A Decline in Faith: Chapter 4 - Hopeful-Redemption

Chapter 4 – Hopeful-Redemption

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What did it really mean to be immature? Does wanting what is before you to be an illusion just because it isn't, as you want it to be mean that you are immature? Who would blame you after all? If things don’t go your way, you'd want it to change for your own purposes.

Would facing up to reality be a justifiable for maturity? Was it that simple? She hardly

But getting a reality check, essentially, solved nothing. It wouldn’t do anything to save her dear mother, and it certainly wouldn’t do anything to reduce the feelings she had for her Darling. It just showed that you weren't foolish enough to not see the truth and knew how to discern fact from fiction.

Kyoko sat up in her bed, pillow still on her lap. If she really wanted to do something to alleviate the problem on hand, she had to get up and do something. Sitting still would only make matters worse for her family, her daddy in particular. She had to have the determination and initiative to help save her mother. Just like what she had with her Prince – which she still, regardless of what had been happening, didn’t want to give up on – only now it was to save and keep something rather than earning ang gaining one. She mustn’t lost hope; after all, did the doctor say that her mom was going to die tomorrow?

She had to – jump! As the phone, which she obviously did not bother to switch off or silence last night, startled her out of her reverie. Taking a relieved breath, as she pressed one hand against her chest, murmuring something about the ceiling and lightning, she peered at the caller display. It was Nobuhiko. That increased the intrigue on her part, her team leader hardly ever, ever called her in the morning.

The young woman pressed the small green button of her phone warily, “Nobuhiko?”

“Kyoko, sorry to call you at school,” He sounded strangely out of breath for the office geek he was, although she didn’t have any intention of telling him that anytime soon, “I hope I didn’t catch you in one of your classes.”

“No, I stayed home today… What’s wrong?” She then pointed out her observation.

His voice seemed more animated than usual, “Our team was just challenged.” There was a somewhat dramatic pause, which would have had its full effect if it were not for his enthusiasm for continuing his speech, “The challenge came from some guys from Tochigi. The leader just came up to me after I got out from the meeting in the office and challenged us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found out about us from the Project.D site then decided on challenging us as well.”

She was now in full racer mode and all hyped-up, “What was the name of the team anyway? When is the race?”

“The guys didn’t tell me which team he came from, but I was passing-by the parking lot and he just pointed to his car. I saw his tag, but that’s all I know. He just said that he’d bring some of his teammates to that family restaurant near Shomaru later, so we can discuss the details of the race.”

Kyoko cocked her head to one side, curious, “Then how do you know that this guy is a serious competitor?”

“Well, how do I say this, I can't be certain on this by facts, but this guy had some kind of aura. When he was standing by his car, I could sense that he was an amazing racer; it was as if he had some sort of invisible sphere that made me sense a strong upholding of pride.”

“Right…” After another short pause, she felt somewhat compelled to fill the strange silence, “So… What time is the meeting?”

“Six o’clock…”

If he were there, she would have raised her quizzical eyebrow at him, but as he was not, the wall became his unwilling and unwitting proxy. Kyoko wanted to ask him what was up, with him that is. How did he suddenly lose his cool? But it didn’t seem to be the time or place for that, and… He snapped her out of the realms of her mind again.

“Will you race for us?” He asked solemnly. It was really strange habit of his. It was pretty much a silent agreement in their team right now that she was their uphill representative during races, but he still asked every time. This time though, it was the perfect question, in timing and context.

She was silent for a moment before she apologized to him, just as seriously, “I’m sorry, Nobuhiko, but the chances that I can are really very slim.” The young racer said this as she turned to the floorboards of her bedroom. That motion seemed to be her initial reaction to feelings of guilt, embarrassment, and simply not knowing what to say next.

It seemed to be a day of surprises for he elder racer, as he sensed a deeper meaning to this. “Oh… Can you tell me why?” When she kept quiet if only for a few “ah”s and “uh”s, he spoke once more, “You know, it’s fine if you can't tell me.”

She replied with a hushed thanks and all right.

There was yet another not-so-lengthy quiet where Nobuhiko took the chance to ask the question that was most vital as a team leader of a racing team, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, Kyoko, but do you think you'd be able to race? The race would probably be within this month…”

She shook her head to his proxy, “I don’t know, but I don’t think so…”

With that, the man had no choice to hang up, no matter how worried for his friend he was. There were just somethings you just won't get if you try to force it out. That he had to learn the hard way. As for Kyoko, although she realized that she had an added distraction in her life, she knew exactly what she had to focus on.

~~~

Iwase Miwako sat there, trying to be patient with her cross-stitch. It really, simply wasn’t her thing. She could stare at pages of T-accounts, trial balances, balance sheets, income statements, and whatnot, but when it came to doing what she called menial work, she’d much rather suggest financial decisions to multi-national corporation, even with the risk of losing millions, or perhaps, even billions.

Her doctor had suggested that she get into something, some sort of hobby that made use of her hands, increased their dexterity, he said. But she had to point out that typing up documents made use of her fingers; typing improved the dexterity of her fingers as, didn’t they? And they were something she was already used to and was quite – very – willing to do.

In her opinion, you can only do something well if you were really willing to do it. You could perform in it, in her case cross-stitching, but you could only go so far. She hated it. But doctor suggested it, (She couldn’t think of anything else that could be considered a substitute for it. When she suggested typing, Doctor Asashi gave her a look.) and she trusted this doctor. Although if he was fooling with her on this, she swore she’d smack the silly.

Either way, Miwako was frustrated from struggling with it for twenty minutes now and was now ready to put (shove) it aside when her daughter entered the room. The young woman’s eyes brightened suddenly when she noticed what her mother was doing.

“Mom…” Her eyes were on her mother initially, but on approach they dropped to what she had in her hands. She leaned over and stared at the mis-done handiwork. “When did you start getting into this?”

Miwako smiled. It appeared that her daughter didn’t want to bring up the topic. She hardly minded though, as she loathed having it brought up. Instead, she laughed. “This?! I've never been into it, and probably never will be! I mean, look at what I've done so far, it’s a mess!” Kyoko couldn’t help but giggle at the remarks. Miwako shook her head and smiled, pleased at her daughter’s reaction.

She knew her condition, understood it – to a certain extent – and was hopeful. Honestly, if she died, she hoped to leave a valuable legacy, something her daughter could learn from.

“Mom, do you want something?” Kyoko asked when she turned to the tiled area they called a kitchen.

Already she was seeing some changes. She didn’t mean it to, but she had to admit that they had spoiled their child. How glad that she wasn’t a brat couldn’t be described, but Kyoko was used to a life where, apart from her racing and that shockingly spiky guy she seemed to be chasing after, she didn’t have to reach too far for something she wanted. She was a sweet and kind, but that was her nature. Her nurture was, on the other hand, not as considerate. She even went through some sort of phase during teenager years.

That time was a difficult one for the family. Somehow, she blamed herself for part of it. They, she and Konousuke, were working very hard through that time, that Asian crisis period. They were too late into it when they realized that they were practically ignoring their only daughter. Regrettably, they were only able to take their heads out of the green paper bag when she was seventeen and messing around in school.

Now, the personality change was practically a turn-around. Some of her habits and interests she acquired there still were still retained to this day, such as the habit of visiting the clouds at intervals of time, and that horrid interest of street racing. Her father was completely against it. He even threatened to hide the keys away once just to get his precious daughter away from all those speeding cars, and those ancient winding roads up in the mountains. That was one of the reasons why her husband was intent on taking the project of remaking the mountain roads himself.

That reminded Miwako of something, “Kyoko.” Her voice traveled to where her daughter was cutting up some fruit for them to snack on. With the reply, she made hers as well, “Your father told me to inform you that they finally got the project he has been aiming for.”

She, apparently, just nodded as she washed the knife she used and brought the small platter to the living area. “Really? Which project?” For a driver, and a racer, Kyoko showed remarkably little interest in the road developments her father worked on.

Miwako had long set the stringy work aside, and pressed her free finger against one side of her cheek, “I don’t remember the name of it, but he said that it was a mountain road. I think it’s the one you usually drive on. Sada-something…”

“Sadamine Pass?” She completed the word, hoping that she was wrong.

“Yes, yes that it! He said that they’d put up the announcement next Friday.”

“Oh… That’s…” She wanted to say great, but it wasn’t, not for her or the other racers on Sadamine. They had to practice to keep their skill-levels high, and they couldn’t exactly wait the couple of months, of which her father’s project was sure to last. If so, the racers would have to practice on some other course out there, and who knew whether the other teams would be as agreeable to them. The crestfallen look on Kyoko’s face wasn’t unnoticed by her mother.

~~~

She had tried to get in contact with her leader, but to no avail. Looking up at the clock, it read one thirty-nine. As she pressed her forehead against her desk, she sighed. What could she do but call him later? For now, she had to acquire her notes and study. It was a good thing that she had all her stuff at home. Raising her head she dialed a different number.

The ringing seemed to go on for her indefinitely and just before she imagined her phone would switch to redial mode, Sakaki Saiko halted the incessant noise with a quick greeting, “Hello? Iwase-san?”

Leaning against her left fist, Kyoko answered, “Uh, yes, Sakaki-san. Sorry to bother you like this.”

“It’s fine. I was just going to start reviewing, so you caught me at just the right time.” She heard the soft clatter of something on the other side of the phone. Kyoko guessed that her seatmate had dropped the pen she had such a habit of twirling. “Why didn’t you come to class today anyway?”

She should've expected this question, “I… I'd rather not talk about it…”

“Oh… Ok then.” Saiko turned to tapping her chin with one end of her pen as she thought, “Well, then, I'll just send the stuff over to your email. Also, Shibuya-sensei announced a test on Wednesday, so I'll send the topics included as well. Just wait a minute, or two.”

When Kyoko logged into her account she saw what her friend had just sent her. She accessed the files, browsed them for a moment, before sending Saiko a quick thanks.

At three o’clock, she was practically done with her studies when she just remembered that she had to make an excuse for herself at work, deciding on finishing what was spread out before her first. And when they were completed, she clicked away through her phone’s memory until she reached the entry for Norisu. There, she got directed to the nice receptionist, who agreed to pass the message on to her superiors.

“Well, that turned out pretty well…” She said to herself while stretching her arms over her head and bending back over the rest of her chair, feeling as satiated as her napping kitty on the rug not a room away.

There was a knock on her door, “Kyoko. May I come in?”

Mom? “Yeah, sure…”

When the matron entered, it was as if the lines on her aging face had gotten much deeper than they were this morning. “Asashi-sensei just contacted me and requested that I go to the hospital, immediately. I’ve already notified your father, so he’s on the way.”

Worry filled her heart once again. When her mom turned around, she asked, “Mom, can I come, too?”