'Friday: November 25th: 21:50:...'

Friday

November 25th

21:50:…

The chill wasn’t one to be forgotten so easily.

It was the frigid evening air that gave birth to those misted curtains, thickening with her every breath. It was the cold that imparted a translucence to her skin, the way the flavour of fruit intensified at lower temperatures.

It was November that framed her, in the dark, softly passing warmth through the base of both her hands, the soft folds and curves behind her silk vest, the silent song of her lungs turning to white smoke that stroked its way up the sculpted man’s chest.
A shapely, shapeless omen, leading all the ways for her touch to follow.

All Naoki Katsumada’s thoughts of fried chicken had given up the ghost.

“…Anything you want.”

He looked down at this situation, the onslaught of her touch, of her heartbeat.

Brother. He reminded himself.

Brother, we must stay focused.

“Um… Can I… Help you?”

She looked up. Her eyes didn’t grip him, they squeezed him, pulling him ever further away from any clue of what ‘focus’ meant.

“That’s a strange question.” The girl, the figure whose pressure was right on top of him, smiled. “Aren’t you the one who’s all pent up, in that big body of yours?”
She drew her hands up and down its surface, as if to prove her point.
“Why don’t you let me help you, Muscles?”

There was a Marcus Aurelius quote that would help him, Naoki thought. It went like—

No. He didn’t remember.

Impossible!

He’d poured hours into building a habit memorising the words of the great masters of discipline and self-control.

But it didn’t matter. He was only drawing blanks.

Just when it felt like she could come no closer, more of her pressed against him.

Naoki only grew more still, more cautious to even move, even breathe. Every time he did, the concrete and faint putrescence of the alley gave way to a summery smell that lost him another few heartbeats in the battle to maintain his focus.

“…What’ll it be, first?” The girl inquired. “Tell me what you desire, and we won't even worry about price 'til afterwards."

The slow, gentle poise of her advance gave Naoki precious few moments to think.

Since his repository of quotes had failed him, the only other place he could turn for a parallel to this situation was in a manga he’d read sometime, long, long ago.

This sort of situation belonged in the realm of fantasising. The protagonist was always useless when things got this charged, and he didn’t want to be that guy.
No matter what he did, he was ‘that guy’. There wasn’t a guy he could be that came out of this scenario feeling good about himself.

“What’s the matter?”

His time was up. She was practically hugging him at this point.
He could feel her face just inches from his, and the faint drumming against his chest.
But the pulsing inside him had begun to stabilise.

“A little inexperienced, are we?” The girl chuckled, keeping up the pressure.
“That’s alright… I can guide you, see?”

As the girl drew his jacket off his shoulders, he couldn’t help but notice the care she took, the subtle blunders she kept making, like the tailored suit had stiffened her fingers even more than the chill.

He glanced over her shoulder, supple and pale against the tresses of dark hair it protruded from. Behind her lay a pair of dumpsters, a gap tucked away to the wall between them.

She could have hidden there all night, as far as Naoki was concerned. If she hadn’t stepped out for him, he might not have even noticed, he might have just gone on to the convenience store without a care for anything except crispy, juicy, crispy, melt-in-your-mouth—
In any case, she had stepped out for him.

In this light, Naoki failed to believe she had done it for his personality. In any light, that wasn't likely.

She’d stepped out because, even in this light, the tailored blazer rode his shoulders like a flag on a well-carpented sailing vessel.
Was there any other reason to want to hop aboard?

What I want…?

Naoki shrugged against the cold. He shrugged, and drew his shoulders back into the jacket, pulling away from the girl.

Focus.

For all her advances, the girl let him go quietly, smiling, withdrawing her hands as he stepped aside. She was good at this. There wasn’t any sadness at all, in that sultry grin.

Wherever Naoki went, everything he wanted – did it all have to make him ache like this? The feeling didn’t belong to his body or his mind, but ache he did, and terribly.

Not like this. He thought, as he wordlessly drew away, averting his gaze from the girl.

Not like—

He stopped.

Something stopped him. The jacket he thought he’d secured on his shoulder slipped partway off, its sleeve tugged on by the girl, still standing behind him.

She was blinking, as he turned to face her. Almost as though she’d only just realised her hand was attached, she glanced down, and immediately let go. Nothing more.

It was all said and done, with her smile.

But her eyes had something else to add. Naoki wondered if she even knew, with how wide her smile was. With how sad they looked.

“It’ll…” He began, averting his gaze one more time. “Be getting cold soon. Get yourself a taxi, at least.”

Digging into the pocket of the loose end of the jacket, he held out a couple of notes, pushing them into her fingertips until he felt the warmth of her palm.

“R-really, now? I didn’t even…” Her voice fluttered between gratitude and cheek, finally landing on a note of doubt.

Naoki brushed a hand against the spot on his chest that still held some warmth, and a trace of the smell of flowers.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, before turning away. “Thanks.”

Before she could reach after him again, he sped out of the alley, turning the tight corner in the direction of his apartment.

¥¥¥

The girl remained, watching the wide back of the man recede behind a curtain of mingling misted breath, until he and the jacket barely clinging onto his shoulders had fluttered out of sight.

She hadn’t reached after him.

She should’ve.

Now all she could do was stare, wide-eyed, at the stack of cash that had been stuffed into her hands.

She didn’t need to count. In fact, she was afraid to. The moment that much paper had made contact with her fingers, she’d been ready to laugh off the fact that he was going to hand her the first piece of trash he could find in his pockets and make a break for it.
It took several long moments before her eyes, and brain, had time to adjust.

By then, Muscles was already gone.

What kind of person…?

The girl managed to tear her eyes away from her hand to the exit of the alleyway, which remained thoroughly deserted on its way to downtown, where she’d wandered here from the station.

‘Minato!’ 
She recalled.

‘That’s where the guys with all the money, and all of the stress live, and none of the time to take it out.’

'Girl. It's perfect, for you.'

That’s what she’d been told.
She was already shocked that she had been desperate enough to entertain that train of thought.

That she’d actually followed it here…

She didn’t have the words.

She certainly didn’t know to comprehend this result.

Big man. 

To the beat of stomps on concrete, and the melody of gritted teeth, the girl scraped through gaps in brickwork that probably weren’t built for people.

Who knows he’s a big man.

Who hands a stranger 100,000, and walks off like it’s nothing.

Why?

It was almost laughable to wonder why. The word was in her mind the moment she asked, as if whispered over her shoulder from behind.

—Pity?

The thought alone spurred her to stuff the thick wad of notes deep into her parka. She wanted to stuff herself inside to match.
Never to emerge, preferably.

She shivered, despite the friction between her heartbeat and her thoughts generating enough heat for her to totally forget it was November.

She had come here expecting to be okay with anything.

She’d prepared herself with that thought, those words specifically. Over and over.

So what the hell…

She rushed out, trying to make sense of the streets, and tried the most likely path.

Again, she turned. Again, and again, and again. Before long she was bombarded by songs and mewling party chatter on all sides.
She’d found the neon of Minato. But…

The girl stared into the nightlife, blurry refractions of it glistening on all sides of her periphery. The few passers-by that might have spotted her she avoided, as she slunk into the closest side-road she could find on the way to the station.

The girl looked back, watching the crowd. Searching. Giving up.

She looked back to the station. Wracked her pockets, looking for the change, hoping she’d been right when she checked earlier.

Do I have enough?

Of course, her hand brushed against the hefty wad of paper sat deeper in her jacket.

She scooped deeper, found a fingerful of coins.

Her last breath in Minato was the coldest yet, though her journey wasn’t over.

Buck up, Hana. The girl’s inner voice held strong, somehow.
You’re okay with whatever happens. Right?

Wrapping the parka tight, she walked inside, dodging looks from the older men who were buzzing around the yellow-lit entrance to the underground.

¥¥¥

It was only after he’d made his way inside the building, scaled the flight of stairs and shut himself behind the door to his apartment that Naoki realised he’d forgotten all about his chicken feast.

His life was made out of difficulties. Even now, he’d begun to receive, and miss calls. His business partner was probably waiting on him to help finalise a document that’d slipped his mind.

These little comforts that gave him strength. But, tonight…

He checked his shirt. A scent still lingered, perfume, or maybe shampoo. A trace of something utterly indescribable in his little home office, where everything was simple, if bare, if neatly squared away.

A comfort that turned his legs to jelly.

In the end, he made the call from the floor, barely a step away from the entrance to his room.

“Hello?” Naoki rubbed his eyes, making every effort to keep his voice clear.
“Takiguchi. Sorry I’m late. Was there a—? I see.”

Half-crouched, half-shuffling, he made it to his desk, listening carefully to the man’s instructions.

“Yes. Yes, that’s right. Oh… Yes, I’ll sign it now. That’s good to hear.”

The hard edges of a plan came through the speakerphone, as the entrepreneur’s eyes began to droop. The chicken was one thing, but he began to lament the lost opportunity to pick up some caffeine. If he got time after the next set of spreadsheets, then maybe as a reward…

“Got it.” The phone line clicked.

Naoki took a deep breath, his entire body a mix of flutter and exhaustion. A faint scent lingered, still emanating gently from his shirt.
He’d have to change it. It was going to be a long night, after all, and he had to focus.

A long night…

Maybe…

Or so he remembered thinking.