Fumi-land Ch. 01 - Dirty Ahego Secret

Central City had always been an island of calm amidst the ocean of West Coast chaos. Blessed with the scenic greenery of the Oregon and Washington border yet run by people who stuck to the tried and tested rather than gambling experimentation, it was often overlooked when lists of the most vivid of America's big cities were drawn up and illustrated, regularly being seen as boring, stable and safe. Yet it fostered innovation and high-skilled industries while keeping the streets safe and clean, and though it would not be winning any awards for spectacular gala evenings or ostentatious displays of culture, the quiet, no-nonsense character of the city made it a dependable destination for young families and a secure place to retire for older ones. Though unusual among the big cities along the pacific coast, it was this stand out personality that reassured the Kamada's that sending their only daughter, Yumi, to study at its best university would be a safe investment. She was a relatively short and one-stop plane flight away and her time zone difference was manageable. She would not be traveling so far away that she would disappear into the cracks of the bohemian or become what so many girls of Asia had embraced when moving to the land of opportunity to stand anew.

And listening to Amy Li speak, Yumi might have thought she had been directly hired by her parents.

The university cafeteria was always quiet during the lecture periods and class time-slots, which is exactly why the trio of girls came here. Every day since arriving and settling onto the campus, Yumi would meet her two new friends in America: Amy Li and Anika Bedi.

Amy was the talker of the trio, the Chinese-American girl bright and sunny with a friendly smile and endless conversation. Yumi had met her during her student orientation week and the pair had hit it off of their love of anime. Well, Amy's love of it. Yumi never much cared for it, but she didn't know anyone else at the school and this one was happily talking to her, so she took what she could get - and she was glad she had! Once the talk of silly cartoons had diminished, Amy had been a font of advice and help on everything from setting up a mobile phone plan, to local slang and a guide to navigate the campus grounds. On the second night after moving into her campus apartment, Yumi had foolishly locked herself out, and who had come to her rescue at 11pm at night? Amy. Driving out to the campus, Amy had let her stay in her car with the heating running and kept her company with conversation while they waited for the lone campus security guard to get around to helping the international student out. But, no one was a saint, and while still in the orientation week and while sharing lunch at the cafeteria, Yumi discovered Amy's little pet peeve.

"See? There they are, every day, same time," Amy spoke, gesturing to a dining booth that sat on the other wall of the rectangular college cafeteria. The trio of friends were seated in their own booth, trays of food before them and Yumi smiling as she played with her knife and spoon, genuinely enjoying the challenge of learning how to coordinate them so she could have her spaghetti carbonara. Picking up on Amy's words, Yumi turned her head to follow her lead, where she spotted, on the other side of the hall-way, a fully occupied dining booth. There was six of them in total, three girls and three boys. As Amy had pointed out, all of the females were some variety of Asian, each with black hair, fair skin and the soft facial features they all shared. Though one was taller, about 5'8", the rest were a few inches shorter, while the boys around them were white Americans. She assumed, anyway. Though not giants, they were taller than the men she was used to back home, the green and blue eyes among them with those smiles as they had their closest arm around the waist of their girl, joking and laughing softly among themselves. Sometimes one would lean in to speak gently, doubtlessly some racy joke that elicited laughter among the boys and bashful giggles from the girls, usually with a playful slap on the shoulder.

Easing herself back down into her seat, Yumi looked back over at Amy, her friend looking expectant with a 'See?' look over her face. But Yumi could only shrug.

"I...sorry, I don't understand..." Yumi smiled.

Amy pursed her lips and gestured towards the group again, this time a touch more forcefully, but still Yumi wasn't catching it. Finally, Amy gave up, "Ugh, look!" she affectionately put her hand on Yumi's forearm to accompany her words.

"Do you notice anything about the arrangement of the pairs?"

Yumi could only answer slowly, still unsure, "...all the boys are American?"

Amy pursed her lips again.

"Look, I'm not sure how it is in Japan, but here? You'll see a lot of that," she gestured once more.

"...happy couples?"

Anika snorted lightly in amusement.

"No - hah, no, Yumi: us!"

The way she emphasis that word: us.

"You haven't seen it over there, but here? That is almost expected of us. In commercials. In movies. In shows. In media. Even in p..." Amy shut her mouth like a trap, looking around their immediate area and then leaning back in, whispering the word "porn. We're almost always paired up with the white guys. The society over here fetishizes it. Fetishizes us."

Yumi looked back at that group, then at Amy again, her mouth partially open, unsure of what to say, or even how to process it. So many foreign concepts to her. "But...I don't understand," Yumi asked, "I thought you were all Americans here?"

Amy blinked, her mouth open for a moment, clearly not having expected such a response. However, she rallied quickly. "They," Amy whispered low, her eyes staring at the group, the knife in her right hand almost pointing to whom she meant: the girls.

"They, give us, a bad reputation. They're status-chasing sluts."

Yumi's eyes widened slightly as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth and her soft gasp. "But what about the boys?" she asked, still not sure what to make of this.

"Pfft, men are men," Amy dismissed with a wave of her hand, "men are just horny, they think with their dicks, nature is telling them to spread their genes. Girls throw themselves at them of course they're going to go for it. We should act better. We're the Model Minority after all," she snorted lightly in contempt and sarcasm.

But, onnce again, Yumi only understood half of what her friend was saying. "Model...what? What's that?"

Amy finished her mac and cheese, perhaps realizing she'd said too much. "Look, I'm sorry, Yumi. I get a bit worked up sometimes, forget I said anything. I'll tell you another time, yeah?" she offered, that reassuring, friendly smile of hers returning.

A part of Yumi wanted to tell her friend to get over it. Really - so some of their 'asian sisters' found solace with men from another race they had good relations with? We should all be so lucky, she thought to herself. But she couldn't summon the courage to tell her what she really thought, as she knew she was an outsider to the social and cultural current of the country, while Amy had been raised here. All Yumi had witnessed was filtered through media and the internet. For all she knew there really was some low-key fetishization, some unspoken understanding between the groups that they were deemed lesser or easy because they had proven particularly receptive to one certain demographic of male. Besides, Yumi appreciated Amy's friendship, and she did not want to jeopardize that. Best to placate her on this topic and enjoy her on others where they found agreement.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Amy looked excited, casting her glance between Yumi and Anika.

"The Mooncake Festival is soon!" she held her hands together over her chest, grinning brightly.

"I know your families are back in your home-countries, but I asked my mom and dad, and they said you could both come over to our house for the dinner!"

Yumi smiled brightly, a flash of warmth moving through her chest at the touching gesture, "Oh, domo arigato go - oh, hah, sorry! Thank you very much, yes! You are very kind!"

Anika joined in the gratitude but Amy waved it off, "I want you both to feel welcome! I have to head off now, but you've got my number if you ever need me!" she smiled warmly, shuffling herself out of the booth and before the table. Taking another look over at that table, she looked back at Yumi and Anika, leaning in and whispering, "just ignore the sluts, heheh" she giggled as if they were all in on a joke, before departing.

Anika had so far said nothing, as Yumi could tell she was a quiet girl, and seemed somewhat self-conscious about her accent. Nevertheless, the angles of her face and her warm, caramel-colored skin mixed with her black hair and big, warm brown eyes made a beautiful image, Yumi thought. Offering the other girl a pleasant smile, Anika returned the gesture with sincerity, before they both finished their lunch in agreeable silence, simply enjoying each other's company. But, every now and then, Yumi would find her gaze moving back over to that other table, seeing how happy those girls looked; their smiles, their soft laughter staying in the booth. One had her boyfriends arm around her affectionately as she leaned into him, even drawing a fork up to his mouth at one point to let him eat something off it, both exchanging a look with each other before he leaned in and kissed her briefly, his fair skin against her golden.

Yeah, that'd be terrible...Yumi thought sarcastically to herself, moving back to look at Anika, only to catch her staring at the same thing.

oOo

The weeks progressed and Yumi slowly ingratiated herself. Quiet by nature and lacking confidence in her English, despite being told by several people her skill was quite excellent, Yumi found herself quiet at classes and alone at night. Though not an introvert by nature, the culture clash and missing her friendship circle back home was getting to her slowly, as each walk to a lecture or class was done alone, or each night of enjoyment in her student dorm room was equally single. Not that she hadn't been invited to places. One of the biggest differences she had noticed in her new land compared to where she came from, was how talkative and open the Americans were.

"Hi, where are you from?"

"I love your hair, do you do it yourself?"

"Sorry if I sound rude, but what do you use for your skin, it's very beautiful!"

"Oh you're from Japan? Welcome honey, I hope you're settling in!"

"Your English is really fantastic, could you say a few things in Japanese for me?"

The last one in particular she had learned she was supposed to feel offended by, but Yumi didn't see why. She had spent years at school and watching Western news to become fluent in a language that was structurally so different. It took her so long to wrap her head around and say something quickly in the structure of subject - verb - object in English, which was so foreign to her native subject - object - verb. Even something as simple to the native English speakers as the conceptual difference between 'this' and 'that' had been a struggle. But through perseverance and hard work, she was now even able to watch various shows and movies where she could detect the word play and subtleties that made them great. It was a point of pride for her, and Yumi knew that one day when she gained work, it would be as a translator where she would help foster good relations between groups. It made her happy knowing that one day she could make peoples lives better.

But, it wasn't communication that was the problem: Yumi was shy.

Large crowds didn't suit her, she didn't have the personality to stand out, and she wanted to meet people. Like genuinely meet, talk and make friends. She couldn't do that at some Frat party with drunken pigs stumbling up to her and blarghing out their inebriated nonsense. And so, Yumi planned to join a couple of groups as the semester progressed, but already work was piling up. And so it was another Friday night that she spent alone, in her small dorm room, at her small desk, typing on her small laptop with an array of papers smattered about.

That's when she heard them.

Situated on the 3^rd floor of one of the dorms, Yumi's little apartment overlooked a common area that featured numerous park benches and trees that were often the centerpieces for outdoor parties. Though fine during the day, when it was 10pm at night, as Yumi noticed when she looked over at her little cat-styled clock, she narrowed her eyes in irritation and pushed her wheeled chair over to her window so that she could peer out of it and down at the knots of students making the ungodly racket below.

Yumi glared down at the throngs of students; drinking, talking and laughing loudly, the circles of 5-10 ten forming with members mingling between each constantly, some even pairing up early and slinking away from the gathering to one of their dorms. They thought they were clever - but Yumi could see them. Narrowing her eyes and glaring down through her window, she caught sight of one of the girls from the cafeteria Amy had called a 'slut', her back against a wall, that same tall, white boyfriend of hers leaning over her, the two with their lips pressed together, her arms around him. After a couple of months they were still together, and look at how much fun they were having...

Yumi swallowed. Pulling herself away from the window, she looked about her small little apartment, empty. It was 10pm. She was twenty years old, and single. And this was her Friday night, school work, and staring down in judgement at fellow young people enjoying their lives as if she were some bitter old woman.

The girl bit her lip, looking out that window once more, this time with longing rather than criticism; her large, double-lidded brown eyes spotting the couples breaking off to make out, some more going back to dorm rooms together, while she was up here and all alone.

Taking a look at her little apartment again, Yumi swallowed and wondered: why was she alone? Why was she missing out?

Picking up her the pink-case of her phone, she immediately downloaded a dating app she knew was popular, going through the verification easily enough. When it came time to upload a picture, the best Yumi could do was a selfie with a sweet smile, as her soft blush just wouldn't go away long enough to snap a photo. The result was not what she wanted. She wanted to fit in. She wanted to look respectable. Dignified. Professional, even. A smart young woman a man could be happy to bring home and meet his family. Instead she looked like some living anime character, wearing her almost goofy smile, her pretty face framed by her black, silky hair and a visible blush across both cheeks as she held up the peace sign next to her face with her right hand.

"Gaarrrghh, oh my god, look at me! Why am I such a fucking dork?! Why can't I be cool?" Yumi growled as she gripped her phone in both hands and stared exasperatedly at the picture she had just taken.

Exhaling, flustered, thinking of how to take something better, she looked at the time again: 10:15pm.

There was no time! All the quality boyfriends would be going to sleep by now, surely, their classwork dutifully done, their exercises completed and their communication with their families concluded. If she didn't hurry the only men on offer would be like the drunken idiots hollering in court-yards like down below.

Loading her picture up to the app and writing some basic things in her profile, she had to choose a name...she couldn't be obvious. She did not want her actual name out there. She wanted something cute. Smiling, giggling, Yumi entered 'Sparklebunny' - and it wasn't taken!

Climbing onto her bed and sitting propped up at the end, she started to explore, specifically entering the 'Looking for Tonight' option, because that's where date's for tonight would be, wouldn't it?

Ding! Her phone chimed. "Oh - someone likes me!" she uttered excitedly, her fingers rushing to open up the panel, only to be greeted with someone she was...less than enthusiastic about.

Ding! Another one.

Ding! Ding! More.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!"

"Arrgh, stop!" Yumi hissed at her phone, gripping it with both of her small hands and shaking it, speedily trying to deactivate the notifications and finally doing so to silence that penetrating sound.

Finally. Exhaling, recomposing herself, Yumi got her fingers to work on her phone, and went shopping for a date.

Half an hour later and Yumi was depressed.

On the verge of giving up and tossing her phone away, a sudden vibration caught her attention: she had a message. From 'Will'. But how? No one could message her unless -

'You're up late. Let me guess, still doing school work?'

Yumi knew what he was implying, and why he was implying it. Even more so, she looked at his profile picture and imagined the words coming straight from his..boyishly handsome face, that she had to admit she kinda liked. His hair was light in color, blonde to sandy brown, and short, neat in a way that accentuated his jaw. The smile he wore rode that line between cocky confidence and a warm sincerity while those green eyes looked at her, speaking those words.

Yumi blushed. He wasn't even in the room and he was making her blush!

'NO!' she sent back, lying.

'Party at my dorm, I just got back.'

It wasn't until she sent the message that she realized her implication of her message. Will picked up on it quick enough.

'Same. Bored?'

"Oh my god...no!" Yumi whined to herself, swallowing as she put her phone down and away. Sitting up in bed, she looked over her small apartment once again. Single. Alone. She heard the voices from outside, happy, people pairing up, girls laughing in their boyfriends arms. And what was she doing? Studying about international tax codes on a Friday night. Outside the world was having fun and enjoying the warmth of life and in here she was a lonely loser - no!

Yumi picked herself up off her bed. She was not! Think of how ashamed her family would be if they found out that they'd sent their daughter to a fantastic school only for her to become some...Yumi swallowed. She could feel the heat rising from her collarbone across her cheeks as she moved over to that window and looked down at the party again; couples hugging, some making out in crowds, more holding hands and breaking off, going to their dorms where boy and girl would be human together. And she was up here, alone, with some tax codes.

Yumi turned back to her bed and crawled onto it, picking up her pink-cased phone again and slumping back down onto her rump, back against her pillow as she bit her lip. Her blood was hot and she could feel her lower back tingling. She had to do it now, she had to send out the signals, because she knew the moment would pass in a few minutes and she'd regret it.

'Yeah. U free?'

Nothing at first. A minute passed. Nothing. Yumi was starting to think -

The ellipsis appeared and moved. He was typing back!

'I'm on other side of campus. Will shower first. Room number?'

All her tradition, all her sense and everything from her homeland screamed to just toss the phone aside and jump under the sheets and go to sleep, to forget about it all.

'Dorm F, 305'

'See you in 15.'

That was it.

Done.

He was coming over to her apartment, and he expected...something, something physical. She wasn't a virgin, she'd had two boyfriends back in Japan. In fact, she'd broken up with one just to come here! What if he wanted just to talk? No, don't be stupid, of course he wanted sex. Of course he did! What if she said no? Would he respect that? Would he be mad at her? Yumi's mind crawled with a thousand anxious questions until she heard her doorbell ring, and she realized she'd been standing there for fifteen minutes absorbed in her own little panic.