For this prompt of ‘roommates’, it’s a sequel to Propriety! Let’s see where Miss Tsunemori and her faithful former chauffeur have ended up, now that they’re on the run…
Runaways
“I’m so sorry, but we only have one room available.”
He clenched his jaw. Gino would have his hide if he found out, but it seemed there was no other choice. “We’ll take it.”
Beside him, Miss Tsunemori was feigning interest in the worn floorboards. The innkeeper handed over the key and directed them to the room. It was terribly cramped, with only one futon. Extra blankets would be brought for the other to make do.
As soon as the innkeeper left, he insisted. “You can take the bed. I’m used to sleeping on the floor.”
“But you must be tired too. You drove the entire time.”
He did, because it was the middle of the night and she didn’t know the roads. He wasn’t even entirely confident they were safe yet. He had driven until the fuel ran out, and then decided to ditch their vehicle on the side of the road. It had been a harrowing twenty-four hours, and her entire life had been pulled out from underneath her. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m the servant.”
“Not anymore.”
That was true and he abruptly turned away. “Get some sleep. We’ll think better if we sleep.”
His blankets were then delivered, and afterwards, neither of them spoke. As he attempted to find a comfortable position, he couldn’t help hearing her light breathing and knew she was just as restless.
***
“I’d like to see the ocean.” She had said, when he asked for a destination.
So, here they were, in a harbor town. They had watched the sun rise over the glittering water, and Miss Tsunemori had darted to the shoreline. He followed her prints, hiding them under his, and joined her at the breaking surf. She was standing just shy of the approaching foam.
“See any monsters?”
“Kougami-san!” She admonished but laughed. She could laugh when they were alone, without worry that someone would overhear and realize that it wasn’t two young men staying in the last room. “No, I haven’t.” She bent down, untying her shoes and removing her socks. After placing them on higher ground, she dipped her toes in. Just as she did, she made a startled sound and retreated.
He took her arm, steadying her. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I didn’t expect it would still be cold.” She pressed her feet into the darkened sand. “I suppose that makes sense, it’s early.”
Letting go, he copied her, tossing his boots closer to her belongings. He stepped into a wave, the ocean surging around his ankles. “It’s actually not bad. Once you’re in it, you’ll warm up.”
She splashed towards him. “If you say so…”
For a few minutes, they didn’t move. He crossed his arms, breathing deeply of the salty air. “So…where to?”
“I’m not sure.” A frown had settled upon her face. The reality was kicking in, that there was no plan other than running as fast and far as they could.
“We need to decide. Every minute we stall, we risk getting caught.”
“You’d be arrested for kidnapping me.” She had already reached that conclusion, and despite that bleak possibility, he felt a twinge of pride. “And I don’t want that to happen.”
“Maybe, you’d see me again when I’d leave jail in twelve years.”
“Please don’t joke about something like that.”
He glanced at her forlorn expression, her downturned lips. “Sorry.”
A breeze swept through, and she held on to her hat. “If I can keep up this disguise, I wonder if I can study law.” She mused.
“Maybe.” He conceded. His skin itching with the need to move, he walked away from the ocean and grabbed his boots. She followed suit, and they slowly crossed the beach.
“Kougami-san?”
“Yes?”
“How do we get rid of the sand?”
***
Her question also brought up the issue of hygiene, so they concocted an excuse that “Akio” had a skin condition and couldn’t go to the public bathhouses, unlike “Satoru”. The story bought them a large basin of water and coarse soap. Miss Tsunemori was eager to use them, and to secure her privacy in this small room, he made a suggestion in case the innkeeper knocked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go ahead. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He held up the sheet, turning his head to the side. “Let me know when you’re done.”
“Alright, thank you.” There was rustling, as she removed her clothes. He tried to ignore the soft sounds and the liquid sloshing as she dipped below the surface.
He clenched the cotton, searching for a topic of conversation. “We can keep to the coastline, and there’s the option of leaving Japan.”
“I’m not sure if I want to, or even if you do.”
“Why not? There’s jungle out there, hidden temples.”
“Hmm. But you wanted to go to the mountains.” So, she remembered.
“Yeah. I had a teacher once, who said he wanted to live in the shadow of Mount Fuji. To us kids who only knew the rowhouses, his idea of a peaceful life was something we couldn’t really imagine.”
He could hear her smile in her reply. “But you liked it.”
That phrase, accompanied with the fact that she was naked in a tub just below him, caused him to waver. He renewed his grip on the sheet, his reply harsher than intended. “Well, runaways never have peace. Do you want to go home?”
Long moments passed, before she quietly replied. “I think we’re past that point.”
It wasn’t a denial. Before he could say as much, she announced that she was finished. He lifted the cover higher, while she dressed. It didn’t take long before she popped up on the other side, her face flushed.
“Thank you so much.” Her smaller fingers reached up, pulling the cloth barrier down. This close, he could smell the soap, and underneath, the lingering traces of sweet citrus that hadn’t been entirely removed. “Your arms must be sore. Do you want me to rub them?”
They did ache, but her offer was far too tempting for his fraying self-control. “That won’t be necessary. I’m going to the public baths. Keep the pistol, you know how to use it.” He was about to take the basin with him, but she protested.
“I can empty it, don’t worry.”
“…Thanks.” He couldn’t resist ruffling her short damp hair. His hand tingling, he hurried out of the building and down the road.
He was one of the few patrons at the time, and he was grateful. As he quickly scrubbed off the grime, he had an intrusive thought that she would be gone when he returned to the inn. It wouldn’t be surprising; being a runaway wasn’t nearly so glamorous, now that the initial adrenaline had faded.
However, when he knocked on the door, her lowered voice answered. Upon his entry, she sat up in her futon, clearly relieved. “Welcome back.”
And he smiled. “I’m back.”
***
They kept moving, never staying in a town longer than a few days. Kougami maintained a close eye on their surroundings, but he didn’t spot anyone tailing them. If Tougane was still persistent, he might have lost their trail. They traveled inland, running errands for money; he usually did manual labor, while she was a good scribe.
In one of the larger markets, there was a stall selling books. Her interest couldn’t be concealed, and he encouraged her to peruse, while he bought the remainder of their supplies. She had found one in particular and her gaze was bright as she skimmed through the book.
“Is it about law?” He asked over her shoulder.
“History, actually. But it’s well-written.”
He approached the vendor. “How much?” They spent a minute bargaining, but he was going to pay regardless.
As they headed to their lodgings, she humbly said. “Kougami-san, you didn’t have to.”
“Hey, it’s a gift. That’s what roommates do.” He smacked the spot between her shoulder blades, and she startled. For a moment, he wondered if that was too forward, but she didn’t mention it.
“Well, then I need to return the favor. Let me know if you really want anything.”
There was, but it wasn’t the time, place, or situation to ask for it. He didn’t speak again, trying not to think of a sweltering night that seemed like years ago.
In the evenings, he pored over their maps, marking the places they had left. It was still warm, and he left the window open. The sound of cicadas also distracted him from the fact that he was really itching for a smoke.
Then, there was a slight tap against his upper arm. Miss Tsunemori had set her book aside, holding out an open box of rolled papers, pungent and familiar.
“Here. I bought you a new pack, since you ran out.”
“You noticed.” It was the same brand he liked too. Touched, he accepted the cigarettes. He picked one, lighting it. Noticing that she was watching, he asked. “Want to try one?”
“No, thank you. I’ve gotten used to the smell though. Now, it reminds me of you.”
“Does it?” He regarded her, the smoke weaving around them. She blushed but didn’t look away.
At that moment, a cicada flew into the room. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop from screaming, and he bit off a curse as he extinguished the cigarette in the ash tray, before grabbing his boot to kill the invader. A few good hits, and he tossed the body out before she closed the window. Damn bugs.
Shocked laughter bubbled from her lips. “That was…scary.”
“I wasn’t expecting that.” But he began to laugh too. It was the first time, since they’d driven away from Tokyo.
After recovering, it was quiet again. Even the cicadas must have tired out. For a second, they stared at each other.
“Well…it’s late.” She slowly said, wrapping up in her blankets. “Good night.”
In every room, they’d been sleeping on opposite ends, but this one was the smallest so far. If he could, he could roll over and close that distance. But he only answered. “Night.”
***
The final summer days gave way to autumn, and the mountains were abundant with color. Unfortunately, the scenery was the only enjoyable thing. Influenza was spreading, from beyond the borders. The numbers of infected and dead were rising fast. It was recommended to cover their faces with muslin layers, and the masks also served in laying low. However, it wasn’t enough, because he fell asleep one night with a dry throat and woke to feeling cold under his blankets.
She took over, ignoring his attempts to convince her that he should be left behind. She kept their brazier lit, measured his medicine, and even wiped him above the waist. He felt terrible and weak, but he had to rely on her. From morning to night, she looked after him, her brows drawn together in perpetual concern. He wasn’t getting better, not as quickly as he thought, and he knew it.
One morning, she wasn’t there when he opened his eyes, and he made an effort to sit up. The room spinning, he swayed, and his hand landed on the note she had left. She was buying more tea for him, but she would be back soon. And just like that, he was reassured. He didn’t stir again until he sensed her presence.
“I’m back. I’ve brought someone who said he could help. Can you hear me, Kougami-san?” She squeezed his fingers.
“Mm.” He grasped back, comforted by her touch.
“Kougami? Is that you?” The voice was familiar, and he thought he was dreaming as he looked up into the surprised, bespectacled eyes of the man who held weekly lessons for the rowhouse children.
“Saiga-sensei…please help.” Then, he spiraled into delirium.
***
“Young lady, what is he to you?”
“He’s-”
***
Just as he was beginning to crest over the worst, her temperature spiked. He blamed himself. Staying in one room together this whole time, breathing the same air. She deteriorated fast, struggling with each inhale. Her skin was burning, despite the growing chilliness.
He didn’t leave her bedside, giving her water and broth and the little medicine he was able to buy. Saiga said he had seen other young women survive this, but his expression was serious. Kougami was afraid. Afraid that she was going to die, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
In her fever dreams, she called for her parents. Her grandmother. Her friends. And for him. “Kougami-san! Don’t go!” For whatever reason he was, it brought her to tears, because they spilled down her face, onto her sweat-soaked pillow.
“I’m here.” He hushed her, pressing his hand to her forehead. “I’m here, Akane. I won’t leave you.”
He wouldn’t, because she believed in him. In the silent spaces between her coughing, her words haunted him.
He’s the person I trust most with my life.
***
“So, you ran away together?” Saiga summarized, as the two of them sat on the back steps of his house. “I admit, I’m not sure what to make of your decision. You must have had your difficulties.”
“It wasn’t easy, but it had its kinder moments.” Footprints in the sand, pages in the candlelight. A sheet between them.
His old teacher smiled. “That’s how life is. It was lucky that I was passing through. I was sick earlier this year, so I’ve been helping out. Kougami, don’t underestimate this flu.”
“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it? Winter isn’t even here yet.”
“You assume correctly. But at the very least, you’re both alive. I’m glad.” Miss Tsunemori’s fever had finally broken, though she was still weak. Kougami was better, but not by much. He still couldn’t bring himself to light a cigarette yet.
“Me too.”
“Whatever you decide next will be crucial. Snowy roads are harder to traverse, and with the infection rates, I’d be surprised if any small town will welcome outsiders. As long as you hold on to logic and clarity, you’ll find a solution.”
“I won’t forget. Thank you.”
With that, his teacher excused himself to obtain groceries, and Kougami went inside. She was reading the newspaper, looking lost.
“Miss Tsunemori?”
“Oh, Kougami-san. Um, sorry.” She hastily wiped at her eyes. “All the news of cases and deaths made me think of Obaa-chan. If we were this ill, then what about her? Masaoka-san too, and everyone else.”
“I know. Even Gino is only human. But if we go back…”
“We’re immune though. We can offer to nurse the sick, in exchange for clemency. We can negotiate.”
“And Tougane?”
“I can always use the pandemic as an excuse for delaying a wedding.”
“I don’t like the idea of you marrying him.” Saying that aloud felt like drawing to the edge of a precipice, that he knew he couldn’t turn back from.
‘I don’t either. But I’ll find another way.” Of course, she would say that. And he had faith in her.
He smiled bitterly. “Alright. Let’s return to Tokyo.”
Oh, sweet child of the sun and flowers! Your father is the radiant oracle of truth, and your mother the Queen of the Underworld. A life of greatness stands before you dictated by honor, restoration, and compassion. No man can tell you what realm you preside over, but look to themes of poetry and joy as you grow into your power.
I think it's really funny that they're running Oliver's trial on a normal timeline over on Arrow and meanwhile they just condensed that whole thing into maybe three days on The Flash.
me lying awake in bed, hit with bj feels out of the blue again, and driving myself crazy by trying to understand some of the weirder passages in nineteen eighty-three months after finishing the books
