Chapter 14 // Blood-stained Feet
Tatsuki sat on a chair, Mocha atop a blanket on the ground. Crackling from the fire filled the awkward void between Mocha and Tatsuki. Shouldn’t you be asleep? Too aggressive… How are you feeling? Any plans after all this is done? No… Uhh… Thanks for rescuing me? What about… He cleared his throat. “Do you need a glass of water?”
Mocha barely shook her head as she rested her chin on her knee, her feet near the flames. Tatsuki was mesmerized by Mocha’s purple eyes; it was like staring into a nebula in deep space. Her gaze caught Tatsuki’s. He averted his eyes, aiming back toward the fire. He was ashamed of what he spoke from his journal, remembering her sharp eyebrows after his public reading.
Mocha began to stand with a blanket covering her body, wincing silently as she pushed off the floor. Tatsuki went to give her a hand but she put a palm up, like she was manifesting a barrier that said ‘don’t touch me’. Yoshi appeared at her side; she clutched the robot and it helped her up. Tatsuki didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of a robot, but there he was.
Her legs felt like wet noodles, but at least she was standing. She was recovering at a rapid rate. She wobbled over to the table, Tatsuki watching her every step from afar. He felt terribly rejected, like she did not want him there at all… He couldn’t explain it. There was just something in her body language that subtly avoided acknowledging his presence.
Mocha picked up her bag and felt a needle piercing her ribs. She grit her teeth. Yoshi extended another claw and held the bag. She made her way to the latrine while leaning on the bot. It was a miracle she was standing at all; Tatsuki did not understand how she was doing it. Was it those sigils on her feet and underneath her eyes? He remembered the purple flame she manifested in her palm. Magic? No such thing… Technology of some sort, surely…
Mocha disappeared from the hallway as she entered the latrine and shut the door. Tatsuki sat by the fire, a heaviness in his heart…
“Don’t worry about her,” Mayumi said from her nest. She had a boot crossed over her knee and her hands clasped behind her head. Her eyes did not appear to be open. “She’s always like that.”
“Like what?”
Mayumi let out a laugh as if it were obvious. “Abrasive? Well… Not always. She’s a confusion; a mystery even to me. Just give her some time to warm up to you.”
“I think I made her angry… With what I said…”
“Huh? What did you say?” Mayumi opened one eye.
Tatsuki blushed. “You know. When I called her… Beautiful… And stuff…”
“Ohh. Your journal. Yeah. Don’t worry about that. The fact she looked angry means your words had an effect. That’s an accomplishment in itself! She’s not good with that type of stuff. In our village… she’s always been treated like an outsider. Despite everything she has done for the community, they act like she’s just a combat drone or something. Do this, do that, not even a high-five. Honestly, I feel bad for her. That’s why I try to always see what she’s up to, ‘let’s get some ramen’, ‘I’m busy’, she’s always busy… She’ll usually go with me to the village theater and whenever I invite her to the gym—surprisingly, she’s got a mean deadlift. That’s why her back is so thick. She used to hang out in the library, but now she just steals the books and reads underneath the sakura tree. Sometimes she’ll hide in her house when I come by; I have to force myself inside and make her spend time with me.”
Mayumi’s ‘consoling’ merely made Tatsuki more depressed. If Mayumi, who’s known her a lot longer than he has, was still having trouble? He had no chance...
“Hey. I saw her while you were reading. Your words touched her. Trust me, I can tell. If she’s being extra mean, it’s a good sign. Just give her some time,” Mayumi finished with a wink. Tatsuki thanked her and sparked a cigarette. Extra mean, a good sign? From his earlier interactions with Mocha, he knew this very well might be true. She could’ve simply departed from him and left him to figure things out on his own, stay a slave in Omega forever… No… She gave me that grueling talk and gave me a second chance… Look where I am. This bunker, this opportunity…
An hour passed. Tatsuki awoke from a tug on his poncho. It was Yoshi. Tatsuki wiped his eyes of the fatigue and stared at the drone with confusion. It pulled on him again. He stood up. The drone hovered backward, its face beckoning Tatsuki toward the hall.
Tatsuki gulped multiple times and felt there was a misunderstanding. The drone entered deeper down the dimly lit hall and turned around until Tatsuki took a few steps closer. They repeated this game of charades until Tatsuki was standing in front of the latrine door. He looked down the hall sneakily as if he were doing something wrong… This is wrong! The last thing I want is to be labeled a creeper! I’ll just go back to my bed—
The door slid open, revealing through the thin crack those enticing purple irises. Her mysterious eyes were like the cosmos, a black hole pulling him… He didn’t attempt to defy the laws of gravity… He wanted to swim through deep space. Tatsuki’s cheeks were a deep red. He stuttered an excuse for why he was there. “Uh, t-the drone—Yoshi… I… I’m sorry—Gomenasai!”
Tatsuki turned toward the main room, but felt something grab his poncho again. No Yoshi, I’m leaving… His eyes caught those purple nails holding the texture of his wet-proof top. He was pulled inside the latrine and the door shut.
Mocha was standing close... She stared at him with her eyes narrow, arms crossed, a faint scowl… It was like he was a bug, or a childhood nemesis that she despised. He wanted to escape but she was blocking the entrance to the door, and Yoshi stood outside like a bodyguard. Latrine is closed for business, move along!
Her pitch-black hair was damp and voluminous, like she had spent some time drying it out after showering. Her body was cleaner now with no blood-stains on her skin. Most of her bandages had been removed except for the one around her chest wound that wrapped around her collarbone and trapezius. She had applied a new sarashi over her chest and hips, but only a few wrappings... It was… lewd… shockingly intimate to see her like this, without her kimono, dressed in just her undergarments, no blanket covering…
Tatsuki’s eyes noticed scarlet in the bottom of his field-of-view. His eyes meekly lowered and saw Mocha’s calves and feet were still slightly stained red. Yuki had washed them a bit, and Mocha did what she could… But perhaps she was having trouble? His eyes were entranced by the lavender pedicure on her toes, they were like ten sparkling amethysts that remained perfect and pristine despite the brutal adventure.
“Tatsuki…” Mocha whispered with a hint of annoyance, but even that made pops in his brain. He stared up from her feet with his face blushing hard. She had an eyebrow raised and tapped her nail against her elbow, head cocked to the side.
“I-I’m sorry, I—”
“Don't. Speak.” She whispered softly, her voice not matching with her cruel stare.
Tatsuki gulped. He felt like he was shivering—no, he realized he was shivering. No amount of gunfire, explosions, robot dogs, husks; none of that prepared him for the amount of fear coursing through his blood in this moment.
“I saw you at the fire. Just like I saw you now.”
Tatsuki was confused, but then it hit him, like Mocha transmitted the context through her piercing gaze.
Earlier, Mocha was sitting on the blanketed floor with her legs stretched out, warming her bare feet by the fire. Her feet were the most sensitive part of her body; the heat from the flames traveled through her cells and soothed her. There were slight traces of dirt on her soles and blood had stained her skin. Despite that, her feet looked well pampered and taken care of.
It confused Tatsuki. He had seen her walking through glass earlier, stomping through skulls, running miles without any shoes… Yet they looked so soft and elegant, at the same time strong like a ballet dancer. And what are those new markings on the tops of her feet and ankles that seem to be fading into her skin as time goes by? At this point it looked like a week-old henna tattoo that was nearly gone. His eyes were lost as they traveled along the deep arches of her feet that whispered elegance, refinement, beauty, strength… Deep in the flight of his thoughts, he hadn’t realized Mocha’s eyes were watching him.
The image of her soles glowing in the firelight filled his mind… Still, he didn’t want to give himself away through admission. What if she’s talking about something totally different? The way I stayed by her bedside while she slept. Maybe she was awake? No… There was something about those purple portals that knew exactly what he was thinking. Sweat covered his forehead. His heart thumped in his ears… Can she hear it?
Mocha let out a deep sigh of disapproval… She stepped backward and sat on the wooden bench next to a neat stack of clean clothes; a sailor suit uniform with a white top and a black pleated skirt. She crossed her thigh atop the other, dangling her foot that was slightly wet from the latrine tiles. The minimal sarashi wrapping her inner thighs squeezed against each other. The motion of her leg lifting in an arc and landing on her thigh was like the start of a hypnotic spiral. A drop of water fell from her glistening foot…
“Explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Stop,” she put her palm in the air. “No more empty apologies. Understand?”
Tatsuki nodded, afraid to speak simple responses. Mocha bore into him with those narrow eyes as she lightly bobbed her foot up and down.
“Tell me. What is your infatuation with my feet?”
Tatsuki felt like the floor underneath him had collapsed and he was falling into sheol itself. His mouth dropped. Just kill me now. There was no hiding from this woman. She notices everything. I should have known better, what was I thinking? Time stretched on as he went through all the mental acrobatics of embarrassment, regret, sifting for an answer that didn’t give himself away fully, maybe I should go with denial?… Mocha watched him carefully as if she observed everything going on in the canvas of his mind. Tatsuki was a few breaths away from a panic attack.
Tatsuki wanted to say how pretty they were, but gulped the words away. He wanted to apologize again, but was learning quickly… He bit his lips…
”I… Mocha… They’re very pretty.” Mocha’s eyes twitched with shock. “I-I wanted to ask… if you’d like me to clean them…?” Mocha’s mouth dropped, her eyes growing big. What looked like a blush began manifesting underneath the faded sigils, but as if by willpower, the red quickly disappeared, leaving only the appalled expression on her face.
Tatsuki's heart stopped and he died; at least, that’s how he felt. Mocha would certainly admonish him, banish him from ever looking in her direction ever again, maybe even poke his eyes out, or spare his life and just kick him out of the bunker…
Her eyelids dropped and her mouth shut… Her face was calm, even though Tatsuki’s mind was racing a billion miles a minute. Her edge of her lips twisted into the smallest, devious grin. She shook her head and licked her lips, took a slight inhale… “Grab that bucket and fill it,” she said, not opening her eyes.
Tatsuki turned around and saw a tin bucket by the wall. He obediently did as he was told.
“Soap,” she said curtly. She leaned her back against the wall with arms crossed, eyes still shut like she was watching him with her other senses. Her foot bounced in the air rhythmically. Tatsuki found a tiny bar of green soap and carried it over. He squatted down and dissipated the green soap within the foaming water by rubbing his hands against it.
The warm water was soapy. Everything was ready… But he stalled, frozen like a statue. Mocha opened her one unbruised eye at the man in front of her, kneeling down on a single knee. Tatsuki was afraid of her… She could tell by his lack of eye contact, his trembling body, but those blushing cheeks? Hmm… Truthfully, Mocha had never done something like this before. She was just as nervous.
“Go ahead,” she whispered. As he looked at those purple jewels on the tip of her toes, Mocha bit her bottom lip…
He gulped and scooped up the last bit of confidence from within himself. He grabbed Mocha’s ankle carefully, like holding a rare artifact preserved for thousands of generations. He uncrossed it and edged it near the soapy bucket, pushing the bucket closer so she did not need to move at all. Her feet were incredibly perceptive to touch and vibrations, especially her soles; so when Tatsuki dipped her toes into the warm bucket…
She let out the softest sigh of contentment; almost a moan, barely audible, but it was enough to send a shiver down Tatsuki’s spine. He felt her entire body relax as she settled into the bucket. He looked up at her for a split-second, just to check for her approval, but her eyes were shut…
His cheeks were on fire as he ran his hands underneath the water and rubbed all around the tops of her feet. Mocha smiled at his trembling touch and almost wanted to console him… But she liked the way this was going. An unfamiliar flame heated up her chest.
Tatsuki’s fingertips grazed her soles while his thumb held the top of her foot. He kneaded gently, like touching a porcelain bird. Mocha stopped herself from letting her mouth fall open as she reached new depths of relaxation. He was avoiding her toes, but she spread them just enough to give him a sign. He obeyed and glided his soapy fingers through them. Underneath the water he felt the smooth texture of her polished nails.
Despite his initial terror, his thoughts were entirely gone at this moment; all his neurons were singing and all traces of anxiety were gone as he tugged at her arches. Mocha could sit here forever, she thought. A couple times she disparaged herself, as if seeing the scene from a judgemental third-person perspective. What am I doing here? But she settled into herself, and was disappointed when he stopped…
He took a towel and set it on the ground, then grabbed a rag and dried her left foot. He set it down on the dry towel, then gripped his hands around her right arch. She pulled it away to cross her thighs, then pointed with her good eye for him to continue. Droplets of water dripped off her clean foot onto the towel beneath. Mainly dry… He turned to grab another dry towel behind him…
He felt something wet… His eyes shifted forward and saw the top of Mocha’s foot was underneath his chin. She lifted him up until his eyes met hers. She did not conceal her blushing cheeks as she smiled playfully, a look of approval that Tatsuki had not seen from her before. She tilted her ankle, dragging her toe up his chin. The foot of her crossed leg hovered in front of him now. She looked at his lips and wanted to press her toes against them, like pushing a button, so close now—
DU DU DU “Mocha! Time to go!” Mayumi yelled from outside.
Tatsuki flinched. Mocha severed eye contact and snapped back to her old self. She uncrossed her legs, stood up, grabbed her bag and stack of clothes and departed the room without saying a word. Tatsuki wasn’t able to transition so quickly… He stayed kneeling on the tile as his heart was volleyed with conflict. There was no time for that, but still… The way she left him there, it made him feel…
