Fukusha Model Eight – Chapter 23

Waking up is like bubbles lazily rising to the surface of consciousness. For once, it’s not some adrenaline soaked gasp paired with a jolt and a reach for my knife. My body seems to know the difference now between ‘in danger’ and ‘safe.’ The quality of light against the back of the couch is darker, tinted with red, which means I’ve slept quite a number of hours and the sun is setting. I stir from my ball of sleep, a fern leaf uncurling, stretching each muscle I come across on my way to total alertness. My eyes are crusted with my earlier tears, and my hip aches. The hiss of something cooking in the kitchen brings me to my feet, the blanket around me. Out the balcony doors, bright sunlight glances off rooftops down the hill. What a gorgeous view.

Past the kitchen half-wall that doubles as a seating spot, Rin flips vegetables in a frying pan and steam rises from a rice cooker. Ninjin, dutifully waiting for scraps at Rin’s side, jumps up from his spot and comes to me.

“Hey, boy,” I whisper to him, scratching his head and yawning. “Have you been fed?” I lean down and let him lick my face. His breath stinks of food, so I’m sure Rin has been taking good care of him.

I wrap the blanket tighter and follow Ninjin into the kitchen. My tears from earlier pull at the embarrassed compartment in my brain and try to fill it with regret. I can’t look at Rin. I’m a fool for being so soft and vulnerable.

“Look who’s up,” he says, and I can hear the happiness in his voice. He turns off the stove and wipes his hands on an apron. “You didn’t move once even though I’ve been in and out of the apartment.”

“Yeah, well…” I look at my feet.

He dips his head down to make eye contact with me, and his face hits me like a brick.

“You shaved,” I say, a real smile gracing my lips for the first time in days.

He’s how I remember him from Shin-Osaka, clean-shaven and bald again. I reach out, and he happily steps into the touch of my fingers. My heart aches as I brush my fingers over his cheek and around to the scar on the back of his head. I let my hand rest there as I drop my head and sigh.

“It’s a lot more comforting than I thought it would be,” I admit. This is a weakness I never wanted to have, to find comfort in someone else who wasn’t my family. But it is what it is.

“Good. I hoped so.” He pulls my hand from the back of his neck and kisses it. “I drew a bath an hour ago, and I kept it warm for you.” He turns me around and directs me to the bathroom door. Inside the bathroom, I’m impressed with the modern and clean sink and tub. “Leave your clothes here, and I’ll make sure they’re washed for you. Then take all the time you need.”

I look at the deep, steaming bath and the phantom warmth creeps up my feet to my knees and my belly. It’s going to be awesome.

“Towels are here.” He points to a linen closet. “I bought you a toothbrush, a brush, and a few other things I noticed were missing from your bag. When you’re done, there are fresh clothes on the bed I kept from our house in Awashikawa.”

Our house.

He closes the door, and I stand for a moment, stunned. We should be on the move. We have only a few days to return to Shin-Osaka and get this new plan initiated. I don’t want to be wasting time taking baths and feeling sorry for myself.

But the room is warm, and the heater kicks on for the bathwater breaking into my self-destructive thoughts.

If Rin feels we have time to do this, then I should let it be.

Once I’m in the bath, I don’t want to leave it. The tub is luxuriously big, bigger than the one back in Shin-Osaka was, and I haven’t had a bath in months, which is criminal for most everyone. Our entire culture back home is based on communal baths and sitting in hot water almost every day. Since moving to Kitakyushu, I’ve barely washed at all. I was scared to get naked in the bath at the flophouse. I had heard of other women who were groped in the showers there, and I didn’t want to subject myself to that. Saki let me shower at her place now and then, and that was the closest I came to being clean.

I scrub my hair twice before leaving the tub, and when I brush my teeth at the sink, I pick up each of Rin’s toiletries and remind myself of them — his toothpaste, aftershave, the things he uses every day.

Tiptoeing to the bedroom in my towel, I hear Rin humming along to music in the kitchen before I close the door and turn on the light. The photos on the bureau freeze me in place.

I’ve been here, with him.

I take a few tentative steps forward, my knees shaking with emotion and fatigue. The first photo has to be a screen capture from one of my videos. With my face turned to the side, I appear contemplative, thoughtful. An interesting choice since my profile is not all that stunning. The second photo is one I let him take of me, sitting on the porch of our house in Awashikawa. I protested that photo something fierce, but he did a good job with it, nonetheless.

I sit down on the bed and stare at it. When I first moved into the second bedroom in Shin-Osaka, there had been a photo of Rin and Atsumi on the dresser, an old one covered in dust. The photos of me are taken care of and on prime display. They’re something Rin would see every morning when he woke and every evening before he slept.

I set the photo back where it was, and my brain debates between a smile and tears. I press my hand to my mouth to stop both. It’s been an emotional day.

The clothes on the bed are mine all right, but Rin neglected my underwear, so I open the drawers and find my underclothes quickly. Hmmm. Opening a few more drawers, I find more of my clothes, as if I live here. Glancing around the room, my notebook is on the bedside table on my side. My side. My bag is there too.

I don’t know what to think of this.

Has he pretended like I was here the whole time I was gone? Or what?

When I emerge from the bedroom, Rin has the small dining table set with all the trimmings — a bouquet of flowers in the center, candles lit, music playing, wine glasses filled, and a plate full of stir fry (his favorite thing to make) with rice on the side. Ninjin snoozes on the couch.

“Wow, you’ve been busy while I’ve been in the bath,” I say, marveling at the transformation. Ninjin’s head pops up, responding to my voice. “Are you sure you want him on the couch? You can’t take any liberties with this dog. Once he’s claimed a spot, that’s it.”

“No, no. It’s fine. He can sleep wherever. One of the perks of Aka Matsuba animals was always the no-shedding gene.” Rin beckons me to my seat before sitting across the table.

“It’s not the hair I’m worried about; it’s the claws.” And I am worried. I see this place, Rin’s place, and I don’t want my beloved dog to screw it up. I stare at Ninjin, wondering how hard it’ll be to get him off and lying on the floor.

“Really, Yumi,” Rin says, drawing my attention back to him. “It’s not a problem.”

The table with all its trimmings confuses me, and I don’t know where to start. I sip the wine and nearly fall over from how good it tastes. I haven’t had wine in months. Cheap moonshine that’ll strip lacquer from wood, sure. Wine, no. This is refinement.

I pick up my chopsticks and take a deep breath.

“So, how long have I been living here?”

Rin pauses, his face falls, and I regret destroying the mood. The candle on the table flickers in a gentle breeze.

“You know what? Never mind.”

I dig into the dinner in front of me, gathering a few vegetables together with my chopsticks to go with the rice when Rin clears his throat.

“This all did not go the way I imagined it.”

I keep eating. “What did you imagine?”

“When I first arrived here, I told the movers not to unpack your things.”

There’s that moment before crash landing where you’re in free fall, and you don’t know what to expect before you slam into the ground.

I have slammed into the ground.

“It was only two crates worth of stuff,” Rin continues, his fingers on the stem of his wine glass, his eyes directed out the window. “You owned only a few things.”

His voice is a whisper, and I hold my breath so I can hear him.

“I figured you’d want to unpack them yourself when you got here. I’d let you choose the drawers and where you’d want your shoes and… And anyway, it was only going to be a week till I saw you again, maybe two or three weeks tops, and I could live with the boxes until then.”

My hand shakes with the effort it takes to remain still. I press it to the table.

“Then two weeks turned to four and five, and the boxes laughed at me every time I walked past them. So I thought I would unpack them and put your belongings in places where you could find them.”

He looks down at his plate like the food there has betrayed him. My chest aches, anger and sadness tearing it in two.

“It was the seventh week of your absence I went to the local 3D printer and had your pictures made. I was tired of looking at them on the tablet all the time, and I needed to see you more often. At every possible chance.”

I let my hands drop to my lap where I can clutch them together. I don’t dare make a sound. I want to hear everything he has to say.

“I had this fantasy,” he says, laughing ruefully, “that your mission would conclude, and I’d show up at that apartment Atsumi had arranged for you, and I’d hand you flowers and take you back here, to your home. I was sure there’d be laughter and smiles and talks of success. That you’d be full of life and excitement. We’d reconnect, and preparations would start for our trip to Orihimé.”

Picking up my wine, my hand shakes as I gulp three times. Numb the pain, Yumi. It’s agonizing to know Rin suffered like this because of me. His emotional hurt is just as bad as what I experienced physically while we were separated.

“Never, in all that time, did I imagine you like this, skinny, your hair wild, crying on my couch… our couch. This is a lot harder than fantasies.”

What can I possibly do now? I measure my breaths until they come under control because the truth is awful.

“Fantasies,” I say, breaking the silence. “They are powerful things, and I’ve had my fair share of them. But I stopped my brain from dwelling on my fantasies around the three-week mark.” I shrug. “I knew it in my bones that I was going to die in that rat- and cockroach-infested nightmare, and I almost did.” I press my lips together, trying to keep my emotions under control. “I watched the videos I took of you over and over. I tried to wish myself back to those days. Those days were complicated… I was owned and someone else’s property, and I was unwanted by Kotashi and Gina, but I was happier. I had a roof over my head and food in my belly every day. And I had you.”

I set my chopsticks on my plate and gulp down the rest of the wine, wine that was meant to be sipped while having sweet conversation, smiles, and polite laughter across the table from your loved one.

“Fantasies aren’t real life. This” — I lift up my jagged hair and point to the injury on my forehead — “and this,” I say, indicating my thin arms and the bruises on my shoulders from fighting that android, “are what I am now. I have no home. No job or career. No belongings. And I’m about to go into a situation where I will most likely die. I wish our reunion had been laughter and smiles. Really. But if that’s going to be the measure of a successful relationship between us, then we’ve already failed.”

Rin picks up his chair and brings it around the table to me. “Oh, Yumi. If there’s anything I’ve learned about you in our brief time together, it’s that you’re quite the pessimist.” He slides his hands under mine. I almost pull them away because I’m not used to this kind of contact anymore. “You have a light, a fire in you that inspires me, but you always see the bad side of everything.”

I open my mouth to defend myself when he tugs on my hands.

“It’s okay. It’s part of you. You wanted to be a journalist and dig out the bad, so it’s what you see everywhere. Am I right?”

I nod, speechless that he understands me. No one has ever really understood me but Ayamé. Directing my eyes over Rin’s shoulder, I expect to see her there, telling me I’d be a fool to let him go.

But she’s not.

I only have to listen to myself, listen to my heart.

“So it’s my job to give you something to believe in,” Rin says, squeezing my hands. “A job I will happily do until the end of time.”

His touch is light against my temple as a loving smile crosses his lips.

“Believe in us. Believe in our mission. Believe in yourself.”

He leans in, and his lips quirk before they meet mine. This kiss gives me life. I inhale and enjoy the moment, the connection I have with him — a connection I never saw coming the first time we ever talked. Lifting my hands to his face, I slide my fingers along his smooth skin and around the back of his head, relishing his reaction as he takes the kiss deeper and clutches my waist.

But before we can go any further, he pulls away, planting a quick kiss on my nose and chuckling.

“We could do this all night —”

“You mean, we should do this all night, and more,” I tease, raising my eyebrows.

“Absolutely. The bed has missed you.”

I think he means he’s missed me, but I already knew that.

“But an important part of reconnecting with you is sharing normal things.” He stands up and returns his chair to the opposite side of the table. “Including this meal I slaved over and more wine.” He refills my wine glass. “Afterward, we’ll sit on the balcony and enjoy the lovely weather. And then I want to sleep with you and hold your body against mine all night long.”

I blush remembering how he wooed me in the dance club by saying these things out loud I only ever wish for.

He chuckles and lifts his chopsticks.

“That’s much better. Let’s eat.”