Chapter Four

That Girl in the Clouds

Matsuoka Rin’s Point of View

            At the back of the crowd, I tried to push myself up through the crowd to get nearer to her. There was something about her that made her . . . special . . . different . . . unique. She was that girl, and there was something about her that made me never want to let her go. I had to get nearer to her. That was the only way.

            The air and everything around it was still damp and wet, including my hair, clothes, and skin.

            My face stood grim as the words to the song I heard earlier still played through my head.

            “Yo, Rin, stop pushing me!”

            “Rin, my man, no need to rush!”

            “Hey, you, stop it!”

            Despite my peers’ remarks, I kept pushing my way through the crowd until I was at the epicenter of the mass—halfway there.

            I took a deep breath to catch my breath. I couldn’t push my way through any further without angering my peers more, so I stayed where I was and listened to all around me.

            “So this is the library,” Kiyomi commented as we passed by a glass window, through it lied shelves upon shelves of books, textbooks, pamphlets, dictionaries, reference books, and so forth.  “Here, students of Takahashi Academy gather to complete group projects, gather information for the personal increase of knowledge, read novels and so forth, or to write essays or other class assignments. Any questions thus far?”

            “What’s your number?”

            “Want to go out with me some time?”

            “We should absolutely hang out some time.”

            All these questions and remarks barely seemed to faze her as much as it did to me. Though it might not like much from the exterior, internally, I was livid—becoming scarlet with anger. However, Kiyomi didn’t seem disorientated at all. She was monotone, showing absolutely no emotion in her voice. Not only that detail, but something about her was odd, not anything in a bad way, of course, but . . . rather, she sparked my interest, igniting whatever little flame I had for girls in a whole new light.

            Because of the blitz of asserts and other comments regarding Kiyomi grew too out of hand and not school-appropriate, the male teachers of Samezuka immediately rushed from the bystands to stop the not school-appropriate remarks said by the students.

            “Stop it, you all,” Mr. Yamato stared at the lot of us sternly. “We are guests at this school. Stop all this nonsense at once.”

            We all nodded our heads and mumbled our adherences to Mr. Yamato before the tour of the school continued.

            She muttered something inaudibly under her breath before she said at a louder volume, “Well, then. In any case, on with the tour . . .”

            We strode down a few hallways, passing by several classes which were all still in session. Girls were gawking at us expectantly as if anyone of us were going to heed them any attention. My classmates might be interested in them, but I was intrigued in someone else. Kiyomi . . . that name suits her well.

            She was a ‘pure beauty.’ She would be all I’d think about at night. She will be my lover forever. But, alas, this could be all a dream.

Tsukuda Kiyomi’s Point of View

            I stared straight in front of me, zoning out the murmurs and voices the crowd behind me discussed. Sometimes, I just wanted to fall onto a cloud, back first . . . onto a soft, silk cushion . . . free from any worries . . . people . . . voices . . . pain . . . Free from it all.

            I snapped out of my thoughts as I reared over to the auditorium.

            “Here is the auditorium, where we hold our yearly school plays, concerts, and so forth,” I noted aloud as the boys ‘oohed’ and ‘ah-ed’ at the female students re-enacting plays and so forth in the auditorium for drama class.

            There on out, I showcased the chorus, band, and orchestra rooms; the math, literature, language, science, history, and electives hallway; and the main office, lecture hall, and so forth.

            To me, it was a drag, but to the boys behind me, it was like their heaven—girls everywhere, short skirts, uniforms . . . yeah . . . all that ‘good’ stuff.

            I sighed once we reached outside, where I was to supposedly show the male students their respective dorms. One thing was for sure, I was going against orders by not showing them the girls’ dorms, but I didn’t want them to stalk us in the middle of the night. No offense, mostly all guys were perverts and jerks.

            The moment I passed by the dorms, the men behind me exclaimed in excitement, “Gosh! So this is our dorms we’re staying at?! Heaven! Girls and nice dorms, food, and nice stuff!”

            I deadpanned. Truth be told, these guys at Samezuka were more like girls and we girls at Takahashi were.

            Walking over to one of the teachers nearest to me, I informed him of the following, “All of the dorms are presently unlocked. The keys to the rooms are in the respective rooms. Dinner will be served in the mess hall directly at 6. It will be in a fest like style, so casual attire is encouraged. No uniforms are necessary for today. Thank you for coming.”

            With that being said, I bowed.

            “Thank you so much yourself, dear,” the old sensei smiled in return. “I know these boys can become . . . quite the hassle.”

            I sighed, before whispering in reply, “You bet. In any case, I have to get back to class, which is about to end, to discuss what I missed while being tour guide.”

            Then, I raised me voice to a louder extent to inform everyone in the room, “I’ll be leaving you all to unpack and what-not. The room capacity set is two people per room. Dinner will be at six in the mess hall and casual attire is encouraged. Thank you very much for coming.”

            Noticing that I literally just repeated what I told the sensei to the students, I shook the thought off. As I tried to squish myself through the crowd, I noticed a maroon-hued zap of color pass by. The sensation when perceiving that color was so . . . familiar.

            In that moment, in that split second, in that smallest millisecond of seconds . . . I remembered.

Flashback

Matsuoka Rin: Age 7

Tsukuda Kiyomi: Age 6

            “You’re too fast, Tsukuda!” a maroon-headed boy panted, as he halted where he would catch his breath.

            The young girl dashing ahead of her friend looked behind her, sticking her tongue out as well as pulling on her eye to shove the statement in his face, “Hahaha! Slowpoke!”

            “Relax a little, will ya?” the boy fell down to the ground on his back—tired and exhausted.

            Sand from the beach was scattered throughout his hair upon the sudden impact. What remained of the gold-orange sun and its radiant rays was shaped into a sphere—half of which was shaded with the glistening flaxen ocean, which reflected the gold color of the skies above while the other half was still revealed and full of bright intensity.

            The girl jogged over to where he was and scrunched down beside him, chuckling, before saying something barely coherent, poking his chubby cheeks in the process, “Hehehe . . . Katsuo’s up ahead, and if we don’t catch up to him, who will, eh, Rin?”

            Her close-eye smile directed at him made the poor boy blush a deep crimson, “Sh-shut up.”

            “Ooh!” the little girl ‘oohed.’ “Someone’s blushing! Hurry up, you slowpoke, or else I’m leaving without you. Katsuo’s gonna leave us behind!”

            With that being said, the girl stood up from her scrunched up position and then rushed to catch up with her brother.

            A moment thereafter, the boy managed to catch his breath, stood up, and dashed after the girl and her brother himself.  A smile . . . was plastered on his face.

End of Flashback

Flashback

Matsuoka Rin: Age 9

Tsukuda Kiyomi: Age 8

            I looked at the stars scattered across a meadow of darkness. It was the blanket of pitch-black that covered the Earth as she slept. I was under that blanket—warm and feeling safe as ever.

            Someone was trailing behind me, tiptoeing as if to sneak upon me, and attack.

            I sighed, taking in a breath and exhaling a breath, before saying, “I know you’re there, Rin.”

            The said boy snapped in fingers in frustration, “Aw, dang it! I thought I could sneak up on you again!”

            I laughed, “Hehehe, good luck with that, Rin-rin!”

            “Pft, it’s just ‘Rin,’ Kiyomi-chan,” he whined. “Not Rin-rin.”

            The girl laughed, “Meh, whatever! I like Rin-rin, best!”

            He deadpanned in annoyance, “Kiyomi . . .”

End of Flashback

            I looked away from Rin immediately. I was the tour guide. He didn’t bother to come up near to me. He probably forgot who I was. He went to different elementary and intermediate school than I did. He left Japan for Australia. I saw him once at the funeral. I waved to him, but he didn’t bother waving back. He forgot about me. At least, I was pretty sure he did.

            With that in mind, I immediately left the scene.

Matsuoka Rin’s Point of View

            I watched as the girl named Kiyomi departed from the building. Her name was so familiar, yet it didn’t ring a bell. What was it that made her different? What was it that made her feel and sound so familiar?

            “Go on, boys,” one of the teachers pushed up his glasses as he said so. “Pair up and go into your rooms. If you have any trouble, come to us, but if you cause any trouble, you will be disciplined. Understood? I believe that about covers the basic rules as of today.

            “We will gather in the lobby of this dorm when its time to go at 5:45, understood?” another sensei instructed us.

            “Yes, sir!” we all shouted at once as he dismissed us to our rooms.

            I paired up with Nitori as we were closer as friends than anyone else I knew in the school, as Seijuro left for college already.

            I took one last glimpse in the direction Kiyomi left, reminiscing her presence and how it felt so familiar, before entering my temporary dorm to unpack.

             She was that girl . . . That girl in my daydreams . . . That girl in the clouds.