2 ✦ Monsoon

After getting an unconscious Japanese noblewoman into a 2006 Honda Civic for fifteen minutes and Khris holding the umbrella over us like he was escorting a VIP to the Oscars, Honji and I had finally made it to my humble abode.

The apartment was a studio and by studio, I mean three strides from the front door would put you at the edge of the mattress and another two would land you at the kitchen sink.

It looked like Lady Honji Naoko had finally woken up.

“Rowan-sensei...." she murmured. She sat up on my cramped futon, the damp, probably ridiculously expensive indigo kimono slipping off her shoulder. Her dark eyes scanned the windows and the towering stack of unread textbooks on my desk. “I was unaware you resided in the servant’s quarters. Where is the main estate..?"

I was sitting in my desk chair, drinking my fifth monster energy. I had stayed up to do homework that I missed dealing with this.. situation. My dirty-blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, achieving a new level of shaggy hockey player I’d never seen before.

“This is the main estate." I said, taking a sip. “It costs fourteen hundred dollars a month.”

She blinked. The haughty aura she’d carried into the 7-Eleven flickered. “But... the walls. They are so close together. If I extend my arms, I might strike the kitchen."

“Then don't extend your arms." I rubbed my blue eyes. "Look Honji-san--"

“You may drop the 'san'." she interrupted, straightening her posture. Even sitting on a cheap mattress, she managed to look like she was presiding over a royal court. “If I am to hide from my father’s operatives, I must... simply.. fit in. In fact.. you may.. address me simply as Naoko."

I facepalmed. “Right. Naoko."

I leaned back in my chair. “It’s 6:00 AM. I have class in three hours and another shift tonight. We need to call someone to get you some place else to stay. An embassy. A very rich uncle. Anyone who isn't a sleep deprived English major."

Her chin tilted up. “....I will not go back. If I return, I am to be wed to a man whose greatest accomplishment is inheriting a shipping conglomerate and breathing through his mouth." She shuddered theatrically. "I require purification. Where is your bathing chamber?"

I pointed to the narrow door by the fridge. “Bathrooms there. Towels under the sink. Try not to use all the hot water, the heater is older than me.”

She stood up, her wooden sandals long discarded by the door and padded across the linoleum in her stained white socks. She carried a small silk bundle she got from her massive suitcase.

“I shall be swift." she announced, closing the door behind her.

I exhaled a long, ragged breath and turned back to my laptop. Maybe I could squeeze in a paragraph of my essay before--

I heard a loud crash.

“KYAAAA!"

A thud shook the thin walls, followed immediately by the terrifying hiss of high-pressure water and a shriek that could have shattered glass.

“Naoko?!" I jumped up, knocking my knee against the desk.

“The water!" she screamed from behind the door. “It is enraged! It attacks from above!"

I didn't even think.. I just shoved the door open.

The bathroom was a disaster. The shower curtain had been violently torn from its rings and lay completely draped over Naoko like a plastic ghost. Underneath it, the showerhead was blasting full force, ricocheting off the tiles and flooding the floor.

Naoko was blindly batting at the water, still fully clothed in her damp kimono, clutching a bottle of my cheap 3-in-1 body wash like a protective talisman.

“Where is the bucket?!" she yelled over the roar. “Where is the stool?! Why does the water fall like monsoon?!"

“IT’S A SHOWER?!" I yelled back, splashing into the rising puddle in my socks. I grabbed the curtain, yanked it off her head, and reached past her to violently twist the knob.

The water sputtered and died.

The silence was heavy and dripping. My bathroom rug was effectively a swamp and my socks were ruined.

Naoko stood in the tub while her chest heaved. Her black hair clung to her cheeks while she looked at the showerhead with profound betrayal.

“You... stand?" she whispered, her voice trembling. “You stand beneath the falling water? Like horses?"

“Yes." I said, running a wet hand through my hair. “Like horses. We don’t sit on little stools here. You’re in the wild west now, remember princess?"

She looked down at her completely soaked clothes, then at the flooded floor. She covered her face with her hands, a muffled, frustrated sound escaping her throat. “I cannot even cleanse myself here without causing a catastrophe." she mumbled.

“Hey.." I said, my tone softening despite the fact that I’d be mopping for an hour after this. “It’s fine. Just a little culture shock. Just... dry off. I’ll get you some of my clothes. I’ll deal with this.”

Ten minutes later, I was wringing out the bathmat in the kitchen sink. The bathroom door clicked open.

Naoko stepped out. She was wearing a pair of my gray sweatpants--which she had to roll up three times at the waist and a massive black hoodie. The sleeves swallowed her hands entirely.

I expected her to look defeated or maybe to cry. Instead she stepped into the center of the room, she took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and moved.

With grace she swept her leg up in a perfect, high arc, her balance so absolute it looked like gravity had forgotten about her. She pivoted on one foot, her arms moving in a sharp, emotive sweep that was deftly precise, before sinking into a crouch to retrieve a towel she’d dropped.

The entire sequence took maybe three seconds.

I stopped wringing the bathmat.

What the hell was that?

A clumsy girl who couldn't figure out a shower knob had just put on a performance for a fraction of second.. to pick up a towel.

She stood back up, opening her eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just casually defied physics in my kitchen.

“I feel marginally better.." she declared, pushing the oversized sleeves up her forearms. She walked over to her suitcase and popped the locks. "However.. if I am to remain undetected, Honji Naoko must die today."

I snapped out of my daze. “Please don't commit secrecy-treason... or whatever in my apartment."

She giggled and pulled a small, brightly colored cardboard box from her luggage. The text was entirely in Japanese, but it featured a cartoon girl with distinctly light, almost caramel-colored hair. It looked like a potion kit from a fantasy RPG.

“I require your assistance with this." she said, holding the box out to me. "I have never prepared my own... alterations. But I must blend in with the commoners." She glanced at my head. “Perhaps not quite as feral as your mane, but lighter."

I stared at the box. I barely knew how to use my state of the art laundry machine, let alone assist a runaway noble with ‘chemical alterations’.

“Okay.." I said slowly, taking the box. "I can try to help you with this. But before we permanently alter your identity... I need to know something."

“Ask.." she said, sitting back on the futon, looking terrifyingly confident in my oversized hoodie.

“I tutor you online." I said leaning against the counter. "Through a painfully secure site. I don't have my address on there. I don't even have my last name on there. How in the world did you find my specific 7-Eleven in a city of seven hundred thousand people?"

Naoko blinked innocently. She reached into the pocket of the damp kimono resting on the chair and pulled out a soggy, folded piece of paper.

“Your 'Professional Network' profile." she said simply, handing it to me. “LinkedIn, I believe it is called? You detail your employment history with remarkable thoroughness, Rowan. It took me visiting merely four 7-Eleven’s before I located yours."

I stared at the paper. It was my resume.

This is how she tracked me down?

I may be harboring a fugitive.