Cylical self-doubt

“Pep, why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

“Because you wouldn’t have come if I did.”

“Right. So why didn’t you tell me?”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Bitchqueen seemed far from pleased at my presence on the ice rink that day. She was so displeased, in fact, that she stole a callback joke from me.

Yes, despite my better judgement, I had decided to go along with Yaki’s scheme and go to the rink with her, Pep and of course the Bitchqueen. In truth, I wanted as little to do with that particular headache as possible, but Yaki’s little speech about closure the evening before had unfortunately left quite the mark on me. Sometimes it truly scared me how effective she was at striking my critical points.

I entirely doubted that Bitchqueen and I would ever come to an understanding, but Yaki was right about one thing: if I refused to even give it a fair shot, it would be a betrayal of the values I had claimed to have developed. Ironically, in not engaging with Ran, I would be proving her right: that I’m all talk.

Even then and there, I considered that my goal was entirely in self-interest: to prove to myself that I’m greater than the man she believes I am. But I shook that idea out of my head. I had to consciously pursue my ideals first if I wanted to learn to act on them subconsciously. If I let myself get trapped in cyclical self doubt, doubting even my right to doubt myself, I would lock myself in stagnation.

No, there was no double-thinking this. I would have to confront her at some point. And there’s no time like the present.

“Come on, I know you guys don’t get along, but it’s a day off today! Let’s just relax and treat it like old times, okay?” Pep said, beaming a smile. Despite her overly jovial expression, I could tell she really wanted Ran and I to be civil with each other, and had some underlying anxiety that we’d be at each other’s throats the moment one of us began talking. Not that I could particularly claim that fear was unfounded, in fairness.

It was also Pep’s anxieties that made me so heavily question the next actions taken by Yaki.

“You’re right, Peps, just like old times! And like old times, you should race me round the rink! Come on, let’s go!” she said, grabbing Pep by the arm and dragging her along behind her onto the rink.

“Huh- ah- wai-! Yacchan!”

Despite Pep’s protests, she was dragged away by the very bandit that was responsible for stealing my free time. Considering how easily Yaki managed to move her, I had to wonder just how weak she really was. Or if Yaki was freakishly strong. I wasn’t sure which possibility was more concerning.

“I see that sister of yours is just as out-of-control as ever,” said Ran dryly.

“I don’t know, sometimes I feel like she’s the only one that’s really in control,” I replied, staring off at the two of them on the rink.

“The hell does that mean?”

“Can’t say I’m too sure myself.”

“...whatever.” Ran’s voice seemed to be moving further away from me, and as I looked in her direction I realised she was moving off to another rink entrance alone. In other words, I was about to lose my chance to talk with her one on one, even after Yaki handed it to me on a silver platter.

“Ran, wai-” I began to say, but I was interrupted by a rather loud:

“Ow, fuck!”

She had fallen flat on her arse.

I wandered over to her, skating a little to catch up to where she was currently scrambling to get back to her feet. She looked like a complete novice.

“You… don’t remember how to skate, do you?”

“Can you blame me? Ain’t been back here since three years ago, and I was hardly a bloody gold medalist then either.”

“If you’re gonna run away from me, at least do it somewhere that you can actually stay on your feet.”

“Well fuckin’ excuse me, Dead Eyes, didn’t realise I needed your recommendations on where to escape from y-” she stopped herself dead, looking towards me with scorn. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a hand. Often used for gripping, hitting or otherwise manipulating things such as tools or foods.”

“I know what a hand is, you prick, what the hell do you think you’re doing with it?”

“Offering it to you. Was that not clear enough?”

“The hell would I take your hand for? Are you thick in the head?”

“You got any other way to stand up?”

Ran stalled for a moment, seemingly genuinely trying to decide whether remaining adrift on the ice was a better alternative, before rolling her eyes and taking my hand. I helped her get to her feet, and a moment later she let go, tried to skate off and almost fell on her arse again. I caught her before she could tumble all the way down, but I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t wish I had let her fall as a lesson in gratitude.

“Why are you suddenly acting like you actually like me? It’s annoying,” she said as I let go of her. Her balance wasn’t entirely steady, but she managed to stay on her feet.

“I’m not. I don’t like you. I thought that much was abundantly clear.”

“Then why are you trying to be helpful or whatever? Helping other people isn’t your MO, I know you well enough to know that.”

“True, I’m generally concerned with myself first and first. Actually, that’s exactly why I’m trying to help you.”

“It gets real old real quick when you talk in riddles and cryptic one liners. Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it, would you?”

“I am. Helping you benefits me. Because if you’re sat on your arse flailing around like a toddler, it’s gonna ring pretty hollow when I say that I’m sorry.”

Instead of spewing an insult immediately, as I had come to expect from her, Ran stared at me like I had said something completely foreign to her. It was almost as if she genuinely didn’t understand the words I had said.

“Sorry? Since when the hell do you say sorry?”

“Honestly? I’ve got no idea. If we had this conversation a few weeks ago I’d probably have told you to fuck off and die instead. But we’re having this conversation now, and I’m sorry.”

“...you’re being uncharacteristically nice. What’s your angle here, Kaburi?” she said, eyeing me with suspicion.

“Don’t get me wrong on this, most of what I said yesterday I stand by. I think you demanding I hand over Pep to you like some sort of prize was entirely unacceptable and showed a complete lack of respect for her. And I also can’t forget the way you’ve talked about Sai despite the fact that you don’t even know her. All in all, there’s very little about our conversation yesterday that I regret,” I said, admittedly more sternly than I had intended. “But I also had no right to tell you that you don’t really love Pep. While criticising you for stripping her of agency, I was doing the same thing to you by trying to overwrite your feelings. On that front, I’m sorry.”

I bowed my head slightly to show that I was being genuine, though I tried not to be too dramatic about it. She’d probably take anything more than that as some advanced form of sarcasm.

“...well I don’t exactly have a lot to retract either. I still think you don’t really understand love, and considering the pain you’ve put Pep through along the way, I don’t think you deserve to.”

“I won’t argue with you on that. My understanding of love is still pretty hollow. I’ve been trying to fill it in but it’s still empty in a way. But I do know one thing for certain,” I said, raising my hand to point straight at her. “If my conception of love makes me as greedy as selfish as you were yesterday, if it makes me treat the people closest to me more like trophies and accessories than individuals, then I know for absolute certain that I don’t want it. I don’t want to be like you.”

There was a moment of bitter, silent eye contact between Ran and I. There was no ambiguity on one thing here: open dialogue or no, she and I still disdained each other. We were not friends, that much was irreconcilable. I felt that truth in my soul, and I could see it returned in her eyes.

“This might be the worst apology I’ve ever received.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, it’s bad even by my standards,” I said. “But I guess I’m apologising to myself as much as I’m apologising to you.”

“Ugh, again with the cryptic one liners. You wanna be a preachy little shit, do your little introspection and pretend to be a good person? Do it on your own. Don’t drag me into it.” she huffed loudly, rolling her eyes about as dramatically as they could possibly roll, before breaking eye contact and continuing. “But I can’t say everything you said about me is wrong. I’m jealous and possessive, that much is true. To me, that’s part and parcel with being in love. But… I guess you have a point that I should respect Pep’s autonomy a little more. I’ll… keep it in mind.”

She almost seemed to physically recoil at the idea of accepting criticism from me, but to my surprise, she did genuinely accept it. Maybe because she already knew and just needed me to say it out loud to accept it, or maybe because my apology forced her to do some introspection herself. The reason didn’t really matter though. She listened.

Still, even with that seemingly conclusive ending, one thing didn’t change.

“You and I will never get along, will we?”

“Of course not. Between the past you being a bastard and the present you being… whatever the hell you’re supposed to be now, I still have nothing but distaste for you.”

“And I’m hardly fond of you either. But it doesn’t matter. I swear I’ll prove those preconceptions of yours wrong, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“And I swear I’ll win Pep from y-” she paused in her rebuttal, then began again: “I swear I’ll make Pep fall for me. If it takes me one year or twenty, I’ll manage it.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see who proves the other wrong first. Game on.”