Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

The days after that first training session didn’t exactly blur together. Instead, they layered themselves one atop another, each one wonderful and unforgettable in its own way.

Mornings with my family were warm and affectionate. Aoi-chan always waited for me at the gate, and our bike rides became a familiar ritual with her hands resting on my shoulders, and sometimes she felt playful. Then I would feel the gentle press of her chest against my back, her arms going around my waist. I wobbled the first time she did that, but she managed to balance the bike like a living dynamometer just by shifting her weight. She was truly amazing.

We would reach school and fall into the rhythm of our classes. There were rooftop lunches where we stole quick kisses, though we were more careful now, ever since the blackmailing incident. It felt almost like we were cooling off slightly after our love had flared so brightly that first day—still intense, but steadier and quieter.

Every evening meant training behind the gym until the sky melted into shades of orange. Then came the ride home on my mint-green mamachari, dinner, homework, my nightly stretching routine, and quiet exchanges of I love you through text. Finally, I would drift off to sleep with my arms and legs wrapped around my pillow, wishing it were Aoi instead, my limbs humming with the sweet ache of moving forward.

It felt less like time was passing and more like my life was tracing the same beautiful circle again and again, the line growing deeper and more certain each time it came around.

After around a week, my body had opinions about all of our training.

“Ow…” I groaned, bending forward as far as I could. The back of my thighs screamed. “Everything hurts. I barely did anything yesterday… why am I feeling like this?”

“You did plenty,” Aoi-chan said, squatting opposite me on the dirt behind the gym. “You just forget important things too quickly.”

I blushed.

She reached farther than I could, her palms flat against the ground, her ponytail swaying. Her muscles moved easily under her gym shirt, like they were used to that kind of flexibility. Her breasts gave a little bounce.

I tried to copy her movements. My fingers managed to brush the dirt. Just barely.

“Don’t force it,” she chided. “You’ll tear something in your back. Just go as far as you can and breathe.”

“I am,” I protested weakly.

“I didn’t mean like a MagicaCarp flopping on land, gasping for air.”

I spluttered a laugh and nearly tipped over. Aoi snorted and caught my shoulder before I could fall.

“You actually have really good balance,” she said as she steadied me. “For someone whose body allegedly wants to sag into a heap. That’s just your brain messing with how you move.”

I enjoyed the brief press of her body against mine in the second she held me there.

For someone who used to be completely useless, I thought.

I straightened more carefully and shook out my arms. “So what’s on the menu today, Aoi-chan?”

“Mm. Let’s see…” She stepped back, her bare toes digging into the packed earth. “If you can’t stand or move properly, it doesn’t matter what to do with your hands.”

She tapped my ankle with her foot, nudging it outward. “Widen your stance a little. You always shrink when you get nervous.”

“Do I?”

“You absolutely do.” She smirked and nodded. “You’d probably curl up into a single atom if I yelled I love you too loudly.”

My face caught fire. “Y-you didn’t have to bring that up…”

“You did scream it down the street a week ago,” she pointed out, giggling, her eyes sparkling. “The words are burned into my memory forever.”

“Don’t joke about our love. I’m serious!” I pouted. I loved her more than anyone else.

“I know.” Her smile softened. “Now. Use that same courage you used to confess out loud to me on your legs.”

I exhaled, sinking my weight and spreading my feet apart, my knees slightly bent. I felt that imaginary string pulling up from the crown of my head above. My tailbone felt heavy as she kept telling me. We’d repeated this enough that my body found the right angles a little faster each day.

“Good,” she said. “Now the fun part.”

She demonstrated first, taking a few light steps forward and back, her weight shifting smoothly from one foot to the other. It looked simple. Almost effortless. Like she was dancing slowly to music only she could hear.

When I tried to move the same way, it felt like my legs had been replaced with mismatched stilts.

“Don’t hop like that,” she said with a chuckle. “Glide. Be like a swan. Even though its legs are paddling madly below the surface, it’s still the perfect picture of grace.”

She paused and adjusted her stance again, showing me. “Your center needs to stay at the same height. Like this.”

She slid closer, putting her hands on my hips without warning.

DOKI-DOKI

“Relax,” she murmured. “You’re bouncing too much.”

“It’s hard to focus,” I mumbled. “I think I… naturally do that?”

It was impossible not to notice her fingers resting on my hips, warm and practically claiming me.

She guided my hips through the motion, tiny side-steps followed by careful steps forward and back. She moved slowly enough that my muscles began to understand what my brain absolutely did not.

“Oh,” I breathed. “It’s like… skating?”

“Yes!” Her eyes lit up. “Exactly.”

“But I’ve never skated before,” I pouted. The movement felt so smooth and gliding that skating was the only comparison that made sense to me. I’d watched figure skaters on TV sometimes, admiring how effortlessly graceful they looked.

“…Okay, terrible example,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “Think about… sidestepping and backstepping in a fighting game.”

Somehow that clicked too.

Maybe because of all the hours playing Tekku with my little brother Haru.

We drilled footwork until my calves screamed and my breath came out in little huffs. Then she introduced strikes.

I gasped… She’s finally teaching me how to punch!

Catching the spark in my eyes, Aoi-chan smiled and held up a finger. “Don’t think of these as punches. They’re simple, effective palm strikes.”

“Awwww… but I want to learn how to punch people too!” I pouted.

“Yeah, yeah, punches are fun,” she said, amused, “but your wrists aren’t ready for that yet. Open your hand. Here.”

She took my hand gently and reconfigured it… my thumb tucked and my fingers aligned just so.

“Don’t aim to smash,” she said. “Repel. Draw a line… and push along it.”

Then she demonstrated a firm, controlled palm strike toward my shoulder, stopping just short. I felt the air shift, a tiny shockwave of her intention brushing my skin.

“If you hit someone’s face like that,” she said, “they’ll definitely feel it. But your wrist would probably get sprained again. That’s why we practice with the pad.”

She grabbed the sorry-looking gym mat she’d borrowed from her club and held it against her stomach.

“Okay. Hit me right here.”

“I’m not hitting you,” I protested, horrified.

“Not me, the pad, baka.” She tapped the mat. “Hit this. As squarely as you can. Don’t think. Just thrust forward.”

I set my feet like she’d shown me, raised my hand, and thrust my palm out.

The impact jolted up my arm. It felt solid, clean and almost satisfying.

And no pain.

My eyes flew wide.

“Again,” Aoi said.

So we kept going like that.

My strikes were sloppy at first, my fingers splayed, my shoulders too high, my timing all wrong. Each time, she corrected me. Elbows in, shoulders down, angle your palm and breathe.

Slowly, something like a rhythm started to form.

Strike.

Breathe.

Reset.

My arms trembled. Sweat slid down the curvature of my spine.

“That’s enough for today,” she announced suddenly. “If we push any further, you’ll be useless tomorrow.”

“I think I could keep going,” I panted.

“Hmph.” Her lips curved despite herself. “I love that eagerness… but no. We’re done. We build you up steadily, not all at once.” She flicked my forehead lightly. “This is only day seven. Don’t think of this as sprinting in a marathon.”

She tossed the pad aside and caught my hand. “Cool-down. Let’s walk.”

We circled the field together, my legs stiff but oddly light. The volleyball club was still practicing on the outdoor courts… shouts, squeaks of shoes, the loud THOCK noises of hands striking balls drifting over the warm evening air. Aoi steered me in a loop around them, her hand never once letting go of mine.

Now and then, a stray ball bounced near us.

Then one came rocketing straight at my face.

I didn’t think. I just reacted. My hands flew up, deflecting it with a startled smack before it could flatten my nose. She’d taught me how to block days ago.

Aoi’s eyes sparkled as she winked.

I wasn’t entirely sure whether the wink was meant for me… or for the guilty-looking girls on the court.

A second ball immediately arced toward us, suspiciously fast.

I turned on instinct, my teeth gritted, and slapped it away with my forearm.

“Good!” Aoi said brightly. “See? Proof that you’ve got great reflexes, Sumire-chan.”

I stared at her, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

The volleyball club tried… and failed to hide their giggling behind their hands.

The routine settled into me like we’d always been spending our days this way.

Roof lunches with Aoi-chan were still the highlight of my school days. We ate side by side, the wind tugging at our hair, our legs stretching out on the warm concrete.

Sometimes we fed each other, still careful to keep an eye on the corner where the rooftop door was. Sometimes we just leaned against the wall, watching clouds drift by.

“You’re getting faster,” she said during one lunch, poking my cheek gently.

“At eating?” I looked at Aoi-chan with a raised eyebrow.

“At moving,” she sighed. “Though at eating too, I guess, you little glutton.”

She picked a grain of rice off my lip and promptly ate it. I blushed.

Sometimes Tachibana Riko would appear on the roof. Who knew why? The view was nice though, which was part of the reason why we were up here.

“Oh,” she’d say mildly, spotting us in our corner. “You’re in my favorite spot again. Annoying.”

Then she’d choose a place close enough to see us… just far enough to be able to pretend she wasn’t watching.

Once, on a particularly windy day, my chopsticks slipped and a piece of karaage fell. Aoi burst out laughing. I lunged for it on instinct, snagging it before it hit the ground.

“Wow,” Aoi said smugly and slow-clapped for me as though it was no big deal.

I blushed and pouted.

From across the roof, I caught Riko watching, wearing an unreadable expression.

Family life adjusted around my training, our dinners slipping to a later time.

“Your appetite’s mysteriously gone up,” my mother observed with widened eyes one evening as I reached for a third helping of rice. “Careful, you might get fat.”

I blushed.

“Eh… whatever she’s doing probably burns more energy,” Dad said, waving his chopsticks. “We’ll worry if she does get fat.”

My dad raised an eyebrow, squinting at me. “Just what exactly is your self-improvement club teaching you?”

My brother snorted into his miso. “Probably training her to be a sumo wrestler judging on how much she’s eating. Soon she’ll be asking for chankonabe.”

“Haru, you little snot!” I shot back, fighting the urge to throw my chopsticks at him. I settled for sticking my tongue out instead.

“Sumire-chan,” Mom chided gently. “Be nice to each other. In the end, family is all we really have.”

I blushed and nodded. “Yes, Mom… I am learning how to fight, like you guessed, but it’s not sumo wrestling.”

“Are you planning to box or something?” Dad asked, frowning. “That doesn’t really suit you. And it’s not especially ladylike.”

My parents exchanged a long look across the table.

Mom sighed. “Are you planning to get hurt, Sumire? Do you really want to fight that badly? Please don’t turn into a delinquent on us.”

“That’s not the plan,” I said, smiling softly. “Just… enough to protect myself. And the people I care about.”

My family looked at one another for a long moment.

Then shrugged in unison.

At night, I found muscles I didn’t know existed complaining as I stretched. My calves, shoulders, even the little muscles along my ribs were erupting.

Aoi had texted me a routine.

ブルーテックホエール: Stretch. At least 10 minutes. Don’t skip or I’ll be mad. ಠ_ಠ

しのまみちり311: You’re always mad about something~ (≧▽≦)

ブルーテックホエール: Only because you’re so cute and reckless.

しのまみちり311: …

しのまみちり311: I’m stretching now (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

I would do the stretches in my room: hamstrings, quads, lats, wrists and fingers.

I fell asleep every night with my body pleasantly tired and my heart full.

I prayed the same thing, every time.

Please let these wonderful days never end.

Yuna kept slipping into the spaces between everything we did, worrying over my well-being with an intensity that felt almost irrational.

“Shinohara-san,” she would say in the hallway, appearing at my elbow like a hovering spirit. “How is your body today? Any new injuries to report? It’s a good sign that you’re not limping, and your posture isn’t showing any discomfort.”

“My wrist’s much better,” I replied. “Thanks to you. It healed up almost by the second day, even with days of practicing. Aoi-chan has been a little more careful with my training.”

“Mm.” Yuna nodded, as if checking something off in her head. “And how are your shoulders feeling?”

“Fine?” I almost asked.

She hummed, unconvinced, and pressed her fingers gently along the back of my neck, then down to my upper back, right through my blazer, without asking permission.

What are you doing?

I blushed.

Whenever she touched me without warning like this, I shivered and flustered, even though I had a girlfriend.

“You tense up whenever people walk behind you now,” she observed calmly. “That’s new,” she added. “I wonder if it’s just me… or if you really do react more strongly to me.”

“Sorry…” I murmured, my face heating up even more.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not a bad thing,” she said. “It just means you’re more aware of your surroundings now. That kind of awareness usually comes from a survival instinct.”

She smiled, small and satisfied, for reasons I didn’t entirely understand.

Once, after a tougher session behind the gym, Aoi had finally taught me how to kick on the rooftop at lunch when no one was looking, except for Riko. My kicks were clumsy and I wished that Aoi had decided to spend the time kissing more, but I couldn’t help getting excited.

We headed downstairs with our depleted bento boxes around the corner downstairs.

One of my calves seized up halfway down the stairs after that.

“Ah—” I grabbed the railing, wincing as my leg locked up, a stiff throb shooting through it.

“Sumire-chan?” Aoi turned immediately, worry flashing across her face. “A cramp?”

“Maybe…” I grimaced. “It’s just… my leg feels kind of knotted.”

Yuna was somehow already at the bottom of the stairs, holding a stack of files as if she’d been expecting this. She took one look at my face, set the files down just around the corner so that the papers wouldn’t be stepped on, and hurried up toward us.

“Sit,” she said gently, patting the step I was standing on, balancing on one leg.

Before I could argue, she knelt and took my ankle in her hands, rolling my stocking down to expose my calf. Her fingers pressed into the cramped muscle with precise pressure. For a fleeting second, I wondered if she planned to become a masseuse instead of a doctor.

My face heated, but embarrassment couldn’t mask my discomfort. The muscle twinged and ached sharply as she worked it.

“Ah—ah—” I hissed through my teeth.

“Breathe,” she murmured calmly. “The pain will pass faster that way.”

“Be careful how you touch other students,” Aoi muttered under her breath.

Yuna smiled faintly, as if to say hypocrite, without looking up.

Her fingers continued moving in steady circles over the muscle. The pain spiked once more, then slowly ebbed, leaving behind a tingling, almost floating sense of relief.

“You’re pushing yourself very hard,” she noted quietly, her eyes flicking between me and Aoi. “Why are you in such a hurry? Muscles are like people. They don’t get stronger from being punished again and again. They get stronger from being stressed, then properly cared for.”

Aoi crossed her arms. “We stretch properly. She’s just clumsy right now. She steps and kicks wrong.”

“And yet,” Yuna replied mildly, “here we are.”

She lifted her gaze to Aoi, her expression calm but sharp. “You too,” she added. “Your knee has been favoring your left side all week.”

Aoi stared. “How did you—Don’t touch me like that!” Her face flushed.

Yuna giggled softly. “Very well. As for your question, everyone’s steps tell a story.”

She patted my calf. “There. Is that better, Shinohara-san?” Her touch lingered a moment longer, warm and gentle.

“Y-yes,” I said, still a little dazed. “T-thank you, Arisugawa-san.”

I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.

“Come to the nurse’s office if it seizes again,” she said. “I’ll write the two of you a recommended stretching list.”

“Hey, I already gave her a stretching routine,” Aoi muttered.

“I’ll… build on it,” Yuna replied, her eyes glinting faintly with mischief.

I tried not to think too hard about being caught in the middle of a very strange, very gentle war.

Behind us, at the top of the stairs, Riko was standing there.