CHAPTER 23
Sometimes, Pike and Mindie just need a lazy afternoon
Lazy weekends were some of the best weekends, in Pike’s opinion. He had just finished a round of exams during the past week and found himself with much more headspace to just relax. And what better way to do that than with his best friend at her house?
It had been a while since he last visited. He almost forgot just how comfortable their pine-colored fabric couch was. Bunched up cross-legged with his notebook in his lap, it was difficult to stay focused. And it was wonderful.
Except perhaps for the fact that Mindie had snuck in a selfie while he was nodding off. Not a bad tradeoff though, all things considered. He leaned his head against the backrest and sighed in relative contentment, resigned to his fate of having another picture of his exhausted-looking face posted on social media.
Mindie leaned comfortably with her back against his shoulder, her bare feet up on the couch’s armrest. It would’ve been easy for her to simply recline all the way down to Pike’s lap, but sitting somewhat upright felt more appropriate while posting something on her SocialNorm account’s image page.
The photo was a selfie with her displaying a peace sign. In the background was Pike’s drooping head of thick, dark hair. The slightest hints of the couch also made it into the picture. The caption: Lazy afternoon with the best bestie, along with some appropriate hashtags. She grinned to herself as she hit the Post option.
That smile faded quickly as her mind wandered to a school-related piece of news she wanted to share. “Your aunt skipped class again yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?”
She shifted her eyes in his general direction, unable to really look at him while he served as her backrest. “You never mentioned that she was also the High Tower librarian.”
“You never asked.”
“All those times I came to hang out with you in your corner there—”
“You mean like, all three times?”
“Hush.” She elbowed him slightly, causing him to flinch. “You could’ve warned me she had a life outside of Lumi 101.”
Pike chuckled, settling back after his disruption and leaning his head against hers. “Well, she looks kind of different when she’s in librarian mode. And it’s actually kind of rare for anyone to see Tita She anywhere else but the classroom. If she didn’t teach, she probably wouldn’t leave High Tower at all.”
He held up a sleepy, matter-of-fact finger before letting it slack back onto his lap. “Case and point, this week.”
“What does she even do all day in there?” Mindie thought back on her one time alone with Sheila in High Tower the week before. “She can’t just be constantly putting books away, right?”
“Nah. Tita She’s office is at the top of High Tower. It was basically a storage room, but she converted it so that she could devote herself to her research.”
“That sounds so reclusive. And boring.”
Mindie put away her phone and stretched her arms towards the ceiling. Then she let her momentum carry her to lie down completely with her head on the notebook in Pike’s lap. “Welp. To each their own, I guess.”
Her companion looked momentarily annoyed when she plopped into his lap. Maybe because she was preventing him from whatever work he was doing in his notebook—much like a cat that interfered with whoever dared to be busy in her presence rather than pay attention to her. But Pike was nodding off earlier, so he wasn’t really in any position to complain.
He must’ve known it too. His annoyance quickly faded into resignation as he let his head flop backwards onto the backrest. As she gave it another thought, Mindie guessed that annoyed look of his wasn’t actually real.
Pike ran his fingers idly through her side bangs, coaxing an easy smile out of her and enticing her to nuzzle against his touch slightly. A lazy afternoon. Mindie felt the daze of slumber luring her into dream land…
Suddenly, the front door opened. “Tadaima~” (I’m home~)
They hadn’t been doing anything inappropriate, but Mindie suddenly felt a rush of self-consciousness that jolted her awake, arms flailing as she sat upright. Pike was much the same as he turned to the door. Chiaki was home, carrying two grocery bags.
“Pikkun! You’re here!” She set the bags down on the table next to her and quickly paced toward the couch.
Pike rose to his feet and began to bow in greeting. “How are you, Mrs. TC—Mmph!”
Chiaki threw her arms around his midsection and gave him a tight hug, a lyrical little squeal escaping her as she snuggled him. Though only as tall as he was, decades of active Superstar work showed through in the affectionate squeeze. Pike had to hold his breath in fear of popping like a balloon.
Mindie stood up too, quickly fussing with the strands of her side bangs and fluffing out her hair bun. “I bumped into him on the way back from class, so I invited him over to hang out for a bit.”
“Perfect!”
Her mom took a step back from Pike, steadying him by the shoulders since he seemed a little dizzy for some reason. She beamed when he looked stable enough again on his feet before disappearing through the doorway leading into the kitchen.
“Come! Come!” she beckoned. “Do you want something to eat? I can make you some onigiri. Or maybe you’d prefer something more familiar?”
She moved too quickly for a lazy afternoon frame of mind, and Pike found himself in a brief mental whirl as he cycled through how to react first. Before he really put conscious thought into it, his feet were already scrambling towards the groceries she had left by the door. His notebook could wait on the couch. He grabbed one bag; Mindie was right beside him taking the other. Then the two of them followed her into the kitchen.
“Please don’t go through the trouble!” Pike called, hurrying into the kitchen and setting his bag on the counter.
“You know she’s going to anyway.” Mindie did the same, though she felt less rushed than her partner to deliver the groceries. “Onigiri sounds great, Mom.”
As if she had anticipated not taking no for an answer, Chiaki was already rolling up her sleeves like she was heading into a street fight she knew she would win. “Wakatta. (Understood.) You two can just relax and leave this to me.”
=-=-=
Between steaming fresh rice in the cooker and rolling it into proper rice balls packed with filling afterwards, it took a fair bit of time for Chiaki to create the snacks. The two university students insisted on helping her, so she naturally and profusely turned them down. She flicked her hand toward the stools at the counter and distracted them with stories of her hectic day.
“Why, it’s not even over yet!”
She rambled about how she would have to return to Central later that evening. There was an incident in a nearby city that was potentially chaos-related, and she needed to check on its status. She doubted she’d have to intervene herself, but surely her gregarious Vice Chair would butt heads with her on how to proceed.
How she had so much energy, Pike couldn’t say. He doubted many people today had the same willpower to run the whole Luminescence Department, do Superstar field work, and then come home and still don the mantle of a mother. They’d likely burn out less than a week living the life of Chiaki Tachibana-Callahan.
Mindie must’ve read his mind (probably from the way he was gaping at her mom). “Don’t I have the best mom ever?”
“There’s really no comparison…” Because he didn’t want to compare. Pike thought his own mom was the best in her own way, even if she could be a bit overbearing.
They were finally ready. Chiaki placed a tray of half a dozen onigiri in front of them and stood back with her arms akimbo, beaming at her work. “And here you go!”
Watching anime didn’t make one wholly privy to the Tachibana side of Mindie’s family culture. This was something Pike was acutely aware of. And yet, as he took a bite of one of the delicious snacks, he couldn’t quite remember a time when he saw onigiri served as a vessel for peanut butter and jelly.
Swallowing her own bite, Mindie’s eyebrows knitted in an amused scoff at the unorthodox mix of ingredients. “Grandma is turning in her grave right now.”
Chiaki flicked a rice grain at Mindie as she held one of the rice balls up to her own mouth. “Don’t talk about your Obaasan as if she’s already dead, Midori-chan.”
She took a bite, taking a moment to savor the flavor with a satisfied hum. “How have you been, Pikkun? Have you already declared your Major?”
Pike nearly choked while he chewed. “Oh, uh—I’m still undecided.”
“Oh? I expected you to declare something in the arts as soon as you started university.” Chiaki took another bite, her eyes shifting upwards into her thoughts. “Then again, it must be hard to choose, seeing as you’re talented in more than one field.”
He just quietly continued to snack on his food, hoping the subject would change before his lacking response was noticeable. Talented wasn’t exactly a term he would use to describe himself—not compared to Mindie and the rest of their peers.
“And how was class, Midori-chan?”
Mindie shook her head. “Didn’t happen. Professor DeSanto was absent—again.”
This prompted a concerned frown from her mother. “It sounds like she’s been absent all week. That isn’t becoming of a professor at HRU.”
“I haven’t seen her either,” Pike remarked.
“Couldn’t you talk to her? She said you two met up recently.”
“Hah, well… It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.” Chiaki’s face fell slightly, a melancholic smile touching her lips. “We were so close before. To think, that was the first time we spoke since Uncle Soren…”
There was a brief but tangible pause, as if the end of her sentence suddenly caught in her throat. The way she spoke prompted an uneasiness from the two younger gens. Should they be apologizing in sympathy? Was there something to be broached from her words? They waited to see if she’d say something else.
But she didn’t elaborate any further. Before someone could press the topic, it was abruptly dropped at the sound of the front door opening in the other room.
“Honey, I’m home!”
In a flash, Chiaki was out of the kitchen. No doubt she simply rushed into her beloved husband’s arms (indicated by the not-so-subtle Ooph! heard from the kitchen doorway).
“Honeyyy! You’re home early for once! Is this a surprise gift?” One could almost hear the hearts bubbling from her voice.
Proud laughter followed. “It sure feels like it! I was just finishing something up when…”
But the rest of his words became a blur as Pike and Mindie exchanged glances. Their minds were still occupied by what Chiaki said, and each looked at the other in hopes that one might provide the explanation that she didn’t.
=-=-=
Before modern advancements, one needed to ascend a long flight of spiraling stairs to ascend to the upper levels of High Tower. Even with an elevator installed a few decades past, the very top was still only accessible by means of more stairs. The Luminescence Department felt little need to renovate for a singular storage room so far out of everyone’s way.
The only one who regularly climbed this last length of stairs was Sheila DeSanto. And what was once (and in many ways still) a storage room, she had refurbished into a makeshift office space. Amidst the plethora of boxes, long-forgotten campus supplies, relics outdating their eras and other uncanny knick-knacks, as well as scores upon scores of scattered books and tomes, she had carved out a vacancy. She had dragged out a workable desk from the rubble and even an ancient armchair to sit back into and ponder. It was here that the retired Superstar found solace in her research.
That solace had been set ablaze after Chiaki had confronted her.
I know there’s a way.
Anecdotes. Theories. Field data. Sheila poured furiously over reports compiled by Department chapters around the world. The stack of tomes she had piled onto her desk gradually grew smaller as she skimmed through key sections before tossing them haphazardly away without satisfaction.
No one ever bothered to look for a way, so I’ll do it myself.
As she reached over to snatch another book from the pile, her trembling, exhausted hands missed their mark, rapping their knuckles clumsily against the stack and causing the better half of the remaining tomes to clatter onto the floor beside her. In her studious daze, Sheila looked over to see what titles remained on her desk.
The one staring back at her gave her pause.
Ever since her encounter with Chiaki, something dark had begun to stir within her. It whispered to her in voices that she found familiar. It encouraged actions that required only a simple reflex or the briefest thought. One of those actions planted precisely the seed the elusive chaotic will desired her to cultivate.
As Sheila picked the book up, teasing her fingers along the cover, she heard the whispers of her subconscious urging her forward. “Yes… Yes, this might work.”
For more than a decade, this had been the focus of her personal studies. Threading needles with strands of facts, formulating a desperate, vengeful thesis. Like the frog that ended up boiling in water that slowly grew hotter, insanity had gradually seeped into her soul. She obsessively hungered for a solution now more than ever.
