Eternal Beauty | Chapter 17

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”

— Mary Shelley

Spring had settled over Nagano like a soft, golden veil, but its reign was waning. Late May’s heat crept into the air, bringing the faint hum of cicadas in the distance. The mornings had grown warmer, the dew on the grass fading quicker under the relentless sun. Cherry blossoms, once vibrant and full, now clung stubbornly to their branches, their petals scattering across the stone pathways like a fleeting memory of spring’s prime. The season was giving way to summer, the sky a brighter blue, the breeze carrying hints of something hotter and more alive.

Inside his room, Kei sat hunched over his desk, the pale glow of his computer monitor casting shadows across his face. His dark hair hung messily over his eyes as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. The chat board blinked, messages popping up rapidly as Choji and Tonya sent him updates.

Choji: We’ve got three new members! Pretty sure they just want to join because of Tonya.

Tonya: Jealous much?

Choji: Im not wrong, though.

Kei smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. He typed a quick reply.

Kei: So, what’s on tonight’s agenda?

Choji: We’re going to that haunted shrine we heard about last year.

Tonya: You remember, right? The one in the woods near the abandoned mill.

Kei: Yeah, I remember. Be careful, though. Those places aren’t always as harmless as they seem.

Choji: You’re such a buzzkill.

Tonya: Don’t worry, Kei. I’ll keep Choji from embarrassing himself.

Choji: HEY.

Kei laughed under his breath, his chest tightening with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He glanced out the window, the faint sound of wind rustling the trees beyond the dorms filling the quiet.

Kei: Wish I could be there.

His phone buzzed against the desk, cutting through the moment. Kei picked it up, his brows furrowing as he read the message.

Marin: Meet me at the school gate. Come casual.

Kei’s heart skipped a beat. He stared at the screen, his grip tightening. His mind raced with questions.

How does she even have my number? he thought, a chill creeping down his spine. He put the phone down, but his eyes remained fixed on it.

Seconds passed, then a minute. Finally, he picked it up again and typed a response.

Kei: I’ll be there.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Marin: Great. I’ll be waiting!

Kei exhaled sharply, setting the phone aside. His thoughts turned to the night in the rain, the kiss, the tension that hung in the air, the way Marin’s lips had lingered against his, soft and intensely hot. The memory made his stomach twist in conflicting knots. Everything that happened that night was what he tried to hide and yet it seems like Kei allowed himself to let this happen.

His hands trembled slightly as he stood, his legs moving his body towards his closet. He sifted through his clothes, each choice feeling inadequate under the weight of Marin’s casual request. His mind wandered as he flipped through his clothing. He thought about Marin, that’s all he could ever think about. That confession—Kei’s face flushed red at the thought of it, but why did he blush, why does he feel this way. Finally, he settled on a white short-sleeved shirt, black sweatpants, and red sneakers.

The thought of her waiting for him stirred something inside—a mix of dread, longing, and an emotion he didn’t want to talk about.

Across campus, Kukui lay sprawled on her bed, the midday sun filtering through her curtains in muted shafts. She wore nothing but a black bra and underwear, the straps of her bra slipping off her shoulders. Her pale skin was marred with fading bruises and cuts, her body telling a story she refused to acknowledge.

She stared at the ceiling, her expression blank, her mind drifting in the oppressive quiet of her room. A slow exhale escaped her lips as she turned her head, reaching for her phone. She scrolled aimlessly through her photo gallery, her thumb pausing on a video.

The screen came to life, and suddenly, laughter filled the air.

Kei’s voice was clear, teasing as the camera wobbled. “Kukui, you’re going to chicken out, aren’t you?”

“I am not!” Kukui’s younger voice shot back, high-pitched and defiant.

The camera panned to Marin, standing at the edge of a pool, her hands on her hips. “I’m with Kei on this one,” she said, smirking. “You’re all talk, Kukui.”

The video showed Kukui climbing the diving board, her face set with determination. As she reached the end, she slipped, flailing before plunging into the water with a loud splash. The camera shook with laughter as Marin’s voice rang out, “I told you!”

The memory was warm and bittersweet, and Kukui’s lips trembled as a weak laugh escaped her. But the laughter quickly turned to tears, silent and uncontrollable. She paused the video, her fingers curling tightly around the phone.

Several Years Ago

The afternoon sun hung low, its light bathing the streets of their small town in a warm, golden haze. Kukui adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her polished black shoes clicking softly against the pavement. The scent of dry grass lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of nearby rice fields that surround the countryside of her hometown.

Turning a corner, Kukui stopped abruptly, her breath catching in her throat. There, a few paces ahead, walked Marin. Her dark hair fell in a perfect curtain down her back, catching the sun’s glow and reflecting it like silk. She moved with effortless grace, her white school blouse tucked neatly into her pleated skirt. To anyone else, she looked like the ideal high school girl—poised, cheerful, untouchable.

But she knew better.

Her heart raced, and her stomach churned as the memory forced its way into her thoughts: Marin standing in that classroom, her uniform disheveled, the teacher leaning in too close, his hand brushing her shoulder. Marin’s downcast eyes, her forced smile as though everything was fine. Kukui had seen it all, had felt the nauseating tension as she watched through the cracked door.

Kukui, don’t freeze. Don’t just stand there.

Before she could decide whether to turn back, Marin glanced over her shoulder. Her face brightened immediately, her soft lips curving into a radiant smile. “Kukui!”

Kukui flinched, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. She forced a weak smile in return, her voice tight. “H-Hey.”

Marin walked toward her, her polished shoes making a rhythmic tap against the concrete. Up close, she looked just as pristine as ever—her uniform crisp, her cheeks faintly flushed from the sun. She was perfect, a facade so well-practiced that even Kukui had trouble believing what she’d seen earlier.

“You weren’t at school today,” Marin said, her tone light, though her gaze lingered on Kukui’s face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Kukui lied quickly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I, uh…overslept.”

Marin tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes narrowing with faint concern. She hesitated as if deciding whether to press further, but then her familiar smile returned. “Well, I’m glad I ran into you. Walk with me?”

Kukui nodded, clutching the strap of her bag tighter as they fell into step together.

The narrow streets of their small town were quiet, the gentle rustle of trees the only sound besides the soft click of their shoes. Kukui glanced at Marin out of the corner of her eye, noting how she carried herself with ease, her head held high as if nothing in the world could touch her.

But Kukui knew better. She’d seen the cracks, the moments when Marin faltered, though they were fleeting and carefully hidden. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, though. How could she? Marin wouldn’t want her pity.

“You’ll never guess what I saw today,” Marin said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Kukui blinked, startled. “What?”

“Sugei,” Marin began, her tone playful, “talking to those girls from the track team. Can you believe that? Talking to other girls when he already has me?”

Kukui couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re being ridiculous. He talks to people all the time.”

Marin pouted, puffing out her cheeks. “Not like that! He was smiling at them. Smiling, Kukui.” She folded her arms dramatically, her voice taking on a sing-song teasing tone. “I think I’ll need to remind him who he belongs to.”

“Good luck with that,” Kukui said, grinning. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Marin glanced at her, her pout softening into a mischievous smile. “I know. And he better not forget it.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the warmth of the sun fading as it dipped lower in the sky.

“What do you want to do after graduation?” Kukui asked, glancing at Marin.

Marin’s expression lit up, and she turned to walk backward, her steps perfectly balanced as she grinned at Kukui. “I want to become an idol.”

Kukui blinked. “An idol?”

“Yep!” Marin said confidently, spinning slightly before falling back into step beside Kukui. “Imagine it—me, on stage, with fans screaming my name. ‘Marin! Marin!’” She threw her hands in the air, mimicking the cheers of a crowd.

Kukui laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy. How are you going to be an idol when we live in the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s the best part!” Marin said, her voice full of conviction. “Small-town girl makes it big. Everyone loves a good underdog story.”

Kukui smiled softly, her heart aching as she watched Marin’s face light up with excitement. It was so easy to believe in her dreams, even if they felt impossible.

They reached Marin’s house, a small, unassuming structure with a neatly tended garden. Marin stopped at the gate and turned to Kukui, her smile warm. “Thanks for walking with me.”

Marin leaned down slightly, wrapping her arms around Kukui in a firm hug. Kukui stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then she relaxed, her hands clutching the back of Marin’s uniform.

“Are you okay?” Kukui asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marin pulled back, her dark eyes unreadable. “Of course I am,” she said, her tone light but rehearsed. “Don’t worry about me so much, Kukui. You’ll get wrinkles.”

******

The Ujui school garden was bathed in late afternoon sunlight, the blooms of spring in full force. The air was warm and heavy, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass.

Marin sat on a wooden bench near the school gate, scattering crumbs for the sparrows that darted at her feet. Her leather jacket hugged her figure, the dark fabric gleaming faintly in the light. The black leotard beneath it clung to her curves, its neckline daringly low, while dark grey jeans tucked into polished boots completed the ensemble. Her dark hair was tied back, revealing the triple piercings in each ear that caught the sun. Her lips, painted in black, curled into a faint, knowing smile.

Kei approached slowly, his footsteps hesitant on the cobblestone path. As he neared, his breath caught in his throat. Marin was beautiful, but it wasn’t the soft, delicate beauty of their childhood. She was striking, commanding—a storm that demanded his attention.

“You came,” Marin said, her voice smooth and velvety. She didn’t look at him immediately, her gaze fixed on the birds before her.

“You asked me to,” Kei managed, his voice uneven.

Marin stood, her height just enough to make him feel smaller, less grounded. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and precise, and reached out to adjust the collar of his shirt. Her fingers brushed his skin briefly, sending a jolt through him.

“Casual suits you,” she said with a teasing lilt, her eyes glinting as she took him in.

Kei looked away, his face burning. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat echoing in his ears.

“You think too much,” Marin said softly, stepping past him with an air of ease. She glanced over her shoulder, her black lipstick curling into a faint smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“A cab?” Kei asked weakly.

Marin laughed, the sound low and warm. “Already waiting.”

Kei followed her, their footsteps in sync as they moved toward the school gates. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and Kei’s thoughts churned with questions he wasn’t ready to ask.

Is this okay? Is this normal?

But as he watched her stride confidently ahead, her figure silhouetted by the fading light, one thought drowned out all the others.

She’s breathtaking.