Midnight Interview
[ACT 1]
“ALL RIGHT, LET’S try a shot with the two of you holding your helmets—there, perfect.”
Click. Whir. Click. Whir. Click.
The sound of the camera’s motor drive echoed through the cavernous Vehicle Assembly Building. The man behind the lens was twenty-six-year-old Tohdo Takeuchi, SSA’s new public relations director. He had only held the position for three weeks. While honing his chops on a worldwide photography expedition, he had made a stop at the base and never left. His interest in photography bordered on obsessive.
Takeuchi held his beloved OM-4Ti on its side for a vertical shot.
“Drop to one knee for me, Matsuri.”
“Hoi.”
“Yukari, stand a little closer, with your left hand on Matsuri’s back—that’s it.”
Click. Whir. Click. Whir. Click.
“Let’s see some smiles, Yukari.”
“How much longer?” Yukari’s expression was sullen.
“We’re just about done here. Then I need a few shots of you training—the centrifuge, the simulator, the neutral buoyancy pool.” Takeuchi counted off the pending photo shoots on his fingers.
Yukari broke in before he could go any further. “Can’t we do those next time?”
“I’d like to wrap it up today. Time is tight if we want to make the New Year’s Eve specials.”
“Who cares about PR? All that matters is if the mission is successful.”
“We want the media to give this project the coverage it deserves. That’s why I’m putting together a proper press kit—glossy photos, the whole nine yards.”
“A press kit?”
“We’re sending them out to all the major newspapers and TV stations. They’ll include everything from an overview of the program to directions on how to get to the base.”
Yukari sighed.
“It’s free publicity. That has to be worth posing for a few pictures.”
“But it’s all so…phony.”
“Welcome to PR.”
[ACT 2]
“THERE’S SOMETHING WE need to talk about, Yukari.” Director Nasuda sat at his desk, chewing slowly on his words. “We’re about to step onto the world stage. We may be cloaked in the guise of the OECF, but we both know what this performance is really about—Japan’s first independent attempt at manned space-flight. And do you know who the star of our little show is?”
“Me?” Yukari ventured.
“That’s right. The youngest astronaut in history, flying solo in a one-man capsule. You’re going to be at the center of a global media frenzy.”
“I can take it.”
“We need you handling interviews with courtesy and grace, no matter what sort of questions they throw at you.”
Yukari swallowed hard.
“You’re the face of the entire program. The world will see us in the light the media shows us in. It’s up to you to ensure that’s a positive light. The future of the program depends on it. This is a task every bit as important as your duties as an astronaut. You’re sure you’re up to it?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I knew we could count on you. The media will be reporting on every aspect of your life—birthday, blood type, favorite food, relationships past and present.”
“I bet.”
“But one thing is going to have them worked up more than anything else—your family.” Director Nasuda looked Yukari squarely in the eye. “A globe-trotting mother who’s an architectural designer. A father who disappeared on his honeymoon and became the chief of a tribe of indigenous Solomon Islanders. A half sister whose mother is a tribal shaman.”
Yukari nodded.
“Of course we could…cover this up if we wanted to. Tell them you were visiting the Solomon Islands on vacation. That Matsuri was the granddaughter of a Japanese soldier who had become part of the tribe. It’s a small island, so it wouldn’t take much effort to lay the groundwork.”
“Hmm.”
“The cover-up is the easier way. It will let us head off any tabloid reporting that might upset our schedule. It’s only twenty days until the launch—you may be handling the pressure now, but there’s no need to go asking for more.”
Yukari considered for a moment before answering. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Oh?” Director Nasuda arched his eyebrows. “You want the whole truth out there?”
“I don’t like the idea of lying, and what better time to publicize the fact that my family is finally getting back together.”
“Interesting.”
“We’re lucky my mom had the job she did. We always had enough money, and she still managed to bring me up in spite of being a single mother. That has to play well. None of it changes who my father is, but at least I finally found him.”
“I doubt they’ll leave it at that.”
“If the press gives my dad a hard time, it’s no more than he deserves.”
“They’ll make him out to be the bad guy.”
“Isn’t he?”
Director Nasuda gave an inward sigh. Apparently Hiroshi Morita wasn’t done paying for the sins of his wayward fatherhood. “Who am I to convince you otherwise?”
Yukari turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, one more thing. Do you think you could have them include this family stuff in the press kit? I don’t want to go over all the basics every time I sit down for an interview.”
“I’ll make sure it gets in. The secrecy ends now.”
[ACT 3]
BY HELICOPTER IT was less than five minutes from the base to the Taliho village. A large sling lowered Matsuri down to the village square as the helicopter hovered overhead. Once on the ground she rushed up the ladder to her father’s hut.
“Hoi! It’s me, Dad.”
“Good to see you, Matsuri.” There was real joy in Hiroshi Morita’s eyes. “Quite an entrance you made on that helicopter.”
“We’re so busy with training it’s the only way I’d have enough time to visit. I got them to drop me off during our lunch break.” Matsuri sat down cross-legged in front of her father.
“Modern conveniences can be nice, eh? So, what brings you here?”
“I don’t have long, so I’ll keep this short.” Matsuri checked her wristwatch—an SSA-issued Omega Speedmaster. “Yukari’s launch is scheduled for the twenty-seventh, and they’re going to send up a test rocket just before her launch.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“It’s really important that nobody places any curses on these two rockets. You can’t let anybody turn them into fireworks.”
The chief’s face was somber. “Of course. We’ll have to be careful.”
“I’ll be in the control room providing mission support, so I can’t be here. That means you have to make sure nobody does anything they shouldn’t.”
“I’ll take care of it. We won’t curse any rockets between now and December 27.”
“Thanks, Dad. Do you know where Mom is?”
“Toto’s in the spirit lodge. She won’t be out until tonight.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll come back tomorrow or the next day to talk about this with her.”
Matsuri’s mother, Toto, was a village shaman. Matsuri wouldn’t be able to put her mind at ease until she had explained the situation to Toto as well.
“By all means. So, how is Yukari holding up?”
“She says this is as hard as when she was studying for her high school entrance exams. She can’t wait to finish so she can go back to Japan with you.”
“That came up, did it?”
Matsuri looked at her father and smiled. “If you don’t go to Japan with her, she’s gonna be furious. I don’t even want to think of the names she’ll call you.”
“I can only imagine.” The chief forced himself to return his daughter’s smile. “To be honest, I thought the rocket would have scared her off by now.”
“She told me she was focusing on her ultimate goal, not on how hard things were now. Just like before getting into high school.”
The chief sighed. “Civilization toughens people up in its own way.”
“Hoi. Yukari’s tougher than she looks.”
“But going into space—that’s another matter altogether.” The chief looked earnestly at Matsuri. “Take care of her. For all the trouble she’s causing, she’s still my daughter.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Matsuri said. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
[ACT 4]
YUKARI STORMED INTO Director Nasuda’s office and slammed the press kit down on his desk.
A week had passed since the PR photo shoot.
“What’s this supposed to be?” demanded Yukari.
“What’s what supposed to be?”
“This pack of lies!”
“Which part?”
“Right here.”
Yukari pointed to a paragraph in the kit.
The moment Yukari Morita saw the rocket, it was love at first sight. She had dreamed of space since she was a child. Convinced that destiny had brought her to the Solomon Space Center, she went immediately to Director Isao Nasuda and asked to pilot the rocket on its maiden voyage. Struck by her passion, Director Nasuda wasted no time in having his medical staff assess her suitability for the program. The tests confirmed that Yukari Morita possessed singular physical fitness, mental prowess, and stamina. And so the youngest astronaut in history received her commission.
“Since when am I in love with a rocket?”
“A rhetorical flourish.”
“It’s a lie. Fix it.”
“They’ve already been released.”
Yukari couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Certain aspects of the program are still confidential,” said Director Nasuda. “Your skintight space suit, the new rocket fuel— and above all else, the lift capabilities of the LS-5A. If the truth gets out—that it can only carry someone of your diminutive weight—we’re ruined. You can’t expect us to announce that we recruited you because you were the only person we could find who was light enough to launch.”
“That still doesn’t give you the right to go making up how I supposedly feel about all this.”
“It’s part of your job. This is a ten-billion-yen-a-year project. We can’t go around saying whatever pops into our heads just because it happens to be true.”
“Did you ever think it might be smart to run it by the person you were making up this story about first? This isn’t the first time you’ve shown me such a lack of respect, and I’m sick of it. I’m going to tell the reporters whatever I like.”
“Wait! Hear me out!” Director Nasuda half rose from his desk as Yukari turned to leave. “This is our dream,” he pleaded. Yukari stopped. “This base is filled with people who want nothing more than to go to space, but they can’t. Did you ever think about them? The way they see you?”
Yukari thought back to what Kinoshita had said on the beach.
“Everyone here knows you didn’t ask to become an astronaut. But do you really hate it so much? No, don’t answer that. But know that everyone here wants to believe that deep down inside, you don’t hate it. This lie is as much for them as it is for the press.”
[ACT 5]
ONCE THE SOLOMON Space Center press kits had been sent out, the media response was immediate. After a battle over the rights to the limited satellite bandwidth over the Pacific, the media started pouring onto the island. Broadcast crews carrying oversized luggage, reporters, cameramen—one after another, they came.
There were teams from six television stations in Japan alone, not to mention Kyodo News Service, the big three American networks, CNN—all of the major players. Counting the print journalists who didn’t show up with much more than the clothes on their backs, the ranks of the press corps soon swelled past four hundred. After checking in and receiving their credentials, they were given quarters in prefab housing on the base. Portable satellite dishes sprang up like mushrooms after a rainstorm.
The first press conference was held on December 19, one week before launch. The main conference room had been converted for the event, complete with batteries of microphones and cameras. At the center of it all, beneath the blinding floodlights, were Director Nasuda, Yukari, and Matsuri.
Yukari and Matsuri wore pink pantsuits, purchased by the public relations officer himself on a trip to Sydney for that purpose. Even Director Nasuda was dressed to kill in a crisp three-piece suit. The air conditioning worked overtime to battle the equatorial heat, but the room remained uncomfortably warm.
Director Nasuda began the press conference with a short address extolling the virtues of manned spaceflight, the advantages of launch systems that handled humans and cargo separately, and the cost-effectiveness of the new hybrid engine. However, the journalists were clearly much more interested in hearing what the girls had to say.
“I have a question for Yukari,” said one of the reporters. He had shown remarkable restraint by waiting a full two seconds after the end of Director Nasuda’s opening remarks. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
So this was how it was going to be. It didn’t seem like an appropriate question for an astronaut, but the journalist looked dead serious. Ridiculous as it may have been, Yukari was willing to go along with it if it meant getting this over and done with.
“No,” said Yukari.
“Who’s your favorite musician?”
“ZIMA, stuff like that.”
“Favorite food?”
“The shrimp dumplings at Tianjin Restaurant.”
“Extracurricular activities?”
“Track and field.”
“Blood type?”
“A.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
Yukari froze. “Uh, I think the press kit covered that.”
“I’d like to hear it in your own words.”
“No, no brothers or sisters.”
“What do you do if you get your period in space?” asked a female reporter.
At this point, Yukari decided to tell it like it was. “The urine collector in the suit can handle it, but the launch schedule also takes that into account.”
“And if the launch is delayed?”
“In a worst-case scenario, they can always use the backup crew.”
“Would you categorize your menstrual pain as severe?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Yukari snapped. A barrage of strobe lights flashed. Yukari had no doubt those pictures would find their way to magazine covers around the globe.
Next her family life came under the microscope.
“What do you think of your father?”
“I think he’s a deadbeat.”
The directness of her response elicited a number of surprised gasps.
“So you aren’t going to forgive him?” purred a female reporter.
“That’s up to him.”
“How do you mean?”
“If he makes a fresh start in Japan, I’m willing to consider it.”
“What are your plans once you and your father go home? There are rumors you’re considering an acting career.”
“I intend to go back to being an ordinary teenager.”
The journalists laughed.
Yukari didn’t see what was so funny.
“Any idea why your father disappeared on his honeymoon?”
“Not really.” Yukari had expected the question, but she had never got around to deciding how she would answer it. She certainly didn’t believe that nonsense story about shamans and spirits. Had the Taliho kidnapped him? Had he run off after a fight with her mother? She couldn’t answer because she had no answer.
“Is it possible your father has some sort of mental disorder?”
It was possible. Why should she deny it?
“Yes.”
Another journalist broke in. “So Matsuri is your half sister and your backup, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Was there any rivalry between the two of you over who would be the first to fly?”
“None at all.”
The journalist eyed Yukari doubtfully. “But if something were to happen to you—an injury or an illness—Matsuri would move into the first slot.” There was a time when nothing would have pleased Yukari more, but now she was prepared to do whatever she needed to do to get her father home free and clear. “If that happened, you’re telling me there wouldn’t be any animosity between the two of you?”
“We’re not concerned with who goes first.”
“Maybe Matsuri sees things differently.”
“I’m not in any hurry,” said Matsuri. There was no guile in her words.
“I couldn’t help but notice you used the word ‘first,’ Yukari. So there will be additional launches?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t there be?”
“Of course there will,” said Director Nasuda. “Once our technology matures, we may be looking at launches every week.”
The journalists all but ignored Director Nasuda.
“Yukari, you gave the ship its name, Tampopo. How did you decide on that?”
“I wanted to name it after a flower, and ‘Peach,’ ‘Sakura,’ and ‘Sunflower’ were already taken.”
“You’ll be flying alone. Are you scared?”
“The rocket is put together well and I’ll be in radio contact with the ground, so I’m not really worried.”
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you reach orbit?”
“If there’s time, I’d like to just stare at Earth.”
“Is that why you wanted to become an astronaut?”
“Well…”
Director Nasuda looked at Yukari imploringly.
“Yes, that’s the reason,” she said.
“When did you first realize this was what you wanted to do?”
“Elementary school probably.”
“What prompted this realization?”
“Uh…” Yukari hadn’t thought that far ahead. She racked her brain, trying to remember the details of the first Japanese to ride the space shuttle. “I saw an eclipse.”
“That must have been the total eclipse in Okinawa.” This reporter knew his astronomy.
Sweat beaded on Yukari’s forehead. “I’m not sure. I saw it on TV.”
“Ah, of course.” That seemed to satisfy him. “Do you plan to continue pursuing your career as an astronaut?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. I still need to finish high school.”
“What sort of timescale are we talking about?”
“I need to get back before the next semester starts.”
“That can’t be easy, leaving all this.”
“I want as many people as possible to have the chance I have.”
Murmurs of approval rolled through the audience.
Yukari’s first foray into public deception was a success. And she was just getting started.
[ACT 6]
“DON’T EVEN THINK about it,” said Yukari.
Matsuri stopped with her hand on the curtains. “Why?”
“Because they have telephoto lenses pointed at our window, that’s why.”
“Oh, right.”
The journalists swarming across the base were doing anything and everything they could to catch a glimpse of Yukari’s and Matsuri’s personal lives. They were prohibited from entering any of the facilities on the base without authorization, including the barracks, but since the journalists themselves were housed on the base, there was nothing to prevent them lurking just outside.
“I’m sure they’re making reports right now,” said Yukari. “The lights in their room just came on. They must be back from training. To them it’s all freedom of the press. They couldn’t care less about our privacy.”
Matsuri picked up her hairbrush and held it like a microphone. “The people have a right to know.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Who gave them the right?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“Do you have any homework tonight, Matsuri?”
“Nope.”
“What do you say we turn in early?”
“Good idea.”
Yukari and Matsuri changed into their pajamas. As they were about to go to bed, their door flew open with a bang and a female reporter with a brilliant halogen halo sprang into the room. A cameraman and lightning technician stood behind her.
“Fujimi Television’s guerrilla reporter Keiko Momoi, here. You weren’t already asleep, were you? No, of course you weren’t.” Keiko Momoi’s voice dripped with condescension.
“Who said you could be in here?” demanded Yukari.
“Oh, you know.”
“Enlighten me.”
“We’re not here to talk about me. Your public wants to know about you.”
The guerrilla interview had begun.
Yukari appealed to the cameraman. “You wouldn’t film us like this, would you?”
Momoi answered before the cameraman had a chance. “I think those pajamas are darling. Did you pick them out yourself?”
Yukari felt drained. The media was only interested in fluff, trivia. Did they really expect her to take these interviews seriously?
On the other hand, if she snapped at her interviewers, she would be playing into their hands, and on camera no less. They could twist Yukari’s words to fit whatever portrait of her they wanted to present to the entire world. However vapid this reporter seemed, she was a professional who no doubt had an arsenal of tricks up her sleeve to fool Yukari into saying what she wanted to hear.
Resigning herself to the situation, Yukari decided to answer each question as briefly as possible. “The supply department provided them.”
“Oh, you poor thing. They don’t even let you pick your own pajamas? You astronauts are on a shorter leash than I thought.”
“If you think so.”
“You know, there’s a rumor going around the base that the capsule can only carry a petite passenger like yourself. Any truth to that?”
“I haven’t heard any rumors.”
“The rumor isn’t what’s important. Surely the astronaut piloting the rocket must know the truth behind the rumor.”
“The rocket’s specifications haven’t been made public yet, so I can’t make any comment.”
“We’ve also heard that because the capsule can only carry the weight of a young girl, you were essentially impressed into service. Can you comment on that?”
“Actually…” Yukari bit her lip. Time for another lie. “Actually, I’m here by choice.”
“Then it’s just coincidence that Matsuri happens to have the same build as you?”
“Matsuri wants to be here too. Isn’t that right, Matsuri?”
“Sure is.” Matsuri didn’t miss a beat.
“And the stories we’ve heard about a male astronaut who quit the program?”
How much did they know?
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Yukari.
“It’s been suggested that he ran away because the rocket was too dangerous.”
“I really don’t know.”
“I’ve reviewed the launch records—it’s been one failure after another lately. Aren’t you worried?”
“The failures were with a different type of rocket.”
“And why do you suppose they changed to a smaller, older model at the last minute?”
“I don’t know!” bellowed Yukari.
“There’s no reason to get upset, dear.”
“We’re trying to get some sleep, and you come barging into our room trying to dig up dirt and you don’t think there’s any reason to be upset? Get out, all of you! Now!”
[ACT 7]
THE CALL FROM Yukari’s mother came while she was in the multi-axis trainer. Satsuki stopped the machine and waived Yukari over. Yukari took the call at one of the phones on the control panel.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s my little teen idol doing?”
One sentence and her mother had already set Yukari off. “What do you mean, ‘teen idol’?”
“You’re a hero back here. The brave teenager who’s going to face the rigors of space alone. There’s a news van outside the house right now. I’m going to be on Good Afternoon, Japan.”
“Don’t let them talk you into saying anything you shouldn’t.”
“Director Nasuda briefed me on everything that’s out-of-bounds. Our stories should match up just fine.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want to turn on the TV and hear you talking about how I wet my bed when I was five.”
“When have I ever said anything that would embarrass you? I’ll just be talking about how you’re an excellent student who was accepted to a good high school, that you were runner-up at the Shinagawa Track Meet—things like that.”
“No! That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t see what harm it could do. I’m proud of you.”
“Just promise me you won’t say anything, okay?”
“Well, I’ve already been on a number of programs—”
“Then don’t say anything starting today!”
“Don’t be so Japanese, Yukari. Show a little pride in your accomplishments. You’re an astronaut now—you have to think globally.”
“What do I have to be proud of?”
“As stubborn as ever. Fine. That’s not why I called. The producer of the show I’m about to be on wants some footage of us talking on the phone. They’re ready to record right now.”
“Absolutely not!”
“It’ll only take a minute. I play the worried mother, you just have to follow my lead.”
Bang!
Yukari slammed the phone into its cradle. Seeing that the phone was still in one piece, she picked up a folding chair and brought it down on top of the phone. The base of the phone flipped over, and the cord snapped, sending the receiver skittering to the far side of the room.
Satsuki stood up. “It’s okay, Yukari.”
“I’m gonna smash this phone to bits.”
“Just calm down.”
“I hate it.”
“I said calm down!”
“I! Hate! This! Phone!”
Yukari bashed the phone with the chair again and again.
Satsuki grabbed Yukari from behind and locked her in a half nelson. She reached into her lab coat, pulled out a case containing a syringe, and jabbed Yukari in the right arm in the blink of an eye.
The ketamine went to work at once, and Yukari grew quiet. Satsuki laid her down on a couch and wiped the sweat from her brow.
“You’re only human,” said Satsuki. She returned her syringe to its case. “Better keep this handy until the launch.”
Five more days—and it wasn’t just the astronauts who were feeling the pressure. The entire base was stressed to the breaking point.
[ACT 8]
IT WAS TWO o’clock in the morning. The upper bunk shook, and Matsuri’s head peered down over the edge, upside down. Her long hair streamed beneath her.
“Hoi. Yukari. Trouble sleeping?”
“How could you tell?”
“How could I not tell. You’re even keeping me awake.”
“Sorry.”
The nap earlier in the day had thrown off Yukari’s schedule. Her body was exhausted, but her mind remained clear and alert.
“Something on your mind?” Matsuri asked.
“Nothing in particular.” Yukari sighed.
“You people from the modern world worry too much.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You and me eat together, sleep together, train together—but you’re the only one who ever worries.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe a little magic will help.”
“I’ve had enough magic.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s real easy, and it will work, you’ll see.”
“If there’s gonna be a whole lot of singing, dancing, and that sort of thing, forget it.”
“Don’t worry, it’s real simple. And you don’t even have to pay me for it.”
“I hope not.”
“Okay, come on. Get up,” said Matsuri, excited.
Figuring she didn’t have anything to lose, Yukari played along. Matsuri opened the window just a crack. “We need a way for the spirits to get inside.” She changed out of her pajamas and into her grass skirt as moonlight spilled into the room. “Kneel down over here, Yukari.”
Yukari complied without a word. Matsuri stood in front of her, her right hand holding her spear and her left resting on Yukari’s head.
Matsuri began to chant in the same singsong melody Yukari had heard that night on the shore. Matsuri gently waved her spear as she sang. The seashell bracelets she wore on her arms rustled softly with the motion.
“Relax,” said Matsuri. “It’s okay to fall asleep if you get tired.”
Yukari closed her eyes. The song seemed to resonate within her. Maybe there was something to this magic after all.
“I’m getting sleepy,” said Yukari.
“Then sleep. Good night, Yukari.”
“Good night.”
As Yukari drifted off to sleep, a reporter burst into the room.
“Asleep! Already? Come on, wake up, Yukari.”
“Huh? You again?”
Yukari had left strict instructions with security telling them to keep the media out of the barracks.
This time the reporter had come alone. She was a small woman with short hair, and her skin had been bronzed by long hours in the sun. Yukari thought she looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember which station she was with.
To Yukari’s surprise, the reporter had neither camera nor recording equipment. The only thing in her hands was a microphone, and even that was nothing more than a prop. Yukari was beyond asking why.
“What made you want to become an astronaut, Yukari?”
Here we go again.
“I came here looking for my dad, and they asked me if I wanted to be an astronaut—they said I was just the right size. So in exchange for taking on an easy part-time job, they promised to help me look for my dad.”
“I see. But you’ve found your father now, yes?”
“Uh-huh. But that good-for-nothing deadbeat said I had to finish the job I started.”
“You mean you’re not here by choice?”
“Not really.”
“Then you don’t enjoy being an astronaut?”
Yukari shook her head. “The training’s a killer, and I don’t trust that rocket. It’s barely got enough lift to get off the ground. That’s why they had to go adding boosters and stuff.”
“Why not have someone else go in your place?”
“I thought about that for a while.”
“But not anymore?”
“I figure I’ve come this far and I might as well go into space at least once. And they have gone out of their way to make changes for me. Who knows—maybe I’ve caught island fever too.”
“That’s great.”
“No, it’s not. Everybody here is crazy. They never think about how the things they do will affect other people. Not that it’s all bad.”
“So that part’s true—you do want to go to space.”
“Yeah, I guess…”
“But?”
“But I wish I could say it in my own words. Right now it feels like I’m always trying to sell something. And the lying…It’s hard to sound passionate about something that isn’t true.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t have to lie to me tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Have a good night’s rest, Yukari.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
“Good night.”
The reporter left, and Yukari crawled back into bed. Soon she was sound asleep.
The next morning, Yukari awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time.
“I slept like a log,” said Yukari with a yawn.
“Hoi. Good morning.” Matsuri was already up and dressed.
As Yukari rubbed the sleep from her eyes, memories of the previous night’s interview came bubbling to the surface.
“Do you remember that interview from last night?” asked Yukari.
“Nope. I must’ve fallen asleep. How’d it go?”
“Hmm.” Yukari inclined her head. “I don’t really remember. Probably the same as all the rest.”
Matsuri walked over to Yukari’s bed. “You’ve done so many interviews you can do them in your sleep.” She smiled.
“Hooray for me.” Yukari sprang out of bed and ran to the mirror in the bathroom. “T-minus four days!” she shouted, pumping her fist in the air.