I mean

I feel bad for her.

A soft, slightly nervous smile begun on her lips. "Ah, how are you, Sohma-San?"

"Well." I merely watched her as she bowed before me. Behind her, my cousin looked to me. I nodded in his direction before stepping aside, allowing them into our home.

"Is Honda-San home, actually?" I cringed at the way he said her name – it wasn't legally her name, after all. She was my wife now, and had been for the last few years.

"She's upstairs getting ready, so-"

"Yuki-kun!" Suddenly, we all turned in the direction of the voice – Tohru stood over the railing at the top of the steps, her hair dripping wet. "And Kuragi-San! What a wonderful surprise," it was lucky she didn't fall down the steps for how fast she flew, slamming hard into my cousin. He wrapped his arms around her in return.

Time froze as I looked at Machi.

She's pathetic, honestly.

The way she moved backward, allowing her fiancé more room to embrace another woman. Her face wore no emotion, but her eyes were filled with sorrow. Once again, she was the odd one out. Once again, she was made to feel uncomfortable and as if she were taking up too much space with only her presence. Once again, looking so painfully stupid.

Suddenly, we shared a moment as she gazed over at me. Her eyes locked into mine and I could feel what she felt in that instant.

Hurt.

She kind of looked like my Tohru, only not as stunning. She was boring-looking, boring-acting, and much less warm. 'Cold' would describe her well, in fact. I'm sure she knew that she looked like Tohru – the similarities are undeniable and its moments like these that really bring to life all our deepest doubts and fears, right? For her, at least.

…that she's a replacement.

Machi and I would have been much more alike if it wasn't for the loads of denial. This was . . .what? The third time in my life she had spoken to me? She's always been painfully shy around me.

It's pitiful. Just open your eyes.

And I am not your enemy, stranger.

Even though she was clearly afraid to speak with me. . . I could see it in her eyes.

Desperation, clear as day. If you came to me with your problems – I mean – lord knows we have a few in common.

She needed me to do it first. "How is Tokyo, Kuragi-San?" She nodded in place of words she could not say, shielding her eyes from me.

"Kuragi-san, you look so beautiful!" Tohru chimed, giving her a big happy hug. Machi giggled nervously, shifting her eyes back up to me as Tohru hugged her. Her eyes were unsettled, seeming to search me for security.

This is where Machi and I differed – I was already aware.

As usual, Tohru drug Yuki into the kitchen babbling, all the while, leaving Machi and I in the front room. They were off to make tea as Machi and I would normally sit in silence. To be honest, I never really expected her to speak.

"I, um . . ." She stared down at her feet, yet I could see the redness of her face still. Her initiative surprised me.

I had to say it, didn't I?

"You and Tohru look alike almost. Strange."

You deserve to know though. You, who has suffered more than anyone in this awful situation

You, who are like me, having won the battle but lost the war.

"Yes, I-I mean . . . our hair color I guess."

"Yeah.

Surely not alike in the warmth of your eyes or the way your hair sways in the wind. Not alike to Tohru; in carrying joy with you in the light of your heart, and your smile which is so bright the heavens are blinded. No, you are not alike in those ways.

But yes, you do share the same hair color. Though your eyes are a similar in color also, yours are slightly more dead and dull.

"Never noticed really until now," I continued, casually. I had clearly made her uncomfortable at this point. It started growing on me, wanting to make her as uncomfortable as possible.

"It's funny, when I see the two of you together, it's almost like it's planned – like you meant to look like her," I chuckled, keeping my tone light. "Even the same outfit almost," I motioned to her pink sweater similar in style to Tohru's, "You must have called beforehand and planned this, the two of you."

My jokes were clearly unamusing as she forced a laugh. I gazed at her sympathetically.

I want to crack her.

If she cries, I'll know I've done it right. If she cries . . .

"It wasn't . . . planned. I didn't mean to wear something like Tohru-san." She declared softly.

"Could've fooled me – let's hope Yuki doesn't steal Tohru on accident on the way home tonight." She stiffened at my cold words, disguised in humor.

The moment of truth.

"I bet he'd . . . be h-happier." She tried to pull it off as a self-deprecating joke, yet she nearly choked on her words.

There it is.

"Let him." I replied sternly. Her head snapped up and her eyes were wild in shock.

"I'm sorry, I-I said too much . . . I-"

"Nah. You're right. He would be happier." The tears welled up in her eyes as I spoke. "We are losers, and they deserved better. We . . ."

"What the h-hell? Are you trying to talk me out of my engagement or –" As she blocked her tear stained face with her hands, the sounds of laughter from the kitchen filled our ears and stabbed at our hearts. I looked down at her.

I feel bad for her.

I took a step toward her, grabbing hold of her cheeks with the palms of my hands, upturning her face toward me in a lecturing manner, "We may be unimportant in the larger picture; just obstacles that appeared in the way of their love story; we are strangers, yet . . . we are so close in some way. Somehow, I know you."

I know you from everytime I've watched you. So shy and soft, yet also cold and hard like ice and water. Cold, but you light up – somewhere, I wish to find it.

I want to find the light in you, but I probably never will.

"I feel like I know you . . . too." She mumbled, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Stay strong." I whispered, smiling down at her sadly.

Yes you,

Who has also won the battle but lost the war.

"Kyo! Love, I made you some tea. For you too, Kuragi-san!" Tohru called, signifying her and Yuki's return.

As the two of us heard footsteps toward the front room where we stood, trailing laughter following behind . . .

But in this moment . . .

Maybe we were winners after all.

I wiped away her tears.