Nothing could be seen clearly in the distance over the sea. The sea breeze blew in from behind. I pressed down my skirt. The horizon dissolved into a haze of gray on gray, sea and sky bleeding together. The ship's wake spread out behind us in a long white seam, the only clean line in all that blur.
Tsukago stood beside me, holding up her phone. The camera lens caught the light, a small bright circle against the gray. The floating interface flickered to life.
[chat] Wifey is so beautiful ❤️
[chat] Another day graced by the sea breeze
[chat] Daughter is so sweet today 💕
[chat] The deck view is stunning 👏
Tsukago leaned into the edge of the floating interface and tilted her head. The wind lifted strands of her hair and laid them back down. "Sister, the sea breeze is blowing my skirt up."
She spun half a turn for the camera, her skirt flaring up. The fabric caught the wind and billowed outward, a brief bloom of color against the gray seascape. Her laugh was bright and sudden.
"Can we dance? This girl here wants to film a dynamic shot."
"Dance what?"
"Sleepy Sheep."
Tsukago took the squirrel out of her light pink bag and placed it on the railing, facing the sea. Its tail fluttered in the wind. Music streamed from the phone, a light, bouncy tune. I raised my hands; she raised hers. We pointed our toes, our bodies rising and falling with the rhythm. When we spun, our skirts floated up. The deck beneath our feet vibrated with the ship's engines, a low, constant bass note beneath the music.
We finished the dance and stopped, catching our breath. The wind cooled the sweat at my temples. Tsukago pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat.
Not far off along the railing stood an elderly couple. The old woman was wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat. The old man held a cup of coffee, already cold, no steam rising from the rim. They had been watching us dance the whole time. The railing between them was worn smooth where their hands had rested. The paint had been rubbed away, exposing the bare metal beneath.
The old woman nodded at Tsukago. "Well danced. Are you performers on the ship?"
"No." Tsukago took the squirrel back from the railing and held it in her arms. "We just dance for fun."
The old man set his coffee cup on the railing. The cup made a soft clink against the metal. "That's even more commendable. Dancing for fun, and still so in sync. Young people willing to do something together, it's not easy."
"Do you two dance?" Tsukago tilted her head.
The old woman patted the old man's cuff. Her hand lingered there a moment longer than necessary. "He stepped on my foot three times when he was young. I never danced with him again after that."
"That wasn't stepping on your foot." The old man kept his eyes on the sea. "You were always veering to the left."
"I veered because your lead was bad."
They were still talking, but the sea breeze carried their voices away. The words broke apart and scattered across the deck. Tsukago leaned in, her shoulder pressing against mine.
"That old couple has been arguing for sixty years and they're still arguing. The longer the dependence, the harder it is to let go. The harder it is to let go, the more they need someone to choose for them."
——Sixty years of arguing, and they're still standing side by side. That's not leverage. That's proof.
I took the phone from Tsukago's hands, turned my back to the deck railing, and raised it. My bangs were blown messy by the sea breeze and plastered to my forehead. Tsukago took the squirrel off her shoulder and placed it on mine. Its small weight was warm against my collarbone. She leaned half a step closer.
I pressed the shutter.
I looked down at the screen. In the image, our faces overlapped, the background the gray-blue sea. A few strands of Tsukago's hair had blown across my cheek in the photo, blurring the line between her outline and mine.
——The V-sign in the frame, that's the shell she planted today. What's inside, someone will bite through.
She lifted her head. The sea breeze blew loose strands of hair across her face, and she pressed them down. Her hand stayed there, holding her hair against her temple.
💬 This angle is incredible
💬 That figure in the background has been standing there a long time
💬 Daughter's bangs are messed up by the sea breeze and it's so cute
💬 Did anyone catch that shot of Sister looking at Daughter from the side
Tsukago put away her phone and leaned against my shoulder. Her weight was a steady, familiar pressure.
I turned to the side. Her skin was slightly cool from the sea breeze. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned close to my ear. Her breath was warm against my skin.
"That person has been standing on the deck for a long time."
"Mm."
"Do you think he's cold?"
"It's the sea breeze."
The sea breeze died down a little. Tsukago took the squirrel from the railing and hugged it to her chest. Its bean-black eyes peeked over her folded arms. She leaned closer.
"Sister, it's really nice to come out for a walk."
"Were you feeling cooped up in the room?"
"Not cooped up, exactly. It's just that when we're out on the deck with the wind, I don't have to think about anything."
I reached out and tucked the stray strands of her hair behind her ear. Her earlobe was cool against my fingertip. The gesture was small, automatic, the kind of thing you do without thinking when you've done it a thousand times before.
"If you're cold, lean closer."
She shifted half a step closer. Her shoulder pressed against my arm. Her warmth seeped through the fabric.
[chat] These sisters are so sweet
[chat] Deck date mode
[chat] Even the sea breeze has become gentler
[chat] Is that person still watching the sea
"Darlings, this girl here is signing off. See you next time." I waved at the camera.
The floating interface went dark. The livestream was off.
I put my phone away. She leaned against my shoulder. The deck had grown quieter. The elderly couple had moved on, their coffee cup still sitting on the railing, the last of the liquid cooled to a dark ring at the bottom. The cup cast a small oval shadow on the metal.
The fire door was pushed open. The corridor lights were dim and yellow. The sea breeze rushed in from behind, blowing our skirts forward. Tsukago walked half a step ahead of me. The hem of her skirt occasionally brushed my ankle. The door closed behind us, shutting out the sea breeze and the sound of the waves. The sudden quiet was almost heavy, broken only by the hum of the light tubes overhead.
Only our footsteps remained in the corridor. In the distance, the Mingdu's navigation lights blinked at the stern. The sea breeze rushed in from the bow, drying the last of the water stains on the deck. A gull called once, far off, and then the only sound was the steady thrum of the engines carrying us forward.