//------------------------------// // Plato Never Had To Watercolor Any Of It // Story: Miss Kanna's Dragon Playdate // by Estee //------------------------------// Saikawa made a point of sitting on the couch while they waited. She sat in a way which she felt was suitable to someone ten years older, about thirty kilograms heavier, and who possessed exactly the same amount of angry sulk. It mostly involved folding her arms across her chest and not looking at the boy. The boy was sitting on the floor again. A boy. Boys were a problem. It really wasn't the foreign thing. If Saikawa had any real problems with foreigners, then she never would have fallen in love with Kanna. The smaller girl had said where she was from, on that very first day when she'd introduced herself to the class: Ushishir Island. Saikawa had tried to look that up online and while there hadn't been all that much information available, she'd managed to discover that it was part of Russia. The same article, which had obviously suffered from very poor public editing, had also claimed that the island had a permanent population of -- zero. Saikawa had immediately presumed that some idiot had decided to round down for a joke. However, the fact that you could round a population down to 'zero' without having another editor come in to correct it suggested that the number of people living there was pretty close to the count of those who looked up the article. That probably created a pretty significant incentive to leave. Shortly after they'd met, she'd tried to ask Kanna about what it had been like to live there. But the one she loved didn't like to talk about her past, and -- after seeing Kanna's mother, Saikawa had realized that Kanna was adopted. That meant something had happened to her birth parents. Hearing questions about her old home had to hurt, and... ...no one was allowed to hurt Kanna. Ever. A list which began and (romantically) ended with Saikawa. So she didn't ask any more. Saikawa loved a foreigner, because that happened to be Kanna and Saikawa would have loved her no matter where she was from. And they both had foreign friends -- well, for their own age group, a foreign friend. The same one. Because Kanna had been in America at some point -- Saikawa's guess was that the adoption agency was there -- and she'd met Chloe. Who was blonde, blue-eyed, Minnesotan, utterly cute, and rich. Saikawa's family was perfectly comfortable, but Chloe had a credit card made out in her name and it was black. She could travel wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted -- although the fact of her wealth and youthful vulnerability meant her father liked to send along bodyguards. So she'd visited Japan to see Kanna, stayed for two days, and then decided that the next time around, she was coming for a month. Her first meeting with Chloe had made Saikawa very worried, because you didn't have to be an adult to know that 'exotic and rich' was a hard combination to beat. But... the American cared about Kanna (because that was just a sign of common sense), but it didn't seem to be in the same way. It was more like someone clinging to a protector. So there didn't seem to be any romantic threat, and all three girls talked online when their schedules and the time zones managed to line up. Besides, Kanna was extremely practical. She would know that the adults always said long-distance relationships didn't work out. Chloe wasn't really an issue. But Kanna could have all the friends she wanted, whenever she decided to actually desire them. The fact that Kanna spent most of her time with Saikawa said something there -- but it didn't change a basic fact. Kanna was popular. She'd gotten endless chocolates on Valentine's Day, and had even managed to get most of them back to the apartment: the trick had then been locating a place to hide the stash where a visiting Miss Elma couldn't find it. If there was an assignment which required a partner, then the line to work with Kanna could go all the way back to the door. And some of the boys in the class looked at her. Saikawa considered the vast majority of them to be too stupid and immature to recognize exactly what they were looking at, but they were still looking and it was only going to get worse when puberty let more of the idiocy flow in. Boys were dangerous. Boys could be attracted to Kanna, which was basically how anyone in the class demonstrated that they had at least one working brain cell to begin with. And as they all grew up, some of them would try to act on it. With more chocolates. And possibly flowers. Saikawa had to establish her place before that could happen. Lock it in. For a lifetime. "Did..." She heard the boy swallow, and then more words forced themselves out. In the wrong order. "Something I wrong did?" She didn't correct his atrociously-phrased Japanese, nor did she bother to answer the question. She knew exactly what he'd done wrong. He'd made the choice to exist. And she wanted to unleash a string of challenges and insults, but Miss Tohru was right there -- -- the door to the smallest bedroom opened, and the most beautiful girl in the world stepped out. "Ready," the little vision softly said, because so many of her words were soft. Kanna's speech existed as a sort of perpetual vocal understatement. You had to pay close attention to hear how she was feeling. She could get mad, and there were times when she was even a little sarcastic, but -- even the insults would be quiet statements of newborn fact: Kanna has called you a scoundrel, and so scoundrel you are. Deal with it. Kanna looked up at the maid. "Bentō," she quietly checked. "Bentōs ready?" "I'm just wrapping them now," the tall blonde smiled. Deft hands tied a knot in protective cloth. "Thank you, Lady," Kanna politely offered, and the blue gaze turned towards the living room area. "Saikawa. Good." Saikawa was already standing up, arms unfolded because crossed over the ribs was a horrible way to receive or give a hug -- "You met Spike," the beautiful girl said. "Good." Insults spoken by Kanna often became fact. It was a skill which didn't extend into assessing introductions. Saikawa immediately glanced at Spike, trying to figure out how he was reacting to Kanna's arrival -- -- relieved. That he doesn't have to be stuck in the room with me. Because I know what he's after. Kanna collected the wrapped boxes. The three-stack looked as if it was weighing down thin arms -- -- the boy crossed the distance before Saikawa could get two steps, took custody. No. Watch for that. Move faster. Don't drop the baton -- "Thank you," Kanna quietly offered. "We can go now." And the perfect girl moved towards the apartment's main door. They both followed. They had to. For Saikawa, it had been an order. But it wasn't the widest of hallways, and she made sure to get an accidental elbow into the boy's ribs as she passed. He didn't seem to notice. How to describe Kanna? Saikawa had spent a lot of time in trying, usually while lying in bed and wondering what it would be like in a decade or so. When Kanna would be next to her, always next to her in the bed because they were married and -- -- it wasn't so long to wait, really. Saikawa had plans. She often tried to describe Kanna to herself: the hardest part was in finding terms which were strong enough. She'd also made multiple efforts to render the girl's appearance within art. Saikawa had attempted painting, sketches, was starting to get a decent grounding in sculpture, and all of it was in an effort to capture perfection. There was nothing Saikawa could create which wouldn't have Kanna somewhere in it: even a self-portrait would find the other girl reflected in her eyes. Eyes... ...Kanna's eyes were beautiful. Describe Kanna in truly fitting terms? Japanese wasn't up to the task, and that meant no language could do it. But if Saikawa had to use lesser words... She was pale. Her skin was closer to white than pink, and she didn't really tan. (She'd tried. It had been one of the few things Kanna had ever failed at, and it had left her low-key irritated for a week.) And her hair was white, almost purely so. Saikawa had once wondered if Kanna was an albino, but the other girl had just enough melanin to create that tinge of pink and peach. There were also no problems with sun exposure (other than not tanning), she didn't suffer from what were apparently very common vision problems, and those beautiful eyes were blue. She liked to keep her hair long at the front: her bangs overlapped her eyebrows. The rest was kept even longer, and she preferred to pull the thickest strands through glassy guide beads: the full fall easily reached the small of her back. Her features were fine: an afterthought of a nose, delicate ears, thin lips and perfect teeth. She seldom smiled. Saikawa had to work harder for a smile than the little "...oh!" It was always worth the effort. It was a struggle to get her into casual clothing. She would put on a school uniform if she had to, but the teacher had pretty much given up on trying to keep her in it after the first month. At best, you could ask her to wear the hat and shoes: anything in between was probably going to take the form of a dress which came with its own layering, and stockings to go with the skirt. You got Kanna out of stockings by getting her into water or pajamas. Just about nothing else worked. Today, she'd gone with a more basic dress than the usual: blue, lightly fringed. The boy had already been caught examining the stitching, or at least that was what he probably wanted Saikawa to think. And she was small. Saikawa had been a little taller when they'd first met, and... ...nearly two years now. They were growing up. But Kanna hadn't really changed. At all. Saikawa presumed that Kanna's hair was trimmed at home, and rather often: she'd never really seen it longer or shorter than the base state. It was too early for some of the other changes. But Saikawa had picked up some height, and the one she loved hadn't. She was starting to worry about that. Surely Kanna's mother had noticed. A few more months without a change, and they'd consult a doctor. Surely... ...she didn't want to bring it up with Kanna. She didn't want to hurt the one she loved. To place any degree of pain in -- -- her eyes are beautiful. They left the apartment. The door closed behind them, and the three children headed for the elevator. The boy was trailing somewhat behind, distracted by the effort involved in loading the boxes into a small, extremely elaborate well-stitched backpack. It gave Kanna a chance to talk without having him overhear. "Spike is visiting," the perfect girl softly said. "But he can't stay very long." How did you meet him? Has he tried anything? (Boys did that. All the best shows and books said so, and most of the worst.) Were there any chocolates? None of it reached Saikawa's voice. "His parents are waiting for him to get home?" Maybe shortly after noon. She would have hoped for before noon, but there were three bentō boxes. "His parents --" and Kanna paused. The delay was just long enough for Saikawa's heart to fill with horror. Kanna almost never hesitated in her speech. Sentences were clipped, brusque, and direct. She said whatever she wished, and stopped when there was nothing left to say. Hesitations were almost unknown, pauses virtually extinct. Kanna had been an orphan. (Saikawa had never asked. She just told herself she knew it, and that was enough.) And the hesitation had come after 'parents'. How had she met the boy? Where -- "-- are very far away," the white-haired girl finally finished. "He lives with his sister. She worries." Oh. "I asked him to tell her he was coming," Kanna said. "I don't know if he did. So he really has to be home on time." "We should call her," Saikawa's near-whisper immediately decided. "Make sure she knows." Because if that got the boy dragged off by an angry older sibling, then the day would be on track for perfection. "No phone." "No keitai?" Well, Saikawa's first mobile phone was less than a month old -- "No phone. At all." ...and that was weird. How was it possible to live without any phone? Maybe the sister just had a tablet and facetimed a lot. "I like him," Kanna abruptly said. She likes a boy. An older boy. He could try anything. "He doesn't get to have a lot of fun with kids. Not kids like him. And I didn't know today was when he could come over." The smaller girl looked up at Saikawa. "I didn't forget about you. He just arrived before you did." Saikawa thought of a few insults to use on the boy later. Most of them centered on delinquency. "You're mad," Kanna said. Kanna frequently made direct comments on how she felt someone else was feeling. She was usually right. It was another sign of how perfect she was, except when it was annoying. "Am not," Saikawa immediately huffed. "I want him to come with us," Kanna's even tones stated. "I want you to be there. I want --" "-- I want the elevator to be on this floor," Saikawa decided, and jabbed a finger at the button. It wasn't. The boy caught up, and they all waited together. A creaking from the cables suggested that Mr. Sone was taking a wood delivery. Three. Saikawa needed to get a few minutes alone with the backpack. Maybe the boy had a phone. His sister's email address had to be in there somewhere. There had to be an email address. Living without any phone was one incomprehensible thing, but not having email meant you didn't exist.