We’re not kissing when I have snot dribbling into my mouth

“Fill me in – right now.”

I’m not sure where the urgency in my voice comes from. If it’s more fear or more thirst for understanding – or maybe an innate craftiness finally sprouting from long-planted roots. But whatever it may be, it resonates with Oyama. On a level he not only appreciates, but deeply favours too.

“What do you want to know?” he says.

“Everything.”

“We don’t have time for everything. I’ll answer every question you have, but I won’t ask them for you.”

“Why can’t you do anything to stop her?”

I thought I’d get more of a rise out of him with that one, but my directness ends up being only a glancing blow. Guess I should’ve expected it. Helplessness is a fault and confessing them is his quality.

“This place has a strict ‘no touching’ policy – for those who can’t afford our fees. And that old bastard? He’s been in Chiba’s government since before you were born. No one in this prefecture holds as much sway as him.”

Oyama’s mouth stays open, hesitant, only to close abruptly, turning a pause into a full stop.

“Is this it? You’re too scared to lose your in?”

“No,” he rasps, clearing his throat with a sigh. “He knows me, boy. Knows of Hinata too, what she means to me. If I go there, he’ll see right through her disguise. Diddlers like him have keen eyes for subterfuge.”

Venom pools on my tongue, “You bastard. How could you even let her be in the same room with someone like him?”

“With great pain,” Oyama bares his teeth, “but great hopes, too. You see, I’m a chronic problem-solver and you are my solution.

“Get her out of there before the unspeakable happens,” he slumps in his chair. “This is your test.”

I clench my fists under the table, shivering with rage. The list of things I hate about this man is infinite, expanding with every word he coughs out. But nothing gets to me more than how he’s willing to use his daughter, then excuse himself, stumbling through justifications without anything just about them. And though his compassion for her seems genuine, I have none for him and his alleged plights.

He’s an unnecessary evil. One that seeks to create issues if only to delude himself he’s noble for addressing them. There is no doubt in my mind that he’s poison, a threat and a horrid influence on a girl he claims paternal love towards. But nevertheless, I’ll help him. If only to earn his trust and prevent him from ever standing in my way.

“One thing before I go,” I mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze. “I’m only taking her out of there if I’m taking her out of here too. The councilman isn’t here alone, is he?”

“He never goes anywhere without his bodyguards. One’s covering him, the other’s covering the exit. Side parts, baggy jackets, military boots. Can’t miss them.”

“Your hostesses don’t come and go through the main entrance, do they now?”

“Not unless they want to get followed home. The door to the kitchen is left of the bar. I’ll talk to mama-san. She’ll be there to open it and guide you out.”

“Brilliant, thanks,” I say, sliding out of my seat, prepared to dart to Hinata’s booth, only for Oyama to lower his cane in my path.

“You think I’m despicable, don’t you?” he asks. No pretension of innocence, nor appeal to pity. Just pure curiosity, which I meet with equally pure sincerity.

“Worse than the devil himself.”

“Good. Use that hatred,” he lifts his barrier, sullen like a martyr. Yet another piece of shit to add to the pile of disgust which, against Oyama’s advice, I put aside for now. With how serious this is, I can’t afford distractions.

I move quickly and quietly, creeping around the outer wall until I reach a shallow alcove, carved into the corner. The lights hardly shine here and with nothing obstructing my view, this place is ideal not only to watch over Hinata, but also clear my head, free from Oyama’s gnawing presence.

One thing that he said about her has dug itself like a tick in my thoughts: She wanted to do this. She willingly chose to surrender her integrity, her boundaries, her body and for what? For a crime. For a life she doesn’t want, one I can only imagine and hope she’s desperate to escape. But seeing the lengths she’s going to if only to fulfil someone else’s ambitions – I can’t fend off the sensation that she has been corrupted, perhaps incurably so.

The way she acts with the councilman, the way she walks her fingers up his arm, eats up his jokes and vomits out boisterous cackles. An act so masterful it doesn’t feel like an act. It’s funny and tragic all at once. How desperate she was to keep me out of this business, yet how much industry she shows for it. Practice makes perfect after all, but to practise for so long…

Beyond salvation is a phrase I’ve always detested. It’s totalising, needlessly rigid and often condemns before judgement is passed, but nevertheless, there’s some truth to it. Some people are just like that – people who don’t want to be helped and you don’t want to help either. It took me many years of doubt to admit that my father may be – maybe – like that. While in Hinata’s case –

I seek her out again, finding her just as I left her. Smiling a rehearsed smile, clinging to that frog so hard, you’d say he’s saving her from drowning and I feel a nauseating tightness wrapping around my throat. Now I’m staring, hard, so hard that Hinata notices and turns in my direction. Her brow furrows. Her eyes lose their gleam and dull with a silent plea. Ta-su-ke-te, I read in the shiver of her lips, as the councilman grabs her.

The moment she fades beneath the backrest is when my blood runs cold to my legs. I’m walking, then I’m running and by the time I reach their booth I’m panting like an out of shape dog.

“Yes?” the councilman squints a dagger at me. His hand lies in the space between their legs, craving to crawl on her thigh. “Is there a problem?”

“Your boyfriend is here,” I tell Hinata. A lie – or a hero’s entrance?

“W-what are you talking about?” she stutters.

“Guy outside. Bouncers didn’t let him through because he was plastered, so he tried breaking in through the back. Said he knows you. He loves you and wants you to give him another chance.”

“Is that so?”

I don’t know what’s worse, that I can’t tell if she’s playing the same game, or that I want her to play it.

“Could you please just – go talk to him? See if you can make him leave? Shouldn’t be too long,” I croak, looking somewhere between the two of them.

“Is that okay?” she asks the councilman. He stays silent for a second too long, studying Hinata as if assessing the possibility of a possessive partner in her life, and when that analysis passes, he shakes his head, displeased.

“Fine. Be right back, though,” he hisses. “I’ve paid for more than this.”

Hurriedly, Hinata gets up, we both bow, “Sorry for this,” then she tails me in total silence. We cross under the arch, weave between waitresses and their inebriated guests, then stop right at the bar, where mama-san greets us.

She’s a broad, solid woman with an icy glare that melts as soon as she notices me with Hinata in tow. With a grunt, she rams into the door she’s guarding, knocking it open, then leads us into the ‘staffroom’ – a stuffy corridor crammed with locker rooms on one side, and a desk buried under papers opposite it. At the far end, lies a steep, wooden staircase.

“We’ll be fine from here,” Hinata tells mama-san, before lancing me with a scowl. “You. Up. Now.”

“Are you –”

“No, I’m not. Now come. He’ll get suspicious if we wait too long.”

With how serious she looks, I don’t have the balls to tell her I’m planning to make him wait forever.

Cowering, I struggle up the steep steps behind Hinata, until we reach the landing at the top, where a slab of metal separates us from the outside world. Hinata grips the latch holding it closed, but doesn’t slide it.

“What was that?” she says, stressing every syllable.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“That was the city’s shadow mayor,” Hinata growls. “I was going to get him drunk enough so I could swipe his phone and then –”

“Let him –” I pause, ‘grope’ invoking too strong a mental picture for me to say it, “ – touch you. You know that, don’t you?”

She crosses her arms, “It has to be done.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this!”

I shout so loud, everything around me reverberates. The tiny window shakes, the floorboards creak, the ceiling drizzles dust, the old lightbulb flickers, Hinata yelps and flinches. Her eyes hold mine, flooding with shame, before flitting towards a spot where my frustration can’t reach her.

“I’ve been doing this for almost 6 years now,” she mewls. “6 hard and painful years. I know, Luca. I know this isn’t the way. But – I don’t know what other way there is.”

From a distance, her composure is intact, but holes start peering through her calm, the nearer I get to her. Her breathing becomes a series of snivels, her knees knock together and buckle, and when I catch her in a soft hug, she lets out her first sob. Then it’s another, then another and soon she’s full-on weeping, shaking and struggling not to shake as her tears soak through my shirt.

It’s okay, I want to say, but it’s not okay. She’s not okay, nothing is okay and – that’s okay. There are moments, far too often than we’d like to admit, when everything just sucks and you need a good, ugly cry to unload all the baggage you’ve been holding in since you last lied to yourself that you’re fine when, in all honesty, you forgot what that word meant.

So, I let her be. Let her lean on me as much as she wants and what she wants is for someone to hold her entire weight for her. But not forever, not even for too long, but for just enough time to understand that she isn’t alone. That there are other ways. That help starts to exist the moment you start to seek it.

Much sooner than later, she starts settling down. Her shivering stops, her hiccoughs subside and, still and quiet, she remains glued to my chest, not threatening to leave anytime soon. Not that I’m keeping her hostage, mind you, though I’d be lying if I said I don’t find some enjoyment in having her this close to me, as sickening as that may sound after she’s just –

“When you said you liked me, you meant to say love, didn’t you?” she mumbles in a steady monotone. A welcome, if not slightly awkward change of pace and beat. Though I suppose emotional vulnerability and crushing go hand in hand.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

“Is this about – this is about linguistics, isn’t it?”

“...yeah…”

Hinata lifts her head up one inch, inhales deeply, then slams it down on my ribcage.

“What was that for?” I wheeze.

“Making this harder than it needs to be. Here, I’ll give you a comprehensive guide, are you ready?”

“Umm… yeah?”

“Right now, do you want to keep hugging, kiss or marry me?”

I blink. Gulp. Scratch my neck until it breaks out in a rash and then – and only then – I look down. Hinata’s looking up with the poise of a warrior, coloured by the blush of a maiden. Naturally, she’s expecting an answer and don’t get me wrong, I have on ready – had it for some time now. But I’m not sure if the reply will necessitate follow through. Y’know, for assurance’s sake.

“If I said –”

“We’re not kissing when I have snot dribbling into my mouth.”

“Then kiss it is.”

“Good,” she says, digging her nails into my shoulders and dragging me down to her level. The next thing I know, she plants a quick peck on my cheek, leaving behind a red, warm spot. “It was kiss for me too.”

With a hum, she peels herself off, hikes down the hem of her dress – so that it now hovers just under, as opposed to just above the garter – then slides open the door. Now I’ve lived in Romania for a year, so trust me when I say this – they aren’t the vampires; Hinata is, proven by how she’s managed to sap all my strength with just a touch of her lips.

“Should I – should I ask? I feel like I should ask,” I straighten up, following her outside.

“You should take me home,” Hinata claps back. “And no, this is the one and only time when you shouldn’t.”

“So are we –”

“What did I just say, Luca! What did I just say?” she yells, picking up the pace. Not so much because she’s annoyed, but rather because the blonde hair really makes her flushed ears all the more obvious. Not to mention how eye contact is temporarily disabled between us, though that might also be because –

“What about the councilman?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Do blue balls hurt?”

“For some people.”

“I hope his start glowing a dull, bruised violet, then.”

“You sure are – scary when you’re upset.”

“When I’m upset and happy. At the same time.”

“Pretty sure that’s called mania.”

“Are you calling me crazy?”

“Are you not?”

Hinata stops and snaps around. As much as she wants to put on a menacing air, there’s something undeniably playful in her leer, stemming from her inability to stop herself from smiling. But she’s trying, so hard that she starts straining, and when the straining gets too much, she explodes with a short puff that becomes a snort, which in turn becomes a laugh we share. One that ends in a sigh and feeds into a moment of relieved silence.

“I know you said no, but –”

“Fine! Go ahead. Ask away.”

“Where are we going from here?”

“With respect to…”

“Finding another way.”

She twiddles her thumbs, hides them behind her back as she shifts from foot to foot. It’s not long before she takes off again – dating a flight risk has its pros and cons – but, as luck would have it, it’s a slow, leisurely stroll, not a sprint for her life.

“I – have no clue, honestly. It’s kinda the reason why we’re here in the first place,” she says. “But I guess starting to think about it is a start in and of itself.”

“So are you going to –”

“Let’s – not start with the points of action just yet. I’ve already been overwhelmed once tonight. Tomorrow is also a day.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I got a little – carried away, I guess. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

“As we want, Luca. You’re in this mess too, remember?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Though I wouldn’t exactly call it a mess. Sure, it’s been a wild ride. The ups were high in the sky and the downs low in the pits of hell, but at the end of the day, if you asked me if given the chance, I’d do anything differently – yeah. Yeah, absolutely, 100%.

But having regrets like that – well, that’s normal. It’s healthy. It’s the trademark of growth and understanding and the first critically thought step on a journey of self-improvement. One that started in unlikely circumstances, continued with unlikelier developments and will end – whenever it will end.

See, my days have always been numbered, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep counting them down. That’s just one of the many bad habits I’ll have to and hope to unlearn. It won’t be easy, I’m sure – god knows I hail from a family that’s as headstrong as a battering ram – but I won’t be alone on this journey. Not for now, not for a while and – moving forward – hopefully not ever. Because I’ve got –

“Hinata?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, it’s just – In a language where second person pronouns are functionally inexistent because of keigo and what-not, I’ve managed to go this long without ever speaking your name. Outside my own head, at least. It’s pretty funny isn’t it? Isn’t – are you okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because she is not. If anything, she looks like one of those fish who press their faces against the aquarium glass, only a far brighter shade of pink than even the most exotic ones. Though her lips do the same movements, that constant mi-mi-mi that only materialises into a sentence after all the bubbles have popped.

“Y-yeah, it’s so funny, hahahaha.”

“Are you – are you getting flustered?”

“No!”

She is. And it’s pretty endearing, how she only now remembered that she was Japanese and that it’s pretty common to not drop the san’s until three years into a romantic relationship. Then again, I probably wouldn’t have fallen for her if she were anything but her own, severely quirked up self.

I guess you could say it was meant to be. Or not, depends on how bleak and cliche-averse your outlook is. But at the risk of triggering both of those camps, I’ll leave you with the following closing remark, issued as I’m trying to link hands with my girlfriend, currently doing her best tsundere impression.

If you ever feel grey, trapped in endless ennui, or are just fed up with the doldrums of life in general, just remember – you’re one fresh start away from a happy ending.