They were friends made, friends from far, but they were just that, friends from far. As finals closed in on them there was less and less time to meet with the high school graduates from Sweden, and when one day they declared that they’d go touring Japan, Yukio realised it was probably the last time they saw each others for some time.

In all honesty he didn’t care all that much. Irishima High had a good reputation for a reason. Finals would be harsher than anything he had ever experienced before.

And then two weeks of frantic studying and exams kept him from meeting anyone at all. Almost anyone. While the armed body guards silently vanished after he and Kyoko were expelled from Himekaizen they still shared whatever time they could scrounge up. Walking to and from school, and twice studying together.

After that summer’s break hit them with an eerie lack of tasks. Obon came and went in a murderous heat wave and suddenly they were halfway through August.

Having spent part of Obon finishing his home work together with Kyoko Yukio found himself at a loss when two weeks with absolutely nothing scheduled loomed ahead of him. He could enjoy them with Kyoko, but by now Yukio was so used to having his entire life planned that he didn’t know what to do.

That lasted for an entire day.

“Same place as last year,” he heard himself mumbling into the phone. It was an old style land line at his father’s home, and years of using a smart phone made the oblong handset feel strange in his hand.

He listened to Kyoko’s reply, and a few hours later he found himself at the central station. Kyoko already stood there waiting for him.

“A little more comfortable than last year,” she said.

Yukio nodded. Last year they saved on train fares, but this time they’d take the Shinkansen to Nagoya and switch to a regional train there.

From air conditioned station maze to sizzling heat on the platform it only took a few minutes. They waited, dripping sweat, for another few and after that Yukio shivered as he sat down in his seat. Air conditioning on the Shinkansen was taken to the extreme.

The train ride south was a much faster experience than the sleepily rumbling memory he had from last year, and he didn’t spend much time watching the scenery flashing by. Kyoko curled up by his side, murmuring lullabies as she tried to snatch a little sleep.

They got a short nap, but an hour and a half ride to a different city really wasn’t enough. As a teenager Yukio was much too excited about going somewhere, and he spent more time wondering what came next than sleeping.

Nagoya, well Nagoya was a baking oven. He’d never experienced heat like this in Tokyo, and both he and girlfriend bathed in sweat by the time they made it to the next platform. Spending an hour waiting there turned out impossible and they fled back inside the station area.

Drenched in sweat Yukio led Kyoko to a café and ordered iced coffee for himself and ice tea for Kyoko.

“Better?” he asked after Kyoko had gulped down half her drink in one, long chunk, which he spent in fascination watching her throat move.

She didn’t answer but nodded in the direction of his glass.

Yukio smiled but obeyed. When he put his empty glass down on the table he met a mischievous smile.

“Yours is sexier,” she said.

“Eh?”

“You’ve got an Adam’s apple to stare at.”

Yukio growled but admitted defeat. Then he smiled at Kyoko. He felt safe with her. The feelings they shared were no longer as chaotic as last summer, but as far as he was concerned this was far better.

“Love you,” he said instead.

In response a hand slid over the table and took his. Fingers he’d recognise in the dark caressed his.

“Love you too. Always.”

They spent as much time as they dared talking softly. Fingers met fingers, and at one time Yukio stretched out a hand to move a few strands of hair that had fallen over Kyoko’s eyes. An excuse to touch her. An excuse her eyes told him she gladly accepted.

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Then they were off to the platform and the murderous heat, and after that sharing seats on a slow train rolling south.

Just like last year they’d be working with Urufu, but this time they and, more importantly, he knew what was expected.

Just like last year the Himekaizen Cultural Exchange Club was invited, even though its members from Himekaizen Academy only numbered two. Irishima High made out the bulk of the members, event hough Yukio heard rumours the expulsions were being rescinded.

The only immediate practical consequence for him was that they could share the taxi fare on four, which really didn’t matter at all since Urufu was bound to pay it in the end anyway.

He nestled closer to Kyoko. In a way he was grateful for the presence of more Irishima High students, even though it meant he and Kyoko would sleep in different rooms. They had shared nights and bed more than once, but if they travelled as a lone couple to an onsen it would be so glaringly obvious that they did.

Yukio fell asleep wondering what Urufu had in store for them.

***

Christina leaned back in her seat and sighed. In an earlier life she’d been giddy with apprehension and not a little self serving when she flew in a private jet for the first time. Now it was only cramped, bumpy and with just employers turned prison guards as her company.

While she forced a little leeway and occasionally escaped by means of the help she received from her primary body guard, usually she had turned into one of Vogue’s most valuable assets. Assets weren’t supposed to have a mind of their own.

Now they were en route to the resort where she spent last year’s summer break. If Vogue got to decide they’d been in Hokkaido now, but when it came to business decisions she held a lot of clout. Someone must have whispered in an ear or two, and as long as she delivered results she had to say about fashion marketing held.

The plane banked and Christina forced down her momentary discomfort. A life spent with aeroplanes and helicopters as her primary way of travelling had done nothing to dispel her irrational fear of flying. Fear of heights she had none of, but flying, well it was irrational and she got used to handling the churning feeling in her stomach.

She missed the rattling experience from last year spent together with friends and the man she had just fallen in love with. She missed Ulf even though she felt she was rapidly coming to appreciate Ryu despite their difference in age. She missed being just herself, but there was nothing she could do about it now. This was a life she chose for herself – the only life she knew how to live.

I’m an idiot. I got a shot at a transition and restart, and what am I doing? Reliving my last life. I’m an idiot.

Briefly she wondered if Ulf and Tomas would make the same mistake. Tomas she didn’t know well enough, but she had a feeling he hid secrets from his past that he was hell bent on never reliving. Ulf however, Ulf spent his time manipulating and coercing the people around him. He bent them, not to his own, but rather to their own will, and to do so he needed a platform. Thus far in this life the club was it, and Christina very much doubted he had many reasons founding a middling size IT company this time around.

“Miss, we’re landing soon. Please strap yourself in.”

Christina looked up and smiled. Then she did as asked of her. The last part of her temporary ordeal was upon her and after that she’d go by limousine or bus. A bus she hoped. A bus at least felt a little more like what the others were riding.

Leaving the plane she walked into a wall of gruelling heat. It forced the breath from her and almost knocked her to the ground.

Crap! We’ll do swimsuits and yukatas first. No way anyone can wear the autumn collection well in this. Hokkaido might have been the better choice after all, but she’d be damned if she’d spend her break without sharing time with those closest to her.

We’ll do shots in the water this time. There would be a price to pay in time, but it couldn’t be helped. The crew needed the relative cool or they’d fall victim to heatstroke or dehydration.

Christina looked at the line of mountains, a ragged line of green slightly out of focus as if there was a photographer in her head who was sloppy with the lens. If the turned the other way she’d watch how the sea was also a little fogged over. Never the crisp clearness in the air she once grew up with. Which Ulf grew up with as well. But in the end she’d never be able to explain it to a Japanese who never left the islands. This was as clear a summer’s day as there ever was to be here.

She smiled. She had worked here in her previous life as well. Things like these had to be taken into account for a shoot. For wearing your clothes as well. Almost, but only almost the same colours as back home. And the same went for make-up as well. Only an amateur believed it was merely a matter of skin tone. Her own make-up was different here than it would have been in Sweden. Well, if she wore any at all over there.

Another smile of hers brought her to her ride south. A bus, just as she hoped.

She climbed onboard and enjoyed the relative space, but most of all she enjoyed a milder air conditioning than was possible to attain in a cramped car.

The ride she spent relaxing and watching the landscape passing by. Voices from the rest of the crew lulled her to sleep, and when they finally arrived at the resort she was the last to leave the bus.

She entered the reception and pouted when she realised she’d been assigned a room of her own rather than sharing one with her friends in the club. Most of all she missed the opportunity for a sleepover with Ko-chan and Noriko. Chatting about everything and nothing until the small hours felt like a distant memory.

I enjoyed playing at being a child again. She shook the depressing thought away. In a sense I’m still a child. Just one that lays golden eggs. And she knew that was true. Her mind was still volatile in a way she understood it hadn’t been just before she arrived in Japan. The truly older version of herself would either have told the people from Vogue to go to hell or hammered down on any want to pout in the first place.

Work was work, or at least it had once been. The old her would never have pouted. She didn’t recall feeling sorry for herself since she got over being cheated on.

But I like feeling like a teenager. I’m more honest this way. Or was she? She brought that question to her room and played with it until it was time for dinner.