Toei owns Digimon Adventure.
I don’t own Toei. You do the maths.
Thanks as always to Wolfie
and Arylwren for their betaing. You two deserve gold stars.
E-mail me if you want the
whole translation of Yasashii Ame. I think it’s a really beautiful and sensitive
song myself.
-------------------------
DANCING
PART
ONE OF FOUR
DRESSING
UP AND DRESSING DOWN
-------------------------
Hageshii ame ja nakute ii
kara
Oto wo tatete zutto
furitsuzukete
Ookina watashi ni nareru you
ni
Chikara wo kudasai.
Since the violent rain
doesn’t have to be good,
build up the sound, continue
to rain for a long time,
then I will become used to
my size -
please give me the strength.
~ Yasashii Ame (Hikari’s 02
image song)
-------------------------
It
had been love at first sight for Hikari.
She
had been going to work one cold, grey afternoon when she had caught sight of a
flash of red across the hallway and had fallen madly and truly in love with it.
It was a dress in the window of an exclusive boutique. Little more than a silk
slip with a chiffon overdress, it had all the rich, deep redness of fine wine
to it. From that day, she had lingered in front of the plate-glass window,
admiring its colour and sheen, wondering if she could afford it, hoping no one
else would buy it.
She
would never have screwed up the courage to go into the boutique and inquire
about it, if it hadn't been for Miyako inviting her along on a shopping
expedition. After trawling what had seemed like half the shops in Tokyo, they
had ended up at this one. Now, she was sitting only metres away from it and
wondering whether she dared to find out its price.
Pretending
a casualness she did not feel, she got up from her chair and strolled across
the boutique to the display in the window. Up close, the dress was even more
beautiful. She ran a fold of it through her fingers, relishing the slip of
smooth chiffon against her skin. She noticed there was a little tag pinned to
one of its sleeves, dangling facedown so that its price was concealed. She
hesitated to turn it over and see how much her dress cost. She had worn it so
many times in her daydreams that it would be hard to know she could never own
it in real life. She told herself to stop being ridiculous, then picked up the
price tag to look at it.
She
let it fall again with a sigh. She would never be able to afford the dress,
even if she scrimped and saved for months. She had been an idiot to let herself
hope she might be able to buy it. Her salary barely covered her expenses, let
alone a luxury like this.
She
turned away from it and walked back to her chair, deliberately ignoring her
reflections in the mirrors that surrounded her. She knew all too well what she
would see. Scuffed sneakers. Battered, blue jeans that would still have do
another winter. The too bright, yellow T-shirt that was the photo studio's
uniform. Takeru's red basketball jacket, stolen from his drawer that morning.
In short, someone who did not belong in a fancy boutique.
She
could feel the eyes of the saleswoman upon her as she crossed the room and
settled uneasily back into her seat. She didn't need to look at her to know the
expression of mild distaste on her face. The clerk had been watching her from
the moment she had entered the shop, asking her every few minutes if there was anything
she wanted, hovering around the racks through which she was browsing. The
longer she stayed in the shop, the more uncomfortable she felt. She wondered
when Miyako was going to come out of the changing-rooms. It seemed like she had
been in them for hours.
"Miyako,
are you almost done?" she asked.
"Just
doing up my zip and . . . Bingo!"
The
curtains of one of the changing-booths swished aside, and Miyako stepped out of
it with a little, self-conscious twirl. She was wearing a sleek, sleeveless dress
that shimmered around her with wintery beauty. It was cut out of silvery-blue
silk, and had tiny rhinestones sewn into its neck that sparkled like frost.
"So,
what do you think?"
"It's
perfect," she laughed, "All the guys will want to dance with you, and
all the girls will hate you for it."
Miyako
smiled in satisfaction. It wasn't hard for Hikari to guess the reason behind
her smugness. Ichijouji Ken was going to be at the dance with his new
girlfriend, and she intended to show him exactly what he was missing.
She
still didn't know why the two of them had ended their relationship. They had
been together since junior high, with barely a fight or a cross word between
them, and there had been talk about them getting engaged. One evening, however,
Miyako had come to their apartment in tears and had sobbed that it was all over
between her and Ken. Hikari had spent the rest of the night on the couch with
her, eating ice cream and watching endless re-runs of old, romance movies.
"Well,
you better get something equally pretty," she replied with a toss of her
purple hair, "Because I know you don't want Takeru to end up dancing with
me all night."
"No
danger of that," Hikari smiled weakly at her. Ever since Miyako had
invited her shopping, she had been dreading telling her that she wasn't going
to the dance. They had had such a fight the last time, and she had only
placated her friend by promising that she would be at the next one. And it
would be so humiliating to tell her that she had nothing to wear and no money
to buy a dress, because she was still repaying the instalments on the new
digital camera that her lecturer had recommended she get.
"Too
true. I don't think your darling Takeru even realises there are other women on
campus," Miyako laughed. Something in Hikari's expression must have
betrayed her, however, because her friend continued in slower tones: "But
you aren't going to the dance, are you?"
Scuffing
the floor with a sneaker, "I'm going to have to miss it."
"Takaishi
Hikari! You can't! Why?"
"This
isn't really the place to discuss it," she replied, seeing the saleswoman
begin to rise from her chair and move towards them. She was probably afraid of
a nasty scene putting off her other, richer customers, "I'll tell you over
lunch. My treat?"
"Whatever,"
Miyako raised her eyebrows sardonically, "But your reason had better be
good, or else I'm holding you to that promise."
-------------------------
Clutching
her handbag to her chest, Miyako looked around the little bistro for Hikari.
She had told her to go ahead and get a table, while she took her new dress back
to the car so it did not get wrinkled. She was just beginning to wonder whether
her friend had left in order to avoid the inevitable argument, when she spotted
her sitting at a corner table. Hikari was staring at a menu in front of her,
and playing with the ring on her finger. A cup of coffee steamed gently in
front of her. She seemed very tired and careworn with soft, dark smudges
beneath her eyes and the overlarge jacket draped around her shoulders.
Not
for the first time, Miyako wondered if her friend was happy. When she had asked
Hikari that question, her friend had laughed and replied that she wouldn't
change a thing about her life. Was that the truth, however? She knew that
Taichi and Yamato thought their siblings had married too young, and she agreed
with them. Hikari was twenty-one and Takeru only twenty, and they had the sort
of responsibilities with which people twice their age would have battled. In
addition to studying full-time at Odaiba University, they were both working
afternoons and evenings to pay the bills. And they refused to accept any help
from their parents, because they wanted to prove that they weren't just playing
at being married. (1)
"Miyako!
I'm here!" she waved her hand. Raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement,
Miyako crossed the room and took the seat opposite the younger woman at the
table. Hikari smiled at her, then pushed the menu towards her. (2)
"I'm
just going to have a sandwich myself, but you can have whatever you like. I'll
pay."
"I'll
order in it a bit, but a sandwich sounds good," Miyako laid the menu aside
and looked at her friend, "But are you sure you're eating okay?"
"Ugh.
You sound like my mother."
"It's
just . . . ."
"I
might burn water, but Takeru knows how to cook," Hikari's voice was
annoyed, and she was drumming her fingers on the table in front of her,
"He's good at it too. He used to make dinner the whole time for himself
and Ms Takaishi."
Miyako
held up her hands defensively, "Don't get mad at me. I was just being a
friend."
"I'm
sorry," she bowed her head, her long hair falling forward to hide her
face. Her hand twisted the wedding ring around and around on her finger. It was
a slim, silver band set with a tiny chip of rose-quartz. It was nothing like
the rings about which they had fantasized on hot, summer afternoons when they
had been girls. Those had always been pure gold and had white diamonds the size
of their knuckles, "I'm just sick of people thinking that Takeru and I are
silly kids who are playing at keeping house, like we used to do at
kindergarten. I know our parents think we're going to stop finding it fun one
day and get a divorce and go back to our normal lives. That isn't going to
happen."
"Even
if you're unhappy?"
"I'm
not unhappy, Miyako," Hikari looked up at her with a puzzled expression,
"Why would you think I was?"
"You
seem totally run-down," she replied honestly.
"I've
been working extra hours at the photo studio," she pushed her hair out of
her face with a hand, "I want to pay off my new camera as soon as
possible, and my boss said he needed someone to cover things like weddings and
parties. It'll only be for a few weeks more, then I'm going to sleep for a
month at least."
"Is
that why you can't make the dance? You could ask your boss to give you the
evening off, you know."
"I
wondered when you were going to bring that up," she laughed, "No, I'm
not working that night."
"So,
what's the problem?" she demanded, "You can't tell me Takeru doesn't
want to go. I know he hates dances, but he'd walk across a bed of coals for
you."
"And
might find it slightly less painful," Hikari made a face, but there was
the soft, distant expression in her eyes that she always got when her husband
was mentioned. Miyako felt a momentary twinge of jealousy.
As
much as she tried to pretend that she was over Ken, she knew she wasn't. Her
friends said she couldn't expect to get over a six-year relationship in six
months, and she knew what they said was true, but it didn't make the pain any
easier. It was hard to pass the restaurant where they had been on their first
date, hard to look around her room and see all the reminders of him, hard to
see him laughing with other girls on campus. Worst of all, however, was her
lingering suspicion that she had never really loved him. She had enjoyed his
company, she had thought him beautiful, she had wanted to marry him, but she
had never loved him.
Not
wanting to think about it, she turned her attention back to what Hikari was
saying, "It's not him. It really isn't. It's . . . I don't know why I'm so
embarrassed about this . . . I don't have a dress to wear to it."
"You
don't need to buy a new gown," Miyako replied.
"I
don't even have an old one," she laughed, "Unless you really think I
could get away with wearing my wedding dress."
"I
wish I had one to lend you, but . . . . I burnt them all. They reminded me too
much of . . . of the past," she admitted, hating herself for being unable
to say his name. She didn't know how she would get through the dance. He would
be there with his new girlfriend, dancing with her, holding her close, stroking
her hair . . . Miyako pushed the image firmly away from herself. She was just
glad that Daisuke had agreed to take her and that she would not have to go
alone. He had been a good friend to her after Ken dumped her.
"It's
fine, Miyako," she smiled at her, "Anyway, I probably should spend
the evening in the dark room. I have an assignment due the morning after the
dance."
"I
really admire you," she said, "You're so brave."
"What's
there to be brave about?" Hikari pulled her coffee towards her, "It's
a dance. There will be lots of them."
"Yes,
but will you get to go to them, though?" Miyako asked, "You haven't
been to one since you got married, if I think about it. At Christmas, it was
dinner with the Ishidas. For New Year, you were with Taichi and Sora. Then, you
weren't at the Winter Ball because you were repainting your apartment and were
too tired. And you missed the last one on Valentine's Day because Takeru had
pulled a hamstring at basketball practice."
"You
have a good memory," Hikari tore open a sachet of sugar and added it to
her coffee. Her spoon clinked angrily against the side of the cup as she
stirred it, "You should use it for classes, or tests, or something
useful."
"Don't
be like that," she sighed, not wanting another fight with her friend,
"I just know you love to dance, and I think it's a pity you don't get
given the chance."
"Don't
get given the chance?" she took a sip of her drink, looking at Miyako
through the rising steam, "I missed those dances because there were more
important things happening in my life. It was my choice. I barely see Yamato
and Yuu or Taichi and Sora, except in the holidays, and they're my family. The
apartment had to be painted before term started. I didn't want Takeru to limp
around the dancefloor and destroy his chances of recovering that season, even
though he said he'd take me."
"And
you can't afford to buy a dress for this one," Miyako finished for her,
"I know you say you're happy, but don't you sometimes wish you hadn't
gotten married? Life would be so much . . . "
"Shut
up!" Hikari slammed her coffee cup down in front of her. Hot, dark liquid
splashed onto the tabletop, steam curling upwards from it. She stood, pushing
the chair out behind her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright
with anger, "I don't even want to hear it. I don't want to hear how much
happier I would be, or how much richer I would be, or how much anything I would
be!"
She
opened her purse and extracted a handful of coins, before dumping them on the
table in front of her without counting them, "Buy what you want. I don't
want to hear another word from you about me or my life or my marriage. I get it
from everyone else. I don't need it from you."
Slinging
her handbag over her shoulder, Hikari turned on her heel and marched out of the
bistro.
"Hikari
. . . Hikari . . . " Miyako called after her, but the younger woman
carried on walking. She did not even pause or look behind her. Sinking
backwards in her seat, "Crap, I've really screwed up this time."
-------------------------
TO
BE CONTINUED
-------------------------
NOTES:
(1)
When you're twenty (hatachi), you're considered an adult in Japan. I've heard
you can get married at 16 there, but I'm hedging my bets. Anyway, I suspect
it's like some US states' legislation that permits you to marry at 12! It's
there in law, but it probably seldom happens. (I'm not making this up! In
Massachussets, if you're female and have the consent of your parents\a judge,
you can get married at 12!)
(2)
The Japanese have a different use for the wave. Westerners use it to greet
people, but they use it to beckon people closer. This leads to interesting
cultural confusion at times.
-------------------------
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