I'll Set You Up Against the Stars (High School Reunion)
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Oct 21, 2014 2:09:17 GMT -6
Hikarizaka Reunion: Classes 2005-2006 Winter Illuminations in Japan, John Asano Date: December 30th, 2016 Time: 8PM-11PM Location: Ernesto Host Anyone at all, if interested, may join this thread. The LetterDear the Students of Classes 2005-2006:
We invite you to a ten (or eleven) year high school reunion in your honor at 8 o' clock PM to 11 o' clock PM during December 30th, 2016. You may or may not be wondering why these classes' reunions are being held together. This can be explained by the fact that it is cost-effective, but also because these two classes have always been closely connected. In your mid-late twenties, we hope you still keep in touch and if not, here is a chance to take by the reins.
If you are interested, please RVSP as soon as possible. If you reply to this invitation by mail, please suggest a song you would like to play during the reunion on the line below. If you are not interested in going to the reunion, feel free to contact us anyway. The Hikarizaka Private High School would like to know how you are faring so far. 2005 and 2006 were both great years, and we look forward to remembering and celebrating those memories at the reunion.
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The school will provide catering and will host the party in Ernesto Host. The menu will not serve any kind of shellfish, nuts or anything that alumni and alumnae may have an allergic reaction to. The reunion has been funded and supported by many of the alumni and alumnae's families. Respectfully, we pay all due gratitude to them for helping host such a wonderful party. Please be sure to thank them too! After the party, we will also be taking pictures of everyone before putting them into snow globes as party favors. Unlimited drinks are available, alcoholic and otherwise. However, we ask that you moderate your alcohol intake and act responsibly.
Thank you,
Hikarizaka Private High School The SceneRight now, the party has just begun. Interestingly enough, only a select few attend. [This is not to say that other, NPC students aren't around.] As you explore these once familiar surroundings, a warmth or a chill may fill you and your hearts with memories of a past only a decade ago. Looking around you, you can find old friends everywhere, some wrapped up in their own things and others smiling jovially at you. If they recognize you, maybe they'll come and talk to you. Or they'll pass by, wave insouciantly, and be on their way to chat to people they had deeper bonds with. Regardless, there is a welcoming atmosphere, one that calls you home, one that reminds you that no matter how much you change, these are your roots, these are -- were -- your friends, and these are your family. Emotions encroach upon every alumnus or alumna, breathing in fresh, new life to vivid scenes that were once deeply etched into your minds.
The cool, crisp winter air is shut out by wooden doors; that wintry, monotonous landscape you had trekked through to get here is now gone. Now you see are the faces of people, people whom you've loved and hated or seen or heard of. But you are all tethered here by strong, cast-iron cables, and you are united. For ten years, you have been digging tunnels and paving roads into your own future. You have decided what owns your decisions and outcomes: destiny or yourself. You have cringed in fear, wept in grief, laughed in celebration and smiled in your freedom to live. What kind of life have you led so far? So much must have changed, has it not?
Where are you now? Where have you been? Where do you see yourself in the future? These questions and more flutter against your winter gale-whipped ears. Answer them and tell them the story of your life, but remember to never ever forget where you came from. The love and relationships and ambitions you had as a high school student ten years back have helped you plant a firm footing onto the ground. On the other hand, moving forward is not necessarily advancing. Will you backtrack for a detour on memory lane or will you do so to get ahead? Why do you see yourself here? You may ask. All of these will be answered in time.
But take this fragment of a world before and after, pocket it and relish it for as long as you can in this small, cozy restaurant. Live the day to tell your story to young men and women who have once been where you stood at your graduation ceremony. They will do the same for you. Fujihara AgehaThe young author, fresh out of graduate school had just began teaching English for a year in Tokyo. Her road was full of bumps, just like the other guy's, but it was more full of softer grooves than she expected as well. Having suffered a whole lot of hilarious blunders in college and in romance, Ageha Fujihara had many, many stories to spin for her former classmates. Professionally, she began to hyphenate her mother's name with her father's after she went into college. Her illness was never fully diagnosed but it had gone away half-way throughout her college years. And she had become very invested with her family in America. Of course she had a few friends that still stuck with her, except for one, who became a teacher at the rival academy of the school she taught at.
On her winter vacation though, after receiving Christmas presents and finishing grading her students' last essays, school was far from her mind. Now she was in the holiday spirit, furiously sending gifts and thank you cards. As exhaustive as it was, it was enjoyable too. Even so, Ageha had to go to her very first high school reunion. She wondered how her friends were doing, if they were okay, and maybe she could get to know the people she didn't get to know very well when she was a young teenager. She could probably get good material for the last short story she hoped to finish her book off with here. That was, if she got their permission, of course.
The author had published a book of poetic prose when she had finished college, and it was yet to make any cash. While still having the patience for things like that, she hoped to do other things here too. Not everything was about money. It was about nurturing and enriching yourself by spreading your horizons. Before she just assumed she was a misanthrope, but Ageha was only merely a sick girl who had some social impairments from her lack of experience. Nothing that many shy people didn't have. Either way, she could still make some awkward conversation, being trapped smack dab in the middle between her father's Japanese conservative values and her mother's American liberal values. Even in her parents' old age, they still had their differences. In spite of this, the two appreciated each other. Suzuna and the boys now lived in Sapporo, with the latter still being in college.
Michelle became a genetic counselor for pregnant women who were first-time mothers, having married well to a good, kind man with a secure financial standing. Keith became a lawyer but became disinterested. He and his boyfriend now invest in real estate for income and currently have one newborn daughter. So many things changed in her family, for good, most of the time. However, her father disapproved of her not getting married sooner, but Ageha hoped to wisely choose someone she was interesting. Maybe she could curry some favor with an old friend or acquaintance from her grade and see if they clicked or if they didn't. Either way, they were friends first rather than romantic interests. Ageha was not sycophantic enough to obsess over her lack of success in the romantic world, but it would be nice... Either way, that wasn't important.
Now Ageha stood inside Ernesto Host, sat herself beside a table and took a glance to see if any old pals or anyone familiar popped up, comfortably bathing in the restaurant's warmth.
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 3, 2014 23:02:44 GMT -6
Walking through the doors of Ernest Host, Gourlay Atsumori could only shield his eyes from the burst of light accompanied with entering the building. All of the countless nights spent writing poetry for publication had no aid in protecting him from the pain that came with it. So, after a moment of adjustment, he could finally see the entirety of the Host.
In all honesty, Atsumori couldn't really see why he'd come in the first place. He'd not really made any friends in High School and even college was a disappointment to him, having not gotten along with anyone. In fact, the only people he'd probably recognize were those in class 1-A and that was only due to his memory, constructed when he became Class Rep.
Though, he already knew the answer. He hadn't wanted to miss his class reunion. Ever since he was a child, the sense of wanting a story, no matter how nonfictional or cheesy or stupid it was, he'd always wanted one, and that want never faded. Though he soon learned that the world only gave stories to those who didn't expect, or didn't want, them. Even so, he knew he came in a last ditch effort to find one.
With a few quick glances, he soon looks around for an empty table, not wanting to have to deal with the awkwardness of introductions. Though, surprisingly, there were none. In fact, most of them were crowded, uninhabitable by any other occupant, save for one, that of which was taken by a sole green haired individual, whom Atsumori didn't recognize.
Sighing, Atsumori made his way over to it, reaching inside the pocked of his Double Breasted Jacket to find solace in the bound leather of his poetry book, just like so long ago. Of course, it was now a different one, the original having been filled to the brim with literature and stored away for reminiscence.
Mind racing internally, he sits down, offering the same meek yet graceful "Hello." As he would have in High School, though it was with a deeper voice.
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 4, 2014 17:48:16 GMT -6
Writing was always a very difficult occupation. Most people kept on telling Ageha Verdiano-Fujihara to put it aside as a hobby. To her, it became a side job as a full-time English teacher at a high school, and although she wished it could be a full-time job, she needed to make money to support herself. That is not to say she wasn't involved at all in the writing business. It was far from it. She always wrote in her free time or searched for stories.
Before, she used to be really fond of writing poetry, but Ageha soon realized she had a greater knack for writing short stories or chapter books. So far, she had not published any of the latter yet but she did publish one book of short stories. It sold a little but it was published rather recently so it was too early to get any results out of the actual sales.
That wasn't important though. What was important was that she took on the invitation to the reunion. Why, she might never really know. Originally, she dryly pondered if it was for her father. But now it seemed that there was enough people around for her to actually be able to seek out familiar faces and try to get some interesting tales out of them. In turn, she had plenty to give them; most of them originating from her students and family.
Blinking, Ageha finally returned to reality, in a warm, cozy but a bit loud restaurant. The only other attendee who is silent is none other than a man who seemed to be her age. He glanced around before heading towards her own table, eliciting a fairly surprised expression on her face that quickly melts into a warm smile because that is what was supposed to happen when someone she didn't know came by.
His hand reached inside of his double-breasted jacket, looking as if he was feeling around for something, but what the English teacher paid more attention was his deep voice's sigh. She could imagine him in his youth, with a higher-pitched voice, bright eyes and full heart. It made her chuckle internally as she remembered the frail younger version of herself, still graceful, a bit more demure and with a shriller voice. Now her voice had a smoother and more mature quality to it, not that it really proved anything other than that she was an adult.
The green-haired woman's golden eyes danced with curiosity as she returned the greeting with an equal amount of grace. of course, she added a little bit more to try to keep the conversation flowing. "Hello to you too, sir. I'm sorry for how cramped this place is. I'm not in charge of the reunion, but it seems that almost everyone was eager to get together, doesn't it? Anyway, my name is Verdiano-Fujihara Ageha," she stated in the traditional Japanese format. "I'm very pleased to meet you, if I haven't done so before in high school."
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 4, 2014 18:18:40 GMT -6
Gourlay smiles back at her reply, though no notion of having known her surfaced in his mind. In all reality, he doubted that he'd recognize anyone. "Gourlay Atsumori, a pleasure all the same. And I am terribly sorry about occupying this space. And please do not apologize, I am in the same amount of fault as you are in: none." Sighing internally at his speech patterns, that of which had only traveled deeper into oblivion ever since the end of high school.
After a few moments of glancing around he began to speak once more. "It really is astounding, isn't it? The very amount of people here far exceeded my expectations. I suppose they've either come here for the social opportunities, or because this reunion in itself is a symbol of sorts. Ah, you must forgive me, I've rambled." Putting a finger to his chin in though, the name of Ageha seemed somewhat familiar, though not in the way one would expect at a reunion. Having kept up with the contemporary authors, he faintly remembered a book of exceptional poetic prose he ad read. He had been confused why it hadn't sold as popularly as his had, though in all reality he knew why. The world would choose someone as a symbol of poetry, just as other generations had. Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, all of the greats had many equals, they had only been remembered due to their symbolism, given to them because the world felt a simple need to. But he digressed, now was not the time for such thoughts. So, speaking of the origins of his thoughts, he said, "Verdiano-Fujihara Ageha? Didn't you publish some stories and poetry just recently." To continue the conversation.
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 4, 2014 20:13:17 GMT -6
Truth was, Fujihara didn't recognize anyone either. There were plenty of alumni from the other classes but it seemed not many of 1-B had arrived yet. Reflexively, she clutched onto the dark green skirt of her dress with both of her hands in thought. Regardless, the half-American, half-Japanese woman kept up with the conversation, interested in what the stranger had to say. "Gourlay Atsumori? What a nice name. It sounds familiar, actually. Haven't you written a book recently too? Anyway, there's no need to be sorry. It's just slightly unfortunate because if anyone had it their way, they would be sitting at their own private table, but I don't mind your company in the least. It's really nice, to be honest." And with a subtle hint to suggest she might even grow to enjoy it, Ageha did her best to keep an even head and proper eye contact, even if it was slightly awkward to talk to someone she didn't know. After all, he didn't seem like a bad guy in the least.
Having been deep within her thoughts, Ageha didn't even notice Gourlay's glancing around. "You haven't rambled in the slightest, Gourlay-san. Please don't worry about it. I guess you're sort of on the spot with me but my reason is actually a lot more silly than both of those suggestions. Why, may I ask, have you attended this reunion?" With a bout of almost self-deprecating humor to soften the earnestness of her question, the author felt like she needed to laugh about her own logic for attending. And then Gourlay mentioned her book. Perhaps, she wasn't a great a writer as the classic writers were, but she did receive glowing reviews on her individually published short stories, so there was hope for her after all. She wasn't one for poetry, at least, not anymore. When she was younger, her teachers praised her for her poetry but it seemed that her inspiration had run dry. There were no great, stirring emotions in her life anymore, not even here (maybe?). At least with short stories, you could spin lovely tales and dig within them. Prose was much more easy for her, where she could explore many kinds of figurative language and rhetoric and equally all kinds of themes. While she wasn't the best with symbolism, Ageha thought she was pretty good about developing voices for her characters. "I did publish some short stories and poems in a book but it's only been a month since it came out. It's not very popular but that's to be expected since it's my first time publishing my work in an anthology. Unfortunately, I'm terrible at poetry. Since you yourself are a well-distinguished poet, may I ask for some advice from you? In turn, I don't have that much to offer, but I can tell you a funny story."
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 5, 2014 18:16:46 GMT -6
Gourlay had never been particularly good with eye contact, but he did his best to match her gaze with that smile he donned all those years ago. "Yes, I did. And suppose they would, though 'tis not a perfect world indeed. Also, it is nice to hear such words, I've not had pleasant company in...a long while." And then, with a small sigh, he regarded her query. "I don't suppose it for either of those reasons too. In all honesty, I'd hoped that life would become more interesting as I aged, though I now see how naive such thoughts were. I think, even still, I've come here for the very same reason. Even with I, my childhood dreams have faded gone, though they still whisper temptation for a story in my ears." Then, letting silence reign for a moment, he waved a waitress over and ordered some tea, or more accurately, the 'House SpecialTea'. Before it arrived, though, her second inquiry appeared. Letting out a frown then chuckle, he spoke, "Nonsense! That poetry was exemplary! Though, if you do wish for some advice, a story will do all just fine. I suppose...if you wanted to know how I write...don't write a poem with a clear meaning. Now, don't get me wrong, it can have a meaning to you- No, it must have a meaning to you. Just don't make it the meaning. Let the words mean different things, tell a plethora of stories in one book. If you wish to view it more simply, let the poetry be like a book that tells a story read correctly, and another read backwards. I don't mean write something that makes sense both forwards and backwards, but something that two people can have a conversation about and tell what they thought it meant. And, to begin, think on a single sentence, one so wonderful and cryptic that it draws its readers in. Then, build on it, both forwards and backwards, so that when you finish, you wonder, 'Which story did I make this time?' Though it may sound improbable, it'll come together. Or, at least, that's how I work..."
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 5, 2014 20:06:21 GMT -6
Please forgive me for this outrageously long post. I hope Gourlay has enough patience for her story. You don't even have to read it since the last paragraph has enough implications.
Gourlay needn't worry about being particularly good with eye contact. If Ageha wasn't consciously doing it, she couldn't even give the person she was talking to a glance. It often made for a lot of awkward conversations but nonetheless good stories, despite how unintentional the habit was. "You haven't have pleasant company? It's such a shame since you're a delight to talk to. And life can be pretty uneventful, really. I guess that if no one else is interesting, you need to make yourself interesting and whatever you may think is intriguing, but if you are surrounded by interesting people, you're set. Actually, that might be a lie; who wants to sit on the sidelines in the story of their own life? Isn't that boring? I'd think so but I also would assume that being put on the spot, no matter how interesting the world, would be rather difficult." Yes, he was pleasant and so was she but honestly, they were making polite conversations. For all she knew, this reunion could secretly be a masqueraded celebration such as Carnivale where everyone put on their own social masks so they could pretend to be whoever they wanted. In fact, she was afraid that she might be trying too hard to get the story she wanted and that maybe she wasn't as interesting as she tried to appear. In her own defense, she thought that the pleasantries were honest even if they weren't the most exciting thing in the world.
The brief silence in between them was not stifling but actually necessary, or so Ageha felt so. Then Gourlay waved over a waitress and ordered a spot of the House Special Tea. Shrugging, a smile fleeted across the green-haired woman's face and she decided to get a hot cup of tea as well. Maybe she did not have to worry about either them bearing masks the whole time. February was in only a couple of months' time and they were both pretty expressive, in spite of the fact that they had been strangers. Leaning slightly forward, the author sat in quiet but burning interest, her attention like the fire in an hearth, burning bright and warm while gently staying only a small component of a large but cozy portrait of a comfortable home.
The man's words were kind and encouraging, but also rather cryptic. He suggested that poetry have meaning but not too clear. Perhaps he wanted discussion and different interpretations of his own interpretation of the world around him. That wasn't a new idea but it still was an extremely ingenious one, and if she had anything to say about his own writing, Gourlay Atsumori could pull that sort of thing off pitch perfect."So you're not too straightforward about how you write. I suppose beauty does lie in the eye of its beholder, but in spite of how everyone who has read your work has found it exquisite, they find it exquisite in different ways, and how they see your work might change from moment to moment. It seems that things like beauty or meaning can't last forever, even if an author can only write truly from their own experiences. Equally, you're painting a picture with words, but that picture, in spite of being physically limited to the words you've crafted it with, grows to mean a thousand more." Fujihara wrote from her own experiences -- maybe Gourlay wrote from his own experiences too, but his work, in spite of her interpretation, only tended to set a morose tone but certainly not a pitying one in the slightest.
She chuckled slightly. "My sincerest of apologies, Gourlay-san. It looks like I have rambled on." Her gaze was gradually but evidently becoming one of an amused young lady in her mid-twenties. "While I'm at it, I might as well do something conducive, like tell you that story I promised to tell. It's actually a real story." It would be long though, and some of the details may end up made up because she couldn't remember fully all the details since if anyone really rambled on, it was the student who told her the very story she would share with Gourlay.
WARNING: Ultra Long Story Up Ahead
Time to start with some context. Hopefully, it wasn't too long. "You see, I once had an eccentric student by the name of Tsuwabuki Daigo." Was that a humorous enough start? Ageha could only pray but it didn't seem so. "However, even he wasn't enough of an odd ball to predict the favor his missing girlfriend Haruka had asked of him." She cleared her throat embarrassedly. Oh, god, she was going to ramble on so much! Gourlay Atsumori, she begged of you to forgive her. The story was ending up longer than she ever expected, but how else was Fujihara supposed to tell it? It was interesting, at the very least.
"Anyway, she strung him along a series of clues to find out her whereabouts. Quite the nerve, right?" Feeling like she wanted to stick her tongue out, all the half-Japanese and half-American woman could do was restrain it. "But Tsuwabuki managed to complete the tasks she asked him to do, even if some stood against what he believed in and worked for, and he did it for nothing but true love.
"For this labor, Tsuwabuki had to go all the way to Hollywood. It was a good thing that one of his colleagues, let's call him Kyouhei, teamed up with him." For someone as antisocial as Tsuwabuki Daigo, it surprised Fujihara he had friends, much less even a lover, but he trusted people enough to confide in teachers he liked, it seemed. He gave her the whole run down. "The reason was simple: her wish was that he drew pictures of people for free. He was to draw a sketch of anyone who passed him by. The funny part was that even though one would have to be a good artist to do this kind of thing, Tsuwabuki couldn't draw for his life. You should have seen the grades he got on his report card for art." Fujihara chuckled before continuing on.
"So, now that we're back to the story, Tsuwabuki and Kyouhei set up a street corner for his artistic needs, even if he totally sucked at what he had to do." Her words couldn't do justice to how awful Tsuwabuki was of an artist, and if you looked at his school records, there was the documentation needed to prove it, but at the very least, he was not unprepared for the task. Thankfully, Haruka had provided him the sketchpad and colored pencils he needed to use for the job she cut out for him. "Either way, his first muse for his art happened to be a woman who was angry that her boss dumped a ton of work on her so early in the morning. After drawing her a measly stick figure with nothing else but a face and spaghetti hair, Tsuwabuki actually managed to make the woman laugh." Okay, that was good and all but where was the funny part? Here it comes: "She even got it framed for future laughs probably because he said the cheesiest line ever: 'You have such a lovely smile; you should keep it.' Of course, Kyouhei teased him for saying such a thing." Ageha imitated Kyouhei's voice with a charming little giggle that didn't downplay the situation's absurdity in the slightest.
"The teasing soon ended though when they found out that the second person he drew for was a businessman struggling financially, enough so that he had to work late and miss his daughter's dance recital. Tsuwabuki's sketch of both the man and his little girl was downright terrible. He couldn't even draw a straight line, but it was genuinely heartwarming." If someone did the same for her own family, Fujihara would appreciate it. Her family was mainly full of boisterous young lads and crazy Americans, but she loved them all the same. Instead of musing over her work, however, the girl had to dust off her dark green dress and white cashmere sweater and continue on with the story.
The drawing of horrible stick figures continued on until he filled up all the pages of the sketch pad, but I'll boil it down to this: people aren't what they seem. A strong, able looking man Tsuwabuki drew actually had terminal cancer. A woman who barely looked like she could get by insisted he take her money; turns out she was a successful lawyer who had preferred to be comfy rather than chic." These examples were important for telling her stories, but Fujihara needed to save the best for last. She took a slow, deep breath and let silence overcome the world, even just for a moment: a very, very long moment indeed. If Gourlay ever found himself thinking the tale ended anticlimactically, however, he would only find the story picking up the pace once more.
"Above all, the most moving story that Tsuwabuki had to tell was of the woman down the block who smiled all day, even though her sister just died. When he drew a smiling stick figure of the alive sister, she wept because it reminded her of how sad she actually was. In the end, in spite of all weird encounters he did and painful tragedies he had to learn about, Tsuwabuki loved this activity, even though he had no idea who these people were or why they trusted him to simply draw a sketch of them. He found it really enjoyable and empowering, but also humbling because he came to realize all our knowledge of the people around us comes from one superficial image." You know what this means, Gourlay, now that she clasped her hands together, apologized for rambling on so long, and fell silent?
Fujihara Ageha finally realized why she even started to tell him such a story. It started out funny, but it ended with a theme because she was good with themes, or so she had thought. In truth, this reflected on her relationship with Gourlay Atsumori, no matter how brief and unfamiliar it had been. She acknowledged she didn't really know him or if he hid anything. All she knew that this man sitting right in front of her was very different from what she first met him as. This woman had no clue if he had been hiding his feelings or anything at all and never asked him to spill his heart out. What she did want to know was his true self, though, even if not the entirety of it. Regardless, the only way that could be accomplished is if she got to acquaint him beyond a cup of tea, a super long story, and a school reunion. Of course, Fujihara fretted whether her story left a bad impression on the man. She gave him an apologetic look with drooping eyes and hands clasped together in prayer it wasn't too late to keep a good first impression. But impressions were only impressions. It was time she trusted him a little more than that now that she went the whole nine yards.
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 5, 2014 20:46:43 GMT -6
He nodded, showing his agreement of how she said he wrote, based on what he'd told her. "Yes, in its basics, that's correct. I want you to be able to read a poem when you're in one mood and and get a completely different story when you're in another. Now, onto the story..." His tea finally arriving, he was once again reminded how the anxiety of deadlines and such had made him forget when the last time he'd had a cup of it was. And then, as he took his first sip, the story began.
As the story followed through, in its entirety, Gourlay payed apt attention, laughing at some parts (Particularly at the woman framing the photo) smiling at most. Though, as it reached its end, and the theme became ever present, his mood solemnized (Is that proper grammar?) Having always been good at reading into things, Gourlay was no fool when it came to knowing what this all meant. The masks, the dark undertones, everything. At some point, though, he felt his eyes water, even if he refused to let one fall. How long? He asked himself, it scared him that he couldn't remember. How long has this facade lain upon my face? How long has it tormented my very being. But, he knew, there wasn't a beginning. Being Gourlay Atsumori, in itself, meant you were a facade. He hadn't if that was what it was anymore. Time had lain an obscurity upon the bound of whether or not his facade was actually a mask or his true self. Did he want to fail? He found his answer to be yes. Had he always wanted this? Again, yes. Then why hadn't he done so? Floated down to thosethat were the 'normal' ones. But, before he could search for this, before he could find were it molded into his very soul, he saw the sight before him, Fujihara, bowing, and finally knew what she meant by all of this.
"Ah, so I've finally found someone willing to do something other than argue with me. But, uh, I don't think that I'd be very good at revealing my face, as those in your story. If I do, you'll find nothing but malfunctioning clockwork hidden by an elegant wooden face."
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 6, 2014 17:52:47 GMT -6
Good, it seemed she actually got the gist of what Gourlay had to tell her. It would help her a lot in becoming a better poet, even though it was slightly hard to believe that she was getting inspiration from a former classmate, of all people. His style was certainly unique, however, so she found herself pumped up to write some poetry. A poem open for interpretation... It almost seemed one had to have particular skills in order to do that. Did she have them? The tea being served distracted Fujihara from such thoughts in the end. Sipping once she finished her story, Ageha frowned thinly, finding that the cup of tea had gone cold by the time she had finished spinning her tale like strong, light gossamer, gleaming in the wintry moonlight.
At first, it gladdened Fujihara that she could make him laugh and smile a little at first, including at the part where the woman framed Tsuwabuki's horrible artwork for future generations to see. Certainly, the poor man wouldn't live it down in the slightest. But that wasn't important, now that underlying darker themes had made themselves apparent. Gourlay Atsumori, the man in front of her began to delve into his thoughts and his gray eyes, now stormy with tears, watered. Even if he refused to let them go, the tears still remained; the sadness still remained. Reaching into her purse, she took out a small packet of tissues, opened it and gave a few to the man, her gaze filled with all the compassion she could muster, immense sorrow that she had flew too close to the sun, and something else far too inexplicable for words. Fujihara Ageha understood that this man was brilliant and he would not miss out on the deeper themes of her tale, but she had hoped to not accuse him of anything with it.
However, all the story seemed to do was shed light on his wounds in spite of its humorous beginnings. "I cannot express the full extent of my regret to you, Gourlay-san, for what I have done. Please forgive me for touching upon such a matter if you aren't comfortable discussing it with a stranger like me." Silently, the half-American, half-Japanese woman bowed her head in apology, unwitting becoming even closer to him than when she leaned in to listen to his advice. To Ageha, however, this made not a difference. She gulped. No matter how many centimeters she tried to lean herself back, the author's back dug into her seat's linoleum almost as soon as she tried-- yet still, she had never felt so uncomfortably close to a man, not even her father. She felt like she was imposing, crushing her front onto him painfully, even though this had not happened physically in the slightest. However, Fujihara felt a sort of laden pressure burying her into the seat; maybe it was shame for prying too deep and doing what she shouldn't have.
For a moment, she was stunned by his words. "Why... would I ever want to argue with you of all people? You've been nothing but patient with me but now I've made you suffer the burden memories leave!" Her gentle voice, first soft, went through a slight crescendo, not enough for anyone to hear or pay heed but enough to force the woman to pay heed to the subtle trembling of her hands and legs.
Although drenched with guilt, Fujihara's voice remained steady. "There's no need to share your life story with someone like me but I did want to know you a little bit beyond my first impression of you." Her bowed head returned to its normal distance, so she could continue making eye contact, but filled with emotion, most people would find her gaze incredibly intense. "It would be unfair of me to judge you on barely anything, but now I see that my story had grown to mean a thousand words more, words that injure you and hold you down even though I cannot control them. For that, I cannot forgive myself," admitted Fujihara, afraid she had done something terribly wrong.
Be strong, she told herself and immediately she reined in her emotions to preserve a polite composure. Should Gourlay take a look, though, he would find her eyes were still soft and murky with deep and sentimental thoughts, like sugar dissolving into pure spring water. Even that soon disappeared though, as she determined what to say next. "However, from what I do know of you and people in general is that everyone puts on a facade when they first meet someone and that they are more than the facade they put on, including you and me. Eventually, a facade sometimes becomes a part of a person but not all of him. It only seems that way because he's too busy learning about all the complexities of his being. A person can never fully know himself and seeks to gain such an understanding until he dies. That's what I know; that's what I do too."
Would Gourlay even believe her? Probably not; his beliefs, values, fears, and obsessions were ingrained in him, now that he was fully matured, but then again, Ageha could never truly know. Maybe he wouldn't trust her with anything about him ever again. She didn't know, but Fujihara Ageha was very capable of the fears and emotions Gourlay had and equally the absence of them. Unlike most people, though, she had a wish. She wished Gourlay could realize his feelings were valid too, and that he could find comfort in another presence. She didn't want to be a false lead for such a hope because in this moment, the woman was discovering her own imperfections in her inability to directly help the stranger in front of her. It didn't stop her from wanting to, though.
"I can't judge you fully based on my knowledge though, no matter how much experience and wisdom I have, or I'm not supposed to judge you, at least. As if I'd even like to try! Either way, since I don't know you, I cannot take the low regard you give yourself into consideration, but if you would let me, even after all of this, I will have to see for myself." In the meanwhile, though, she would have to come up with a proper apology for the gentleman she had troubled.
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 6, 2014 18:21:22 GMT -6
"Forgive you...Why should I forgive you for finally getting me to do something I'd needed to do for a long time? And those words didn't hurt, they enlightened me, in all honesty. They were the starter for me to finally rid myself of the things tugging at my frame of mind for far too long." He smiled a smile that showed a mix between sadness and relief. He really had needed to do some self searching, that very facade was thinning, and he supposed it was time to take it off. He didn't really know what was under it, but it was impossible that it was nothing but cobwebs and dust. There was, after all, always a person, no matter how deep you've delved. And the first to experience it would be Fujihara. After all, it was in her partaking that he was actually able to see such things.
"And please, don't blame yourself for something that is beneficial. In fact, I should be thanking you. And, though I can't say it's anything but bleak, I suppose that you can go right ahead and learn more about me, if you wish as much. Though, if I recall, you said something about my story? I can't say it'll be interesting, but I can say that I'll tell it the best that I can..."
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 6, 2014 19:36:23 GMT -6
"Well, that's certainly a relief, but... Wouldn't you prefer to discuss these kinds of things with someone you trust more? How come it doesn't bother you that I've talked about so many intimate things with you even though we've just met? I mean, I like you and trust you more than I did at first yet this is something very important for you. I don't want to disappoint." What if she wasn't the right person for helping him along with this kind of problem? And she still got him sad, (just look at the poor man's smile) but maybe he was sad the entire duration of their talk before then. The thought of such a thing built up Ageha's resolve to do her best to be there for Gourlay and experience him as his true self. It was quite an honor, but also frightening because she didn't know him too well and it might not go properly if he felt uncomfortable.
"As you wish, Gourlay-san. I won't blame myself for any more, but it would be an honor to acquaint myself further with you. I hope we can get along like this for as long as we can, but how would we know you're bleak? All I know is that you are very sad but also that you are kind and that you deserve happiness. Even if there's a chance of failure, I would like to try to help make you happy because we've gotten so entrenched in this after my extemporaneous decision to tell you that story." And yes, she had mentioned Gourlay's story but she had to elaborate a bit further. "Thank you for satisfying my curiosity, though, as inappropriate as it can be at times. Before I had said you didn't have to tell me your story, but only if you are comfortable with sharing it with me." Suddenly, Fujihara began to glance around, now remembering the two were in a restaurant.
"I wouldn't recommend telling your story to me here, though. There are too many people, even if they are wrapped up in their own little worlds. So, tell me, would you like to keep in touch and tell me later or go somewhere private and tell me now?" Quite frankly, she did not recommend the latter since they both needed time to process what was going on at that very moment.
But, it was Gourlay Atsumori's choice, not hers. Therefore, it was only fair of her to add: "You could do both, sort of, too. For instance, you could tell me whatever you're comfortable telling me in public now and we can discuss the things you don't want to talk about in public somewhere else after we find some way to keep in touch." To be honest, Fujihara Ageha wanted to keep in touch with Gourlay. He was a sad yet mysterious character, but deep down, a voice told her that he was worth getting to know and that he had plenty of good in him. She did not doubt that voice.
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 6, 2014 19:58:48 GMT -6
A nostalgic, bittersweet smile, slowly etched itself across Gourlay's face at her query. Ah, the simple concept of trust, how he'd missed it. The lack of stress when talked to someone you'd installed it in slowly reappeared, he'd long since forgotten it. In fact, he was probably going way too fast. He actually knew it, but the first friendly face that didn't seem to be analytic or showed any type of criticism had proved to be too much for him. He'd not know how he'd spilled his thoughts so quickly until he did, an then it was too late. Still, he was relieved she didn't show any signs of anger, average reaction to such a thing. "Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak so quickly, still I doubt you'd disappoint. I haven't had someone I truly trust as a...well a friend in much too long. My family's much too far away and I'm not a very social person, as you can probably tell. Anyway, I guess the easiest way to reach me would be through this." Then, pulling out a phone, that of which had two section and folded for a smaller build, he showed her a number that appeared on the screen.
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 6, 2014 21:41:12 GMT -6
As Gourlay smiled, even if wistful and a little bittersweet, Ageha felt herself returning a warm and benign one to try and soften the heaviness of the emotions swirling between them. Slowly, a lack of stress appeared on the man's face, and she found herself relaxing with him in unison. There was no judging to be found: just relief that they were both one step closer to a freedom to live without fear of death or any of those inevitable and unpleasant matters. Just the freedom to live in the moment and enjoy it. The future still was foreboding but in this moment, it was far away from this peaceful scenery in a restaurant during halfway throughout winter.
"Please, do not apologize for speaking like that, and thanks for your faith in me. You mean very well, but I am afraid that if anyone manipulative comes around, they might take advantage of your needs and wants if you open up like just now. But even if we're not friends yet, I won't tell anyone about you or your past and I will see you again, even after tonight. Parting is such sweet sorrow. On one hand, you'll be gone when we bid adieu, but another hand, I can see you again," she said almost dreamily, but she was careful to not mention his family. Her family life was similar but it might be too personal to ask if he kept in touch with them.
When she saw his phone, Fujihara quickly took out her own, a lavender and rectangular flip phone. Ignoring the text messages that were sent to her beforehand, she input his number in her contacts before showing him her own number. For a few seconds, the young lady smiled lightly, as if she was giggling on the inside that they were exchanging numbers like inexperienced junior high kids who were crushing on each other. Wait, did she just think? Quickly, she shook her head free of such a silly thought because even though she was still a romantic, she expressed that in her writing and had enough sense to know that they were not in middle school nor did they have a crush on each other.
After showing him her number and letting him input it in his contacts' list, if Gourlay so pleased, a frown suddenly spread across Fujihara Ageha's face. There were too many people in her contacts' list, some of whom she didn't even talk to! The name Gourlay Atsumori would simply be drowned in a sea of names she did not recognize anymore, and this saddened her greatly. She didn't want his name to become another one of those anonymous friends.
"Gourlay-san, you like symbolism, correct?"
Carefully, the half-American, half-Japanese woman felt her hair clip, one that held her silky green hair into one huge elegant bun, and took it off, letting her locks cascade down her back. Then, she handed the hair clip to him: it was an exquisite little triad of white butterflies. On the back of the hair clip, in blue pen, her email address, phone number and home address were written on it. After all, she needed to give the former class rep something more physical, so he could remember to keep in touch with her at the sight of the hair clip and she could remember to keep in touch with him by seeing its absence.
Of course, it was his choice as to whether he kept in touch or not. "Please take this as a gift from me (you can return it to me when we meet again if it's too much); this way we can remember to keep in touch instead of losing each others' phone numbers in a sea of contacts on our phones. But you don't even have to keep in touch with me or meet with me again if you don't want to. If that's the case, just give it to your future girlfriend or something and get that luggage away from you." With her mischievous smile and her hair down, Ageha looked more youthful than she did before as she tried for a bit of humor in her gift-offering.
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Post by Gourlay Atsumori on Nov 7, 2014 21:00:41 GMT -6
Even as she said it, Gourlay knew that he'd need to be much more careful. He intended to, but thoughts were easier in creation than the actions that followed them. So, offering a small nod, he smiled a small, knowing smile. That was his only response, though it would have been near impossible to miss that it meant agreement.
Entering her name into his small contact list, that of which contained his editor, publishing agent, and some acquaintances he'd likely never see again, he looked up to answer her question. "I guess you could say that, though its more that it has integrated itself into my daily life."
And then, when she removed her hair clip, he was stunned by the amount of hair that cascaded down around her. Not only that, but he though she looked...more relaxed somehow. It was a good look, though not one of a school teacher. Or at least, when she was working. "Are you sure, it seems like quite the important item...One that you wouldn't want to part with in the least. Though, I suppose it is a good way to keep in touch..." A smirk spread across his face, "And don't worry, it won't end up as a paperweight. Though I can't say whether or not I'll be able to keep it away from my mother, should she visit as some point. She'll no doubt accuse me of some kind of theft." His tone showed his jesting.
Then, looking down at the watch on his wrist, his eyes slowly widened. Ah! The time that had passed! Suddenly, all the deadlines he had suddenly became apparent in his mind. All the work, all the time it'd take! Surprisingly, though, he was able to keep all of it into one sigh. "It's getting rather late, isn't it? I'll have to take my leave in a few moments..."
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Post by Fujihara Ageha on Nov 8, 2014 3:21:18 GMT -6
Fujihara Ageha sighed with relief when her words begot understanding, subtly but infallibly depicted by a slight smile and nod -- both small but not imperceptible -- but being the man he was, perhaps Gourlay did know this, and yet he could not control his feelings. No one ever could. However, after all this time of opaque stagnancy, could he rein in his responses to those emotions?
She didn't know. Quite frankly, she was afraid she could not repress her own sentiments when it mattered most, but the English teacher thought better of it, knowing she was rather professional at school but still supportive of her students. Only returning from her thoughtful stupor when he looked up at her, Fujihara smiled a lot more delicately this time. "Interesting. Then I suppose this little thing of mine won't surprise you at all."
Of course, she had to be wrong. Then again, being part of a family that had thick but smooth hair on both sides, it was only to be expected. It was normal for Ageha as she grew up. Her smile became almost coquettish, borderline impish, really in response to him registering the presence of her gift. "It's just a hair clip. While I'll admit it is quite a beautiful one, I give away these all the time to my sister; although I have several copies of those. Regardless, tonight is special, so I'll have to do a little something to commemorate this reunion." The smile on her face broadened even more to his smirk. "I guess you'll have to show me what you've made of it the next time we see each other. And you'll be fine. I'm sure you've probably stole something else anyway," his acquaintance added lightheartedly. She never meant her last statement and hoped it wasn't too crude a joke, but the back in her mind wondered if he had some time before. Everyone eventually did it when they were a child and sometimes they did it accidentally as adults. Well, she wouldn't know until Gourlay met the girl again.
Using fingers once calloused by writing, she ran them through her long hair and twirled it idly in contrast to his worried profile. So, he was worrying about how late it was, hm? At the very least, it wasn't at those ungodly hours, but it would be by the time they both made it home. How nice, she thought dryly before saying, "Ah, yes... Then, I suppose I'll need to be going too. It was a pleasure to meet you, Gourlay Atsumori-san. A thousand times goodnight!" Rising up buoyantly yet gracefully, she put on her brown overcoat, bid him farewell with a wave, and left.
THE END
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