#umiriko

A hand slammed on the wall next to her face, trapping her against the cold brick surface. In any other circumstance, Sakurauchi Riko would've welcomed such an act of dominance. It was one of her most embarrassing fantasies from her yuri comics and novels. But in her novels, they were always done out of a possessiveness that stemmed from love and desire.

The only emotions she felt from her wall-trapper right now were anger and resentment.

"You think you're better than us, huh?" The voice that belonged to the hand sneered. The source of the voice was an upperclassmen in the same music program Riko was in, named Kuroki, and behind her was an entourage of other classmates, also upperclassmen. Their scowls told Riko they didn't mean to help.

It was after school, and Riko had just finished her extracurricular piano practices for said music program. She barely made it out of the school doors when several of her upperclassmen stopped her and asked for some of her time, and slightly taken aback by their suddenness, Riko could only nod her agreement.

She should've suspected that they didn't mean well when several of them surrounded her back, effectively blocking off any option of turning back, and herded her like a small animal to a courtyard behind the school. And that's how she found herself pinned against the wall.

"You think you deserve that chance in the original song writing competition more than us, don't you?" the girl pinning her, Kuroki, said.

"I...I don't think that," Riko managed to squeak out. She looked down to avoid the eyes of her assailant, brown orbs darkened with malice that bore into Riko and made her want to sink into the wall behind her and disappear.

"So now you're proud and a liar." Riko shook her head fiercely.

"N-no! I just want to..." Riko tried to say something to justify herself, but her voice was shaking too much now.

"I saw that look on your face when the teacher said your name, so smug and self-congratulatory."

Riko shook her head again. She didn't know what look was on her face then, but it definitely wasn't that. She was just as surprised as the rest of them, and frankly she felt entirely undeserving of the choice. But Riko was too scared to say anything in her own defense.

"Let me tell you something," the other girl said, almost snarling her words. "Just because the teacher chose you, a first year, to enter the competition doesn't make you any more special. You need to learn your place and show a little more respect for your upperclassmen. Otherwise, you're going to find yourself in a whole lot of trouble."

Riko's heart pounded, and now it wasn't just her voice that was shaking, but her hands and knees as well. She gripped the strap of her school bag tighter to steady herself. Why was this happening? She always thought she was a rather unassuming girl, and never tried to do anything to stand out. Her piano skills were her only talent, but she didn't think it was something to marvel at either. So why....?

The other girl leaned in closer, and Riko flinched. "I'll make you a deal. Tell the teacher that you're withdrawing from the competition. Then we'll-"

"What's going on here?" a piercing voice rang out from behind them. Riko's upperclassmen spun on her heels to see where it came from.

A cobalt haired girl stood across the green of the courtyard, dressed in the traditional dougi attire of the archery club - a white sleeved top and blue hakama, along with a black breast plate. She was relaxed and her arms hung loosely by her sides, but her utter stillness hinted at a storm boiling beneath the cool exterior. Her scornful gaze cut across the field like a knife, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Riko's upperclassmen dropped her hand from the wall next to her face. "This is none of your business," she said. But unnoticed by her, the other classmates were shifting nervously and backing away.

"Sorry, but I'm going to make it my business," the blue haired girl responded, her voice low, calm and cadenced in a way that exuded authority and confidence in her own abilities. "It is a duty of a samurai to protect the innocent and defenseless."

Riko's assailant snorted. "What's with that? Quit being so self-righteous. And this isn't the 1600's. What are you, some kind of medieval history fanatic?"

"Wait, Kuroki-san," one of the other girls whispered, fidgeting. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"No, and I don't care," she spat out and crossed her arms. "Get lost, this is just between us and the first year."

The archer scowled, then took several even steps forward. She carried her presence ahead of her, and several girls moved back instinctively. "Let her go."

Those few words hung in the air like fog, and Riko's vision blurred with spots. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears so much so that she barely heard the exchange at all. Somehow, the tension of the confrontation was even more frightening than being threatened earlier. On one hand she was grateful for the help, but on the other, what if a fight broke out? It was multiple people against one person, and she'd feel horrible if something were to happen to her rescuer because of her. She wanted to scream at the blue haired girl to just leave her be, but she was trembling too much to even do that.

"Hey, let's let Sakurauchi-san go," Kuroki's friend said again, grabbing her arm. "That's Sonoda Umi we're talking to, the student council vice president. She could report us!"

"What!?" Kuroki's eyes squinted in momentary confusion. Then everything clicked, the blue hair, the archery uniform, the stern demeanor. She reeled back.

Umi took another step forward. "Yes, and it's not above me to give you suspension for bullying," she said, working off of her now revealed status. "Or even restricting some of your school privileges, including that of entering out-of-school competitions. Then you'd no chance of being in the original song writing competition."

Kuroki gritted her teeth. "So you did know what was going on."

"I always make sure to get a grasp of the situation before jumping in." Umi's mouth turned upwards in a small smile. "Now go, and I won't report this."

The other girl seethed in place, and for a second Riko thought she might attack. But then, begrudgingly, Kuroki pulled herself away from Riko, storming off while muttering under her breath. Her other classmates soon followed, and then it was just Umi and Riko standing in the silent, green courtyard.

Riko let out a shaky breath she was holding in and collapsed on the ground, holding her hand close to her chest. She let her school bag drop unceremoniously beside her, too exhausted to carry any of its weight.

Thank goodness it's over, Riko thought while trying to steady her breathing. As the green blur of the grass sharpened in her sight, an outstretched hand appeared in front of her.

"Here, let me help you up," Riko's rescuer said.

Riko looked up to see the face of the cobalt haired girl, a small breeze making small strands of her long hair float leisurely in the air, and the rays of the setting sun behind making a halo around her face. So beautiful...and handsome, Riko thought. Her eyes and smile were soft and healing, and just looking at them made Riko feel like she could breathe easier. It was completely unlike the steely, almost dangerous air she gave off earlier.

The smile turned into a worried frown. "Are you alright?"

Riko blinked, then gasped as she realized that she had just been staring at the other girl for several seconds. "Ah, sorry! Yes, I'm ok."

Snapping herself out of her trance, she took Umi's hand. It was rough, probably from time spent training in the dojo, but it was comforting in a way - firm, resolute, dependable. She meant to help herself up, but Umi lifted almost all her weight up like a feather.

"That's good," Umi said, and smiled again. Riko unconsciously took notice that they were almost the same height. Umi seemed so much taller earlier, so grand. The difference was slightly unsettling.

"Thank you for saving me," Riko said timidly. Then, remembering her etiquette, she gave a deep bow. "Also, I'm sorry you had to get caught up in my personal problems. If there's any way I can make it up to you..."

Umi tilted her head as a small bow in return. "Don't worry about it. As I said, it's a samurai's duty to defend the helpless, and I have to uphold the honor of my family name."

"Sonoda..." Riko whispered. She mulled the name over in her head, promising to remember it. She had to pay Umi back somehow for helping her, even if Umi said she didn't have to, and if anything she had to at least remember her name. Then, after registering Umi's words, Riko broke out into giggles. "Duty, doesn't that sound a bit old-fashioned?"

"Maybe," Umi chuckled and nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Well, I'm also the student council vice president. I think it's my business to worry about the other members of the student body."

"Still, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if a fight broke out and you got hurt because of me."

"I could've taken them, if it came to that," Umi huffed and smiled self-assuredly. "Of course, violence is to be avoided if possible, so I'm glad things worked out the way they did. I'm glad you're okay."

Riko was silent, unsure of how to respond. No matter how considerate people said they were, Riko wasn't sure if many would be willing to jump into a situation like that.

"Well, I better get back to my archery practice," Umi said. "I wasn't doing very well today for some reason, so I was just taking a stroll to clear my head."

"Oh...alright."

"Ah, your bag," Umi remembered, and stooped down to pick up the gray school bag that had fallen earlier. It was dusted with specks of grass and dirt, and Umi patted it off as best she could before presenting it to Riko.

Riko on her part hesitated, looking at the bag forlornly before taking it. Riko didn't understand why, but she wanted Umi to stay. It was comforting in her presence, she felt safe. She wanted to say something, anything, to keep talking to Umi. The guilty part of her that reveled in cliche romance tropes thought that maybe she should pretend to collapse, and then Umi might at least help her back up again. The feeling of being lifted up by Umi's firm hands was so nice. But her manners kept her from doing so.

"I'm off then," Umi said, to which Riko nodded her response. After walking away several steps, she suddenly turned to look back, smiling sheepishly. "My apologies, I forgot to ask for your name."

Riko blinked. She had forgotten too. "It's Sakurauchi. Sakurauchi Riko."

Umi nodded, mentally saying the name back to herself. "If you ever find yourself in trouble again, you can always come find me. I'll either be in my classroom, 3-A, or in the archery dojo. It's nice to meet you, Sakurauchi-san!" With a wave, Umi took off in a light jog.

Riko sat at in front of the grand piano in the practice room, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers hovered tensed and unmoving above the black and white keys, waiting for inspiration to strike her. Or so she hoped.

Several minutes passed. She felt the rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the classroom windows warming her back. A small bead of sweat ran down her spine, and she felt like shivering despite the warmth. Her hands started to tremble from holding them out so long, waiting for something, anything, to come to her. A melody, a chord, even a single note to start.

With a forceful exhale, Riko finally dropped her hands to her sides. Nothing. She stared dejectedly at the blank piece of sheet music resting on the stand, and its empty staves seemed to glare back at her tauntingly.

For half an hour now, she had been trying to make progress on the song for the competition. For several days, actually. But not a single idea was coming to mind.

Maybe all her musical talent had simply dried up, meager though it was to start with. The thought scared her, but she couldn't help wonder if it was true. Maybe Kuroki was right after all. She didn't deserve to be in the song writing competition. She was sure Kuroki could compose just as well as she could. Many of her classmates could, probably. For the hundredth time Riko wondered why the teacher had chosen her for the competition at all.

And then, for the hundredth time as well, an image bubbled up to the surface of her mind. An image of a certain cobalt-haired girl's smile, and her hand outstretched for her to take. Riko's thoughts always wandered back to that moment, now days past, of Umi rescuing her from the upperclassmen who were jealous of her chance in the competition. And more than that, Riko felt like it was that encounter that gave her the strength to follow through and agree to her teacher's selection.

Riko would then reach the same conclusion. If she simply gave up now, what Umi did for her would be for nothing.

Sonoda-senpai gave me this chance, Riko thought, and it wouldn't be right to just throw in the towel and waste that chance now. Riko gripped the edge of her piano bench, determined to keep trying.

The sound of a door sliding open shook Riko from her thoughts.

"Good afternoon Sakurauchi-san."

"Sensei!" Riko voiced in surprise. Her music teacher stepped into room and closed the door behind her.

"I'm just here to check up on your progress," she said with a smile. Riko slumped, the determination she had just worked up left her like a deflating balloon.

"Well I...haven't made much progress," she fidgeted.

"It’s ok, just show me what you do have."

Riko sighed and admitted. "Ok, the truth...is I haven't started at all."

Riko’s teacher gave her a knowing smile, like she expected that to be the case, then walked over to the piano and rested her hands on the black lacquered wood. "Is anything troubling you?"

Riko shook her head in response. "I don't know, I just can't seem to think of anything."

"Composer's block, huh?"

"I tried all sorts of things," Riko continued. "Taking a walk, looking at different scenery, listening to other music. Sometimes I’ll get an idea, and I’ll run with it for some time. But nothing seems to....stick. Nothing feels right. And then I’ll give up on it after a while."

Her teacher hummed and went silent in thought. Now that she's here, Riko thought she might as well ask what has been on her mind this whole time.

"Sensei, why did you choose me?" Riko tried to speak slowly, afraid that her voice would betray her emotions. "There are so many other pianists in our club that are way more talented than me. I don't think I'm cut out for this."

"Are you saying you want to withdraw?" her teacher probed.

Blue hair, amber eyes, a soft smile, and a hand outstretched flashed through her mind again. Riko shook her head vigorously. "No! It's not that, I just....want to know."

"Maybe I chose you for the competition to change that self-perception you have?"

"Eh?" Riko was surprised, and more than a little confused. None of her feelings right now were helping her self-confidence in the slightest. If anything, they were probably making it worse.

"You're more capable than you think," her teacher continued. "I saw the talent in you when you first auditioned for our music program. The song you composed then showed so much promise! I know you can overcome this."

"I don't know if I can believe that," Riko said, downcast.

"You may not believe it, but at least believe in your teacher who believes in you."

Riko nodded in resignation. She didn't believe it…or at least, it was hard to. But she'd try, in order to live up to her teacher's expectations. And also, to make most of the chance Umi gave her.

"Well, let me see if I can help you a little with that composer's block," her teacher said, and tapped her fingers on the wood of the piano, thinking.

Riko looked up at her expectantly, unsure of what answer she could come up with. Usually she would just wait for her blocks to go away. Riko wasn't sure there was a treatment for an artist's block besides waiting. If there was one though, she really wanted to hear it.

"Hm," her teacher finally voiced. "It's not a lack of motivation, since you don't want to withdraw. It’s just a lack of…inspiration."

Riko nodded slowly.

“But you did say that you got some ideas, they just didn’t stick.” Her teacher’s face brightened, as though she'd stumbled upon an epiphany, and she snapped her fingers. “I got it. You’re just looking for inspiration in the wrong place.”

“Um…?”

"Tell you what, you should go home and think about it some more. Stop trying to force the music, but take the night to relax and do some introspection. Especially think about what inspires you. Then come back to it tomorrow."

Riko sighed inwardly, but tried to give a sympathetic smile. Her teacher was being as enigmatic as always with her replies. But it was true, there was no use sitting by the piano here if she wasn't going to play, and so she agreed.

Riko stood and picked up her bag resting by the side of the piano bench, and gathered her unwritten pages of sheet music. "Ok, I guess I'll be going now."

Before leaving, Riko gave a curt bow. Then she opened the sliding door and left the practice room.

As Riko wandered the halls of Otonokizaka, avoiding the swaths of students going about their own club activities, her mind wandered as well, tossing and turning different ideas for songs in her head. She was so wrapped up in thought that she didn't notice the throng of seniors in front of her as she rounded the corner, and walked straight into one of their backs.

"Mmf!" Riko let out a startled voice at the impact. Long, silky black hair filled her vision, and she reeled back and hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

"Well, well, if it isn't Ms. Piano Prodigy."

Riko felt the temperature of the room drop ten degrees. She recognized the voice instantly. Of all the people to run into, it had to be here, and now. Her eyes dropped to the floor immediately.

"So how goes the song?" Kuroki said, her patronizing voice showing she had no interest whatsoever in how Riko was progressing.

"It's...going alright." Riko tried to stay calm and collected, or at least, give the appearance of being collected. She willed herself to stop fidgeting with her bag's strap.

"Really," Kuroki folded her arms and feigned surprise. "That's weird, ‘cause I didn't hear any playing coming from the practice room."

Riko's heart drummed in her chest. She should've been honest from the start.

One of the other upperclassmen stepped forward beside Kuroki and gave her shoulder a little pat. "Y'know, Sakurauchi-san, Kuroki is writing a song too, in case....well, something happens."

"Yeah, feel free to drop out whenever," another one said, stepping forward as well. They formed a crescent in front of Riko, and she felt herself backing away.

"Hey, don’t pressure her," Kuroki said with her voice dripping in mock concern. "Let's not give up on her just yet. Buuut...a word of advice from your senpai, Sakurauchi.”

Kuroki stepped forward and leaned in close to Riko.

“You shouldn't force yourself to do the impossible, ok?"

Riko didn't know what to say back. All pretense of calm she was trying to put up earlier was gone. Her heart was running wild, and worse, she could feel that ballooning pressure in her head that meant she was about to cry. Why was she such a coward?

Her eyes inadvertently landed on the sign above an exit door, a little ways ahead of her seniors. The sign read "West Courtyard," leading outside. The west wing. That was where the archery dojo was.

If you ever find yourself in trouble again, you can always come find me. Umi's words came rushing through the torrent that was drowning her mind, and Riko clung to it, like an anchor, or a lifesaver thrown out to her.

"Thank you for the advice but I have to go!" Riko rushed out her words and bolted past Kuroki, not waiting for her response.

She slammed through the door and kept running across the courtyard, barely processing where she was going, and just letting her legs carry her. All the while, she cursed her own weakness, cold tears streaking her cheeks.

Riko burst through the archery club door, startling several of the members, and some dropped their bows in surprise.

“Sonoda-senpai!” Riko cried out, eyes frantically searching the room.

“What’s going on?” someone next to her asked nervously.

“Please, can I see Sonoda-senpai?” she said, her panic rising in her throat, as she couldn’t make out Umi’s face in the crowd.

“Why do you need to see her?”

“I…can’t really explain it, but I need to see her, so please…”

“She’s busy, but I can relay a message if you–“

“Please, if she’s around…”

“But…”

“It’s ok,” a voice called from to her side, strong, purposeful, resolute. Riko knew instantly that it was Umi. “I told Sakurauchi-san that she can come see me whenever she liked."

“Sonoda-senpai!” Riko cried, turning immediately to her and grabbing hold of the lapels of Umi’s top. Riko buried her face into Umi’s chest.

Umi flushed a great shade of red and stiffened. But nonetheless, she placed her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders, and gently gave them a light rub. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

Riko whimpered and shook her head, her face still hidden. The other students shuffled awkwardly, until Umi gestured for them to leave, and they left without another word.

Umi looked back at Riko. “Were those upperclassmen threatening you again?”

A moment of silence. Then finally, Riko parted from Umi, though she still didn’t let go of Umi’s clothing.

“Yes, but…it’s not that,” Riko said, her eyes downcast and wet from crying. “They weren’t doing anything that could harm me. I just…hate how weak and cowardly I am. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even come up with anything for this stupid song.”

“Stop, that’s not true.”

Riko found her eyes being drawn upwards into Umi’s. Her words weren’t just an encouragement, but also a command.

Umi gripped Riko’s shoulders tighter. “You’re not weak or cowardly. After that confrontation a week back, you still went through with the choice to enter the competition. That takes courage. And although you’ve been struggling with this song, you haven’t given up. There’s strength in that too. So don’t call yourself weak or cowardly.”

Umi’s voice was deep and unwavering, so full of certainty over what she said that Riko couldn’t help but believe her, at least for that moment. Riko let Umi’s assurance wash over her, a calm settling into every pore of her body.

“Alright,” Riko breathed out. Umi flashed her a smile, satisfied with the answer.

“Why don’t you stay here for a bit? You can watch me practice my archery. It might calm your nerves.”

Riko thought for a moment, then nodded weakly. She had nowhere else to go anyways. Finally separating from Umi, she found a spot off to the side of the wooden room, close to the wall, and sat with her legs beneath her.

Riko watched as Umi silently put on her breastplate and glove, pick up her bow and two arrows, and take her place at the edge that opened up into the shooting range, where several targets lay meters ahead.

However, instead of nocking her arrows, Umi kneeled, and placed her bow and arrows flat in front of her. She then sat as Riko did, her legs underneath her, the traditional sitting posture of martial arts.

“Mind if I tell you a bit about the art of archery, Sakurauchi-san?”

Umi’s sudden speech surprised Riko. After a moment’s pause, Riko responded. “Of course not, go ahead.”

Umi closed her eyes, as though meditating. Her face took on a dreamy expression, as though recounting a nostalgic memory.

“In antiquity, kyudo was practiced for hunting, war, and ceremonial games, but now it is a way for not merely physical training, but moral and spiritual development. A true shot in kyudo consists in the three elements of movement, technique, and attitude coming together in perfect harmony. It isn’t just about the arrow hitting its mark.”

Riko listened in quiet awe as Umi explained. It wasn’t a rehearsed speech, it was completely extemporaneous. But she spoke with such familiarity and understanding, it seemed like she personified the practice of archery itself.

“A good kyudo archer is a person who maintains his or her composure and grace even in times of great stress or conflict, and this is expressed in the archer’s movement and form. And in the moment before the arrow is released, the archer enters a state of munshin, literally, ‘of no mind’. But really, it is a state of perfect mindfulness.”

Umi turned to look Riko in the eyes, and gave her a gleaming smile.

“It is hoped that this emotional stability would carry over to one’s daily life. This is the development of one's spirit.”

Riko wasn’t sure if she understood everything Umi said, but she nodded. It spoke to her, in a deep way. It was an ideal that she felt like she wanted, even if she couldn’t grasp what it meant.

Umi took up her bow and arrows again, and stood. With slow, measured, and controlled movements, she notched her arrow and drew back the string. Umi aimed, and Riko felt the world hold its breath.

The air was still, the falling leaves froze in their descent, and the sunlight became like crystal. Umi closed her eyes, breathing evenly, and Riko thought she was the very embodiment of grace and poise that she had just spoken of.

Umi released the arrow.

It flew with a high pitched whine, and struck dead center of the target before her. Riko let out her breath, and she found herself smiling, filled with a strange sense of excitement. Umi notched her second arrow, pulled back, aimed...

The second struck dead center as well.

“That was amazing, Sonoda-senpai!” she said, not able to contain her excitement.

Umi lowered her arms, then turned to Riko with a smile. “Thank you! I thought it’d be a good shot.”

“It wasn’t just good, it was perfect!”

“There’s always room for improvement,” Umi said. But despite herself, she looked proud, admiring the straightness of the arrows protruding from the target. They weren't angled in the slightest.

“I hope I can do as well on my song,” Riko said, chuckling nervously.

“You will. Just as kyudo is a process of self-discovery, the inspiration for your song will come on its own time. I hope you are able to find it soon, though.”

Riko’s heart pulsed. Why was it that Umi always seemed to say just what she needed to hear? Why does everything Umi do fill her with calm, in just the times when her hammering heart needed soothing?

She was everything Riko was not, and everything Riko felt like she wanted to be. She was powerful and strong, yet subdued, like the waves of the ocean churning with all its latent energy. And at the same time, she was comforting, a place of rest for those lost at sea. Riko wanted to know her senior more, to see Umi in all her radiance, to capture it and study it, in hopes of making it her own. She wanted to express that same radiance, some day. She wanted to…

I want to write a song about it. The thought flickered across her mind, and she sucked in a breath. A song about Umi.

“Sonoda-senpai,” she whispered, as Umi was replacing her bow on its rack. Umi turned her head.

“Yes?”

She was always jealous. Everyone loved her mistress. However, she wanted her to herself. It may seem selfish but it was the truth.

“Riko, could you bring me my medicine?”

“Ah, yes of course, Umi.”

Umi. The one she loved. The other woman, however, did not love her back. In fact, Riko doubted the woman even knew of her feelings. It would take a miracle for someone like Umi to reciprocate Riko’s feelings.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

The walls of Umi’s home had reminded Riko of something. Far in the back of her head was a memory. White walls surrounding her, the sound of people whispering, weeping.

Suddenly, she heard a thud behind her. Riko turned to find Umi lying on the ground, her face pale. In a panic, she ran to pick up Umi and place her on the bed. The older woman’s height and weight didn’t make this task any easier as she dragged her to the room.

The next morning, Yoshiko had walked in. Riko, in a state of panic, asked the younger girl to come with her to the hospital. She agreed and they were soon on their way.

“Hey, Riko, is something wrong with Umi?”

Riko looked back at Yoshiko,”Umi’s health isn’t exactly the best… If we get the medicine though she’ll be all better!”

Riko stepped up to the front desk. Yoshiko had gone off somewhere once they entered the hospital. Around her were many people. Most of them had some sort of cold. Occasionally, she would see Yoshiko rush past. The wait was long, but once they were finally called, Riko rushed to find Yoshiko.

“Come on, we got called.”

The two walked down the hall to where the office was. Large red arrows pointed up the stairs on the way to the office. Riko felt a strange urge to go upstairs. Her feet brought her up, Yoshiko trailing behind her. She opened the door leading up to the rooftop.

“She’s never going to love you,” a voice said in her head.

“She loves someone else. You’re just another person to her. She doesn’t care.”

Walking up to the edge of the building, Riko stared down. It was a long fall to the ground.

“Yoshiko, are you going to push me?”

She felt two hands shove her back. The ground was soon going to reach her. Riko blacked out afterwards. She awoke in front of the hospital. The large building looked like an ancient ruin.

“Ma’am this hospitals been closed for years.”

Heading home, Riko thought about it. Everything up until they reached the hospital was in a haze. It was almost as if someone had taken her memories and replaced it with a fog.

“Umi?”

“Y-Yes… come in.”