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Aira already had a gym membership, of course. It was the done thing among certain girls at school, to go on the treadmill and examine calories and so forth, so Aira had been going there diligently since she was 13. A necessary, if monotonous, stepping stone toward popularity.
And yet, today she was in an area of the gym she’d somehow never stepped foot in during those three years.
Aira stared at the barbells. She’d seen people lift them in magazines, but that’d mostly been men. Was it different for women? Was it weird for her to want this, as a woman? It was usually men on this side of the gym…
One man walked up to where she was standing and gave a smile that Aira didn’t entirely enjoy.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
“Nope!” Aira said, smiling brightly and marching back to the treadmills.
Ugh. Her, Aira Shiratori, cowed by a random man at the gym. Pathetic! Unbecoming of a leader. And humiliating enough that Aira wanted to leave right now and switch gyms, even though none of her classmates had seen what just happened.
But…Aira was the leader. Even though everyone else on the team was already so strong…
Momo crashing through another dimension to save them all during the Kur invasion, without any regard for her own safety. Takakura half-dead on that pallet. And Vamola…
Images of Vamola running through a forest, carefully cleaning a gun, sorting through rations—they flooded Aira’s mind nearly as quickly as they had during the invasion. Fast enough to make her stumble on the treadmill and pull the emergency stop while she gasped for breath.
She had to become stronger. Fuck any random men at the gym, she would conquer the weightlifting area just like she conquered the 1-D classroom! Just like they’d beaten those fucking Kur.
She just…needed a little help to get there.
///
Aira cycled through almost all of her gym guest passes trying to find the perfect spotter. It turned out that her friends were mostly worthless.
Her usual friends were out of the question, of course. It would have been too complicated to explain to them why she was doing this, and Aira honestly had no answer for if they asked her if she was afraid of bulking up.
The next try was Takakura. It seemed like a natural fit—she could get strong, and spend time with her crush. It was genius!
“I’ve done some reading,” Takakura said as they approached the bench. “Should we start with hypertrophy training or keep it basic with strength training?”
He was just trying to be helpful, but Aira immediately felt annoyed—and worse, stupid. She didn’t know what hypertrophy meant. Of course, asking would be the perfect opportunity to get closer to Takakura, but for some reason, Aira wasn’t in the mood. Instead of informing her lifts, the textbook definitions and blog posts that Takakura recited itched at her mind, making her feel small and weak as she struggled to lift just the basic bar.
“Leave,” she finally snapped, as Takakura helped her out of an embarrassingly shaky squat. Her back hurt, probably from shitty form, but any pointers Takakura had given her were long since lost to the weird static in her mind that built the longer they did this charade.
“Um…okay?” Takakura said. “But I haven’t lifted yet…”
Aira yanked the guest pass out of his hand to tell him what she thought about that. As if this was about him!
Okay, so maybe Takakura wasn’t the best option. But that was fine. Ideally, Aira would be coming to Takakura after she got her results anyway, to show off for him. That was a better plan. She would try Jiji next; he seemed like the sort to know his way around a gym without being a know-it-all about it.
Unfortunately, Jiji was about just as loud as Takakura. And worse, he was friendlier. It wasn’t long before Jiji had befriended half the gym bros that Aira had been trying to avoid.
And the less said about Momo Ayase’s attempt at being her spotter, the better. Like Aira needed a lazy, self-satisfied demon for a spotter anyway. Momo apparently hated exercise and didn’t even care about helping Aira keep track of her reps, too distracted by the TVs in the gym.
So Aira was down to her last guest pass for the month, as well as her last candidate.
“Vamola,” she said, catching the other girl after school, “be my spotter.”
“Okay,” Vamola said, giving a thumbs up and a bright smile.
“…You don’t know what that is, do you?” Aira sighed.
“Nope.”
Aira sighed again. Maybe this was why she’d left Vamola as her last option. There’d been some aversion in her gut to asking the alien for help—perhaps Aira had just been dreading trying to explain the situation to her. After all, she could barely explain to herself why she was going through all this effort.
But apparently, Vamola didn’t even need an explanation. When they first arrived at the gym, she just took a quick glance around and then nodded confidently.
“What, you don’t have any questions? Did they already have gyms on your planet or something?” Aira said, feeling a bit put out for some reason. Sure, she hadn’t been looking forward to being Vamola’s guide to the gym when she hardly knew it herself, but—
But Aira didn’t normally get to be the expert in the room. Not with her ditzy popularity act. Maybe, along with the creeping dread in her stomach at trying to explain herself, there’d been something else there too—a hint of woozy, bright excitement.
But Vamola only shook her head. “No gyms! But…it’s simple, right? They’re all training and getting strong. So they can find a husband!”
Aira choked. A husband? She remembered Vamola’s short-lived obsession over Takakura. God, Vamola had looked ridiculous, especially because Takakura hadn’t been remotely interested—
Aira’s face burned and suddenly she wanted to storm out of the gym. Oh god. Is that what she’d looked like when she’d tried to flirt with Takakura?
“That’s…that’s not why they’re here!” Aira snapped.
Vamola tilted her head and smiled. “Okay,” she said, all easy acceptance. “Why?”
“Because…” Aira sighed. “I mean, maybe some of them are here for that. Or because they feel like they’re supposed to. Or they just like it, I guess. But Takakura is the only person I know who actually likes this stuff.”
“Not you?”
“It’s just…it’s important for being popular,” Aira tried to explain, but the unshakable twinkle in Vamola’s eyes indicated that the explanation meant nothing to her.
Besides, it wasn’t true anymore, was it? None of Aira’s friends or classmates were here to see her. It was just her. Her and Vamola…
Aira’s cheeks felt hot and her palms sweaty, even though they hadn’t even started working out yet. Don’t they have the AC on in this gym? Aira should make a complaint later.
Maybe when Vamola left. It felt hard to be too put out with Vamola smiling at her like that.
///
Vamola was a surprisingly good spotter. She took the responsibility more seriously than Momo Ayase—not that that was hard to do—but she didn’t take up as much space as Takakura and Jiji had. She smiled and cheered Aira on, being encouraging but not overbearing.
And yet. Aira still wasn’t sure that this was a good fit. She kept getting…
Not flustered. She had no reason to be flustered around Vamola. But the heat in her cheeks, the sweat on her palms—those things didn’t go away as Vamola integrated herself into Aira’s routine. If anything, they got worse.
“Careful!” Vamola said, putting her hands on the barbell when it threatened to slip out of Aira’s grip during a bench press.
“Ugh, this is so embarrassing!” Aira moaned, furiously wiping her hands on her shorts while Vamola lifted the barbell back into place.
“Embarrassing!” Vamola echoed.
“You’re not supposed to agree, you know,” Aira huffed. “I’ll have you know that I-“
Aira choked on her words as Vamola got down to one knee and took Aira’s hands. Her gross, sweaty hands. Aira would have died of shame if anyone else put her in this position.
But Vamola seemed to find human sweat interesting if anything. Maybe her species didn’t sweat as much. That would explain how she seemed so unruffled and pretty all the time. Aira would feel jealous if her heart weren’t pounding in her chest.
Vamola studied Aira’s hands, then grabbed a paper towel from one of the dispensers and diligently began wiping them dry.
“There,” Vamola said, tracing the towel over the curves of Aira’s hands, carefully wiping them free of sweat. Vamola’s hands had held weapons and equipment of war—but against Aira’s, they felt as gentle as anything. And Vamola was beaming as if nothing could please her more.
Aira had the sudden image in her head of herself in knightly armor, Vamola a princess kneeling before her wearing a flowing gown, pressing a silk handkerchief to Aira’s hands.
Aira shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat again, and she was pretty sure she couldn’t blame it on the gym’s AC this time.
///
With Vamola by her side—and an impromptu lecture about protein from Seiko—Aira started to notice results. Small results, but results nonetheless. After a few weeks at the gym, Aira didn’t wheeze through every heavy lift, finding the rhythm to breathe through it instead. She could add another set of small plates onto the barbell. And perhaps it was just her imagination, but her jacket seemed ever so slightly more snug on her shoulders than before. Not enough to size up, but enough to make Aira feel—something. Prideful, luxurious warmth in her chest. Rushing, flooding joy as she looked at the mirror, flexing in front of it and grinning when she could see the slightest definition in her arms.
Progress came maddeningly slow. But while Aira would normally feel impatient about it, with Vamola by her side, it felt easier to take things in stride.
Vamola was just so unbothered. She didn’t seem to mind when men came up to her in the gym, only cheerfully telling them that she was busy spotting for Aira-chan. She didn’t mind when Aira’s workouts ran late, only mentioning it when it would make them late for dinner. Instead, she lit up with delight as Aira struggled toward a PR, mulled over Aira’s workout plan with an intensity that surprised Aira, cheered in delight when Aira bought them smoothies from the gym’s shop.
Vamola tried every smoothie on the menu over the course of the month, but her favorite was the pineapple and mango smoothie. She seemed to have a taste for the acidity of the pineapple—though she described the flavor as zing! and Aira made the translation from there. Aira catalogued it, as Aira catalogued details about a lot of people—it was important to know the little details when you’re popular—but it didn’t feel automatic when she did so with Vamola. Somehow, Vamola’s favorite smoothie just felt like an important detail to know.
“You’re always having so much fun,” Aira sighed, as she set the smoothie down and approached the squat rack. “I wish I was like that.”
Vamola tilted her head, but positioned herself behind Aira in her spotting position. “But Aira has fun?”
Aira put the bar on her shoulders and lifted it from the rack. “Not…” Not without also worrying about how other people are looking at me. Not without triangulating every man’s stare in the room and whether it’s directed toward me. Not without thinking about what my mom would want.
But…Aira hadn’t been thinking about any of that since they’d arrived at the gym, had she? There was only the weight of the barbell on her back, the strain of her thigh muscles, Vamola’s warm body behind her.
As Aira began her squat, she felt a gentle hand on her back, enough to make her gasp and pause. Vamola pressed down, ever so slightly, enough for Aira to correct the slight hunch that’d been forming. Helping her form a straight back, a safe squatting posture. Spotting her better than Aira had even asked.
“There,” Vamola said.
Aira exhaled again, straightened her shoulders, tightened her core, and sat into the lowest part of the squat. When she stood back up, her legs moved smoothly, as if not even needing her input.
Vamola’s hand was still on Aira’s back. She could surely feel the sweat stuck to Aira’s back, maybe even feel the zits that have been breaking out there as Aira’s body got used to sweating this much. Ugly, so fucking ugly.
But it was so hard to care, when Aira had just finished the best squat of her life, and Vamola’s hand was so firm and warm against her body, and when Vamola beamed like Aira had just done something amazing.
“I am having fun,” Aira blurted out, and Vamola smiled even wider.
“Me too!” she said, slurping the rest of her smoothie with a satisfied smile, and Aira’s heart sang in her chest at having put it there.
///
As good of a spotter as Vamola was though, and as much fun as they were having, one tiny detail nagged at Aira.
It wasn’t apparent if you weren’t looking for it, but Aira felt she’d become an expert in Vamola now, and she wouldn’t be fooled any longer.
Vamola was strong. Even when Aira would go red in the face and panting with effort, when her arms would tremble and hands would slip with sweat—god, she would die if anyone from school saw her like this—Vamola would easily take the barbell from her and set it aside, always smiling that easy smile, never seeming perturbed by the weight.
Aira should feel jealous. Instead, every casual display of strength from Vamola made Aira’s mouth go dry, made her hands clammy enough for Vamola to notice and dry them off with gentle strokes of a paper towel again.
Aira was the leader of the group. She was a hero, one of God’s greatest warriors. But even she could only take so much.
“You’re stronger than me, aren’t you?” Aira accused, pointing a finger at Vamola.
“No,” Vamola said brightly. Whether she was lying or just clueless was beyond Aira, but it made her want to double down either way.
“Flex for me,” Aira demanded.
Vamola happily did so. It had become a new favorite movement of hers, ever since she’d noticed some of the men in the gym posing in the mirrors on the wall. Aira theorized that she found it funny—Vamola seemed to find most extraneous movements silly and copied those the most often.
She never seemed to copy Aira’s movements, and Aira tried to take that as a compliment. It didn’t usually work though.
Aira placed a hand on Vamola’s arm, not shocked when she touched, hard, wiry muscle. Vamola shifted slightly and Aira’s mouth went dry as the grainy muscle shifted under her hand, warm underneath the skin. Was Vamola’s species warmer than human? Or was it just a bit hot in the gym?
Surprisingly, though, Aira noticed something else other than just the muscle she’d expected. There was more fat there than when Vamola had landed on Earth. It cushioned and reinforced the tense muscle there, giving slightly beneath Aira’s touch. Most girls in Aira’s class would have been embarrassed, but if anything, Vamola’s smile only brightened. And why wouldn’t she? Fat didn’t signify the same thing that it did to Aira’s peers—all of Vamola’s aunties had been bulky, after all. Vamola was just finally able to follow in their footsteps now that she could eat Seiko’s cooking instead of rations, now that she could run in PE class instead of across a battlefield.
Aira squeezed Vamola’s arm. It was more muscular than hers and fatter than hers, though not by much. The degrees of difference didn’t make Aira jealous either, like it might have if it were Momo. It was simply something beautiful, proof that Aira’s goal was not an impossible one.
“Flex!” Vamola demanded, and Aira shook her head, startled to find that she’d been gazing at Vamola’s arm and blushing. Oh god, how embarrassing.
Aira quickly flexed her arm, hoping that the movement would distract Vamola from that moment of…whatever that was.
Vamola placed a hand around Aira’s bicep, squeezing and nodding her head in approval. “Strong.”
“But not as strong as you,” Aira breathed, her gaze trapped again, this time by the indents that Vamola’s fingers made against her skin.
Vamola shrugged, as if the distinction didn’t matter much. “Strong…is not very fun,” she admitted. “Other stuff is better.”
“Like what?” Aira asked. She realized now how close Vamola’s face was to her own. She could see the twinkling stars in Vamola’s eyes—but could also see how her bright smile disrupted the thin frown lines peppered on her face.
Vamola shrugged, the language barrier finally getting in the way, but as she drew her warm hand away from Aira’s skin, Aira had a feeling she knew what the answer was.
///
Liking girls didn’t feel as revelatory as it should have for Aira. Sure, it was a bit shocking to learn she wasn’t as heterosexual as she’d first believed. But, then again, when she thought about her sterile crush on Takakura, the way Momo Ayase lit her brain on fire…it also didn’t feel completely outlandish.
No, instead it felt like a puzzle piece slotting into place with a heavy and satisfying ka-thunk. Like when she’d first learned that ghosts were real—and that the aura of a ghost lived inside of her—and her powers awoke with the ease of opening a lock with a key. On its face the situation was unusual, but her body and mind accepted it as natural. That was how it felt to have a crush on Vamola.
Now, what to do with the crush—that was a different story. Aira knew what the rules were when you had a crush on a boy. You chase him and let him kiss you and then…the rest.
But what were you supposed to do when the script changed and it was a girl? Aira still didn’t even know the proper social cues for the weightlifting side of the gym! She couldn’t also figure out how to have a lesbian crush at the same time! Aira was damn good, but even she wasn’t that good.
In fact, she just might be the worst, because she took out her confusion on the one person who deserved so much better than that.
“Nice! A PR! Nice, bro!” Vamola said, even though it wasn’t a new record at all. Aira had, infuriatingly, barely progressed her bench press since she’d gotten wound up in this ridiculous crush, too distracted by the spiraling possibilities in her mind to focus on the lifts.
“Stop listening to those gym bros. And don’t call me bro!” Aira snipped, setting the bar down with Vamola’s help. She pouted, feeling quite put out that the men in the gym somehow managed to influence Vamola. That they could somehow encroach on the warm little space that she and Vamola formed in the gym, even from afar.
But Vamola didn’t even take her pettiness seriously. She just gave a thumbs up and nodded seriously. “Aira-chan is not bro.”
Aira sighed. If she was looking for a fight, she wasn’t going to find one here. Besides, who wanted to fight Vamola?
“Exactly,” she said instead.
“More?” Vamola said brightly, as if they hadn’t been there for an hour already. As if she had nothing better to do than to help Aira. Than to easily spot the same weight Aira had been struggling with, but still have the gall to praise her and say things like, “So strong!”
Aira shook her head. She felt off-kilter, without an outlet for her own impotence, instead being the subject of such overt generosity. She was used to being showered with praise, of course, but it’d always been hard-won from her efforts of popularity. It’d been won with scraps and schemes. People usually didn’t just…give it to her.
“Do you want a turn?” Aira asked, wondering if it would help even the playing field. Maybe if this was more of a straightforward exchange, her feelings about Vamola would stop being so confusing.
Except Vamola just shook her head, still smiling.
And maybe that was the real reason Aira hadn’t made much progress on her bench press. For other movements, like squats, Aira could pretty much ignore her spotter, especially if they avoided the mirrors in the gym. Out of sight, out of mind. But here, lying down on the bench, there was nowhere to look but up: up into Vamola’s eyes, that twinkling smile.
It was…distracting.
“A-are you sure?” Aira asked, clearing her throat. “You’re making me seem selfish, you know, not letting me return the favor.”
“Aira’s not selfish!” Vamola cried, even though there were plenty of people who’d say the exact opposite. Then her smile mellowed into something a bit more contemplative, a bit sweeter and sadder. “I spent a lot of time lifting heavy things. On Earth…less important. I like that.”
Vamola carting her injured mother over her shoulder as they escaped an air raid. Vamola hoisting a supply pack over her shoulder because otherwise it would go to one of the aunties, and they didn’t deserve to carry her burden more than they already did. Vamola lifting pieces of scrap metal with ease to search for supplies underneath.
Aira cleared her throat again, this time of something like tears. Of course. Vamola had had a lifetime of strength already—and that’s why Aira was doing this, right? To be strong for her.
Even if Aira knew that wasn’t 100% true anymore. Sure, it was part of it, but an increasingly larger part was because Aira liked having an excuse to be Vamola. And she liked Vamola too. Liked her too much, except that it didn’t feel like too much if it was for someone as kind and lovely as Vamola.
All the more reason to get strong for her.
“Let’s get that PR then,” Aira said, squaring her shoulders and gripping the bar with renewed resolve.
///
It took a few more weeks, but with Vamola’s steadfast cheer at her side and with trembling arms, Aira finally managed to lift that fucking barbell and get that damned chest press PR.
“Yes!” she hissed, grinning fiercely at the barbell as if it could sense her scorn. Take that.
Vamola’s reaction, however, was on another level. She whooped and cheered loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to glance over at them. Normally, Aira would be abashed at such an unengineered display, but now it only made her grin widen.
Until Aira’s arms began to tremble again and she remembered that she was still holding the barbell.
“Vamola!” Aira yelped, and Vamola quickly took the bar from her hands and placed it back onto the rack.
“Sorry!” Vamola said, waving hovering hands over Aira.
“It’s fine,” Aira panted, sitting up. She chuckled. “Honestly, even if you had let it drop, you’d probably still be a better spotter than Momo Ayase. And definitely better than Takakura and Enjoji.”
“Really?” Vamola asked, her eyes widening.
Aira raised an eyebrow. Wasn’t it obvious? “Of course. Those clowns are totally useless compared to you.”
“Thank you, Aira…” Vamola murmured.
The other girl sat on the bench next to her, and Aira nudged her shoulders together.
“You’re not really surprised, are you?” Aira asked. “You’re great at this. Better than me, even. And I don’t say that lightly.”
“Aira-chan is honest,” Vamola agreed. She smiled and pressed their shoulders together. “The others…They don’t want me to be in danger. I’m grateful. But to keep me safe, they leave me out. Don’t bring me to battles or conflict. Or the gym.” Her eyes were wide as she gazed at Aira, the twinkle in them bright. “But Aira lets me be useful.”
It’d never occurred to Aira that someone could not feel useful. There was never a moment in her life that she underestimated the utility and value she brought.
But Vamola…she’d come to earth to escape conflict and to marry someone strong, and had achieved neither of these tasks. Aira supposed that could be enough to eat away at someone even as cheerful as Vamola.
“Of course you’re useful!” Aira said. “Even if you weren’t helping me with all this stuff, you still make me feel happy. And…” She tried to think of a word to encapsulate the ease she’d felt during the gym over these past few weeks, that didn’t also reveal the depths of her feelings. How it’d felt not to worry about popularity or any of it while she was with Vamola. “And normal,” she finally decided, even though it wasn’t completely right. “I can be myself around you.”
“Me too!”
“But you’re always yourself, Vamola,” Aira said. “You talk about being jealous of being useful—I’m jealous that you don’t care about how other people see you. You don’t even think about it. It’s what makes you so cool.”
“Aira is cool. And…” Vamola reached out a hand to hold Aira’s. “Makes me feel happy too. Happy and normal.”
Happy and normal. Things Aira had always assumed she was. Then they’d been taken away, by her mother dying, by her own death. And now, here they were again with Vamola.
And they’d already said that much aloud. So what was the harm in saying just a bit more?
“I guess you weren’t completely wrong about the gym,” Aira admitted, feeling her face heat already.
“Hmm?” Vamola said, tilting her head.
“I really didn’t come to the gym to be strong so I could find a husband—er, find someone I liked.” Aira forced herself to look Vamola in the eye, to stare down the beautiful stars inside them. “But I think um…I did anyway.”
Was that too subtle? Vamola wasn’t amazing at subtle.
But she beamed all the same, and maybe that was enough.
“Flex?” Vamola asked, pointing at Aira’s arm. Aira did so, not the least bit confused, but she trusted Vamola. Knew that she was perhaps even incapable of doling out the kind of humiliation or rejection that Aira feared most.
Vamola kneeled down—like a princess again, Aira thought wildly—and wrapped a steadying hand against Aira’s bicep before she—
Before she kissed it.
Aira’s mind went staticky and blank, like an electrical charge had completely wiped the data from it. But the resulting static felt warm and lovely, oozing down her nervous system until it lit her up from the inside, bright and shining like one of Vamola’s stars.
“Very strong,” Vamola said, her cheeks pinking, a sudden burst of uncharacteristic shyness coloring her features. “Aira-chan…would make a good husband.”
A good husband. Aira would have gasped, but it tangled in her throat.
“Even to you?” Aira managed. “You’re really strong too, you know. I think a good h-husband for you would have to be just as strong.”
“Aira very strong,” Vamola repeated, rising to sit on the bench with Aira.
Aira had never done this part before. The part where people confess their feelings and kiss. She’d read about it in books, knew the theory. But with Vamola next to her, it was impossible to remember any of that or feel self-conscious about who was watching—she could only lean in to kiss Vamola on the lips.
It was a short kiss, warm and pleasant and tingling against the skin of Aira’s lips. Vamola tasted of mango and pineapple and something else Aira couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Well. She was sure she would figure it out, given more attempts. Which she dearly hoped were in her future. But judging from the way Vamola pressed back against the kiss, she didn’t have to worry about that too much.
Vamola laughed and clutched Aira’s hand tighter. “Very strong,” she said warmly.
“You too,” Aira breathed. She prodded at Vamola’s arm. “Flex?”
Vamola obliged and Aira leaned in to press a kiss to it, wondering at how her lips could feel the rippling muscle beneath that skin. Yes, very strong indeed. Aira had made a perfect choice for a spotter after all.