notes: And, we dive further in. I think this is a really hard piece to write. I mean, it's Tamako and Mochizou! They're so perfect. But I wanted to explore this a bit more.

Part II

Anko pretended not to notice how far Tamako seemed to be.

She pretended not to hear the small sniffles that came from Tamako's bed late at night.

She also pretended not the notice the way Tamako would stare at the shop across their home when she should be working the counter. Anko believed herself to be a good sister, more mature than Tamako in some ways. She wanted to be able to fix the things that her older sister could not. But when she saw Mochizou holding Midori's hand she felt at a loss.

And she felt Tamako slowly, slowly, drifting further away.

I'm happy.

I'm happy.

I'm happy for them.

If she rolled these words over and over on her tongue these words would become the truth. They would no longer taste like ashes on her lips. And, then, she could fall asleep without picturing the way Mochizou smiled at Midori.

It was a few days after he and Tokiwa started dating before he ran into Tamako.

There was a slight chill in the air, strange for the late summer, but he was on his way home and didn't mind. What was between him and Tokiwa was a small and bitter thing but it brought comfort to them. They were both chasing after an unattainable dream and this seemed easier. He saw her under the dim street light, standing still over the bridge. She seemed so much smaller than before, and he wondered, briefly, if she was sick. Her bag sat by her feet along with her case for the baton, which she always carried with care but now seemed dirty. Tamako would never tell anyone that she had thrown it in the river and later plucked it from the cold water.

As he got closer to her, he remembered the way Tokiwa's hand felt in his; stiff and cold.

"Tamako?" He said quietly. She stiffened at the sound of her name and turned her head slightly, reaching for the railing of the bridge. Seeing him there, when she was just thinking about him, made the world seem unstable. There was a slight tint of pink on his cheeks, but his eyes were hard and he pulled his hands into his pockets. Afraid, that if he got any closer, he'd reach out to her.

She forced the tiniest of smiles, "Hi, Mochizou."

His eyes softened when he found her hand gripping the railing, the skin on her knuckles turning white.

"Are you okay?"

She bit back the truth and looked away from him, "I'm fine, silly! The air tonight feels really nice, don't' you think?" for once it felt the usual days where they would talk non-stop about the most mundane things. But there was a strain on her throat and she knew it. But the ache in her heart to hear his voice was stronger.

He took a step forward but stopped when he saw her push back and her eye crinkle with a wince, "Tamako," He wanted to force himself to stop, " I never got to tell you properly,"

Stop.

"Tokiwa and I-"

He gulped. Stop. Please. Stop.

"We're dating. I just wanted to tell you that."

She finally looked up at him. The eyes that he loved so very much stared back at him with a light that he couldn't quite name. But there was a sort of heaviness growing within him, thinking about how she had hurt him, there was a small, bitter pleasure he took from seeing her so out of place. Then, there was a bigger part of him that wanted to put his arms around her small waist and breathe in her scent.

She let out a quiet laugh, "I'm happy. I'm happy for you."

She turned on her heel and quickly pulled up her bags, throwing them over her shoulder and left.

If she had turned, she would have seen him wipe his eyes. She would have heard a quiet, desperate sound coming from his throat.

But she didn't.

The next day, Tamako's seat is empty. And the room feels unbearably bigger and colder. He's slouched on his seat, earlier than usual. He wanted to see Tamako before anyone else that morning, too fix things or just to make sure she wasn't actually sick when all he could think about last night was how pale Tamako looked. He hadn't thought about what he was going to say but all he knew was that he wanted to see her. Badly.

Tokiwa wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind. She lowers her head so that her lips are beside his ear. This doesn't bring him any warmth but he shivers when he feels her breath across his skin.

"You can't look for her anymore, Ooji." She whispers. But her own eyes are gazing at the empty desk. He feels her hair tickle his chin and reaches to hold the strands of golden hair. He's disappointed at the sight of it and smiles bitterly. I don't deserve better, he thinks.

That summer ended and now it was late winter.

Tamako regained her balance, working at the shop, school and practice after. Everything was carefully organized in small compartments to keep her mind at ease. Graduation was nearing and she was relieved to get further away. Her friendship with Midori was strained but it never kept her from listening to Midori's lively chatter about her home, cheerleading and Mochizou. It was wound that should have never been on Tamako's heart. She had let Mochizou's confession fly over her head and someone else had caught it. She didn't deserve it.

"Tamako?" Midori asked. They were seated together on a bench in the courtyard of their school. Being February, it was still cold, but Midori insisted that they should have lunch there. Kanna came along bundled in a thick coat, barely able to open her lunch box.

Tamako had stopped paying attention and stared at the windows across, where she could see some classmates wondering the hall. She turned her head back to her friends.

"Hm?"

Midori laughed, "I said, Valentine's day is coming up. Do you have any plans?"

Tamako let her finger run over the pom-poms of her scarf. The scarf was thick and pink, one that she had purchased in the market during a particularly cold day a few years ago.

Mochizou had been in the same store looking at gloves. He made his way towards her, his cheeks red from the cold but, now she knows it was something else.

Are you buying that? He asked pointing to the scarf in her hands. She nodded but her eyes skimmed over the other scarfs on display.

He held the pom-poms that were attached in the ends, These kind of look like mochi, don't they?

She had bought them right away.

Coming back from her nostalgia, "I'm not doing anything."

"We should make chocolates at my house. The day before, I mean. I might have plans on Valentine's day." Midori's gaze shifted to Tamako when she spoke the last words. Careful and deliberate; watching for a reaction. But Tamako grinned.

"Oh, on the day before I have to work in the shop." She didn't.

Her hands folded over her lap, "Have fun with Mochizou." She didn't mean it.

Everything that Mochizou had wanted to experience and live with Tamako played in his mind like movies. Each movie was in grayscale, blurry and the edges were burned but within these fake movies, he was happy. So unmeasurably happy and content and, in those visions, so was Tamako. She was next to him no matter where he went.

Midori had invited herself in on Valentine's day, her hands empty but he found himself following in her footsteps to his bedroom. His own parents had taken the day off, to celebrate and left him alone in the creaking house.

"Tamako's store is open. They're selling 'Lovey- dovey Mochi.'" Midori said, finding a seat on his bed. He stood, awkwardly on the threshold of his room. His hand on the doorknob, not sure wehtere to close it or that she would make her way out. He wasn't even sure what he wanted.

She stared at him, at the way his eyes never quite found hers, not the way he searched for Tamako. She didn't care; she had her own reasons for doing this. And, today, she felt even lonelier.

"I said, 'hi' to her before I came in here." She said quietly. When he heard this, Mochizou closed the door and settles in the space next to her. He was silent. Tamako knew his parents had left for the weekend and had seen Midori walk into his home. There was no way to clear this up. Not that he should, they were less than friends at this point. He bit his lip and ran hand through his hair. He felt Midori's hand on his lap.

"Don't do this," He whispered, "It won't make you feel better."

Her eyebrows furrowed, her voice came out colder than she wanted, "You don't know anything, Ooji."

He turned to her and pointed to the window beside them, "If she wasn't across the street, would you be here with me?"

"What about you?" She accused.

When he didn't answer, she placed her hands on his shoulders roughly and pushed him down on the bed. She moved after him, sitting on top of him. He looked away, and his mouth was pressed in a hard line. He avoids looking into her eyes; they're hollow and too proud. This, he thinks, is another thing that he wanted to experience with Tamako. In his mind, Tamako is soft on his lap, careful but slightly uncomfortable being in such an exposed position. But it's something that he would welcome because whenever he's near Tamako he feel completely exposed.

But it's Midori straddling his lap, sharp and demanding. Her hands find the buttons on his shirt so easily and her hands work to pry them open. She leans forward, her lips puckered and presses them against his mouth. They're kissed plenty of times before but now, it was as if she was asking questions he didn't have the answers to.

Mochizou finds her shoulders and presses on them gently, to pull her away to pull her close, he's not sure which could make them feel better. He finds her shoulders to be too sharp and she finds his chest lacking warmth, lacking softness that she craved. He lips are unyielding against his and he starts to reply. His hands make their way to her thighs, and stops briefly to wait for her response. Midori shifts her hips against his and her skirt reveals more. He murmurs something her lips, slowly losing his will to stop. She moves to kiss the skin over his collarbone and he shivers at the warmth, his hands moving up, finally finding the material of her panties.

It's when he feels her reach for his belt that he pulls his hands away and reaches to cup her cheek. Her face is warm, her expression softer but lost in something else.

"Midori, we shouldn't do this." He murmurs.

She ignores him and, instead, grabs his collar and pulls him towards him. His hand rests on the small of her back. She's glances at the closed window and then back at him.

"Yes, we can." She answers by pressing her lips to him again.

"We have a special today! Lovey-dovey mochi!"

His eyes snap open when he hears Tamako yelling downstairs. Just by hearing her voice, he can tell that she's smiling and he fights the urge to tear open his window just to see her.

He pushes Midori off and scrambles to get on his feet. She stares at him, blankly. Not disappointed and not with relief. Just like the usual way that Midori looks at him. Like he's something that shouldn't be there.

Quietly, she slides off his bed and makes her way downstairs. Not caring to look if he follows.

Tamako is wearing a pink apron and her hair wrapped in a scarf when she sees Midori exit Mochizou's home. Tamako stumbles deciding whether to greet Midori or pretend she's too busy handing out fliers. She settles with raising a flier in Midori's direction.

That's when she sees how out of character Midori looked. Her hair, which was usually well-cared for, was disheveled and her clothes, usually neat and pressed, were wrinkled and a few buttons on her dress were undone. Midori follows Tamako's gaze and returns a small smile but quickly fades as she quickens her pace.

Tamako ignores a few passersby and lifts her head to Mochizou's window.

The curtains rustle with a breeze that isn't there.

She bites her lip and turs on her heel. Anko looks at the stack of unpassed fliers in Tamako's hand and takes them away saying she has extra time on her hands while pretending not to see a wet gleam in Tamako's eyes.