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"Haruka, did you pass meds to bed 4?"
"Yes, I… wait, bed 4?"
"She's due for the pain med and second round of antibiotic with lunch, and it's 2PM now."
Haruka checks the med pass records, and realizes that she had missed passing medications for one of her patients. The poor woman was two hours late on her pain killers. She bangs her head gently on the desk, and her charge nurse clicks her tongue. "Haruka, we're well-covered here with Eriko coming in in thirty minutes. Why don't you take the afternoon off and pick up a half-shift this weekend instead?"
She nods, in no place to argue after making such a mistake, and goes to change. Once she's back in her street clothes, she wonders how to spend a free afternoon. She had been scheduled until 6PM, so to suddenly have 4 hours free was unexpected. She buys an iced coffee and walks along the river, enjoying it for a bit before school lets out and students take up the pathways.
Truthfully, she knows why she messed up. It's because she had been awake all night plagued by guilt. Yes, Asuka was out of line, yes, Haruka was right to defend Kaori, but how could she have stooped so low as to do the same thing that Asuka's mother had done? The argument repeated over and over again, the memory of the confrontation replaying in her mind every time she tried to sleep.
She thinks about the other time, when they were both in high school, one of the few times Asuka invited her over to her house. She didn't invite Kaori; she never invited Kaori. But Asuka and Haruka had been partners on some second-year school project, and Haruka had come over to help with the report.
Asuka's mother had not realized Haruka was there when she got home from work — she must have missed the extra set of shoes in the front hall. She just started in on some complaint, about how Asuka was "just like her father" and "careless", a word that Haruka would never use to describe Asuka.
Asuka had gritted her teeth, trying to swallow it down, but when it was clear the tirade was going to last a while, she stood up and walked out to meet her mother. "I wouldn't know if I'm like my father or not, since you made sure of that," she said. It was so unlike the Asuka of school — who was always proper, who never said anything out of line, that Haruka almost doesn't recognize the voice.
And Haruka wanted to disappear into the wall. Asuka was special. Asuka was perfect. She had no cracks. Haruka did not want to hear any of this. She collected her things, considered whether or not she could sneak to the front door without being seen, figured she'd text Asuka after. She knew Asuka, knew that's what Asuka would prefer, but she'd have to pull it off perfectly.
She tiptoed to the door of Asuka's bedroom, and all the while her mom's shouting and Asuka's measured replies continue, like fire and ice. Haruka crept down the corridor, but just as she passed the kitchen she paused. They don't see her, but she sees them: Asuka's mother pulling on Asuka's hair, a terrible expression of pain on her face. "I wish you were never born!"
Haruka couldn't see Asuka's expression, but heard her reply, perfectly calm, almost chilling. "Well, I wish you weren't my mother, but here we are."
She was rewarded with a firm slap, enough that Haruka shuddered, even though she was safely in the corridor. But her movement caused her to hit a side table, and the noise caught Asuka's mother's attention. She released Asuka at once, and Haruka really wanted to shrink into the wall, then.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Asuka stood straight again, her hair disheveled, but her face back to its normal, unreadable mask of friendliness. "This is my friend, Haruka," she said. "She's my partner on a school project. Haruka-chan, I think you should go home, my mom and I need to clean up and relax."
Thinking back on it, she should have realized it was not a one-time thing. That Asuka and her mother argued too often. That when the rumor spread about Asuka's mother hitting her in the staff room, it was probably something like what she witnessed. But the day after she had visited Asuka's house, Asuka returned to school as if nothing happened. They never spoke about the incident, and Haruka didn't dare bring it up in front of Kaori. Asuka seemed to know this, and always sat with Kaori for the next few weeks. And they got a perfect score on their science project, as expected of someone special.
Haruka knows she needs to go to Asuka's, in fact, her feet are already carrying her in that direction, but her mind goes blank trying to prepare what to say. An apology seems appropriate, but she's not sure if she can pull it off. She's ashamed, horrified, even - she didn't know she was even capable of hitting another person. But she isn't sure if she's sorry. She isn't sure of anything when it comes to Asuka.
Still, she walks to her house, and is surprised to hear music as she approaches. She hears… euphonium. She knows that tone, that distinct sound. There is only one person who plays like that, who can make magic with a bass instrument by itself. She walks around the house, quietly, not wanting to break the spell, and sure enough, Asuka is sitting on the back porch, bare feet dangling off, playing a euphonium. She's not wearing her glasses, and her face looks different when it's bare. Haruka recognizes the song, maybe, a famous piece she'd associate with a movie soundtrack perhaps, and could hum, but not name.
Finally, taking a break, Asuka lowers the instrument and sees Haruka in her periphery. She starts a bit but recovers almost instantly, her face back to neutrality. It's a noticeable change— the appeasing smile is gone, and Asuka is a completely blank slate now. Haruka kicks off her shoes and climbs onto the porch, sitting a few feet away. "You sounded good," she says.
Asuka half nods, doesn't bother to thank Haruka for the praise. It's objective fact, after all. Asuka has played on 3 continents, it would take effort for her to sound bad at this point. "Are you here for an apology?" she asks, setting aside the euphonium into the open case.
The phrasing is vague, but Haruka takes it to mean Asuka thinks Haruka is expecting her to apologize. She might be, honestly. She didn't come here with a plan. "Why don't I make some tea?" she says instead. It's an olive branch, and Asuka nods. Haruka goes inside, into the house that isn't hers, but she supposes isn't really Asuka's anymore either. The kitchen is untouched, and the kettle and mugs are where she expects them, unlike the rest of the rooms with boxes and bags of things set to be recycled or donated. She remembers standing in the corridor, looking into this room, watching Asuka and her mother at odds with one another. She couldn't comprehend Asuka as a victim, it didn't suit her at all. But how could see comprehend herself as an aggressor?
She returns to the porch with a tray laden with a teapot and two small mugs, and Asuka shifts into seiza to pour. Haruka watches her, amazed that even in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, Asuka can transform into a proper Japanese hostess in seconds. She sips the tea, smiles in private satisfaction, then turns back to face the small garden, giving Haruka permission to sit in a relaxed position as well.
"I was never allowed to practice at home," Asuka says. "Or very rarely. This is still strange."
It's disarming to hear Asuka tell her something outright, without her asking for it or receiving information in a coded riddle. "Never?" she asks. Asuka practiced like she breathed. Asuka practiced more than any of them. She can't imagine this.
But Asuka shakes her head. "My mom hated to hear it." She sighs. "My father is a famous euphonist. My parents divorced when I was very young. She resented that I wanted anything to do with him, and so she forbade me from practicing in the house."
It's like a puzzle piece sliding into place. She can see it perfectly. The strict academics, the threats to make Asuka leave band. Asuka never letting anyone come over. Asuka practicing every spare second. The yelling. The violence. That awful, placating smile.
"I'm sorry," Haruka says. She almost chokes on the words. "I… I lost my temper last night. I feel awful about the whole thing. I just didn't want you to hurt Kaori, but there's no excuse."
Asuka turns back to meet her gaze, and she nods in understanding, but her eyes are dull, and Haruka wonders if it's because she's done this too many times before: if her mother messed up, got too heated, then came begging for forgiveness the next day giving Asuka no choice but to grant it. "I'm sorry, too," she says, finally, and Haruka wonders if she's ever heard Asuka apologize. "Kaori deserves someone better than me to idolize."
"She does," Haruka agrees, and she sees Asuka lift the corner of her mouth in a derisive sort of smile. But the mood lifts, just a bit, and they go back to sipping their tea. "Why won't you keep in touch at all?" she asks, after a while.
Asuka focuses on the middle distance, where there's a few late summer blooms still standing tall. Haruka can't help but admire her side profile, can't help but think how unfair it is, even now, that Asuka has everything: the intelligence, the musical talent, the most beautiful face. "I told you my father left when I was really young," she says, her voice unusually quiet. "He never tried to contact me. There were no cards, no photos, no phone calls, nothing. I think if there was a bit, I would have felt worse, actually."
Haruka can feel her jaw clenching, struggling against protesting against this false comparison. Asuka and Kaori, who used to be as close as lovers are not the same as Asuka and her father, who were last in contact when Asuka was a toddler. "Is that why you hate Kaori?" she says, struggling to keep her voice level. "Because she reminds you of yourself?"
Asuka sets her mug down but it clatters a bit as her grip seems to falter. She meets Haruka's gaze. "I don't hate Kaori," she corrects. "I'm afraid of her."
Haruka has to stop herself from laughing at such a confession. Kaori is Kaori, soft and charming and gentle. Kaori teaches primary school, Kaori likes scrapbooking and trying new sweets. Asuka has every advantage. She waits for Asuka to continue.
"Kaori thinks I'm better than I am. Kaori has this idea of who I am, someone who is worthy of worshiping. I can never live up to that. I can't face Kaori because I will always disappoint her."
Now, Haruka does laugh. "Of course you can't. You're cruel."
Asuka scoots a little closer, some of her usual mischievousness back in her face. "But you still like me," she says.
"Do I?" she asks, mostly to herself. Asuka pours them both a second glass of tea, and she contemplates the question. The proximity certainly has her flustered. It's Asuka, and she's special, of course she wants to be close. Receiving the mug from Asuka, their fingers touch for the briefest of moments. And Haruka realizes she hasn't changed at all: she still wants Asuka's approval, but more than that, she wants to love and be loved by Asuka, a feat that might be impossible, in the end.
After a while, Asuka leans back, putting her head in Haruka's lap. It's a position they both liked to take with Kaori, but Asuka had never laid on Haruka like this, always staying away or joking that Haruka wasn't fluffy enough to be a lap pillow. But now she lays contentedly for a few minutes as the cicadas hum.
"I'm becoming my mother," Asuka says, into the silence. "I drive people away. I'm rotten."
And part of Haruka knows it's true. She watched Asuka leave the moment the dinner turned into something more than casual conversation. Helped, even, as the tension spiraled up into outright violence. But she thinks it's not a lost cause. She runs her fingers through Asuka's hair, warmed by the sun, and thinks she could sit like this for a while. "You should spend more time around Kaori," she says. "She's like a cure for rottenness."
She doesn't know why she says it, really. She isn't sure that bringing them all together isn't a recipe for disaster, but holding Asuka against her really does feel right, and if she knows Kaori like she thinks she does, she knows her girlfriend will agree.