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Two days later, on her next day off, Kaori goes back to Asuka's. She texts, of course, but Asuka doesn't reply, of course. This time she brings donuts, knowing Asuka prefers them, now that she doesn't have to take her mother's preferences into consideration.
She still feels like she can't let her guard down in the house. It seems like at any moment, Asuka's mother is going to come around a corner, all strict lines and harsh words, in her perfectly tailored suit and her sleek stockings and her floral perfume. There's just an echo of the scent in the house now, and a slight vestige of her image in Asuka, who has the same posture, the same subtle waves in her hair, though Kaori wouldn't dare say so.
Asuka, for her part, seems to have no interest in her mother's fashion sense, outside of perhaps the formal black she wears on stage at concerts, and today is wearing a green tank top and gray jogger pants. Kaori herself is wearing shorts, since it's a warm day in late May, and an old T-shirt from one of the band retreats she helped out at. Asuka clocks it right away as she walks in.
"Still have old Kitauji shirts?"
"It's only a couple years old. I've been helping out, I think I mentioned that the other day."
"It makes you look like a high school student."
Kaori blushes. Asuka probably isn't wrong. She looks younger than her age, which is probably a good thing, but her short stature and chubby cheeks meant that she isn't always taken seriously, at work and with the students. It's frustrating to hear it from Asuka, too. "Maybe you should help me with my wardrobe," she says.
"Me? Have you seen me dress?" Asuka laughs. "Ask your girlfriend to do it, Haruka has a good eye."
"She does," Kaori agrees. "Except for that one sweater she loves."
"The blue and brown one," Asuka says, nodding.
And it's nice to just be back with Asuka again, to talk with her, to see her, to be seen by her. Kaori has to remind herself that it's only temporary, that after the house is packed and settled, she'll be on her way back to Europe to play with another elite orchestra, back to being someone that Kaori can only follow like a fan, someone who reads her texts but never replies.
They finish packing the sitting room, which is mostly finished, just boxes of books and files of papers, a few photos on the walls. They're all of landscapes or calligraphy, and there's one of Asuka at her middle school graduation ceremony with an academic award in hand. Kaori loves it, she wants to keep it.
But as they move from room to room, closet to closet, she begins to notice a pattern: there's sparse evidence of Asuka in this home, and what is around is all academic. There's not a hint of music or instruments in the home at all, no reminders that Asuka is one of the most talented euphonists of her generation. "Your mom really only focused on school, huh?" Kaori says, unsure how to approach the topic.
"I wouldn't expect anything else," Asuka says.
But then she doesn't add anything, she just goes back to packing boxes, and so Kaori does the same. She's pretty, in the afternoon sunlight, with golden light cast upon her hair. Kaori wants to kiss her.
But she is an adult, now. She knows better.
When finally Asuka sits back to take a break, she does the same. She checks her phone to see a text from Haruka. "What do you want to do for dinner?" sent a few minutes prior.
"Asuka, want to come over for dinner?" she asks.
Asuka looks over at her, trying to read something in her face. Then she smiles, that trademark warm Asuka smile. "Sure, let's go."
Kaori texts Haruka back, and they walk over together. It's warm, on the walk, and Asuka lets her hair down, and it's as long and silky as Kaori remembers. She wants to run her fingers through it. Truthfully, she wants to possess every bit of Asuka. She loves Haruka, she loves her with a tenderness that can only come from familiarity - she knows all of Haruka's preferences, she knows all of Haruka's desires and weaknesses. But Asuka is a mystery, even after all this time. She excites Kaori, in the way she can come so close - within arm's reach - and remain so distant.
When they get back to the apartment, Kaori is sweating a bit, and she goes to the bathroom to clean up. She glances at herself in the mirror, fixes her collar, practices her smile, and rejoins the others.
When she gets back to the kitchen, Haruka has started to cook, and Asuka is sitting at the counter, sipping a glass of wine and laughing about something that is making Haruka blush. She always did have a way of getting under Haruka's skin just so. "I'm making the salmon," Haruka says, as Kaori sits, pouring herself a glass. "Is that ok?"
"Fine with me. Can I help?"
Haruka hands her a bowl of green beans. "Can you snap the ends off of these?"
Kaori sets to work and it's peaceful, watching Haruka at the stove, being next to Asuka, working together to make a meal. "Do you cook much?" Kaori asks Asuka, after a bit. She is watching them, a little curiously, as they work.
Asuka shakes her head. "There's a cafeteria in the rehearsal space we use, I usually just go there. My apartment in Hungary is small, and I'm no good at cooking. Not like Haruka."
Haruka rolls her eyes, but Kaori doesn't think Asuka was teasing her. She had lived with them for years in university, she knew Haruka was skilled. It makes her sad, really, to think that Asuka never eats home cooked meals anymore. It makes her sad to think about Asuka's entire lonely life, really. A foreign country, a tiny apartment, hours and hours of rehearsal. It is almost impossible for her to picture, but she knows Asuka lives it, and she wonders if she's really happy like that.
Soon enough the rice is finished, the beans are steamed, the salmon is braised. They eat at the counter, informally, but the meal is delicious. After, Kaori makes tea and pulls out some cookies they had from a tin in the cabinet, and Asuka helps Haruka with the dishes. It's domestic in a familiar way. She craves it.
When they move to the living room, Kaori goes to her room to get the book she's been working on for the past few years. Haruka recognizes it when she brings it back to the living room and raises an eyebrow, but Kaori ignores her. "Asuka," Kaori says, sitting across from her at the table on the living room carpet. She puts the book down. "I know your mom didn't pay attention to what you were doing all this time, but I did."
She shows her what she's collected, opening the cover. The articles from the local newspapers, the other articles she's printed from the internet. The concert posters, the photos she's printed from social media — painstakingly hunted down, since Asuka didn't have her own accounts. Asuka flips the pages, one, then the next, eyes wide as she takes in the whole thing.
"Why did you do this?" she asks, her face surprisingly serious. It's not the light-hearted smile she usually wears; she's truly engaging with the album. She's looking at it like she might look at a challenging piece of music.
But the question is strange. Why? Because I love you, Kaori wants to answer. She supposes such a gesture must seem foreign to Asuka, whose mother never valued her music, who never saved anything she did as sentimental unless it was academic. "I have always been following," she says.
The words don't come as easily anymore. Suddenly it's hard to point out the exact details — the photograph she got from a benefit concert in Singapore, the accompanying program she printed out at the library. Asuka closes the book, unexpectedly, only a few pages in.
"Thank you for dinner, but I really need to go," she says. She stands up, turning towards the front hall, towards her shoes and bag. Haruka stands too.
"What are you talking about?" she asks.
Asuka attempts a smile but it doesn't work. Kaori can tell she's upset. She knows she must have caused it, but isn't sure why. Was it the book? Probably. Had she upset her with it? Perhaps she made her realize how much her mother was lacking, how much she didn't look at Asuka's music career. Or perhaps it was something else, something Kaori cannot understand, because Asuka is like a book in a language she can't read.
"I just have to go," Asuka says, turning away. She's usually polite, determined not to cause an inconvenience to anyone, but tonight she doesn't seem to care. Kaori stays seated, willing to let her go, to talk to her tomorrow, perhaps, but Haruka grabs her arm, pulling her back to face them.
"Wait," she commands, and though Asuka is taller, she heeds. "Kaori spent hours making that, she's been so excited you're back. She spent all day helping you, and you're just leaving?"
Asuka looks at the place where Haruka's hand is on her arm, and then to Kaori, before meeting Haruka's gaze. She molds her face back into neutrality, back into that look that Kaori knows Haruka can't stand — the appearance of put-togetherness, the symbol of Asuka's specialness, something Haruka can't hope to attain. "I am grateful for the help, and the meal. But I'm afraid I can't stay." Kaori swears she can see Asuka's hand shaking. She wonders if Haruka can feel it.
"She loves you!" Haruka says, and though her back is to Kaori, she can hear the emotion in her voice. Her chest hurts listening to her girlfriend, and she wishes she could stand and put her hand on Kaori's shoulder, tell her it's alright, guide her to a chair. But she's a coward, so she stays rooted to the spot. "Kaori saved all those clippings because she loves you. She messages you and you never answer. Just because you're upset about your mom, doesn't mean you have to take it out on Kaori!"
Kaori can see Haruka's knuckles turning white, from the tightness she's gripping onto Asuka's forearm. Asuka, however, looks calmer by the second, as if whatever desperation she had to leave is being replaced by a calm, cool exterior, a mask of ice. She looks past Haruka, in Kaori's general direction, before meeting Haruka's eyes again. "Oh, still jealous?"
Haruka's hand is off of Asuka's arm and slapping her face before Kaori has time to process Asuka's words. The slap itself is fast, and loud, and then everything freezes. Haruka's hand is raised, as if she's unsure of what she's just done, or perhaps unsure if she's finished. Asuka's cheek remains turned, her skin reddened, her hair splayed unnaturally, like a prey animal afraid any movement might trigger more violence.
"Um-" Kaori says, unsure of where the sentence is going.
And the spell is broken, Haruka's hand is lowered, and Asuka turns and walks to the entrance without another glance back at them, leaving with her bag and shoes in hand.
Haruka drops to the floor, knees to her chest.