The warm spring wind blew hard across the cracked pavement. It carried the faint smell of car exhaust and dry dust. Zenjiro walked slowly down the empty sidewalk. It was Saturday afternoon. Exactly one full week had passed since Liora Mei sneaked out to the idol concert.
He reached the old neighborhood playground. The tall metal fence was covered in thick, dark rust. Large cherry trees lined the dirt path. They dropped pale pink petals onto the dry ground. The place was mostly empty. A few young kids played on the metal swing set in the distance.
Zenjiro stopped moving. He stood near the edge of the large wooden sandbox.
He walked over to a green wooden bench and sat down. The old wood creaked loudly under his weight. He leaned forward. He rested his elbows heavy on his knees. He looked past the sand. He stared at the heavy iron storm drain set deep into the concrete walkway.
"I am not stable," Zenjiro whispered to himself. "My brain is a complete mess."
He stared at his own bare hands. The strange events of the past few days repeated in his mind on a endless, broken loop. It started in the master bedroom. Every single time he saw his stepmother walking around the house wearing a thin sando and short pants, a sudden, heavy heat hit his chest.
The normal, boring reality of his home would suddenly shatter. He would just freeze in place. He would stare at her bare skin. He completely lost control of his own eyes.
Then the terrible problem spread to Liora Mei.
Her constant, heavy clinginess was just a normal fact of his life. It was a daily routine for years. She always touched him. She always rested her head on his shoulder or threw her legs across his lap. It never meant anything. It was just an annoying habit.
But now, it felt completely different. When her bare knee pressed against his thigh on the sofa, a violent jolt shot up his spine. The sweet smell of her shampoo suddenly made his throat go completely dry. The heavy weight of her body made his hands shake.
"I have to fix this."
He gripped his knees tight. His knuckles turned white. He was a creature of strict habits and quiet routines. This sudden, chaotic physical reaction ruined his peace.
A loud burst of laughter broke his focus.
He lifted his head. Two young women walked past the rusted playground gate. They wore light, thin summer dresses. The strong spring wind pressed the fabric tight against their bodies.
Zenjiro's eyes darted instantly away from their faces. He looked directly down. He stared straight at the shape of their chests. He watched the way the thin fabric stretched and moved with every single step they took.
He didn't want to look. His brain screamed at him to look at the trees. But his eyes moved entirely on their own. They locked onto the target and refused to let go.
He gritted his teeth. He raised both of his hands and slapped his own cheeks as hard as he physically could.
A sharp, violent pain exploded across his face. The sound was a loud, flat crack in the quiet park.
The two women stopped walking. They turned their heads and looked at him. Their eyes went wide with sudden fear. They probably thought he was completely crazy. They grabbed their purses tight and walked away much faster.
Zenjiro dropped his hands. He closed his eyes tight. The darkness completely blocked out the bright afternoon sun and the empty street.
He forced his mind backwards in time. He remembered the dry, rough dirt of the sandbox. He remembered a small girl in a yellow summer dress. Her knees were always covered in dark mud.
Hina.
She was his very first friend. She was his only childhood friend. He remembered her bright, loud smile when he pulled that shiny gold card out of the dark storm drain. He remembered the simple, quiet feeling of just playing in the sand. There were no strange, heavy thoughts back then. There was no terrible confusion. The world was just plastic tanks and dry dirt.
He pictured her face in the dark. The memory worked like a cold splash of water. His rapid breathing finally slowed down. The tight, painful knot in his stomach loosened completely.
He opened his eyes. He stared at the empty green bench across from him. He felt calm. He promised himself right then. He was going to fight this. He was going to force his mind to be normal again. He refused to let this weird feeling win.
Night fell over the city. The sky turned a dark, bruised purple.
Zenjiro walked back to his house. His legs felt incredibly heavy. The massive mental exhaustion from his internal fight completely drained his physical energy.
He pushed the front door open. The house was quiet.
He walked straight to his bedroom. He didn't grab a clean towel from the closet. He completely skipped his evening bath. The thin layer of sweat and street dust stuck to his skin. He felt gross, but he was simply too tired to care. He just wanted this long, terrible day to end.
He changed into a loose gray shirt and a pair of dark shorts. He collapsed onto his mattress. He pulled the thick blue blanket high over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and fell instantly into a deep, heavy sleep.
Hours passed in total silence.
The darkness in the room shifted. A warm yellow light pressed hard against his closed eyelids.
Zenjiro woke up. He did not move his head. He just opened his eyes. The small desk lamp across the room was switched on. The bulb cast long, strange shadows against the flat white walls. The air in the room felt thick. It was unnaturally warm.
He felt a heavy, solid weight pressing down on his body.
His thick blue blanket was gone. It lay in a messy, crumpled pile on the wooden floorboards.
Liora was in his bed.
This was a normal scene. She had her own perfectly good bed on the exact opposite side of the room. But sometimes, usually when the temperature dropped or she had a bad dream, she just climbed straight onto his mattress in the middle of the night. She always hunted for his body heat.
But tonight, the physical contact was intense.
She lay completely on her left side. Her right hand rested entirely flat against the center of his chest. Her palm was hot against his thin gray shirt. Her right leg was thrown carelessly over both of his legs. She wore a very short pair of pink sleep shorts. Her bare, smooth thigh pressed directly against his knee.
Her head rested entirely on Zenjiro's right shoulder. Her messy blonde hair spilled over his collarbone and tickled his neck. He felt the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. Warm air puffed gently against his bare skin with every single exhale. She was sleeping completely soundly.
The strange panic spiked instantly in Zenjiro's chest.
His heart slammed hard against his ribs. The sweet, heavy smell of her floral shampoo filled his nose. The heat of her bare leg burned right through his skin. The heavy weight of her chest pressed against his side.
He almost froze. His muscles locked up tight. The paralysis tried to take over again.
But he remembered the green bench at the playground. He remembered his strong promise. He had to fight this exact feeling.
Think like a monk.
He stopped looking at her pale face. He turned his head away. He stared straight up at the flat white ceiling. He forced his rigid body to go completely limp. He took a slow, deep breath. He held the air in his lungs for three seconds. He let it out slowly.
He refused to acknowledge the heavy weight of her leg. He refused to smell the sweet shampoo. He ignored the warm puffs of air hitting his neck. He just stared at a tiny, jagged crack in the ceiling plaster. He emptied his head of every single thought.
Five minutes passed in total silence.
It worked.
The violent pounding in his chest finally slowed down to a normal, steady beat. The hot rush of blood faded away from his face. He was no longer distracted by her bare thigh. He was no longer distracted by her deep breathing. He was not distracted by her warmth or her heavy weight. He was completely neutral.
Soft footsteps padded across the hallway floorboards outside.
The bedroom door was pushed wide open.
Clara stood in the doorway. She wore a long white nightgown. Her blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders. She looked at the two of them tangled together on the narrow bed.
She let out a long, loud sigh.
She walked slowly into the room. She stopped right next to the edge of the mattress. Zenjiro turned his head. He met her blue eyes.