The Spider Lily Turns into a Chrysanthemum

Ichimaku: Chapter 6

Shouma had been awake for nearly an hour before he went to wake Yoshino. He’d given up on sleeping shortly after ten, changed into his workout clothes, and gone downstairs to finish his usual routine. By eleven, he’d showered and dressed, leaving himself enough time to get Yoshino ready before they needed to leave for the Kawasaki dealership. When he opened his bedroom door, she was still asleep exactly where he’d left her. At some point during the night, Yoshino had kicked the sheet almost entirely off the bed. She lay curled onto her side in the red lingerie she’d worn the evening before, one knee drawn forward beneath her, with her maroon hair scattered across the pillow. Shouma remained in the doorway for a moment before walking over and crouching beside the mattress.
“Yoshino.”
She didn’t respond. He rested his forearm against the edge of the bed and leaned forward slightly. Her face was turned toward him, although several strands of hair had fallen across her cheek. She looked comfortable enough that he considered letting her sleep another ten minutes. His gaze wandered before he caught himself. The sheet had slipped below her waist, leaving the curve of her back exposed. He lifted his hand, intending to pull the fabric over her, but stopped with his fingers hovering near her shoulder. For a moment, he remained there, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin without touching it. It was ridiculous how conscious he could become of her proximity. Yoshino had never been particularly reserved around him, and physical affection had always come easily to her. She would grab his arm when she wanted his attention or lean against him without a second thought. He’d grown accustomed to it, although there were occasions when he found himself having to concentrate on behaving normally. He lowered his hand and brushed the hair away from her face instead. “Yoshino. Get up.”
Her eyes opened.
She turned so abruptly that her forehead collided with the bridge of his nose.
“FUCK!” Shouma recoiled and landed on his backside, one hand flying to his face.
Yoshino shot upright. “SHOUMA?!”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“WHAT HAPPENED?!”
“You hit me!”
“I DID?!”
He looked up at her through narrowed eyes, still holding his nose.
“What the hell do you think happened?”
Yoshino scrambled toward the edge of the mattress. “Oh my God, are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“Let me see!”
“Give me a second.” He lowered his hand and carefully pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. His expression tightened. “Fuck. That hurt.”
“I’m sorry!” Yoshino leaned forward, genuinely alarmed. “I didn’t know you were that close!”
“Clearly.”
“What time is it?”
“Eleven-thirty.”
“WHAT?”
Shouma winced. “Can you stop yelling?”
“Sorry!” She started to climb out of bed, then abruptly froze when she looked down at herself. The red lace and her bare legs…and Shouma sitting directly in front of her.
“Oh my God.” She snatched the sheet over her chest.
Shouma looked away, still rubbing his nose.
“Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing last night.”
He glanced at her. “You’re fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
Yoshino pulled the sheet higher. “Shouma, seriously. I remember drinking, and I remember coming upstairs, but…”
“You were drunk. You went to sleep.”
She watched him. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much?”
He stood and gave her a mildly irritated look. “Stop worrying about it.”
Yoshino opened her mouth, but he continued before she could speak.
“Take a shower and get dressed. I want to leave in half an hour.”
“Half an hour?”
“Twenty-nine minutes now.” Shouma shook his head and headed toward the door. “Try not to assault me again before breakfast. Keep that big head of yours away from my face.”
She burst out laughing as he closed the door behind him. Yoshino remained sitting on the bed until she heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs. Then she slowly lowered herself onto the mattress and covered her face with both hands. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t remember what had happened the night before.
She remembered considerably more than she wanted to. After spending most of the previous day traveling, attending the party, and catching up with everyone, she’d been exhausted long before they arrived at the townhouse. The alcohol had simply made her less careful about what came out of her mouth. Unfortunately, her memory was perfectly intact. Yoshino pressed her palms harder against her face.
“Oh, you stupid girl.”
She remembered asking about Kanomiya and becoming annoyed by Shouma’s explanation of their relationship. That conversation alone would have been embarrassing enough, but she’d somehow managed to turn it into a discussion about dating. And then she’d asked him whether he ever looked at her as a woman. Yoshino rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. “Why would you ask him that?”
She stayed there for another moment before forcing herself out of bed. Shouma hadn’t seemed particularly bothered when he’d come to wake her. If anything, he’d behaved exactly as he always did, aside from the understandable irritation of having his nose nearly broken. That should have reassured her. Instead, she found herself wondering how much of their conversation he intended to pretend had never happened. In the bathroom, Yoshino stood before the mirror and studied her reflection. Her hair was a mess, and the faint pink remaining in her cheeks did little to improve her mood. She turned slightly, inspecting the red lingerie Tsubaki had insisted she take with her.
“Well,” she muttered, “at least I looked good.” That wasn’t much consolation. She turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm, leaning against the sink while her thoughts drifted toward memories she’d spent years trying not to examine too closely. She’d first developed a crush on Shouma in middle school. At the time, she’d dismissed it as something temporary, the kind of embarrassing infatuation girls developed with older boys. Shouma had always been around, and she’d known him for so long that liking him seemed almost as inconvenient as it was inevitable. For a while, she’d considered telling him. She remembered one afternoon particularly well. She’d spent most of the school day rehearsing what she wanted to say, only to find him talking with another girl when she finally went looking for him. There had been nothing especially intimate about the conversation, but Yoshino had stopped before either of them noticed her. She’d watched the girl smile at something Shouma said. Then she’d turned around and gone home. Afterward, she’d decided the entire situation was stupid. She didn’t want to become another girl waiting for Shouma to notice her, especially when she already occupied a place in his life that nobody else could claim. So she’d stopped trying to make him see her differently.
Over the years, she’d become increasingly comfortable treating him like one of her closest friends. She teased him without restraint, argued with him when he was being difficult, cared for his health and rarely hesitated to ask him for something. It was easier than worrying about whether he found her attractive. Of course, Shouma hadn’t made maintaining that arrangement particularly easy. He’d grown into a strikingly handsome man, something Yoshino had been aware of long before other women began making their interest obvious. She noticed the way his features had matured and how his body had changed as he’d gotten older, although she’d learned to keep those observations to herself. Occasionally, she caught herself looking longer than she should. Whenever that happened, she usually found something insulting to say to him. It had worked reasonably well until Tokyo. During the year she’d spent there, Shouma’s visits had become increasingly important to her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d relied on his presence until she no longer had the luxury of seeing him whenever she wanted. The situation with Kirishima had only complicated matters. Shouma had always been protective, but after her engagement, he’d become more attentive to what was happening around her. He called more often and occasionally appeared in Tokyo without giving her much warning. He never offered elaborate explanations for his behavior, and Yoshino had learned not to press him unless she genuinely needed an answer. Still, she’d noticed, especially at the station. The way he’d held her before she left Tokyo had been different from their usual embraces. It hadn’t been dramatic enough for anyone else to question, but she’d felt the hesitation before he released her. She’d thought about it more than once during the journey home. Yoshino stepped beneath the shower and let the warm water run over her face. Perhaps she’d imagined the difference. Shouma had spent years looking after her, and she knew better than most how seriously he took his responsibilities. There was no reason to assume his behavior meant anything beyond that.
Even so, she couldn’t quite dismiss the possibility. She reached for the shampoo and forced herself to concentrate on getting ready. Twenty minutes later, Yoshino emerged from the bathroom and began dressing. She chose black high-waisted bell-bottom jeans and a fitted black halter top, pairing them with her black-and-white platform Converse. Her usual black choker rested against her neck, and she added the crystal studs Tsubaki had given her for her fifteenth birthday. She gathered her damp hair into a loose clip, leaving a few strands around her face.
Standing before the mirror, she adjusted the waistband of her jeans and considered the problem she’d created for herself.
The arrangement between her and Shouma had always been convenient. Renji trusted him, and the two of them had practically grown up together. They weren’t related by blood, but describing him as family was easier than explaining the complicated relationship between their households.
It also meant nobody questioned why she wanted him around so often. She’d never needed an excuse to spend time with him, and he’d never made her feel as though she was imposing.
Yoshino understood that changing the nature of their relationship would mean risking something she valued far more than a passing romance. She wasn’t afraid of Shouma being cruel to her. He never had been, even when she pushed his patience. What frightened her was the possibility of making him uncomfortable enough that he began keeping his distance. She’d seen how detached he could become when he wanted someone out of his life. She didn’t particularly want to experience that herself. Yoshino picked up her black Coach wristlet and checked her reflection one last time. For now, she could leave things alone. Whatever Shouma thought about the previous evening, he hadn’t brought it up, and she had no intention of volunteering to discuss it.
She opened the bedroom door and headed downstairs.
“ALL RIGHT, I’M READY!”
Shouma was standing near the kitchen counter with a bottle of water in his hand. He turned at the sound of her voice. “Good. Let’s…go…” He stopped when he looked at her.
Yoshino reached the bottom of the stairs and adjusted the strap of her wristlet “What?”
Shouma’s gaze moved over her outfit before returning to her face. He took another drink of water, then screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “You look nice.”
Yoshino paused. The compliment had been delivered so casually that she almost wondered whether she’d heard him correctly. “Obviously,” she replied, recovering quickly.
Shouma’s mouth shifted slightly. “Right.”
“Black suits me.”
“Yeah. It does.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “Well, Gramps looks good in black, and everybody says I look like him. It’s hereditary.”
Shouma looked at her for a moment. “That’s not how that works.”
“Don’t ruin my explanation.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, but yeah, you look great in black.”
He stepped closer and glanced at her hair. One damp strand had fallen across her cheek, and he reached up to move it aside before it caught against her choker. “You want me to fix this?”
Yoshino looked up at him. “My hair?”
“Yeah.”
She touched the clip at the back of her head.
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t feel like doing much with it today.”
“Okay.”
His hand dropped, and he stepped back toward the counter. Yoshino followed him with her eyes for a moment before remembering she was supposed to be behaving normally. “Anyway, I’m starving.”
“We’re getting lunch after the dealership.”
“Lunch? I haven’t even had breakfast.”
“You slept through breakfast.”
“Yeah I guess..”
Shouma turned toward her as he picked up his keys, “We’ve got the dealership, your phone, and whatever you decided we need from the supermarket.”
“Actual food.”
“I have actual food.”
“You have tofu and enough soy sauce to survive the apocalypse.”
“It’s still food.”
“Barely. It’s a bunch of carbs. You need protein, fats and lots of vitamins.”
Shouma shook his head and headed toward the entrance. Yoshino followed, but he stopped when he noticed her shoes. “Hold on.”
“What?”
He pointed toward her Converse. “Shoes off when you’re in the house.”
Yoshino looked down. “These are new.”
“I can see that.”
“They haven’t been outside yet.”
“Fine. Once they have, they stay by the door.”
She gave him an offended look. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you were running around my house drunk last night.” Yoshino’s expression changed. Shouma noticed immediately. He tilted his head slightly. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“Okay, I’m not gonna fight you on it.” The complete lack of argument somehow made her more suspicious.
Yoshino narrowed her eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re standing in front of the door.”
She glanced behind her. “Oh.”
Shouma reached past her and opened it. “Move.”
She made a feeble, awkward smile and stepped outside, following Shouma. The kei truck was still parked in the garage beneath the townhouse. Shouma unlocked it while Yoshino climbed into the passenger seat, placing her wristlet on her lap.
He settled behind the wheel and started the engine. “Seat belt.”
“I’m doing it.”
“Then do it.”
“God, you’re bossy today.”
“We can’t be late.”
Yoshino fastened her seat belt and rolled down the window as he pulled out of the garage.
The late-morning air was warm, carrying the familiar sounds of Kyoto as they turned onto the main road. Yoshino rested her elbow against the open window and watched the neighborhood pass, occasionally pointing out shops she wanted to visit once she moved here for university.
Shouma listened while keeping his attention on traffic. He’d spent enough time driving her around to know that she rarely expected a response to every observation. Sometimes she simply liked having somebody there to listen. When they stopped at a traffic light, he glanced toward her. Her damp hair had begun drying around her face, and the loose strands moved whenever the breeze entered the truck. The black halter top suited her, although he’d already told her that downstairs. He looked back toward the road.
Yoshino caught the movement. “What?”
“Nothing.”
She turned in her seat slightly. “You were looking at me.”
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
Shouma rested his elbow against the door while waiting for the light to change. “Then stop distracting me.”
Yoshino stared at him. “I’m literally sitting here just existing.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed, although the remark left her wondering whether he’d meant something by it. The light changed, and Shouma accelerated through the intersection. Yoshino settled back against the seat, watching his profile as he drove. He was wearing black straight-leg jeans with a black V-neck T-shirt beneath his familiar leather motorcycle jacket. She’d always liked that particular combination on him, although she’d never bothered mentioning it. His sleeves shifted when he turned the steering wheel, exposing part of the tattoos extending along his forearms. She looked away before he could catch her staring. There was something she hadn’t told him about that morning. She hadn’t been entirely asleep when he entered the bedroom. She’d heard him say her name the first time, although she’d been too comfortable to respond. When he sat beside the bed, she’d remained still, vaguely aware of his presence. Then she’d felt him move the hair away from her face. She’d liked that more than she cared to admit. Of course, she’d ruined the moment by turning around and smashing her forehead into his nose. Yoshino pressed her lips together, suppressing another laugh at the memory.
Shouma glanced at her. “What now?”
“Nothing~~~.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because nothing’s happening.”
“Right.”
She looked toward the window again, still smiling. A few minutes passed before Shouma reached over and adjusted the air conditioning. The breeze coming through Yoshino’s window had grown stronger as they approached the highway, and she was beginning to squint whenever her hair blew across her face.
“You can close that if it’s bothering you,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“Your hair’s everywhere.”
“It’s ok, the wind feels good on my face.”
He gave a quiet snort.
Yoshino turned toward him with a grin.
“Don’t laugh. Anyways, even with the wind messing up my hair, I still look good.”
“True.”
“And?”
“And what?”
She watched him for another moment, waiting for him to elaborate.
He didn’t.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered. Shouma’s mouth curved faintly as he changed lanes. The road opened ahead of them, and Yoshino settled more comfortably into her seat. She began telling him about a restaurant she’d found online, somewhere she wanted to try once they had more time. Shouma listened, occasionally asking a question when she mentioned something that interested him. At one point, she reached over to adjust the collar of his jacket, which had folded awkwardly beneath his seat belt. He glanced down at her hand but didn’t interrupt.
“There,” she said, smoothing the leather. “Much better!”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She withdrew her hand and returned her attention to the window. Shouma kept driving, although his fingers shifted against the steering wheel after she’d moved away.
Neither mentioned the previous evening. Yoshino had decided that pretending nothing unusual had happened was the safest approach, and Shouma seemed content to let her. Still, when they reached another intersection, she caught him glancing at her again. This time, she didn’t ask what he was looking at. She simply met his eyes for a moment before turning back toward the open window, a small smile lingering at the corner of her mouth.
Shouma returned his attention to the road. The Kawasaki dealership was only a few minutes away, and he still had an entire afternoon of errands ahead of him. For once, he wasn’t particularly bothered by the prospect. I wonder if she’ll ask me that question again. Am I going to be ready to say how I feel about that matter? Can I be honest with her?

CHAPTER 7 ->