Sunbeam - 3

It’s Monday, and if Sayuri’s classmates are to be believed, the weather is scorching hot outside. She wouldn’t know; the AC’s blowing on full blast in the classroom, and she’s gotten here way before the sun could bare his teeth. A bad idea through and through. With three sleepless nights under her belt, the last thing she needed was to climb the hill to Hakuin first thing in the morning on an empty stomach. Had things turned the way she wanted them to, it would’ve all been worth it. Now the bell’s about to ring, and all she got out of coming to school early was a heightened craving for rest, and a bucket of nausea to keep her hunger at bay.

With a light sigh, she lets her heavy eyes fall on Asami’s empty seat. Where is she? How is she doing? Ever since their meeting with Ken last Friday, Sayuri’s not heard a peep out of her – no texts, no calls, not even a reaction on her Instagram story. Plenty of times over the weekend she thought about walking to her flat and knock on her door, but she never quite figured out what to do from there: apologise, demand an explanation, both or neither. In the end, talking to Asami alone before class, as they often did, became the next best thing. A surefire way to confirm that things were still okay between them.

Now homeroom’s come and gone, and on top of worrying about that, Sayuri can’t help but wonder if something bad might’ve happened to her friend. Watching their teacher get up and leave, her heart skips a couple beats in one. Surely, he would know, but if Asami didn’t want to tell her, should she even ask?

Her brow furrows: without a doubt. If for no other reason than Asami is still her friend. And even if she can’t do anything about it, she’d still like to be sure Asami’s okay.

“Sensei!” she calls out. He freezes in the door frame, locks gazes with her, then steps back into the room. Reaching his side, Sayuri pulls him further out of the way.“I – Do you know why Asami’s not here today?”

“Ah, right. She’s home sick with a fever. It’s nothing too bad, so she’ll probably be back in a couple days, if not by tomorrow.” He pauses, searching his thoughts for a long second, before his eyes light up with recognition. “Say, you two are pretty close, aren’t you Hayakawa?

Sayuri shuffles in place. “I… guess. Why?”

“You see,” he lowers his voice to a private whisper, “Kitora’s parents are divorced, and she spends most of the year living alone while her mother works abroad. Because of that, she asked if there was someone who could check up on her daughter, make sure she’s okay. Normally, that would have to be me – but I feel it would be better if it were one of her friends instead. I don’t think anyone would like their teacher dropping by their home unannounced, especially when they’re ill.

“So,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “what do you say? No pressure, obviously.”

There’s no pressure at all, she wants to reply, but it’s hard for her to speak when she’s biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Should she agree? It was one thing to find out what’s wrong, but with their relationship stuck in limbo, visiting her place may very well be overstepping her boundaries.

But once again, she finds the answer as obvious as the day is long.

* * *

Sayuri is standing in front of Asami’s flat, unsure if she should knock. If it weren’t for someone recognising her uniform, believing her excuse and letting her in, she wouldn’t even be here, so maybe she shouldn’t. But going back down and ringing Asami may very well leave her stranded outside, so – yeah, she won’t chance it. She’s missed her friend and even if it’s for nothing more than a furtive moment, Sayuri would like to see her.

She raps her fingers against the metal, the lightest touch enough to send an echo up and down the corridor. For a second, there’s no sound coming from inside, none that she could hear at least. But then, there is a slow and careful thud, muffled at first but growing ever closer until it stops. The door doesn’t budge.

“… Sayuri?” Asami’s voice crosses through, low and colourless, before gaining a bashful hue. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Got some homework for you,” Sayuri chuckles. “Brought to your home by Hayakawa’s delivery service. Please leave a tip.”

No response. Not for a moment, not for a minute.

“Yeah, I figured that joke wouldn’t land.” She clutches her elbow, shifting her weight from foot to foot. If she closes her eyes, she can easily picture how Asami looks on the other side – tail curled around herself, gaze trained on a spot on the floor, features set in an uncomfortable grimace. Did she think things would go any other way? If she were honest with herself, she’d say that she tried her best not to give herself too much hope. Seeing how awful the disappointment hurts, safe to say she didn’t succeed.

“Sorry,” she says, certain Asami could pick up her words no matter how hard she’s mumbling. “Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. I guess – I’ll leave all the notes and printouts on your welcome mat, then go. You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to. Just – just know that –”

The lock clicks.

Sayuri’s mouth gapes open. Her mental image of Asami wasn’t half-wrong, and what she didn’t get right, she would never conceive even in her wildest fantasies. Dressed in nothing but a white lace chemise, with a bashful blush and an even more bashful frown, she looks like she’s just stepped out of a midsummer daydream. And even if she shouldn’t feel any weirder than when she saw her naked, Sayuri’s chest tightens with hesitation like this – this is something she shouldn’t see. This is beyond the pale, beyond her limit.

And it doesn’t help that Asami remains quiet like a mouse, her gaze blank and blurry.

“H-hi,” Sayuri says.

“Hi.”

Should she – should she not – “Are you feeling okay? How’s your fever?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Let me see.” Carefully, she brings the back of her palm to Asami’s forehead. Her ears twitch at the touch, Sayuri at least a couple of degrees colder, but instead of flinching, she leans further into the sensation.

A trill escapes her lips. “You’re warm.”

“And you’re burning up,” Sayuri murmurs, concern lacing her tone. “Gosh, you shouldn’t even be up and walking around like this. Have you taken any medicine?”

“There isn’t any…”

“What? You mean you don’t – never mind. I –” Would it be overstepping? Is that even the right thing to do? “– I’ll pop by the pharmacy, see if they can recommend anything. Shouldn’t take me too long, it’s just down the road. Can I trust you to buzz me back in?”

“N-no…”

She sighs, “That’s fine. I – I’ll figure something out. Maybe wedge the front door with something, I don’t know, I’ll see. Please, please, go lie down. I’ll be right back, okay –”

“Nooo,” Asami mewls, grabbing Sayuri’s wrist before she can pull away. “Don’t leave me, please. T-there’s no treatment for this…”

Sayuri chews the inside of her cheek. She’s never even considered that whatever Asami’s come down with may not even be something human. It may not even be something feline either, but rather some mutated combination that only affects people like her. And why bother putting in the time and effort to help someone that not even a hundredth of a percent will ever suffer with? It’s too expensive an endeavour with very little profit to be gleaned from it. Disgusting.

“What do you do about it, then?”

“Just wait it out, really.”

“That… sucks. I’m so sorry.”

“It sucks a lot less if you’re not alone.”

What does she make of this invitation, so forward and explicit, yet coming at the tail end of a blowout and a weekend of radio silence? Is it a gesture towards reconciliation, a reaction to her sickness, a symptom of it? There’s so many reasons why Asami would be acting like this, each of them tugging her mind in a different direction, blanketing it in a thick coat of uncertainty and apprehension.

But none of that matters to her right now, she realises. She can – she will get her answers later, she hopes. But until then, there’s nothing she wants to do more than take care of Asami. Nothing else feels even remotely right.

Shyly, she nods, and shyer still, Asami smiles and drags her in.