As she sat on the gravel rooftop of her apartment building, Ranko leaned back against the humming air conditioning unit, watching the sun rise over the Minato district of Tokyo. Akane wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour or two, so it was a good opportunity to get some time to herself. She hadn’t had much in the last few days, what with Akane hovering over her trying to take care of her every waking moment.
She looked over the wooden plank of dark lacquered cherry she’d recovered from the alleyway behind the Phoenix. It had once been about half of a tabletop she’d broken off of its legs in her anxiety about having to face her father, and then had been reduced to its current size just a few days prior by her having driven his face through it. Even broken as it was, it was roughly rectangular in shape, almost three quarters of a meter long in one dimension and half that in the other. That’s okay, she mused. You can turn something broken into something beautiful if you show it a little bit of love. I mean, hell, my existence is proof of that.
She smiled down at her reflection in the lacquer finish, messy bed hair, fading black eye and all. I won, she thought to herself. I stood my ground, and I won. I had help, and I got my ass kicked but good, but that’s okay. I won. I’m free.
I’m wanted, I have worth, and I have people who care about me.
She covered her bare legs in the pastel yellow bed sheet she’d wrapped the plank in a few nights after the attack, when she’d brought it home and hidden it behind some empty plastic storage containers their landlord kept up on the roof. It was a bit chilly to be outside in just a long nightshirt and a pair of emerald green panties, but Ranko had dared not make noise getting dressed and risk waking Akane. She laid the large board over her covered lap, picking up the flat-head screwdriver that lay on the rooftop beside her left leg. Not the perfect tool for the job, but it’ll do, Ranko thought.
Hunching over the board, Ranko took the screwdriver in her left hand and began to press it into the surface of the wood. It was hard going to punch through the lacquer finish, thick as it was to protect the wood from spilled drinks in a restaurant environment. She smiled in satisfaction as her first scratch, almost twelve centimeters in length, eventually exposed bare wood underneath. This is gonna work, I think. Little bit rough, but that’s okay. She continued scratching over the same line, deepening the gouge she’d made until the entire head of the screwdriver could disappear in it before starting a new line that crossed the first.
She hummed to herself as she continued carving the first of several planned marks into the surface of the board. Ranko smiled up at the rising sun, cherishing the new day. Another day that she got to wake up and be Ranko Tendo, wife-to-be of Akane Tendo and lead vocalist of Ranko and the Dapper Dragons. A waitress. A high school senior, if just barely, thanks to Ayako’s tutoring. A cheerleader. A daughter. A sister. A friend.
A woman.
It wasn’t a lot, but it was hers. She’d fought bitterly for all of it. It was a life she had built brick by agonizing brick, and the greatest threat it had ever faced had now passed. For now, at least.
Still carrying the tune in her soft, quiet humming, Ranko swayed gently on her backside on the rooftop, continuing to carve large, intricate characters into the board in her lap. In time, the humming gave way to singing, a song she never intended another soul to hear. She’d written private songs just for Akane before, though her fiancee had eventually convinced her to let Yokai put You’re My Song on their album after all so they’d have a proper studio recording of it to dance to at the wedding. This one, though, Ranko had written for herself and herself alone.
Her quiet, solitary, broken little victory dance.
“There was a time when all I wanted was to make you proud. And I would try, and not ask why, to do the things you said I should, and not to do the things that weren’t allowed.”
She carefully brushed the wood shavings from the board, leaning down and blowing little splinters free of the grooves she had carved into it. It doesn’t look half bad, she thought with a satisfied smile as she began etching another kanji character into the dark wood plank.
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“There was a time when I thought you were a hero. I wanted to be just like you, but looking back, I realize you just don’t look that good at all from here, though.”
Ranko smiled at a red bird that landed on the railing in front of her. It curiously eyed the newcomer, unaccustomed as it was to encountering humans that also landed on rooftops to greet the rising sun with song. Ranko couldn’t tell if it looked offended by the interloper, or impressed by her.
“There was a time when I thought you knew what’s best for me. For all those years, I hid my tears to show you I was big and strong, but you ignored and minimized the rest of me.”
Her voice was calm and quiet, soft and baleful, but content. It acknowledged the hurts of the past, but not in an anguished way, rather, like one might look at an old scar and remember the hurt without suffering it anew.
“There was a time when I thought you worth impressing. I gave my all, and still felt small, because the stronger I became, the more you thought that I needed oppressing.”
As she brushed the shavings from the second twelve-centimeter tall character she’d etched into the board in her lap, her voice grew a bit louder and fuller. More confident. Stronger.
“But that was then, and this is now, and all the tears I cried for all those years are drying up somehow. I knew I couldn’t run to you, so I ran to the door. So, I’m sorry. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Her humming resumed between the verses of her quiet lament as her screwdriver scratched in time with it, careful to maintain a consistent depth to her carvings. This was a gift, and it was meant to last, and so it was extra important that it be as perfect as she could possibly make it.
“Now is the time that I’m becoming who I’m meant to be. It should have been you now and then to tell me I was doing right. You didn’t, and it almost meant the end of me.”
She blinked up into the red-orange sunlight, looking down from the rooftop at the surrounding buildings. She could just barely make out the silhouette of her high school’s bell tower in the distance. She’d need to start getting ready for one of the waning days of her junior year of school soon, and she planned on making Akane a nice breakfast if her fiancee got up in time. Ranko was fairly certain Akane would try to prevent her from cooking, battered as she still was. She’d all but kept Ranko in bubble wrap for the last few days since the fight with her father. She’d already missed one of the final cheerleading performances of the school year as it was.
“Now is the time for me to unlearn all your worst mistakes: the parts of you I was subjected to that punished me each time I failed or faltered. Do you know how much work that takes?”
Ranko gently brushed a lock of her messy bed-mussed hair behind her ear, careful to avoid grazing her still-bruised right eye socket. It still hurt like hell to the touch. So did most of her, if she were being honest with herself, much though she tried to act tough around Akane and her family. For the first time since before Sneak, she’d had to turn down Akane’s offer of intimacy the night before last, as she was still too sore from the fight to enjoy herself.
As the wind stubbornly undid her efforts to corral her hair, she made a mental note to put it up or wear a headband when next she came up to the rooftop to work on her project again. The breeze did feel nice on her skin, though. Today, the cool wind tickling her face and her bare forearms made her feel a little like she was flying. Or, maybe, she mused, this is just what it feels like to be free.
“Now is the time for me to build a new foundation. And every day, I find a way to ensure the person I become is far beyond your small imagination.”
Leaning on the air conditioner she’d been sitting with her back to for support, Ranko rose from her seated position, looking over her work with pride. It’s a long way from done, but I like how it’s coming out, she thought to herself.
“Now is the time for me to finally make the choice. I’ve figured out that every doubt and angry thing I say inside my head about myself, I hear in your voice.”
Wiping away the shavings from the fourth large character she’d carved with the corner of the sheet, she carefully wrapped the board again. It was getting late, and she knew she needed to get back downstairs before Akane discovered her missing. She returned the wrapped plank to its hiding place behind the gray plastic storage containers on the corner of the rooftop, tucking the screwdriver behind it out of sight.
“‘Cause that was then, and this is now. And all the tears I cried for all those years are drying up somehow. I knew I couldn’t run to you, so I ran to the door. So, I’m sorry. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Ranko padded gingerly to the fire escape, the larger rocks of the gravel rooftop poking through the thin soles of her house slippers. She leaned on the cold metal railing to steal one last glance at the rising sun before making her way downstairs to start breakfast for the woman she loved. The woman who would be her wife.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you. It’s just, I really needed more. And so, I’m sorry. You can’t hurt me anymore.”