notes – Intended to be yuri/tabuki-ish but came out as more yuri-centric, also take note that there are spoilers through ep 1 - 22.
the stories we'll sing
When they first meet, Tabuki has his eyes closed.
Momoka leads her out to the field, holding her hand and stringing her along, going on and on about how one of their classmates almost got turned invisible. Yuri doesn't quite follow her (but she follows her anyway).
"He's resting over there, just like I told him to," Momoka explains, pointing to the near distance with her bandaged hand. Yuri chews her lip and wonders if she had to pay a price to prevent him from 'turning invisible'. They wander over to the boy lying on the plush grass, cradled in peaceful sleep. He looks so worn out. Yuri can feel that he's gone through a lot, the memories of her healed wounds aching in sympathy.
"Keiju Tabuki. Tabuki-kun," Momoka introduces him to her with a fond smile. Yuri instinctively holds tighter onto her hand as she looks down at the boy. Her sympathy is substituted with a thin veil of envy she can't help. She's sure that the two of them aren't close – they haven't talked much in class, Momoka hangs out with her every day. For her to get hurt for someone like him –
"We have to get him to a proper place to rest," Momoka interrupts her thoughts with a decisive nod of the head. A gust of wind breezes through the expanse of the field and Momoka looks breathtakingly beautiful in all her compassion. Yuri yields to her because this is the Momoka who reached out to her, the Momoka who can love her and the Momoka she's come to love.
Yuri heaves one of Tabuki's arms over her shoulder and Momoka lifts the other. They raise him onto his feet and out of his sleep. He opens his eyes and blinks blearily at her before turning to Momoka.
"Welcome home, Tabuki-kun!"
They watch birds in the park during sunset.
Yuri gets used to having Tabuki around – if anything, the time spent after-school is more enjoyable now that they have more to do. Tabuki has an interest in birds and he shares his love with them through books borrowed from the library, huge binoculars and index fingers aimed at a bird soaring into the skies. His hands are expressive, almost as if they could do so much more than open and close.
Momoka says that she loves all living things and she doesn't lie – she finds something to love about all the birds they see. She makes it a point to pull Yuri close and explain how each species is beautiful in its own way. Yuri listens and nods.
When they aren't bird-watching, they feed ducks in the pond and the three of them take turns buying bread every other day. Tabuki tears a piece of the loaf and hands it to her with a small smile, and Yuri accepts it hesitantly at first before returning a smile to him. She notices the scars on his hand and thinks, grimly, that they have lots of things in common after all.
Momoka squats in front of them, dangerously near the edge of the pond, reaching out to make sure the tiniest duckling gets a share of bread.
"I think you'll be a beautiful star," Momoka assures her.
They're sitting on a park bench with their ice cream cones: strawberry for her, vanilla for Momoka and chocolate for Tabuki. The summer is sweltering but the three of them still meet in the park like always. Yuri hadn't known she could sing until music class this week. Momoka insists that she should consider pursuing a career in stardom, that she should share her beautiful talent with the world.
"I agree. You're really elegant, Tokikage," the boy sitting on the other side of Momoka says, grinning brightly at her. He flashes her a thumbs-up.
Yuri buries herself into her ice cream and quietly thanks them for the encouragement.
"When you're famous, we'll go watch you, won't we?" Momoka tells her, turning to exchange smiles with Tabuki.
"Alright," Yuri promises them, not minding how the ice cream melts over her fingers. "I'll make sure both of you have front seats."
The funeral is quiet and dark save for the cries of a newborn baby. Yuri arrives later than Tabuki, finding him standing alone under the shadows of the room. She doesn't know who to go to first – too afraid to approach the coffin, too out-of-breath to even attempt to speak to Tabuki.
She wipes her fingers against her red eyes and staggers up to the end of the carpet. When the smell of burning incense and fresh flowers overwhelms her, she can no longer restrain her emotions.
Yuri braces herself against the side of the coffin and cries again, furious and distraught in the way only an abandoned ten-year old can be. There's nothing left here on this plane of existence. The tears streak down her face and she chokes through her sobs, unable to form any words. She is ushered away when the next mourners appear behind her, carrying flowers and sad faces. They all look the same. Yuri drags herself away from the empty coffin and sits herself down next to Tabuki in the dark corner of the room. She buries her face in her arms and refuses to speak to him.
So the two of them go on not-talking until it is time to leave, and then they leave together yet not togetherbecause Momoka is no longer there to fill the space between them. They walk down the street as a pair but still alone, an awkward gap between them. Only at the junction where they part, does Yuri reach out to grab onto the sleeve of her friend's shirt.
She frowns and opens her mouth and wants to put her feelings into spoken words, but these emotions are too big, too intense. "We'll – "
"We won't forgive them. We can't forgive them," Tabuki says for her. His face is sunken and heavy with despair, but there is a glimmer in his eyes she doesn't recognise. Maybe it's a reflection of hers.
"Here you go."
Yuri is surprised to be receiving a gift from Tabuki on the doorstep of her tiny apartment. They haven't been in touch after graduating highschool – exchanged perhaps a conversation email or two – but he's called her out a day after the announcement of her first lead role in an upcoming theatrical production. She's on the fringe of stardom and here he is, reminding her of the past she's constantly haunted by.
Her hands close around the small gift box he holds out to her. Though he gives her a wide smile, Tabuki avoids her eyes, looking immaculate in a suit and a briefcase under his arm. He's going to become a science teacher, if she remembers correctly.
"Ah, thank you," she says, returning his pleasantries with her own. For all the acting courses she's paced herself through, pretending to be lively around Tabuki is somewhat challenging. He buys it though, and she buys his act as well to be polite.
Tabuki looks at her again, this time with a timid smile, as if he's afraid to be happy around her. Yuri doesn't know how to handle him now, hasn't known how to handle him since the incident nine years ago.
"Just – it's something Momoka and I wanted to get you when you became a star," he explains in a controlled voice, tugging at his polka-dot tie, "it was our secret, sorry for not telling you."
If Yuri had been nine years younger, she'd probably be jealous and insulted and unforgiving. Instead, she is nineteen and mature and on the brink of fame and fortune (but still a little bitter inside). "No, don't be. I'll treasure this," she tells him, wondering if she should invite him in for tea.
"I look forward to seeing you perform," Tabuki bows curtly and takes his leave without giving her a chance to interject. She watches his figure shrink down the hallway before closing the door behind her.
The room feels colder all of a sudden.
The present is bound with a pink ribbon and when Yuri lifts the lid, she finds a trio of thick white bangles resting on the velvet.
After her debut, Yuri is swept up in camera flashes and press conferences and guest appearances on all genres of media. She denies no one and seeps in the glow of the spotlight. The shadow the light casts on the stage in always large and looming but Yuri does her best to ignore this. She moves in time with Tsubasa and says her lines with all her heart – Momoka wants her to be a star, and she'll become one, if only to live up to that half of the promise.
She only meets Tabuki by chance in a coffeehouse, or then again, maybe not. She wonders if they're tied by the wheel of fate in the fate line that Momoka has placed them in. If Momoka did, the last thing Yuri wants to do is to go against her judgement.
He recognizes her though she's in a professional wig and large sunglasses, wearing a brand of clothing she doesn't endorse commercially. Did the cup of tea give her away?
"No," Tabuki laughs as he takes the seat opposite her, "the bangles." He points and Yuri slides her shades down just a little to look in him the eyes, impressed and somehow touched, if only briefly.
They catch up and exchange fake but well-meaning smiles, dancing around the topic of Momoka all the while. Yuri wonders if it will be alright to invite him to one of her plays. She fishes around her handbag and finds one spare ticket her manager gave her as bait to hand out to swarming fans.
"Would you like to come and see one of my shows?" she asks, taking out the ticket.
"I – I'd love to!" Tabuki replies almost immediately, expression brightening. "You might not believe me but I've been trying to get my hands on a ticket for a long time," he tells her, embarrassed. "But with the starting salary of an educator, I couldn't afford the current prices for front row seats."
Even if Tabuki is only pretending to be excited for her, Yuri can't help but feel her heart shift for the first time in eleven years. He means what he says, even with all the skeletons hanging in his closet and hers, and she feels strangely heartened by this.
In all the years she's worked with Tsubasa, somewhere along the way Yuri lets her barriers fall and allows Tsubasa in. Not all the way, never all the way – just enough to let her see her bare stomach and the curve of her back, the hollow of her neck and where her legs meet. She hand-waves Tsubasa's touching and holding, sighs at the kisses and the tacky declarations of romance. It's nothing like what Momoka could do, but it's still something and Yuri is twisted enough to settle for that. She doesn't tell her manager, she doesn't tell Tabuki, she doesn't tell this to anyone but herself. Tsubasa thinks this is love but Yuri thinks this is all hate.
When she's tired, Tabuki becomes a convenient excuse and she escapes to him instead. He never declines her intrusion into his house, always welcoming, always with an extra plate ready for dinner. Yuri wonders if there is still someone who will accept her despite all her flaws, and whether she will find it in this small house with plastic birds hanging from the ceiling.
She tells him they should date, and he chuckles, flattered. He doesn't reject her suggestion, and Yuri takes that as a yes. That's that.
In the end, nothing really changes. They continue to eat their meals normally together and converse about the few things they are willing to share with one another.
Maybe the only difference is that Tabuki learns to address her by her first name but Yuri can't bear to call him 'Keiju'. The only one she's ever been on first-name basis with is Momoka, and that makes her sacred and special.
Tabuki watches her and he seems to understand. He lowers his eyelids and sips his coffee, and she dips her chin to examine her reflection in her manicured fingernails.
Sometimes they lose the desire to play house and slip out of their performance. This usually happens on particularly cold nights when Tabuki doesn't greet her with a smile and she can't bear to look him in the eyes. They sit on his sofa with a ducky cushion wedged between them and watch the evening news in silence, drinking wine and immersed in their own ruminations. Yuri glances at him from the corner of her eye and wonders if their trains of thought ever intersect.
At the end of the night, he still offers to hail a cab for her and she obliges. She never stays over because she can't and she thinks that he doesn't want her to anyway.
Ringo Oginome appears at Tabuki's doorstep with a pot of curry in her hands and a determined ideal set on her face. Yuri admires the expression on her youthful face, takes in the likeness of Ringo and her older sister – the same perfect nose and captivating, emotional eyes. The poor highschooler seems alarmed at her presence in Tabuki's house, and Yuri is amused by her constant switch between poorly-concealed vengeance and forced courtesy. She's an interesting girl.
Later on, she and Tabuki enjoy apple curry, and when he remarks that it's different from her usual cooking though still tasty, Yuri nods and lets Ringo get away with it. It might be because of her pretty face and the diary in her bag.
The night she helps Ringo realise her love for Shoma Takakura is also the first night she spends under the same roof as Tabuki. These two are entirely unrelated situations, yet Yuri feels the need to tie them together somehow.
He croaks and spends a portion of the night rampaging around their bedroom, the other half finally falling asleep. She ensures the door is locked, phones the contractor to order a new one to replace the one with a fist-sized hole, and makes herself comfy on the fabulous max couch. Come morning, Tabuki emerges with a throbbing headache and a dry throat. Yuri is there to give him a glass of water.
Yuri ties the sash tightly and covers Ringo with the futon cover, tossing the red rope into a nearby dustbin. She stands back up and frowns slightly, Shoma Takakura's outstretched hand still lying a few centimeters away from the girl. The knight and the princess. Charming. The two of them constantly remind her, however unintentionally, of what it must be to have someone always there for you, someone who will never abandon you.
She hadn't gone through with it. She can't because Momoka won't want that – because Yuri doesn't want it now too. She wants something more than sex, something harder to come by. Momoka is the only one who can give it to her.
Yuri never once feels threatened by Ringo and her unexplained desire for Tabuki. Still, on a rainy afternoon in a café that serves fabulous mont blanc, she stirs the tea in her cup and asks him this: "Do you want to get married?"
"Are you saying Momoka is binding us together?" Tabuki's expression darkens and he stares at the swirls in the curry on his plate. Yuri is used to this though, she knows this side of him exists and that if he is fine with showing it to her, she is fine with it as well. "Impossible," he says with pessimism.
She drops sugar cubes into her tea and waits for them to dissolve.
Tabuki eventually concedes and Yuri thinks that maybe – just maybe, Momoka isn't gone just yet.
They move into a new apartment with high ceilings and grand windows overlooking the glow of Tokyo Tower. Yuri stands beside Tabuki as they step into the apartment together, breathing in the smell of fresh paint and furnish. This is a start – they can try to be a normal married couple here in this new space. They might be inept at first, but they'll get the hang of it soon enough. And then they'll invite their friends over to perform their little show for everyone to believe, like a real family.
That is then and this is now, though. And now, the two of them turn to the nightscape of the city and watch the lights ornamenting the Tower. They do that for a very long time, and still Yuri feels that she could afford to admire the structure for just awhile longer. Tabuki is in unworded agreement. They sit and watch and wait and the night passes over them.
This is their married life.
"Only I can bring Momoka back now," she tells her reflection in the mirror, using a bottle of perfume as a paperweight for the curt note Tabuki has left her.
She chants it again and again, convinced that if she tells herself enough, she will find the ability to do just that. But she doesn't have the other half of the diary, and she doesn't even have Tabuki here with her. Yuri tells herself to go and find Tabuki and bring him back and persuade him to believe in the diary too. They can patch each other up again just like they did when Momoka left them. And –
and what is she thinking? Making him to play charades with her and Momoka's ghost? He's not wrong to call them a fake family, no matter how much it stings, no matter how long she's tried to avoid hearing those words.
She thinks that maybe she can understand why Tabuki did what he did, but it doesn't mean she should agree. She didn't mean for the children to get hurt – didn't really mean it only when it was too late. Despite this, she is unable to stay angry with him .She can only bring herself to forgive him because he is who he is, with his scarred hands and twisted heart.
They've taken their childhood memories and molded them into a reason for fruitless revenge. It's an artificial attempt to make themselves feel marginally better. Yuri knows this now because she is a master of artifice, and Momoka doesn't deserve to be remembered this way.
She pushes her arsenal of cosmetics off the surface of the dresser and rests her head on it. Her hand still hurts from slapping him, reminding her of old scars. The pain is more apparent and intense with no one around to heal it this time. She swallows, imagining both the frustration and regret draining down her throat.
Yuri powders her nose and draws the curtains in the cold apartment with the high ceilings and grand windows.
The knife shrieks at her, glinting under the streetlight that spills in from the open door.
Yuri twists around as Tabuki shouts and for one last moment, she thinks that maybe this is what she deserves.
But then there is a tug at her shoulder and the one behind her shields her from the blow. The assailer stabs Tabuki and when he falls, Yuri falls with him, her arms around him in a desperate attempt to protect him though it is far too late. She sees the splatter of dull red blood on the dirty floor of the abandoned store and she wants to throw up, but the pounding of her heart keeps her curled around him and barely steady.
No – no, no, no, this is not what she deserves. This is not what anyone deserves.
Tabuki speaks in short, labored breaths. She presses herself closer, nevermind the blood on her skirt. He tells her what she's been trying to figure out for so long.
"We just needed someone to tell us we were loved."
The ambulance siren in the distance grows louder, and the words she wants him to hear strain out of her throat. She isn't sure if Tabuki is conscious, but she hopes the words have reached him somehow.
Tabuki's eyes are closed again. Peaceful just like when she first met him. She spends the next couple of days beside him, sifting through the countless things she has to tell him when he wakes up. He will wake up – he has to wake up – because it isn't fair that he should leave before hearing what she has to say about this ordeal; this sixteen-year-long ordeal.
It's funny how she never gets what she really wants, that life has to be unfair at the most severe moments, that fate should be so cruel to her. Yuri runs her gaze over Tabuki lying adrift in bed, his hands open and limp. She leans down and presses her forehead against her laced fingers, thinking.
The days of childhood when the three of them watched birds and played tag and listened to her sing her heart out are still vivid and lively in her memory. Momoka's beacon of a smile and Tabuki's quiet, supporting hands cushioning her as she strived to reach stardom.
Maybe fate hasn't been completely cruel. She mulls over this unfamiliar but comforting thought.
"Sorry… Yuri."
She lifts her head out of her hands when she hears the whisper. She edges closer to the bed and watches Tabuki open his eyes once more. The tiny action in itself warms the perpetual coldness boiling inside her.
"We've… already lost Momoka. I didn't want to… lose you too."
"Don't you realise that I might be the one losing you instead?" Yuri tells him, her tone composed and not overtly emotional because she can't afford to do that to Tabuki, not right now. She brushes the hair out of his eyes and notices how clear they look without his spectacles on.
"And we might be unwanted children, lost causes since we were young. That's why Momoka means so much to us, I accept that," she stops, biting her lower lip, "but you must know that that was then. You aren't unwanted now, at least, not by everyone."
Tabuki struggles to sit up and she eases him back down onto his pillow, determined to let him rest. He settles with looking up to her as he speaks. His chest rises and falls with an intense slowness, and she waits on bated breath.
"I could say the same to you," Tabuki finally says, the corner of his mouth crooking up.
Yuri doesn't reply with words. She nods her head and goes out to tell the nurse about his condition. When she returns, Tabuki is still wide awake and watching the doorway with a kind of gaze she hasn't seen for a very long time. The sunlight from the window envelops the sheets of his bed. She pauses at the door, coming into contact with a feeling that she's left untouched for years. It's a hopeful sense of loneliness, the kind Momoka had given her when she first met her.
She seats herself back down next to him and wordlessly takes the bangles off her wrist before placing her hand on the bed. He looks at her and half-smiles and she half-smiles too. This is the extent they can go. It's been a long time since they've smiled genuinely, a long time since Momoka's days with them, but maybe together they can be whole again.
O