It was an ideal spot for lovers to sit together. It was in an older part of Kyoto, quiet and far away from areas that would be noisy with revellers, and the bridge was as old as the buildings that surrounded it, barely rising above the cool river below. The moonlight glistened on the water, occasionally illuminating a graceful fish below the surface before it vanished into clear darkness or disappeared below the surface of a flowering, colourful water plant.
She was a beautiful vision of young womanhood, sitting on the bridge with her skirt lying over her knees. Her hair was shorter than fashion would like, a close cap of blackness that curled at the ends, but her eyes were wide and bright, her figure generous and healthy.
He was a young man with a proud set to his face, his back straight. Long legs sprawled out in front of him, encased in heavy black material with bare feet poking out from the ends. His hair was black and had been smoothly combed at one point, but it was starting to look a bit unruly thanks to the damp night air, his bangs falling in his eyes. One broad shoulder pulled back, stretching the fabric of a crisp white shirt, and he hurled a rock violently into the once-peaceful river.
“Fuck Takahashi.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He paused in the process of reaching for another rock as he digested what she had said, then his dark skin went darker as he blushed. A look of disgust contorted sharp, handsome features. “Ruri!”
“I’m just saying,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chin and showing bare, attractive legs and feet in the process, her knee socks lying discarded on the bridge with her vest, “that you obsess about Hikaru. It’s kind of weird. Probably not healthy, either.” With one hand, she absently loosened the ribbon at her throat. “Maybe you should talk to him about it.”
“I have nothing to say to that ass-kissing little cock-suc –” He paused, looking at his companion. “Little idiot,” he finished lamely.
“Not being valedictorian isn’t the end of the world, Aya. It’s in the past, now, anyway. It doesn’t even matter.”
“He only got good marks because of his connections to the royal family,” he mumbled, and spat into the river.
“He got good marks because he’s smart and he works hard. Inchiki has nothing to do with it. You only get like this because you’re jealous.”
Aya snorted.
“You act like an idiot when you’re jealous. Are you going to do anything besides whine about the fact that Hikaru’s smarter than you for the rest of the night?”
“He’s not smarter than me, dammit!”
Ruri shrugged, lowering her legs and wiggling bare toes in the water.
“If listening to me talk,” he emphasized the word fiercely, “annoys you so much, why don’t you just go home?”
She was momentarily silent, staring out over the river, before answering: “I don’t want to listen to my mother tell me how much better ever other girl in the school looked than me at the graduation ceremony. Besides, she’d want to know where you were. And why I wasn’t with you, or you with me.”
Aya made a face. “Understood.”
“Why don’t you go home? Your parents will want to celebrate, won’t they?”
“‘Come home with your shield or on it’,” he quoted in a distant voice.
She rolled her eyes. “Likening the competition for valedictorian to war is melodramatic, Aya. Your parents won’t disown you just because you didn’t get the highest marks in the school.”
“No, but losing to the son of a man who gutted fish for a living isn’t something they’ll be rushing to congratulate me over, either. Besides,” he tugged at his tie, “they’d want to know where you were.”
Her lips quirked into an amused smile at the ridiculousness of it all and one of his eyebrows rose in answering amusement as they sat in temporarily peaceful silence.
“Do you know what you’re going to study in the fall?” Ruri asked finally, the annoyance gone from her voice.
“You mean assuming I get accepted once they’re done making room for all the needs fo the fabulous Takahashi?”
“Aya!” she snapped in irritation.
He shrugged, unapologetic. “History.”
Ruri grinned, leaning over to poke Aya’s chest with one finger. “Hikaru hates history.”
He turned his head to glare at her and the offending finger. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”
“I didn’t want you to talk about him, moron.” She traced her fingers upward and tapped his nose with it. He crossed his eyes to glare at the tip of her finger, hiding confusion behind an irritated glare. “If Hikaru,” Ruri continued, more softly, “and Inchiki come to an . . . understanding . . .”
“I think they’ve shown themselves to have a perfectly clear understanding of each other, this past year,” Aya interrupted rather snidely.
Ruri glared at him, one of her perfectly formed glares that said ‘You’re being an idiot and not only being an idiot, but you’re being an idiot when I’m talking. Stop it.’ Aya rolled his eyes, but made a gesture over his lips, indicating that he wouldn’t interrupt again. For the moment.
“If Hikaru and Inchiki come to an understanding in any legal and formal way,” Ruri continued carefully, “then in a few years, once we’re out of school, it’ll be . . . quite difficult for you to avoid hearing about Hikaru.”
Aya glared and swatted Ruri’s finger away from his nose. “Your words aren’t exactly filling me with cheer and good feelings toward that little, little . . .”
“The word you want is cock-sucker, Aya,” Ruri offered helpfully.
“Ruri!” Aya yelped, a blush flooding his face again.
“You seemed to be having difficulty remembering it,” she said, baring her teeth in a way that might have been mistaken for a smile. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I’ve heard the words you and your so-called friends toss around when you don’t think anyone’s listening.”
Slowly, Aya’s blush faded, to be replaced by a glower that appeared permanently fixed on his face. “Maybe I should go see how they’re celebrating instead of sitting here with you, then,” he muttered, but they both knew it was an empty threat.
“I just wish,” Ruri sighed, “that you’d come to terms with the fact that Hikaru’s . . . Hikaru, and no matter how much you complain, nothing’s going to change that, and sooner or later you’re going to have to accept that he’s going to be around no matter what. The only way you can escape that is if you leave Aura.”
“I like Aura,” Aya said, barely audible.
“I know,” Ruri replied, just as softly. “So . . . deal with it, eh?” She smiled up at him, then, with a wry, lopsided smile. “There’s more important things to think about in your world than Takahashi Hikaru, I hope.”
Aya’s lips twitched faintly. “Maybe,” he conceded. “I need to decide whether I want to study world history or focus on Aurian, after all . . .” he trailed off, and a ghost of teasing lurked in his eyes.
“Idiot,” Ruri said decisively, and leaned up to kiss him forcefully.
When they parted for air, Aya’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, and Ruri’s arms were around his neck. “I want to postpone the wedding,” she said after taking several deep breaths.
Aya had long ago given up following the strange passages Ruri’s thoughts travelled along. “Out of my hands,” he responded with a shrug. “Talk to your mother about it, if it’s that important.”
“Talk to yours. If she says she wants to change the date, mine’ll fall into line without a word of protest.”
“Your mother isn’t that much of a sheep,” Aya lied. “Why’s it matter, anyway? I thought you wanted a summer wedding.”
“I do, but she wants to use the wedding as an excuse to keep me from going to university.”
Aya snorted softly and kissed her neck. “That’s stupid. There’s at least a month between the wedding and the start of school. There’s no reason you can’t go to school after we’re married, and it won’t be any of her business then anyway.”
“She says it wouldn’t be right to leave if we’re married.”
He froze. “Leave?”
“For school.”
Slowly, Aya lifted his head so that they were nose-to-nose. “School’s right here in Kyoto, though. It’s the only one in Aura. There’s no leaving required.”
Ruri stared into Aya’s eyes. “I got accepted to the university in Marete.”
“Marete.”
“It’s better than the university here, it’s older, and there’s so much more to study –”
“Marete’s full of perverts.”
“Don’t be stupid, Aya.”
“Don’t change the subject to Hikaru again, Aya!”
He glared balefully at her and refused to respond.
“It’s for a special diplomatic program,” Ruri said, an almost-coaxing tone in her voice. “They only send a single student once every four years, and if I go, I’ll be the first girl ever accepted.”
“That disgrace to Aura got you into this, didn’t he?” snapped Aya, his voice full of accusation.
“Inchiki has nothing to do with this! None of your stupid, petty jealousy does!” She had removed her arms from his neck by this point and was trying to struggle to her feet. “I was accepted on my own merits, idiot!”
“Let someone else go,” he insisted. “You can stay here, and study with me like always. Marete’s boring, anyway.”
“She won’t give me money to go to school. The diplomatic corp pays for my tuition if I go to Marete.”
“So don’t go at all! It’s not like you’d be able to get a real job after you got a degree anyway.”
Ruri stared at him for several long minutes, disbelief rendering her speechless. Then, she struck him fiercely, her eyes blazing.
Any other girl would have slapped him, but Ruri curled her fingers into a tight fist and punched him in the side of the face with enough for to leave a large, swelling mark just under his eye.
The two stood on the bridge, glaring furiously at each other. Aya was too proud to make any move to check the aching bruise on his face, and so he stood stiffly with his fists clenched at his side. Ruri rubbed her fist, trying to massage feeling back into it.
“So,” Aya said finally, his voice made rough to disguise any real feelings he might have – he knew he’d said something incredibly stupid, but there was nowhere to go but forward. You could never back down before a girl. “So. Are you going to Marete?”
Ruri shot him a look of pure disgust. “Go to hell, Sakamoto,” she spat and turned sharply on her bare heel, kicking both Aya’s shoes into the river before walking away.