if they ever saw them at all.