Chapter 3: An Insomniac’s Hobbies

The first step to her walk home was heading for the railway station. It was a short trip – nearby and hardly secluded. Waiting for the train was another matter, though. Yuriko stood by patiently as others chattered around her, a few being recognisable students from her school, but most were from other academies that she didn't care to memorise.

‏‎‎Yuriko herself kept her eyes forward, her chin held high and voice ever so silent. Her satchel was hanging from her shoulder, and she held it tightly in case of snatchers who were passing in the crowd. Not that she couldn't beat them near senseless if anyone dared to try, but she didn't feel like dealing with it right now.

When the train arrived, she stepped over the thick bright yellow line and onto it, leaving the school behind as she took a seat on one of the neon green chairs. Many voices filled the air and her head as the rest filed into the train, and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her bearings. The train lurched into movement as the doors closed and a person sat beside her, but she paid no attention to the unfamiliar individual. Nothing of import happened from the situation, anyway.

‏‎‎After she exited the train, onto a station where very few individuals came off on, she climbed the stairs and started her second trek. It was long, but she was persistent and stubborn, something that her grandfather always said was a strong aspect of what little personality she had. The walk consisted of going through a small city, then a town, followed by a quaint village. Completed with a climb up the side of a hill towards the place she called home.

‏‎‎It was a dojo. Shaped like an L with a black, dark brown, and gold colour scheme. It was all one floor, but the shorter length of the dojo was so high that one could mistake it for multiple. There were two columns holding up an overhanging piece of the roof that could shadow a small group of people. The longer side of the dojo curled around her, holding panels of dark brown with a black edging, rimmed with gold that could have been real.

‏‎‎The best part was the cherry blossom tree that stood at the door, right then reaching the end of its bloom. Yet she could remember what they looked like while blossoming, as the last eight years of her life there she had watched them daily. Since she was there, the silence was beautiful, and the shadows that seemed to follow her everywhere disappeared into a brighter glimmer.

‏‎‎Despite that, Yuriko's empty expression remained ever vigilant. Even in the face of a welcoming home, she did not smile nor even stop to express her gratitude for arriving. She simply walked through the sliding door that was decorated with golden roses at the bottom, as if growing from the stone.

‏‎‎Upon slipping inside, she took off her shoes with a press of her toes against each heel and stood there. Setting her satchel on the ground, she closed her hand into a fist with the pointer finger and middle finger outstretched, bowing at a thirty degree angle. She remained as such for a moment before straightening, picking up her bag and shutting the sliding door behind her.

‏‎‎"Jiichan," She called, her voice rising into a childish pitch before normalising. "I am home."

Yuriko walked forward, straight to a painting on the wall, past the training dummies and fake swords. It was different from the others, which depicted moves in what the Niten Ichi-ryū way was. The one she stopped in front of had handwritten black Japanese lettering on it, so it had to be studied and examined. Which she promptly proceeded to do, such as every time she entered the dojo. There were ten rules of the dojo, all to build on oneself, but there was only one that her eyes settled on.

7.

A promise to never change is a promise already broken.

How was your day?

‏‎‎"Strange," She responded to the thought that entered her mind. "It was stranger than it needed to be."

Her eyes turned to rest on her grandfather. The man that stood before her looked well over seventy. He had hair as silver as a running river, his skin like old crumpled parchment seasoned and faded, his walk towards her vapid and wilting. His fingers were folded in front of him on a tall cane that clicked on the ground with every shuffle, his eyes like earthshine pools that held wisdom and knowledge beyond her levels of understanding. The voice in her head was trembling but laced sweetly. He wore a faded brown kimono with a black piece wrapped around his waist.

‏‎‎And why was it so strange? He hummed as he thought that to her, and she turned to face him fully.

‏‎‎"I met a boy," She told him. "He is in my class, but he's… different."

He stopped, a soft smile on his face. Did you make friends with him?

‏‎‎"No, jiichan," Yuriko answered curtly. "I do not make friends."

He hummed again out loud. We'll see about that.

‏‎‎"Are you hungry, jiichan?" She asked, disregarding his thoughts. "I can make dinner tonight. What would you like?"

‏‎‎You've had a long day, He waved her off as he shuffled around and continued down the hall on the right. I've already prepared a meal. Come, eat with me – and tell me more about this boy you met.

‏‎‎"There is nothing to tell," She followed after him, matching his slow and even pace. "He was simply different. That is all."

‏‎‎But you seem relaxed. I can tell you let your tension out. Who did you hit?

She hesitated as they passed into the hall, turning right into another and walking by bedrooms. "There was another group of boys," Yuriko said calmly. "Older than me. Sixteen, seventeen, somewhere around that age. They interrupted my lunch, stole my textbook, called me cute, and would not cease when I told them to stop touching me. I did what I had to do to stop a situation before it escalated into something else."

‏‎‎Well, you were not wrong… He nodded to himself. And you did not break any of the rules. Did the teachers find out?

‏‎‎"I think they were too embarrassed to tell the teachers they were beaten up by the new girl," She hinted casually.

‏‎‎A chuckle came from him, warm and pleasant in a way that made something inside her stir. Then I see no reason for discipline. Although, I do wonder why you have a problem with being called cute?

‏‎‎"His thoughts behind the compliment were morbid," She sighed. "He simply wanted something with breasts to-"

Let's not discuss the matter any further, He interrupted.

‏‎‎"Yes, jiichan."

‏‎‎It wasn't until they reached the far end of the hall that they turned into a room. It was opposite from the kitchen which had the sliding door closed, but they were headed for the dining room. There was a window at the back, shining light through tiny square panels that looked like paper, but Yuriko knew they were protected from the elements. A short table sat in the middle of the room with two plush red cushions on either side of it, and a beige floor underneath it all. Spherical lamps hung down to illuminate the room further. The food laid out was two platters with multiple small dishes on them. It was a traditional Japanese meal.

‏‎‎I can see your mouth watering, Her grandfather's thoughts interrupted her own as he walked forward, motioning to the cushion facing the window. Come, sit.

‏‎‎Yuriko set her satchel on the ground by the sliding door, kneeling down on the cushion with her hands crossed in her lap. She was used to this position, so it wasn't uncomfortable. Her grandfather set his cane on the floor as he kneeled into the cushion before her, letting out a sigh. In unison, they placed their hands in front of their chests and clapped lightly, speaking simultaneously.

‏‎‎"Itadakimasu."

‏‎‎It was then they began to eat. They would place the soy-sauce-simmered seaweed in the rice and somehow gracefully shovel it all into their mouths. Occasionally they would pick up other bowls and eat out of them, but they saved enough rice for them to have both start and end on it. When they drank, they customarily raised their cups in salute before doing so. They ate at the same pace, stopping on the last rice grain together. After they were done, they put their chopsticks back on the rest and did the same motion as before, saying together,

‏‎‎"Gochisōsama deshita."

‏‎‎So tell me about this boy. Her grandfather's thoughts, having been silent, protruded her own – not unwelcome, but a warm embrace that made her calm.

‏‎‎"He is different," She repeated.

‏‎‎You continue to say that, He narrowed his winter-white eyebrows, crumpling his forehead wrinkles. But what is his name?

‏‎‎"Jayce Miller." Yuriko once again cursed herself for remembering him.

‏‎‎He does sound different.

‏‎‎"He is American," She spoke after a moment. "I can tell because he obnoxiously speaks English often with his odd accent."

‏‎‎What else about him? He scanned her, as if trying to read her.

‏‎‎Is it best to tell him? Yuriko thought to herself. No. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary.

‏‎‎"Nothing," She responded. "He is simply strange. He invited me to a book club after seeing me defend myself against his friends."

‏‎‎I see, He nodded, examining her for any detectable hint of her blatant lie. You best let me meet him one day.

‏‎‎"I am unsure if he will be willing to make the trip here," She let her shoulders fall, but her gaze did not waver.

‏‎‎Does that disappoint you? He seemed to catch the slight motion and suspected something of it.

‏‎‎"No." Yuriko looked down at her platter. "Would you like me to clean up, jiichan?"

‏‎‎If you so wish, Her grandfather let her change the subject.

‏‎‎Yuriko stood up, picking the platters off the table after placing the cups back onto them. She headed out of the room without another word, sliding open the door opposing the dining room with her foot and entering the kitchen. It was dainty – dark brown counters rimming the entirety of the walls, two rectangular windows on the back wall. A sink was between them and a drainer next to it. Overhanging cabinets and shelves contained food, dishes, hand towels, and cook books.

‏‎‎She walked towards the sink, turning on the water and setting down the platters opposite of the drainer. She poured a little bit of soap on the yellow sponge and began rinsing the bowls and plates, turning off the water to wash them thoroughly, then turning it back on to rinse the soap off. As she stacked them in the drainer, she heard the click of her grandfather's cane behind her.

‏‎‎Yuriko began to put the dishes away in the corresponding places, covering her mouth as she yawned lightly. Her grandfather came up behind her, patting her on the shoulder. She looked at him, scanning his bright twinkling eyes of grey and reaching out as he took her hand in his own. A soft smile spread across his lips and he squeezed her fingers tightly.

You seem tired, He let out a hum. We will skip training tonight. Rest easy.

‏‎‎"Yes, jiichan," She said gratefully.

‏‎‎They exchanged an embrace, Yuriko having to bend down slightly to his hunched height. He turned and began walking towards the door, bidding her goodnight in his mind as she did the same but out loud. When he was gone, she finished putting up the dishes and closing all the doors, leaving her alone in the hallway. She headed to her own room – the second door from the end, right next to the dining room – and opened the sliding entrance.

‏‎‎It was a small bedroom, about ten metres by eight. The bed was resting in a nook in the wall that had shelves above the head, holding a few items. Old stuffed animals – a penguin with a burnt piece of the left wing, a lion the size of a small pig, and a blue bird without any eyes. Next to the birds were a variety of books, and above the shelves was a painting of three running horses depicted by splashes of vibrant colours.

‏‎‎Two tall lamps sat on either side of the bed, only one maple table on the left side holding a digital alarm clock and a candle. A dresser was on the left bit of the room, the same maple as the side table. The bed was raised on a platform, basically just a mattress with black sheets and two white pillows. A throw pillow was in between them, displaying an open book that had cursive words underneath.

Write Your Own Story

‏‎‎Yuriko stepped fully into the room before she shut the door behind her, taking in a breath. She walked towards the side table and pulled open the drawer. Inside wasn't much – a book on meditation and a silver plated lighter. She plucked the lighter from its nook, then the candle on the surface of the table and lit it. As the task was finished, she placed the lighter back into the drawer, set down the candle, and pushed in the drawer.

‏‎‎She headed for the dresser next, opening the top drawer and peering inside. Not much was contained there, either – only changes of bed sheets and a single pill bottle. She picked up the bottle and opened it, dumping out a single pill. Swallowing it dry, she then put the lid back on and put the bottle back, closing the drawer. Yuriko proceeded to get dressed as well, into black silk pyjamas.

‏‎‎A vanilla scent began to waft its way through the room, taking over her senses and relaxing her. She made her way on top of the bed, grabbing one of the books near the jay, which was labelled Loyalty in Chains. Sitting down on her bed, she grabbed the throw pillow and hugged it in her lap, opening the book.

Except there weren't pages – it was a false book, with a box placed in the thick paper that was glued together to form a solid block that had an opening for the carton. Inside the box was what looked to be a makeshift radio connected to earbuds that she promptly took out and stuck in her ears. Pressing a black button in a series of three on the side of the radio, the strange noise filled her head.

‏‎‎The sound of static filled her ears then voices – talking formally and calling out codes, designating their whereabouts and situations. The radio was a connection to the local police station, so she could hear every bit of information she needed. All the details, all the commissions, all presented quotes from the police. She could hear it, and moreover, understand every piece.

‏‎‎Yuriko turned and picked another book from the shelf, labelled Bound in Honour, and opened it up on top of the throw pillow. Unlike the last, it was an actual book with words in English. She pressed one finger underneath the words and began reading them aloud in a whisper. Yuriko recognised some of the words from previous studies, but some she came across were strange, like ironic or mischievous.

‏‎‎She kept the cycle until a code came across the radio and she paused, listening closely. It was a call for backup, for a car crash. After a few seconds of waiting, they took one moment too long to respond, and she shut her book and flew off the bed. She took the radio device with her, traversing quickly towards the dresser and pulling something out from underneath it – a suitcase, completely black to blend in with the shadows. On the handle was a tag with scrawled English words on it.

For Emergencies Only

"I would call this an emergency," She mumbled, unlocking the case with a key and flipping it open.