Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Sarcasm ❯ Kyoto ( Chapter 12 )

The shinkansen, the bullet train, took us from Tokyo station to Kyoto in a few hours, with the scenery whipping past at over 320 kilometers per hour. It was a smooth ride, the finest trains in the world, with France’s TGV a close second. I listened to music rather than deal with teenage problems or the furtive glares from Ebina, Miura, and Hayato, while Tobe mostly kept his head down and said little. Everybody needs to grow up sometime. Those who don’t tend to die. I noticed that Ebina, who had been avoiding me, kept glaring at me every 15 minutes or so. Arriving in Kyoto station, and the world famous largest indoor atrium space was a sight to see. We maneuvered from the station to tour buses which took us to our inn, and then we quickly exited to specific sites guided by our teachers in organized groups. Yuigahama worked up the courage to approach me and tried to be cheerful despite the visible strain I could see her under. I allowed her to take my arm and escorted her around the narrow paved alleys of Kyoto.

Out of courtesy, I refrained from listening to koto music on my headphones and took in the sounds and smells of the old capital city of Japan. Most Japanese consider Kyoto a touristy place, and most visit there at least once, and nearly all of them hate it for being trapped in the past that is long dead and better left that way. The ouran girls parading around the streets under parasols in the Fall chill air were certainly THERE, but their traditional value as sex objects for sale, as examples of sex trafficking illegal in the rest of the modern world, is upsetting at best. The wind chimes were nice. The flurries of rain showers found me covering the two of us with my umbrella and avoiding the five meter diameter spray from the not-down-spout chains used here. They are pretty but useless at controlling water. Just making a mess off all the tile roofs. Everywhere was paved, and what wasn’t paved was garden planters or carefully organized sculpted rock gardens, like the mother and cubs, where we found Yukinoshita. She side-eyed me as I sat there staring at the rocks. I am tired from all the walking.

“So you deign to sit beside a mere female?” she said hatefully at me.

“That’s so You, Yukino-san. A spitting wet cat. Make your sister proud through blind consistency,” I encouraged her in my usual sarcasm.

“Hayama came to me after your insults and begged for my help to keep Tobe and Ebina apart. I refused him, of course,” she said after a moment’s pause.

“Ebina asked the same of me before Tobe and Chadwhore showed up,” I responded. “She wants nothing to do with 3D boys. It really calls into question the entire point of the Service Club. Imagine if we’d humored Tobe and let him stammer his way into confessing his feelings to Ebina properly. What a mess that would make of their little clique for the rest of school together. Two more years of seeing each other daily and not being comfortable. What a tragedy,” I mocked. The other girls from Yukino’s class were glaring at me from further down seating area, facing the rock garden.

“You would probably have talked yourself into stepping into the middle of the confession, lying to them both so Tobe wouldn’t lose face, and then I’d get mad at you for taking the hurt,” Yukino chuckled darkly. Yuigahama clutched my left arm, hearing this.

“I don’t think I want to see Hikki get hurt just because someone can’t work up the courage to do something themselves. Boys should stand up and say what they mean,” she pronounced. I patted her hand.

“They should. Otherwise those aren’t real feelings, and they don’t deserve to be said. It’s like cookies. Buying them at the store doesn’t have the same meaning as baking them yourself,” I answered.

“Why do you think so many Japanese women get divorced, Hikigaya?” asked Yukino out of the blue. The girls on her far side perked up at this question.

“The statistics from the government are factual, and anyone can access them,” I pointed out.

“Yes, I looked them up after our meeting. I wanted to know why they are so bad,” Yukino clarified.

“Well, no fault divorce is a big problem. So is abortion on demand. They give women the power to break a marriage or kill a baby anytime they like, for any reason. Those are two big problems. The courts usually award women most of a man’s savings and assets, including the house, which leads to men committing suicide, a fact that few divorced women ever mention feeling responsible for. The economy has been bad since a decade before we were even born, and hasn’t improved our entire lives, and all indicators say things will get worse, not better. Part of that is because women would rather have a career than have a family. Some of that is because they come from broken homes, raised by mothers who divorced their fathers, maybe even saw their fathers kill themselves after the divorce, and grew up in a broken home without any responsible parent. Grow up broken.”

“I have parents. So do you, Hikigaya,” reminded Yukino.

“I’ve got a Dad too,” said Yuigahama.

“We’re exceptions. And I rarely see my parents. They work a lot of overtime. I have mostly raised my little sister. Yukino has a sister who is a real terror and emotionally scarred our sensei. Do you have siblings Yui?” I asked her. She shook her head no.

“So your parents didn’t have the time or money to give you a brother or sister. How many of our classmates have siblings?” I asked her.

“Ebina and Miura are both only children. Hayato is an only child. Saki-saki has two younger siblings. Totsuka Saika is an only child. Sagami has a younger brother. Those are the ones I know well enough to say.”

“So out of our class of twenty students, only four have siblings. That’s well below replacement rate. Our country is dying out, and the demographics prove this isn’t just our class with this problem. It is the whole country. Every town and city is this way. In fifteen more years there will be so many retiring old people the cost of their benefits, at current levels, will exceed the number of workers available to be able to work to pay the taxes which covers them. So they will vote to raise the taxes, causing most of us to quit since our take-home pay will be too little to live on. See? That’s in the demographics too.”

“Are you suggesting that Japanese girls grow up to be mothers over every choice they might make?” warned Yukino.

“The demographics say that. If you don’t there won’t be a Japan in the future. We’ll be a rest home of old dying people and nobody to plant the rice. And that future isn’t that far away. And don’t think that just because we’re dying out, that mother nature won’t stop giving us big earthquakes, tsunami, and volcanoes erupting. We live in a land of fire and storms and shaking. Those will keep happening. And there will be fewer people to fix the damage. Married couples that stay together have more kids than single moms, and single moms raise damaged kids who rarely have kids of their own. Look at how desperate sensei is, and she’s reasonably attractive, but can’t keep a man for reasons only she and her exes know. And it’s not like making a man happy is difficult. Show up. Don’t be a pain in his ass. That’s the answer. We’re not all like Hayama. But he’s just a symptom of the problem, the bigger problem. Women don’t marry for long, and they get paid big money to break their marriage contract. Until that ends, until that benefit to women ends, divorce is going to be poison to men, and men don’t want to get divorce raped, so we avoid marriage. The worst case is guys like Hayama, but nearly as bad are all the suicides by men who know they will never have a woman and believe they’re missing something important they can’t live without. That’s women abusing biology, of course, and men pay the price with their lives. Before Japan civilized, those men would be bandits and women who passed through their territory would be robbed and raped. Its history, but it’s also a warning. That could happen again. When Kyoto was a capital city, that happened to many women who travelled here, and that was only a couple centuries ago. I don’t expect women to behave properly. I don’t expect them to fix things. They never have before, and never will. Taking away your rights is the only way, and women would have to vote for it. That won’t happen and so our country will die. Places like this will be lost as the culture that made them, our culture, will die off, maybe get replaced by invaders we have no strength to repel. The mongols will finally win. Or maybe the Americans and Polynesians will show up and ignore our culture and replace it with their own. Or maybe the Chinese will finally take over and turn the survivors into sterilized slaves or rape victims. I don’t know what will happen. I doubt it will be good.”

“For all your words, Hikigaya, you still repel me,” complained Yukino. I raised my lip into a sneer.

“People hate me because I have ugly eyes. People hate me because I see through them, and their lies. People find it comforting to hate my ugliness, because it fits their prejudices. People like you ought to know better, but you still push the same nonsense since the day we met. Your bias is showing. You must be so proud. I’ll take my leave then. Enjoy the contemplation of history.” I stood and Yui let go of my arm, then glared at Yukino as I walked away. I expect they argued, but I didn’t stick around to hear it.

I found a Max Coffee vending machine tucked into an alcove and bought one, drinking the overly sweet caffeinated syrup, my fingers partially covering the very definitely NOT a famous southern American playwright’s face. Yep, that sure isn’t William Faulkner on the can. I wandered the alleyways on my own, taking random turns and finding the river a few times, staring at the water a while. Hayama showed up. He stood near me and glared, then went back to watching the water before he opened his mouth.

“I would appreciate if you’d stop using me as the bad example,” Hayama Hayato carefully said in a low voice.

“I don’t understand the appeal of deflowering a bunch of virgin girls. After two or three, aren’t they all the same?” I replied, not bothering to look at him. “I get that they want you, but you don’t have to give them, all of them, the same treatment.”

“What, jealous?” he sneered.

“Hell no. Don’t be gross. A man only needs one or two women in his life. Any more than that and you’ll never care about anyone, never be important, never value someone who should matter. Let me ask you: you got any kids, doing this?” I looked at him. He winced.

“Some. Some of the girls transferred out for personal reasons, and I can guess why.”

“You don’t sound like you care much. You didn’t even make sure your own kids are okay. That’s twisted, you know that right?” I pointed out.

“Don’t talk to me like you know anything about it,” responded Hayama defensively. “You’ll have Yui eventually.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter to you either way. You could have had Miura, if you’d stuck by her instead of whatever you want to call what you’re doing to the school. Do you get personal satisfaction by repeating the same action over and over again? It sounds… boring. How can you make something important just another exercise, just another sport? You’ve even hurt Tobe, indirectly, by removing so many women from the dating pool that he’s left with your discards, women who will compare everyone afterwards to you, maybe not favorably either.”

“Leave Tobe out of this. He chooses to be a friend, and understands the weight of it.”

“Now you just sound arrogant, and degenerate. I’m glad I had my heart broken in Middle School. I have no illusions about how girls really operate. Yui will get bored eventually, move on. Yukino treats me like trash, and I see your stain on her heart clear as day. Her contempt for men comes from associating with you, doesn’t it?”

“Drop it, Hikki,” Hayama warned me. I snorted.

“She’s going to end up a lonely cat lady because of you. There’s no room in her heart to trust again. I think maybe Haruno feels guilty over that, why she’s so mean all the time. Every conversation with Haruno feels like a battle. Is she your doing too?”

“Drop it,” he warned again, face coloring with anger as the sun dipped to the horizon.

“See you around, Hayama,” I finally said, smirking.

I used my phone map to navigate back to the hotel. The students were eating and the meal provided was good. I went for a good bath afterwards in the hot spring, full of good food and glowing from a successful insult. I still miss the verbal sparring with Haruno. I am probably mentally ill if I want to see her again. She’s kinda mean. Then again, so am I. I messaged my sister with the pictures I’d taken during my afternoon walk, wish for a good night, and assurance that I missed the cutest sister in the world.

Tobe and Hayama were chatting with their other friend, and for some reason Yoshiteru was here. I considered leaving to have a Max in the lobby, but opted to sleep instead. I probably missed some kind of flagged event involving Pan San dolls, getting insulted by Yukino, and being treated to Kyoto-style ramen by sensei but again, I was asleep. Boo hoo.

The following morning gained good coffee, more fancy hotel food, and more wandering Kyoto with a list of places we needed to visit. At each site we took photos and notes for class credits. Lunch using our own money at any number of restaurants and izakaya throughout the city. There was always something to eat within a few steps of wherever you were, anywhere in Kyoto. In that respect, it was similar to that famous theme park located in Chiba. I found Yui and Yukino together and considered leaving them alone before Yui called out and dragged me into her area of influence, her cheerful genki noise. She is a nice girl, for now. I dread the day she turns mean, and hope I won’t be the reason, much less see it happen.

“Hikki, have some of this meat bun,” she offered me a torn half emitting curls of steam. I accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you. Have you enjoyed your walking tour of Kyoto?” I asked them both.

“I tried to find you yesterday but you disappeared after that.. that thing you said about babies and women. That was mean, Hikki. I don’t feel that way.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to college after this?” I asked her.

“I’d rather open a pastry or flower shop. Or be a bride,” she said, looking at me with a sweet and open face. Yukino looked embarrassed.

“It is a good goal. You might make a good mother,” I admitted, encouraging her. I’m not always sarcastic. Really. I’m not.

“Do you think every girl in our school, and all the other schools, will choose to give up on college and have kids instead?” I asked her. Yui shook her head no.

“Even Saki wants to go to college,” she admitted.

“She was working a night job to pay for cram school just to pass the tests to get into college. Think of how motivated she has to be to do all that rather than be a wife,” I said. “And most of the girls in our class, in our school, are probably just as motivated. Considering how few women want to be brides when they are young enough to have children, I wonder just how small the student body will be in a few years. Demographics in other countries say that Japan is falling off a cliff.”

Yukino was silent, which was telling all on its own. Her expression was resigned, not seeing the carved woodwork we paced beneath while eating steamed meat buns. If I wasn’t close to having enough material to publish a book of my essays, I’d probably be pleased over the quality of our collegiate level discussion of demographics. But I am, and the girls were less interested than I hoped. Yukino probably knew these things already, so I may be beating a dead horse, as far as she was concerned. Russian novel metaphors aside, which is where that beating a dead horse phrase came from, literally… literally being the exact word, Yui was stunned at the size of the problem and Yukino was acting like she was close to blurting out a secret she’d been keeping.

“Yukino, you have something to say?” I asked her.

“I…yes, I suppose I do. I liked running the school festival. My parents are in the national government, and represent the Chiba prefecture. I think I want to run for student council president,” she admitted.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose that’s a next step for you. It will mean the end of the Service Club,” I pointed out. We were at the edge of a walkway overlooking a stream. I studied the fall leaves fluttering in the breeze, a few fallen into the water and spun down the current or caught into rafts or pulled under the water to tumble beneath the surface. Yui clutched my arm again, peering over the railing to see what I was looking at. My phone got a text message. I heard Yui and Yukino’s phones beep as well. I checked. It was time to return to the inn, gather our things and return to Chiba.

“It’s a pretty place, in its way,” I said as if pronouncing this as fact.

“Context is important,” responded Yukino.

“I liked the meat bun,” decided Yui.

We got back to Chiba late in the evening. The public bus was still running so I took it home, arriving tired and smelly from travel. I presented some tourist treats to my sister, who went to bed, and used the furo to soak a little before turning in. It was the weekend, so I slept in.

I don’t know how I feel. I vented about demographics to a bunch of high school girls who aren’t old enough to feel responsible for the mess they are participating in causing, just like prior generations for the last 30 years. The thing is, just because others have done this doesn’t get you off the hook for moral responsibility now. But try and convince them of the facts and they call you the bad guy, and my sarcasm answers that automatically.

There is no escape from reality, only distractions.