MINGLED BREATH

by the Space Pirate Ryoko

 

            I wake slowly—the dark haze of my dream fading by sections as my consciousness registers my surroundings.  The library?  I shake my head, blinking the sleep from my mind.  I must've fallen asleep while studying.  I glance at the book on the table in front of me.  Page three.  I sigh.  Another day wasted.  Between the neighbors at Ikkoku and my part-time job, I'm never going to pass my exam.

            I collect my things, noticing an unusual stillness in the library.  What time is it?  I check my watch: six forty-five.  It's earlier than I thought—so why is the study room empty?  I trudge out to the main desk to check out my books.

            The librarian looks surprised to see me.  "Didn't know anyone else was here," he declares, stamping my books.  "Everyone cleared out, once the snow got bad."

            Snow?  I look toward the darkness of the doors.  When I arrived that afternoon, it was hardly snowing at all. 

            "You be sure to bundle up out there, " the man behind the counter warns.  "It's freezing."

            Great.  I shove the books into my duffel bag and button up my jacket.  "Thanks."  I try to smile.  "I will."  I didn't bring even an umbrella, much less a hat and gloves. 

            Outside, it's dark like midnight.  Even the streetlamps are dim, trying to cut paths of light through the almost solid wall of snow.  It's practically a blizzard.  Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I shove my hands deeply into my pockets.  A cold wind blows, sending the tiny flakes of ice to sting my face and ears.  I shiver; the librarian wasn't kidding.  Taking a deep breath, I make my way down the steps and out to the street.

            Half a block later, it feels like it's getting colder and colder with each step.  My feet, immediately soaked by the piled snow on the ground, have become solid ice, and I'm sure that I wouldn't even feel it if my nose and ears were ripped off by the wind.  Even breathing has begun to hurt; the cold air bites painfully at my chest.

            I think of home, with its cheerful lights and warm futon.  I wonder if the manager would invite me to her room for hot soup.  My mouth starts to water.  I haven't eaten all day, and nothing beats Kyoko's cooking.

            My stomach is still growling when I reach the bus stop.  Thank God it has a shelter.  I drop my bag on the concrete and slide onto a bench.  It's not one of the heated bus shelters, but at least it's a break from the wind and snow.  I pull my hand from my pocket to venture a look at my watch.  The bus should arrive in five minutes.  I glance toward the snow-filled street.  Maybe not.  Still, it's more than fifteen blocks back to Ikkoku—better to wait it out here than to trudge through the elements.

            My stomach growls again.  I hope the bus hurries.

            Slowly, the slight warmth of the wind-free shelter dissipates.  I start to shiver, kicking my feet to generate some body heat.  How long have I been sitting there?  I check my watch.  Four minutes.  I sigh, reaching for my bag.  It's probably too dark to read, but I may as well try.  I open my book in the weak neon light.

            Footsteps pull me from my reading before I have a chance to start.  I peer into the snowy darkness, suddenly anxious.  No one in their right mind would be out tonight; I don't want to meet up with some lunatic. 

            Slowly, a figure emerges from the white darkness—a woman.

            I jump to my feet.  "Kyoko!"

            She looks up, startled.  She almost drops the grocery bag in her arms.  She does drop her umbrella.  I scramble to catch it, pushing past her, back into the snow and the roaring wind. 

            She grabs my arm and laughs.  "Let it go; it blew backward a hundred times.  It's no good now."  She smiles at me, and my heart pounds.  "Yusaku, what are you doing out here?"

            My mouth goes dry.  She has snow on her eyelashes, in her hair.  Her cheeks are flushed.  She's smiling.  That smile, it does it every time.  "I uh—" I don't understand my own stammer.  "I was at the library."

            She nods and we both sit on the cold metal bench.  She checks her watch.  "Any minute, huh?" she asks.

            I nod, trying not to flinch as the wind shifts just enough to blow into the shelter.  "You were out shopping?"  Something steams from the inside of her grocery bag.  I wish I could smell it, but the cold has dulled my senses.

            "Oh!  Yes!"  She rummages in her bag for a moment, and I notice how glossy her dark hair is as it falls over her shoulders.  Snowflakes cling to individual strands, making my fingers tremble with the longing to touch. 

            With a wry smile, she produces a steaming box.  "Pork buns.  I was going to save them for dinner, but it looks like they'll be frozen by the time we get home."  She flips up the lid, revealing four delicious-looking buns.  "Are you hungry?"

            Hungry isn't the word for it.  Nodding, I take one, silently cursing my shaking hands.  Between the cold and my empty stomach, I'm starting to look weak.  "Thank you."  I eat quickly, trying to ignore the way the steam collects in her hair, making the ends curl.

            She takes one herself, eating with her mittens on.  When I finish, she silently urges me to take another.  I do.  She tilts her head and watches me, her expression curious.

            "Hm?" I ask, my mouth full of the hot filling. 

            "You don't have any gloves, " she observes, her forehead crinkling into a frown.  "Or a hat.  Yusaku, aren't you freezing?"

            An embarrassed laugh escapes my mouth.  "Ahh—well, I wasn't expecting the snow . . ."  My stomach growls loudly, mortifying me even more.

            Kyoko's eyes narrow.  "You haven't eaten, either.  Here," she pushes the last bun in my direction.  "Eat this."

            As I finish off the last of her pork buns, she rummages through her groceries, putting away the empty box.  I shove my hands into my pockets again.  They're even colder now, but at least the food inside of me is warm—I can feel it radiating through me.

            I sneak a sideways glance at Kyoko.  Why was she shopping so far from home—and in weather like this?  Doesn't Coach Mitaka live around here?  I imagine her out with Mitaka, who deserts her at the first sign of snow, leaving her to make the long trip home alone.  I clench my fists and grit my teeth.  What does she see in him, anyway?

            She sighs, pulling me away from an imagined confrontation with the other man.  She looks anxiously down the street, then over at me.

            "Aren't you cold?" she asks, worried.  "Here, let me—"  She starts to unwind her scarf, clearly intending to give it to me.

            "No!" I protest, reaching up to still her hands.  What kind of man would I be if I let the woman I love freeze so I can be warm?  "You keep it; you need it."

            For a moment she looks undecided, then she smiles.  She slides across the bench until she's sitting right next to me—I can feel her hip against mine through our clothes.  "We can both stay warm this way," she suggests, winding half of her scarf around my neck and ears before I can protest.  The other half stays with her, and we're bound together by the red yarn.

            My heart is pounding.  I can feel the blood rushing to my head, and for a moment I fear a nosebleed.  My arm is pressed against hers, the length of her thigh is leaning against the length of mine, even her boot-encased foot touches my running shoe.  My skin tingles at every contact point.  I close my eyes, absorbing the jasmine-scented warmth of her scarf.

            She shifts uncomfortably, pulling her hands together on her lap.  "I wonder if the bus is really coming."  She sounds nervous. 

            I think of the long walk to Ikkoku.  "Should we just walk, do you think?" I ask, not looking at her.  I don't want to walk, don't want to face that awkward snow and ice.  I'd be happy to sit like this with the manager all night. 

            She shakes her head.  Her hair brushes against my cheek.  "No," she decides.  "It's too nasty out there.  It's better to stay put and believe in our bus system."

            There's laughter in her voice.  I look at her—I can't help it.  She's incredible.  Even in the eerie green of the weak lights, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.  I'll always take care of you, Kyoko, I imagine myself telling her.  In my fantasy, she grasps my hands.  Really, Yusaku?  Always?  I whisper my answer, pulling her close for a kiss: Always.  I love you, Kyoko.

            The bang of my head smacking against the support beam behind me snaps me out of it. 

            "Yusaku!  Are you all right?"  She pulls me up and shakes her head.  "Really!  Someone needs to take care of you!"

            For a long time neither of us speak.  I'm too embarrassed, and it's getting too cold and dark for conversation anyway.  The warmth I'd stolen from Kyoko dissipated, and now we both sit, shivering, in the dimness.  I want to check my watch, but the idea of pulling my and from my pocket—especially since it's the hand currently trapped between Kyoko and me—just doesn't seem worth it.  Luckily, she checks hers.

            "We've been here for forty minutes!" she cries, pulling her hat more securely over her ears.  "It's too cold to wait much longer!"

            Snow was starting to drift against the bus shelter—it'd be a trick to get out if we stayed much longer.  "If the bus doesn't hurry, we're going to freeze to death in here, " I protest, shivering. 

            Kyoko leans in closer, her own body shaking from the cold.  "I can just imagine the headlines," she laughs, her teeth chattering.  "Lovers Die of Exposure at Local Bus Stop."

            My heart stops.  Lovers?

            I feel my face flush a deep red as I look over at her, startled.  Her eyes are wide and her own cheeks look bright and pink.

            "I mean—" she stammers, biting her lip with pretty white teeth.  "I mean, that's what they'd assume.  Just look at us!"

            I look.  She's right—strangers, or even acquaintances, don't sit like this, bodies pressed together; one scarf wrapped around two necks.  I look down at her, my breath brushing against her cheeks in its white cloud.  Her eyes meet mine, her breath exhaling raggedly.  It mingles with mine, forming one pale mist that settles on our mutual scarf in tiny crystals.

            We look like lovers. 

            Her fingers bump my leg and she yanks away, startled.  I'm faster.  I wrap my arm around her, nestling her body securely against mine.  I recognize confusion in her eyes as they flick up to meet mine, but it melts away and she leans her head on my shoulder.  It's cold out here; we need to stay warm.  Just for now, it's allowed.

            I rest my cheek on her head, enjoying the soft yarn of her hat against my cold skin.  In another moment, the dim amber of the bus's headlights break through the snow.  I close my eyes, wishing for just one more second like this—one more instant of being Kyoko's lover.