Yuri Worlds
[45] Touch
Of the four of them, Chika had the lightest comprehension of Star Trek. She’d seen a handful of the older series, a smattering of 80s and 90s favorites, and a vague sense of the most recent works. Namiko consciously stopped before the most recent era, preferring it before everything became like a blockbuster movie.
Misaki had the beginnings of several versions, with the middle parts most extensively watched by her parents tuning in for syndication and her mom having a thirsty crush on the original captain, composing a decent number of fan letters. Yuka was situated somewhere between Misaki and Namiko for her expertise, but it was in an entirely different lexicon because of the subtly different shows produced here. The message of hope and possibility remained universal. The topic endured until they arrived back at the Sasaki home.
Both moms were there, having moved a few items out of the old hotel. Yasha was there as well. She stretched back with her legs extended, sipping something that looked like more than simply tea with her dark shades on and her blonde hair dangling over the headrest. She seemed as chill as they’d seen her at any point in the vacation. Misaki wondered if she had some sort of massage or beauty treatment because her skin appeared to have an extra luster to it and a springy freshness.
Yasha confirmed the vague details of a relaxation treatment in the south, along with time spent on a beach. She wasn’t interested in the knowledge of a Reiki healer, but she grunted a few times when they brought up Ayame before returning to nurse her drink. The upcoming prospects of a resort stay made her tip her shades up, but that was all. Kei and Fuyuki traded suspicious glances with smiles.
The most Misaki could interpret from that gesture was that the resort Kei put on their itinerary starting tomorrow evening had some special or nostalgic quality. She wasn’t really looking forward to it because, at best, it would take until sometime Saturday for her and Yuka to meet up. Likely at the mini-festival. She treasured the time they had now. But at what time should she meet up with Maharu? The girl gave no specifics. How could she sneak out without causing suspicion? Did she need to sneak out? They were advised to stay away from the old hotel, but even Yuka hinted at holding a test of courage there.
Haruka made an appearance next and made a beeline for Misaki. Before she could inquire about what the elder sister wanted, Haruka carefully and casually wrapped her arms around Misaki and held her in a careful, accommodating, and unmistakable hug. It wasn't something she expected from this inscrutable girl, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
"Thank you. I’m sorry…" With those faintly whispered words, Haruka pulled away, politely bowed, and made her way upstairs. Everyone around appeared mystified by that interaction, Yuka in particular. Yasha appeared her normal amount of bored but with a single raised eyebrow.
With a sigh and a shrug, Yuka could only conclude, “I guess she approves of you. Of things. Of you as a guest… yeah. We should talk some more about that show… We talked about. Because there’s more to talk about. Always more to talk about. About shows and stuff like that.” Yuka’s nervousness and quick glances at her moms practically rivaled a Franklin moment.
Misaki found that particularly cute, even though she was surprised at her girlfriend’s awkwardness. Despite mostly skirting around the big stuff, she assumed that the moms had figured out they had a crush on one another. When would be the appropriate time to lay it all out though? After these nearly two weeks, it was up in the air how readily they’d be able to communicate and see each other again. But they had now, and she didn’t want to stress about all that, like usual. Without making any more excuses, Misaki made her way upstairs after informing the group that she would be over for tea and supper in a little while, but she also might be interested in taking a walk by herself at night.
Immediately, Fuyuki and Kei raised concerns about late-night travels alone since spirits often traveled after dark and could overwhelm a single soul with tiredness and uncertainty. Yuka chirped up that what Ayame suggested about Misaki needing to take it easy to recover also meant that was a bad idea. Even hinting that she was not interested in wandering far didn’t mollify their concerns for her. To avoid stressing anyone out, especially her friends who were jumping in as well, Misaki played off her interest in walking around at night. She didn’t totally deny it. Maharu would be waiting for her, and she couldn’t leave her alone in the dark of that old building, waiting all night.
Upstairs, Yuka snuck after her and guided her to her bedroom. It had some new clothes clutter, and stuff set on the bed. If she had to purely guess, it looked like Yuka sifted through multiple outfit possibilities before deciding on the silver and gold ensemble she met them in at the general store. The subtler tones played well with her hair and made her face shine brighter, but not to an overwhelming extent. Yuka admitted that she has also had a slight ache since this morning.
The tenderness concentrated around her collar and toward her belly. Different chakras, if that’s what was affected. She had no idea. Earlier, when it felt like Misaki was lost, she would’ve gladly burned through whatever reservoirs existed inside just to bring her back. Just to see her surprised smile and wavering uncertainty adorably spread out across her wide-eyed features. Misaki had to ask why Yuka didn’t ask for a healing or a spirit renewal from her friend. Yuka grumbled. She was just glad to overcome Ayame’s concerns about the thing on her leg. She didn’t want to keep the group longer because of her. She’d take care of this some other time or pursue alternatives for soothing her spirit and body.
Despite eagerly wanting to chat with Misaki about a plethora of concepts ranging from how the Trek shows translated to the other world to explorations of this fascinating art style and discoveries they weren’t able to discuss publicly, Yuka soon dipped her head against the nearest pillow with her eyes sinking shut. Quiet, squeaky little snores soon followed.
Misaki decided to put the extra clothes away in the closet, even though she had to guess where Yuka preferred them. She hung it all with quiet diligence until the entire bed was clear. Scooting next to Yuka, she eased back and sprawled out beside her. Reaching over, Misaki gently slipped her slim hand through Yuki‘s dark, silvery hair. Whatever gentle noise Yuka had been making before quieted to the most serene whisper of air. Moving slowly and carefully, Misaki clung to Yuka’s sleeping form. She wrapped her up like a version of the beautiful blanket of so many soft things Yuka laid out for her last night when she was tired. This didn’t quite compare, but she was glad to help.
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Sleepiness attached itself to her as well, but she managed to remain awake. At least for a little while. Long enough to make Yuka’s sleeping face gain a warm and pleasant smile. The silken snake curled up close for warmth. By way of explanation, she wondered about spirit manifestations. Humans seemed to blend with animal entities. Her mind suspected there was something there, but she hadn’t really paid attention to the cohesive Yokai folklore. If reptiles were Yuka’s spirit animals or spirits that attached themselves to her, then she suspected there would’ve been more said about this quality. Dogs seemed like things she would attract, and neither of them had seen phantom canines.
Oh well. No matter what others thought about Yuka’s heart and spirit, Misaki simply believed in its beauty. Not perfect. Not a goddess. But not something broken or a monster, like the poor girl feared from herself. That’s what mattered to her.
She continued to stroke her sleeping girlfriend’s hair, making sure it didn’t slip over her mouth. But the touch slowly became ever gentler so that it wouldn’t break the spell of her slumber. They lay down together like this for a good while, until Misaki felt confident that Yuka wouldn’t easily be rattled awake. She continued to keep her hands and arms around her until she gradually pulled back to get more comfortable. The smile on Yuka’s lips wavered and dipped for just a moment before settling back in. Misaki needed to use the restroom, but she silently promised she would be back.
Creeping out into the hallway was difficult since it felt like every creak and shift of noise she made seemed more like a bomb that would brutally shatter this precious moment to pieces. But Yuka remained asleep as she slipped away.
The hallway was as quiet and devoid of others as when they snuck out for the shower last night. It was easy to pop into the restroom and take care of things. Checking in on the guest bedroom, she noticed there was a new message on her phone. She’d dropped it off when they went upstairs. According to the tags, it was sent by Miss Okura. Had she given her number at some point? She didn’t remember, but considering Mari probably had their contact info, it didn’t seem like a difficult proposition that she got it one way or another.
The message was not what she expected though. It came from Maharu. She wanted to make sure they could still meet up at the old hotel. She would be on her way soon. Now was the time to say that she couldn’t make it, that something came up, or that they should just find somewhere private in this house to talk rather than going to the abandoned building next door. That was what she needed to do. Just simply put her foot down on this matter.
“All right. Be safe.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. Why? A sense of obligation. So much had been laid at her feet concerning Maharu and what happened to her. It would be wrong to try to get her to change the arrangement without saying anything before. Plus, part of her wondered if this might reveal some truth that had thus far eluded her. She was starting to get really annoyed at some of these parts of herself. A lot of parts and a juggling fest of thoughts. It would be better to just have a single, focused, certain front and core to herself, like what Yuka alluded to with bringing things together in focus.
The rest of the evening consisted of Yuka occasionally waking up and noticing she was still around before muttering through starship officer questions. A light supper came up to them courtesy of Yasha, who was recruited into service. She didn’t do or say much but delivered the items, although she didn’t do it with evident anger or annoyance. Showers were taken, and the tea ceremony still occurred with a strikingly sweet combination.
The night sank close and tight, like a lead blanket all around. It was one of the most subdued stretches since they arrived. Misaki wasn’t the only one who seemed depleted as the Sasaki moms puttered about with stuff in the tiny cellar. Haruka slowly hung lights around the bamboo garden. And Chika fussed with her phone for quite a while to conjure up an answer from the company, which they all suspected would never arrive. She and Nami eventually brainstormed ideas for edits with the existing footage of the day and whatever was left over.
It didn’t take long for Misaki to stumble into the opportune moment with Yuka curled up for another nap after they had an uneventful time in the shower and bathroom together just talking about the Captain Kirks they knew. It was severely lacking, but Misaki managed to sketch a poor example of what her version of the actor should’ve looked like. Scribbled sweat and muscles were in copious supply, and Yuka again had to invoke references to sumo girls while giggling about the ridiculous appearance.
Maharu never really came up, even though Misaki attempted to lead them in that direction more than once. Yuka mainly itched her legs and cozied up. She started a book she was supposed to get through over Golden Week but kept getting lost, imagining the couples and situations differently. It was vaguely historical, which interested Misaki, but too heavily domestic for either of them to really get engaged. When Yuka eventually drifted off, it was easy for her to slip away. Her roommates were still busy, and everyone else was suitably distracted as she took the long way around to the front of the house to gather her shoes, having brought her phone to use as a light source.
Outside, the wind was nowhere near as intense as the other day but still stretched its influence across distant branches, fluttering with a shifting tableau of animated colors. The old hotel wasn’t far away. It loomed as a beacon of dark, uncertain mystery. Her body didn’t feel as tender as earlier, but some dragging remnants of exhaustion were still there. Siren calls urged her to just turn around and head back, apologize over text message for unavoidable events that kept her away. What would Maharu possibly do about that?
It was dark and blustery, but the lack of a real storm failed to set the proper mood. Not that she was asking for it, as she cautiously stepped away from the house and towards the dark mass of the traditional building looming beyond, both warning and welcoming her.