Tadaima

First version of the beginning of my story…. the new beginning so to speak. Completely reworked the characters – actually reverted them to the original idea…

Tadaima

Darkness greeted Miyabi Shibata as she stepped off of the airplane. Flight 780 from Seattle, Washington, United States to Tokyo-Haneda Airport, Japan. Black clouds tumbled over the tarmacs that crept outward from Haneda’s main hub. Thunder rolled above fog that seeped in from the bay. Drops of water, falling from the clouds above, flowed down the windows, running through the crevasses in the sidewalk and into the drains that dotted the street. Now, Miyabi huddled under the overhang covering the airport’s entrance watching the faces that rushed by.

Where is she? I told her the flight would land at 5pm.

Brown hair whipped past her face and shivers wracked her small frame. Pellets of water struck her from the side. She shivered again. Her clothing clung to her skin.

Great!....Just great. You had to forget to pack a coat in the middle of monsoon season…

A flash of lightning. A face. Kari! Miyabi bolted over to a girl standing beneath an oversized umbrella. Rain soaked her a second time.

“You’re late, Kari.”

“No I’m not. I’ve been looking for you. It’s taken me this long because I thought you had more sense that to stand outside in a rainstorm without a coat.”

“Hikari Tanaka! You wipe that smirk off your face!”

Miyabi glowered at her friend. Kari’s response: laughter. Kari laughed at Miyabi’s attempt to be mad. Miyabi huffed a few times before she couldn’t help but share her friend’s mirth, even if it was at her own expense. The two huddled under Kari’s umbrella. Miyabi was pushed away several times when she attempted to huddle closer.

“Ewww. You’re wet. You smell like wet airplane”

Miyabi looked astonished at the claim, sputtering a while before giving up trying to think of a sufficient comeback.

“I guess I do.”

Kari laughed again. The trip to the train station, several blocks, took longer than usual. The slow pace that prevented either of them from getting pelted by the water bullets falling from the sky forced them to take twice as long to reach said station. As the two swiped their train passes, Kari decided to break the comfortable silence first.

“How is your mother?

Miyabi glared, more so at the question that at Kari. She sighed.

“She’s fine… so is the new man in her life…”

“Oh?... So you finally met him?”

“No. I was never that lucky… but I did have to hear her rave about him at every opportunity. How great he is. How much money he has. How great his children are. How come I’m not more like them?...”

“Whoa Miiya… watch those poison darts… you might take me out with one of those.”

“Gomen Kari…. I just…”

She bit her lip, ashamed of how much emotion had erupted from her.

“I know Miiya… I know…”

“Next stop, Saitama! Next Stop, Saitama!”

Brakes locked. Metal groaned as the train slowed to a crawl and rolled to a stop in the station. Miyabi looked down at her phone, noting that an hour had passed since she and Kari had began the ride. The trip had been made longer due to the raging waters that fell from the heavens. The exited the train station. Rain pelted Miyabi again before Kari could open the umbrella. Under the tiny shelter the duo made their way into their building, each carrying one of Miyabi’s bags to the elevator.

Remnants of rain drops speckle the carpet beneath their feet. Water dripped from Miyabi’s hair onto the tunic top she wore, causing the blue fabric to turn almost black. She rubbed the arm holding the handle of her rolling bag with her free arm, trying to draw warmth back into her damp skin. A ding. The doors slid open and the girls step onto the eleventh floor, Miyabi leading the way around the halls, the rolling bag shadowing her every move.

1134…1135…1136…1137!... Finally…home at last…

The key slides into the lock, the tumblers clinking into place, and the deadbolt released its grip. The door whispers open, swinging inward, and Miyabi stepped out of her swampy shoes before stepping onto the polished wood floors of the apartment beyond. Kari slides in the door behind her, pulling it to and flipping the lock. She laid Miyabi’s second bag next to the first before mimicking her roommate’s actions and shuffling her way into the main room.

Miyabi walked towards an open door, a bedroom, grabbing the edges of her shirt and peeling it off of her wet skin. She tossed it into a hamper next to the door of the bathroom. While in the bathroom she changed out of the rest of her wet clothing, replacing them with dry ones and walking back out with a towel across her shoulders. Miyabi’s hair had dried a bit, but it still hung limply on her shoulders. Kari reached into the closet and grabbed a dry shirt, handing it to the girl who had forgotten her coat as she passed by.

“Maybe this will teach you to prepare for any situation.”

Kari snickered. Miyabi snatched the dry shirt from her hand and threw it over her small, much dryer, frame, glowering the whole time.

“Shut up Hikari!” Miyabi made a face and shut the door to the bathroom.

Miyabi walked around her roommate and over to a short black stand sitting in the corner of the room. The stand cradled a worn, but well treated guitar, one of several she had stashed around the apartment. She lifted the guitar from the place it had rested for the past month, and carried it over to the couch in the main room. She sat in a chair by the window, which now had several rivers of rain running down the glass, and brought the guitar up to her lap.

“Tadaima Hikari-chan.” She grinned.

“Okaeri nasai Miiya-chan.” Kari returned the expression, curling up into the near corner of the couch, clicking the light on, and opening the worn pages of a good book.

*~*~*

Melodies whispers through the evening air. Fingers and strings ran together in a veritable symphony of motion. Miyabi had spent the two previous days at a nearby park, curled up on a park bench with her guitar in her lap and a notebook at her side. Words had flowed from her pen in torrents, much like the rain that had greeted her upon her return to Japan. Music was her rest, her home. She reveled in the ability to put to paper all the emotions she felt seeing her mother happy without her father and the thoughts she had after returning home. After each flood would stop, the notebook would be set aside and the guitar picked up again from its case sitting at her feet. The final note struck, and the song faded into the wind. Miyabi raised her delicate face from her guitar to see reds and blues playing harmoniously in the sky beyond the tall buildings of Saitama. Her gaze returned to the guitar in her lap. The head gleamed in the dying sun that reflected off the glass buildings. This guitar was her favorite; she only took it out when she was in the mood to write. The guitar was worn but well kept. She still remembered handing the money to the shop attendant. It was used, he had told her. She didn’t care then. That had been 15 years ago.

She strummed the guitar and upon noting a discordant note, adjusted it so the symphony could resume. This symphony had been her lifeline, her raft as she floated upon an ocean of misery. Kari had been her rock, who had kept her from wading too far into the sea. The music began again – softly at first, but soon with gathered courage and experience she played. Stars twinkled into existence above her, those that sat above the park anyway, but she didn’t notice them, only the reverberations that soothed the soul. She hugged the instrument close as she played. This was her peace. Her nirvana. Her home.

Again, a final note struck. She returned the guitar to its case, snapping the locks shut. The cased groaned with age as she lifted it from the grass. She turned away from the sun and began to make her way back home.

She walked through the door, setting the case against the wall and kicking off her shoes.

“Tadaima Kari-chan!”

“Okaeri nasai Miiya. Welcome home.”