fragrance // hinami → touka
for tgfemslashweek! the prompt is smell.
contains // ~2100 words, one-sided touka/hinami, and a little touken.
excerpt:
What would Mother want her to say in this situation?
“I understand. Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble. Goodbye.”
Hinami opens her mouth, but the syllables are too large. Her eyes begin to sting. Touka doesn’t notice; she just sighs, heavily.
“Hinami,” Touka says. “You’re staying with me.”
Discussion reaches her, through Anteiku’s walls and floors. Hinami wants to cover her ears, and instead clutches her wrists, over and over and harder and harder, until they are pale.
“She’ll die out there,” Touka protests.
“She’ll be fine,” someone else responds. “That ward was way worse when I was a kid. And look now. I turned out just fine.”
“You’re fine because of Anteiku,” Touka snaps. “Besides, you’re totally different from Hinami.”
The sound of her own name makes Hinami flush. She really shouldn’t be listening to this. She really should just…leave already, and stop bothering everyone. Hinami’s eyes dart to the spare room’s window, and Touka’s voice comes back to her.
“Don’t leave again. Alright? Don’t go, at least not without telling me first.”
“Okay,” Hinami replied, feebly.
“You promise?”
“Y-yeah…I…promise.”
So Hinami stays, making herself breathe slowly and deeply as she hears Touka stamping down the corridor. When the door opens, Hinami draws herself up, stiffly. She shoves her hands to either side of her hips, and then, remembering her mother, repositions them into her lap.
What would Mother want her to say in this situation?
“I understand. Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble. Goodbye.”
Hinami opens her mouth, but the syllables are too large. Her eyes begin to sting. Touka doesn’t notice; she just sighs, heavily.
“Hinami,” Touka says. “You’re staying with me.”
Hinami’s sense of hearing is acute, and still Touka needs to repeat herself before Hinami understands it.
“Really?” Hinami gasps, and Touka blinks, and then smiles at her.
“Yeah. Really.”
Hinami leaps up. The tears that she tried so hard to stifle emerge anyway, in streams. She races and wraps her arms around Touka, with relief.
“Thank you,” Hinami cries, “thank you, thank you, Oneechan,” and Touka stiffens, and then slowly embraces her back. Hinami buries her face against Touka’s body and —
In that moment, it happens, again.
That smell.
Sweet, and strong.
Hinami fills her lungs with it, relishing. Around her, Touka is resting her chin on Hinami’s head.
“I already promised, didn’t I?” Her voice is kind. “I’ll protect you.”
:::
“I’ll protect you.”
That was the first time Hinami smelled it, the first time in her life. It’s a mysterious fragrance, one that she doesn’t realize is unusual until the day she is helping Irimi fold and put away the newly-washed aprons into everyone’s lockers.
“How did you know this is Touka’s?” Irimi asks, with some surprise. “You barely looked at it.”
“Oh! Just by the smell!” Hinami says excitedly. Irimi has been trying to help her home her skill for weeks.
But, rather than complimenting her, Irimi’s brows furrow. She buries her nose into the fabric.
“We just took these down from the line,” she says. “You still smell something?”
Hinami wanes. “Um…just a little. I really like Oneechan’s smell,” Hinami explains, somewhat defensively. “It’s really nice and sweet.”
Irimi laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Touka smells more bitter than the coffee we serve,” she says. “If you want something sweet, you should follow that Ape around right at the beginning of his shift, after he puts all that crap in his hair.”
Irimi doesn’t leave any room for disagreement, so Hinami just swallows and mumbles assent.
Later, though, at home, Hinami starts on their personal laundry after Touka leaves for an evening shift. She takes a shirt down off the line on their balcony, stares at it, and nibbles her lip.
Maybe Irimi was right. Maybe Hinami made a mistake. Maybe what she was smelling was Koma.
Hinami thinks a little longer, and then buries her face into the cloth, and inhales, deeply.
Sure enough, it’s sweet.
:::
It’s nothing like living with her parents. It’s — tougher, for sure. Hinami is even more careful than before not to draw attention to herself. She watches the window for hours before she can bring herself to go out, and if someone passes by with a suitcase on the street below, she stays on the couch, clutching her knees.
“You didn’t get more coffee?” Touka asks when she returns home, and Hinami cringes.
“S-sorry,” she murmurs. “Today, outside, it didn’t…it just didn’t feel like…” She shakes her head. “I’ll get it tomorrow, I promise.”
“I needed it tonight,” Touka groans. “I have a big test tomorrow.”
Hinami grips her wrists and stares at the ground. “I’m sorry, Oneechan. I’m really, really —”
“Stop. Enough already.”
Hinami looks up, preparing herself to meet an exasperated expression. But Touka has a kind smile. “It’s not a big deal. But you can’t be afraid forever. Come on, let’s go together.”
Despite herself, Hinami leaps up. “Okay!”
As long as Touka is with her, everything is fine, everything feels fine. Touka drapes one of her jackets over Hinami’s shoulders and they head out. At the grocery, Himami trails behind with a basket as Touka flicks coffee and some other cheap snacks toward her at random. These Hinami puts away dutifully back home, while Touka presses them both a cup of coffee. As Touka studies, Hinami watches, playing with the strings of Touka’s jacket and paging through the chapters of books Touka sets aside.
“You think you’ll go to school too?” Touka asks, and Hinami jumps.
“Ah — um — I don’t know. I just…was looking.”
“Well,” Touka says, “if you decide, just say so. Yoshimura will help sort out the papers, probably. He helped with mine. It's…well, there are annoying parts, but it’s pretty good overall. Probably the best part for you would be that you could make more friends.”
“Oh,” Hinami says blandly. “That would be great.”
Though, I don’t really need more friends.
She is perfectly fine like this — living with Touka, cleaning the house and running errands during the day, spending time together at night. Touka makes Hinami coffee whenever she senses Hinami wants it; she teaches Hinami how to cook stew; she lets Hinami have her old books when she could instead be selling them for more money. Touka doesn’t ask for her jacket back, either, and Hinami keeps it, drawing it close around her as she watches people pass by outside.
It’s nothing like living with her parents. It’s — tougher, for sure. No matter how many things she tells herself during the day, her dreams leap up at night to bite her, and she wakes up with tears on her face, searching her hands over and over for blood.
“Hinami?”
Touka is at the door of her room, a blanket over her head and shoulders.
“Oneechan,” Hinami gasps. Touka is frowning.
“Again?”
“Sorry,” Hinami says. “Was I — was I loud? I’m sorry.”
Touka scratches her head. “Come on,” she says, turning back into her room, and Hinami hesitates, and then scrambles up.
Touka’s room smells just like Touka; even the first whiff of it is enough to make the dark seem warmer. There’s not much room on Touka’s bed; when they lie down, it’s shoulder-to-shoulder. Touka slings a blanket over, and Hinami tucks herself underneath it, drawing the hem up over her mouth and taking a deep breath.
“Better?” Touka asks, and Hinami nods.
“Good. Don’t worry,” Touka yawns. “I’ll protect you, remember?”
“I remember,” Hinami whispers.
“Goodnight,” Touka murmurs, turning over to her side. Soon, her breathing is steady. Hinami turns toward her, and places her forehead gently between Touka’s shoulder blades.
It’s warm here. Touka’s inhales and exhales make a soothing rhythm.
“Goodnight,” Hinami says quietly. She closes her eyes, and musters just a little bit of courage.
“Goodnight, Touka.”
:::
As long as they’re together, everything is fine.
“Oneechan,” Hinami calls. “Oneechan!”
Touka jumps.
“W-what?” she gasps. “What is it?”
Hinami stares at her, aghast, and then points. Touka looks down. The cup she’s pouring coffee into is overflowing; streams are dripping from the counter to the floor.
“Shit,” Touka hisses. She sets the coffee pot down with a heavy smack and looks for a towel — but Hinami already has one, and is wiping the mess up, and stamping out the rest with newspaper.
“Oneechan,” Hinami says, “are you alright,” and Touka rubs her eyes.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry,” Touka sighs. “It’s just…I have…an exam.”
“Oh,” Hinami says. “You have another exam?”
“…what?”
“Last week you said you were done with all your exams for a while,” Hinami says. She wrings the towel out into the sink. “Remember?”
Touka frowns. “Yeah, I did say that. Well…yeah, um…unfortunately I have another exam after all.”
“Maybe I can help you,” Hinami offers. “You’ve been working a lot at Anteiku, but…I don’t know…maybe if I go there instead, and cover your shifts —”
“Thanks,” Touka interrupts, “but it’s okay.” She smiles wanly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine soon.”
But she spills coffee again not just once, but three more times. She returns back home forgetting their food from Anteiku. She makes coffee for Hinami that is burnt. And...and...
One night, when Hinami can’t sleep, she walks towards Touka’s room and is surprised to find a light spilling out from beneath the door.
Hinami double-checks the time. It’s three. She swallows, and then raps, gently.
“Oneechan?”
There’s a sharp rustling — a strange clap.
“Hinami,” Touka says. “Come in.”
Hinami pushes the door open. Touka is in bed, wrapped up, with her bedside light still on.
“You’re not…studying, are you?” The clapping noise sounded like a book.
“Ah…no…I just couldn’t sleep. You too?”
“Yeah,” Hinami admits, and brightens when Touka pats her bed.
“Come on.”
It’s warm here. But Touka is staring into space, and then sighs and reaches to turn the light off.
“I can get it,” Hinami says, when Touka strains over her, but Touka pushes herself a little further, and flicks the switch herself anyway. Darkness falls; Touka mumbles a goodnight, and turns over onto her side.
It takes another hour for her to fall asleep; Hinami knows it, not just because of the breathing, but because Touka is so tightly wound up into her blankets that Hinami is left chilly, despite the jacket. She folds her arm underneath the pillow, shivering, and winces when her fingers cram against something hard.
It’s a book. She squints in the faint streetlight beaming through the curtains. The characters for the title are complicated, but she could recognize the name of the author anywhere.
Hinami’s finger traces.
Taka…tsuki…Sen.
:::
It’s nothing like living with her parents, and yet it’s exactly same. There’s something the matter with Touka, so Hinami sucks in a breath, and goes out to Anteiku. Touka will be happy to see her, probably — she can help Touka remember their dinner — and then they can walk back home together. This is all that she’s thinking when Yoshimura points her to the back room, all that’s on her mind when she pushes open the well-oiled door. Touka is there, back turned, and Hinami’s mouth opens, and then, suddenly, closes.
There’s a strange atmosphere in here. Normally, Touka would notice her immediately, and turn and greet her. Instead, she’s stooped over an open locker.
Changing, Hinami thinks, and even then knows that it’s wrong. Touka’s locker is on the far side. The locker that she’s in front of now —
Touka bows forward. She inhales, deeply, and then buries her face into the fabric.
Hinami swallows and steps back. She waits a minute longer, and then opens the door, more loudly.
“Oneechan,” she calls brightly, and Touka jumps, and slams the locker shut.
:::
What would Mother do?
Hinami rubs her chest, draws the jacket closer, looks around the room, fixing every object in mind until she can see it even when she closes her eyes.
The light is still coming out from beneath Touka’s door, and Hinami waits longer, longer, telling herself that this makes sense, it’s strategic. When Touka’s breath steadies, she swallows. She makes one last glance out the window, and then stands.
She has so little clothing. It only takes a second to gather it, and a couple more to tiptoe into Touka’s room and turn off the light. She writes out a note, with just the essentials. In the apartment’s entryway, she looks at the door, and steels herself. She takes off Touka’s jacket, takes a deep breath, and hangs it in the closet.
It’s cold. Hinami pulls on her own jacket.
There’s only one last thing to do now. She closes her eyes, and musters just a little bit of courage.
“Goodbye,” Hinami says quietly. “Goodbye, Oneechan.”