Courage: I think it’s become Takahashi Rumiko is such a popular writer in the West, as well as in Japan. Almost everyone knows her name. I called the sensei that because Ranma ½ introduced me to the concept of students holding buckets of water in the hallways for punishment. I don’t know if that really happens in Japan, though I read somewhere that it did. ^.~
Cracker: Or my devil-incarnate Science teacher from a few years ago. Scary how they actually exist . . . About the “clean soap” and fruity shampoo, there’s no profound reason. I just like the smell myself. Also, I can’t see Takeru dousing himself in powerful cologne. Daisuke and Yamato, yes. Takeru, no. ^.^
Avaria: Yep. Short of being confronted with the powers of darkness or Hikari in trouble, Takeru’s useless at expressing his feelings.
Alan: Funky spacing = Word 2000 hates me, and I’m too lazy to write the HTML by hand. ^.~
Silver Warrior: Takeru definitely is her personal champion. There are so many cute scenes where he protects her. Of course, I should say that she protects him as well. I’ve carried it through to this chapter.
Ominous Pen: I think it’s because Takeru quite blatantly worships Hikari, whereas her feelings don’t come across as strongly. It’s actually hard to imagine Takeru liking someone else, except perhaps Sora. I think he has a teeny crush on Sora. ^.^
Starlight: Takeru was incredibly brave to stand up against Ken, and incredibly tough to beat him. Ken’s a black belt . . . .
Everyone else: Thank you for your reviews! Just because I didn’t comment on them doesn’t mean that I didn’t love reading them! ^.^
DANCING
LESSONS
PART
TWO: AN AWKWARD SITUATION
“By process of substitution into the quadratic
equation, we are able to determine that x is equal to 1,34 or 3,46,” Mr
Sakamoto said, ruling a thick line beneath the answer to the problem and
dusting off his hands with a self-satisfied air, “Now, class, let’s draw the
graph of this equation.”
As their teacher drew his axes up on the board,
Hikari glanced across at Takeru. His golden head was bent diligently over his
textbook and he was scribbling something in the notepad next to him. She
frowned slightly. Takeru never paid any attention in algebra class, let alone
copied down what Mr Sakamoto wrote on the board. Whenever they had a test or an
exam, he just asked Koushirou or Jyou to teach him what he needed to know, and
they never refused to help him. All the Chosen still saw Takeru as their little
brother, even though he was taller than most of them now.
Takeru tore off the top sheet and slid it
across the table to her. She should have guessed that it wasn’t work. Smiling
to herself, Hikari looked to see what he had written, and realised that it was
a hastily-done drawing. It showed three stick-figures that she recognised as
herself, Takeru and Mr Sakamoto. Mr Sakamoto was spitting equations at her,
only for them to be deflected by Takeru. He had given himself Angemon’s staff
and a helmet. Beneath it, he’d scribbled: “Hikari’s personal champion saves her
from Mathsmon!!” She couldn’t help herself - she giggled.
Everyone turned to look at her, and Mr
Sakamoto’s chalk screeched to a halt on the board. Hikari felt the heat rise in
her cheeks.
“I’m glad you find algebra so amusing, Yagami-kun,”
their teacher said acidly, “Seeing as you enjoy it so much, you can do twenty
extra problems for homework tonight.” (1)
Meekly, “Yes, sensei.”
Hikari heard a chair scrape beside her and
Takeru stood, “Sensei, it was my fault. I made Hikari laugh. I should be
punished, not her.”
“Why am I not surprised? You two are worse than
your brothers,” he ran a hand through his thinning hair, “I expect to see
thirty problems from you on my desk tomorrow, Takaishi-kun. In the meantime,
let’s get back to work.”
A grimace on his face, Takeru sat back in his
place. He picked up his blue pen and tapped out an impatient beat on his
notepad with it.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Hikari hissed, “I
know how much you hate algebra.”
“Um, I kinda did,” he smiled at her. She knew
him well enough to know it wasn’t a polite smile given to pretend he didn’t
care, to make her feel better. It was the sweet and sincere smile of a child;
the sort of smile he might have given before he was old enough to know that a
smile could also deceive. She felt her heart begin to race, as a new
possibility opened up in her mind like the sky after rain.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
----------
“It’s definitely you,” Miyako told Hikari, as
she put her Japanese books back into her locker and removed her biology file.
Although Miyako was a year ahead of her in school, they had arranged to have
their lockers together, so they could see each other between lessons. Hikari
had never been more glad of that fact than she was now. She needed her friend’s
opinion about what had happened in algebra class. She needed to know that she
wasn’t blowing everything out of proportion.
Hugging her own bag to her chest, she looked at
her friend, “Do you really think so?”
“I know so,” she replied confidently, “I mean,
we are talking Takeru-kun here. It takes him forever to get to the point.”
“And I did overhear him say that it was a girl
nii-san knew . . .” she mused, “How many girls at our school could he know?”
“Exactly!” Miyako slammed her locker shut and
turned to face Hikari, “I bet you anything these dancing lessons are just a
ploy. He’ll put on some romantic music, take you into his arms, look deeply
into your eyes, and . . . bingo!”
Laughing, “My life is not a romance novel,
Miyako.”
“Wait and see,” Miyako said sagely, “Just tell
me if he’s a good kisser, okay?”
“Miyako!” Hikari pretended to swat her with her
bag of books, “Ecchi ne!” (2)
“As I’m sure you won’t say to Takeru-chan when
he’s kissing you . . . .” Miyako trilled, then fled down the corridor before
Hikari could object.
----------
"Thanks
for saving me a space, Hikari," Takeru said happily, as he put his tray
down on the table and sat opposite her. She raised an eyebrow when she saw what
he was having for lunch: a hamburger and chips, two apples, a bowl of green
jelly and a carton of milk jostled for space on his crowded tray. She had no
idea how Takeru stayed as thin as he was. He took a bite of his hamburger and
swallowed, "So, are we still on for this afternoon?"
"Of
course," Hikari felt her cheeks grow warm. No matter how she tried, she
couldn't stop thinking about what Miyako had said to her earlier that morning.
The scene had replayed itself a thousand times in her mind. Soft music would be
playing in the background, while they danced in each other’s arms. (Her
imagination conveniently glossed over the part where Takeru couldn't dance.)
Her head would be tucked just beneath his chin, and his arms would be warm and
tight around her. For some minutes, they would sway in comfortable silence - in
a perfect understanding that needed no words to express it - before she would
look up to find him smiling back at her. He would lift a hand to cup her cheek
and they would kiss and it would be sweeter than summer strawberries.
"Well,
you won't sound so enthusiastic when I've stood on your feet a few hundred
times," Takeru popped a chip into his mouth. She reached across to steal
one from his plate, and he pretended to scowl at her.
"You'll
break my feet if you carrying on
eating so much. Does your coach know you eat like this every day?"
"My
dancing coach does," he grinned at her, "Are you going to make me do
sit-ups, Coach Yagami?"
"Only
laps," she laughed, "And maybe some press-ups."
Chuckling,
Takeru started in on his hamburger again.
"Shove up, Takeru," Daisuke told the
other boy, as he walked up to the table where the two friends were eating
lunch. He had not changed much in three years. He might have dyed red streaks
in his aubergine hair and exchanged soccer for baseball, but he was still as
confident and easy-going as ever. He had learnt how to laugh at himself,
however, which made all the difference. He still wore the goggles that Taichi
had given him, despite their teachers' best efforts to persuade him that they
weren't part of the uniform. Takeru obligingly shifted along the bench to make
room for him. Daisuke set down his own tray before vaulting onto the bench and
grinning at them, “Guess who I am
taking to the dance.”
“Hikari, even though she doesn’t know it yet?”
Takeru said with a little laugh, and she glared at him. He pretended to wince.
Even though they all still teased Daisuke about
his crush on her, she knew how much he had been hurt by it. She remembered the
empty look in his eyes when she had told him that she could never love him,
that they would always be friends but nothing more. He had not said a word in
reply, simply turned and walked away from her in silence. She had not followed
him. The next she had heard of him, he had been in America visiting Wallace and
Mimi. She had guessed he had needed time and space to get over her. It had
worked, because they had been able to rebuild their friendship over the
following months. She counted him as one of her best friends now, and knew that
he felt the same. (3)
“Wrong,” he shook his head vigourously, “A
certain Iwakura Aiko. Captain of the volleyball team, president of our class
and only the hottest girl in school. After you, of course, Hikari.”
Hikari smiled at him. Daisuke was always so
sweet to her. If it hadn't been for Takeru, she might have been able to love
him.
“Um, how much did you pay her?”
“Not funny, Takeru,” Daisuke made a face, then leaned
back against the bench to look at them, “So, I guess you two are going
together.”
“I don’t have a date yet,” Hikari said,
glancing at Takeru.
“And I haven’t asked mine.”
Daisuke rolled his eyes, “So, ask Hikari
already. Don’t worry about me. Just pretend I’m not here. You two always were
good at that when we were kids,”
Takeru looked down at the tray in front of him.
Picking up one of the apples, he began to toss it from one hand to the other.
Hikari watched him, feeling more sick by the second. What if Miyako had been
wrong? What if he didn't want to ask her? What if he truly did love someone
else?
“Um, I . . . . That is, I . . . ."
"Go on and spit it out, Takaishi,"
Daisuke said cheerfully, "It's not like Hikari will say 'no' to you."
"It's not . . . . " Takeru sighed and
set the apple back on the tray, "Um, this is awkward."
Understanding suddenly dawned on Daisuke,
“Shit, you aren’t asking her, are you? I’m sorry. I didn’t think you . . . You
always seemed . . . You and her . . . Shit, I’ve really put my foot in it.”
Hikari could hear the blood pounding in her
ears. She wanted to get up from the table and run away from them; to run so far
and so fast that she would leave even her pain behind her. She wanted to find a
dark and solitary place where she could sit in a quiet broken only by her
breathing. Yet she couldn't move, not even take her eyes away from Takeru. He
looked embarrassed and miserable, while Daisuke had an expression on his face
like he had shot his best friend. Only she could make everything all right
again.
“You haven’t,” she said hurriedly, “Really, you
haven’t. It’s not like I . . . Takeru-kun’s my best friend, and I never
expected him . . . . You haven’t, Daisuke-kun.”
Takeru turned to her, his eyes dark with an emotion
that was uncomfortably like pity, "Hikari-chan, I . . . .”
She cut him off with a bright, false laugh,
“Before this gets any more awkward, I need to go to the bathroom. When I come
back, we’ll forget this ever happened, okay?"
"Okay," Takeru echoed, but he did not
sound convinced.
----------
TO BE CONTINUED
----------
(1) A number of Japanese teachers refer to
female students as ‘-kun.’
(2) "Ecchi" means "dirty,
disgusting, perverted". It's a milder version of the popular "hentai."
(3) "Doors to Summer" Drama CD.
Hikari apparently says something to Daisuke to make him believe that there's no
chance, and he heads off to the US to get over her. There's a translation (not
mine) available at http://gottaito.cjb.net