FINGERS CROSSED, yuzuha usagi

CHAPTER EIGHT

Yasuko didn't know the reason why they were in that lifetime, together, yet for the first time after a long way, truly and fondly, it seemed as if all they got left was to enjoy the playful pushes and the peacefulness, the mischievous glint firing up in their eyes, the laughter echoing under water. To be on earth and love, to have to feel and risk their hearts. For one night, they deserved to not be embarrassed about their blood, its redness; to not be embarrassed to be alive, even if the effort crushed their bones and left their hearts exposed, like a cavern getting colder.

Her childhood hovered between memory and dream, as if the lovely words she'd heard and those soft fingers that had wiped tears off her cheeks had been her wishes materializing out of a whisper mumbled against fingers crossed and given to the ocean the next morning to take them somewhere they could be well kept. It became a worship, a giggle that followed her to the end of the lane, but not home, she never let it step inside her home. She just waited for someone to reroute her love into the ocean, where it belonged, where she knew her mother's wouldn't even make it past the entrance door.

She always wondered how it started, when it ended. Perhaps it did after she was born, or after she saw her little eyes widened at the vast sea the first time she took her to the beach. Some late nights, Yasuko swore it was simply because of the too quiet keys ringing outside the door and the creaking on the staircase what made her mother peek through her bedroom, eyes drowned by hope, and prayers, and then, when she looked back at her, only understanding. An oh, it was you moment.

Yasuko's mother had waited by the ocean for many years to see her daughter do the same. And yet she never dared to speak a word about it, just like Yasuko never dared to ask. If his picture was turned towards the kitchen's window, if his tea cup was hidden last behind theirs, if his marine uniform was still hanging inside her mother's closet, if his perfume bottle rested next to the bed just like he left it, nobody pointed it out. Mothers and daughters guarded secrets from each other, they comforted each other from one seat away, hands trembling under the table, eyes too full of life.

Death and her had been scandalously intimate. They had shared a bare heartbeat, a warm bedsheet covering the fear of blinking and falling asleep, a breathing caught in her throat. She had grieved for the could'ves, for the name she never got to learn and tickled the tip of her tongue as something she had just forgotten, for her mother closing the door, for her steps guiding her to the ocean. She had grieved until she loved and all heartache softened, and her mother's voice became only a heavy coat.

"Does it hurt?" Usagi's presence waddled closer to her, cautious, as if testing all possible endings for a second time. No response given, she signaled her wounds, bruises and pain awakening like a light switch turning on by the warmth of the hot spring.

She tried recalling anything worth saying. Sorry, it was all my fault, I should've done something that night at The Beach. But all she did was look over Usagi's shoulder, where she caught a glimpse of Ikehara's figure disappearing underwater silently behind Arisu for a few seconds before taking him below the surface with him.

"Yasuko?" She turned to her immediately.

"It's manageable," she shrugged it off, "Are you okay? That game was pretty intense, you must be hurt too."

"It's manageable." She copied her. A smile fought its way out her lips the second their gazes met.

Yasuko knew how much more eyes could tell than tongues did. She had seen it all in her mother's stares; the kindness, the apologies, the wanting, the unforgiveness, the disappointment. It was always there, every time Yasuko lifted her head up and every time her mother tried turning hers to the side, away from the reflection that flickered inside her daughter's eyes. Just like her mother, Yasuko was as full of fears, yet opposite from her, she did let herself drown in her loving one's pupils without pronouncing a word. She let her fingertips loosen and brush Usagi's, like seaweed wrapping around someone's leg hoping they would stay in the water a little longer.

"I was scared." Usagi confessed, voice low and mouth close to her ear, as if she was sharing a secret no one else had to hear but her, "Back at The Beach, I stopped writing to you because I was scared it could be a trap."

Yasuko let her talk.

"Every time I looked at you, you were always surrounded by them, and I couldn't help thinking you were just that. A follower, a militant." She turned over for a second at the sound of Ikehara and Arisu splashing water on the other side of the spring. "It was the night after... After Ikehara left, I saw you sitting in the same spot barely maintaining yourself awake, which made me doubt, but it was the day you had gotten locked up for causing Niragi a concussion after commenting about him that I knew you were only trying to fit. I regretted that you were such a loyal friend, like Ikehara was too, because it made me realize what I mistakenly let go of."

"I thought I did something wrong." Yasuko's voice was sorrowful.

"You did what you did, I felt how I felt," her fingers interlocked with hers under the water, "Now, we're here."

A beat passed.

"I think we should start again." Suddenly, Usagi stepped away from her and extended her hand out, "I'm Yuzuha Usagi."

Yasuko bit back the start of a giggle trying to light up her face.

"Kuba Yasuko." She returned the salute.

Even before she touched her, she already knew she belonged to her. All Usagi had to do was look at her.