Chapter Four

"Hey."

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"The sky, ha ha." I cringed even as I said it; it was a stupid joke.

"Ha ha. What are you doing today?"

"I was just going out when you called, actually. But –  "

"Oh, in that case, don't let me detain you."

"Oh. Er. Well – "

"Yup. Bye then."

What was wrong with me? All of a sudden I felt so dreadfully mundane. The person whose arms I could still feel around me sounded so distant. Why?

I remembered what he had said. "I mean it. I love you." Oh yes, there was that. He did love me. At least there was that I could cling on to. It was a comforting thought.

I wasn't looking for a serious relationship; all I wanted was physical comfort. Even then, what we had done was the furthest I was prepared to go with any guy, and I was scared – but it felt good. I wanted him, so, so much.

I thought of Recca and Yanagi. How often I had envied them – who hadn't – for their sweetly honest, open relationship. Like Yanagi, I too had a boyfriend, but we were different. Our relationship was darker, more mature, more sensuous. I knew we wouldn't last, but I was content to go along with the moment and let the future worry about itself.

I doubted we had much of a future. I realised there was so much I did not know about him. Where did he come from, why did he fight? What layers lay beneath that insincere effable smile of him? What did he hide, when he joked and laughed? How did Kurei come to command him? What had made him into that person I knew?

And I supposed it did not matter. All that mattered was him, and us.

I shifted in my seat, trying to concentrate on my book. Every now and then I glanced at the clock. I sighed restlessly, realising I wasn't paying attention to what I was reading, and gave up.

It was past nine, nine thirty, ten. Why hadn't he called yet? Didn't he want to talk to me? I really wanted to talk to him, to just hear his voice and take comfort from it. Perhaps I could… I picked out a number on the caller-ID.

"Hello, Raiha please?"

"Fuuko! What the – Are you crazy? What's wrong with you? Do you want me to get in trouble with Kurei? You shouldn't have called me, especially not this number. Do you know what would happen if he knew you called?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know… I'm really sorry, honest I am."

"Forget it," he paused, "listen, Fuuko, I've been thinking, and, well, I don't believe it's a good idea for the two of us to be together."

There was a long silence. I could hear him breathing slowly, absently as the coldness of his voice echoed in my head.

"Sorry?"

"I said, I don't believe it's a good idea for the two of us to be together."

I was stunned. "But – but, the other night – "

He sighed irritatedly. "Don't you get it? I wanted something from you that you wouldn't give. I was just using you, Fuuko. It looks like I made a poor choice, though, because you couldn't satisfy me, and anyway you're just a little girl. I was just playing, do you understand? I never loved you. I have no feelings for you, and you've been wasting your time with me all along.

Good night, Fuuko."

I almost threw up.

[Kurei]

Good.

[Kirisawa Fuuko]

It had taken all of my self-control not to scream at Raiha. I didn't understand why he had done such a thing.

"You've been wasting your time with me all along." That was the cruellest thing he could have said, and perhaps why he did. I couldn't accept it as the truth – I just couldn't.

It was as if the sky, hanging so heavily over the whited ground, had fallen. I could not believe it. I just could not believe it.

There had been passion in his embrace that night. Had it all come from lust? I wouldn't believe that. There was no way… right?

Perhaps he was just upset I had called him. After all he had looked so sincere that night when he told me he meant it; he loved me. He loved me. He could only have been telling the truth. I felt so used, and so dirty, but that gave me hope – really deep down he loved me. Right?

It was all an elaborate scheme. He wanted to test my feelings for him. Or perhaps Kurei was involved in some way that prevented him from loving me. Right?

Right?

[Hanabishi Recca]

"Look here, Hanabishi. I'm serious. It isn't right for Fuuko to be going around with an Uruha, even if he is Raiha. He looks harmless, but – and you should know this by now – he isn't."

I scratched my chin absently. "Don't you worry, Mikagami. She'll be fine. We're watching out for her, aren't we? Besides, Raiha doesn't have any motive to hurt her."

He gave me an incredulous look. "He doesn't need one."

"But they're just friends, anyway, right? They aren't going out or anything, after all," Yanagi said.

"I hope you're right," Mikagami conceded very reluctantly, "but I still don't think she should be doing this."

"There's no need for you to be so protective of her, Mikagami. She is the master of the Fuujin after all, you know. Leave her alone and let her do as she wishes." I was feeling irritated. He had no right to be telling her how to live her life and what friends she should be making.

She would be alright, and nothing would happen to her.

[Kirisawa Fuuko]

One week! One week ago I had a boyfriend who loved me. One week ago at this time I was melting into his arms. What a difference one week makes!

I could still feel his lips on mine, and the arc of his forehead beneath my fingers. We had been lovers, and I was safe and whole within his embrace. "I mean it. I love you." Now it's "I have no feelings for you," I thought bitterly.

I want to cry. But I can't. I feel so empty inside. There's pain, and despair, but my brain had been dulled. I can't think.

I want him so much. So, so much. I wish I could talk to someone, and maybe I will feel better, but I can't. The rest of them, they don't know what happened. They think Raiha and I were only friends – are still friends. How can I tell them what happened? I'm such a fool.

Part of me doesn't care any more. I'm ready to put it all behind me. But sometimes I feel the ghost of his touch, and the taste of his lips. The curve of his forehead beneath my fingertips. And then I want more. In a way I wish it had never happened. Would it have been better that way? At least then he would still be calling, and I wouldn't be feeling this raw heartache. But then I wouldn't have the memories I do now. I wouldn't be able to treasure those fleeting moments of passion.

Is it worth it, though? I am still hoping, waiting, for him to tell me it was all a lie, that he really loves me. I trusted him. He didn't seem the heartless type.

I need to forget him.

[Sakoshita Yanagi]

Fuuko had been absent for a couple of days. We tried to call and find out whether she was okay, but her phone went unanswered. We (I suspect it was mostly me, actually) were beginning to worry, but she returned to school on Wednesday, and seemed none the worse for whatever illness it was she had suffered.

The rest must have done her some good, for she was livelier and happier than she had been for days.

[Mikagami Tokiya]

I know when someone is lying. I know when someone is putting up a false front. I know when a smile is forced. There is nobody so talented I cannot read him. Or her.

I could tell Fuuko was fighting with something deep inside of her. Her grief had been so poorly hidden I was mildly surprised the others didn't notice it. Then again, they were all just monkeys. I could also tell that it had something to do with Raiha.

I considered approaching her with an offer of help and a listening ear, but decided against it. For one, her problems, whatever they were, were trivial enough that she didn't need me. She was in no danger, either from Raiha, or herself. That much I could tell. Also, her pride would cause her to regret unloading on me, and there was no point causing any such embarrassment.

Besides, I didn't care. It just wouldn't be me.

[Kirisawa Fuuko]

I am getting over him. I don't ever want to forget him, though. I want to remember the passion and the heady exhilaration. I hope time will erase the heartache and the bitterness, and all that remains will be the lovely memories.

For now though, it still hurts. It's all I can do to be upbeat for the others in school, and when I get home, I feel like collapsing.

It hurts so much! It's not just in my head, this pain… I feel it now, in my stomach, twisting my gut.

Why, Raiha? Why did you do this to me? All I wanted was for us to love each other. Was that too much to ask? I admit it – I love you. But you make me so upset. You lied to me. You played with me. Do you know how awful I feel now? I'm so angry with myself. How did I end up this way? This frustration, agitation, rage – I can't take it.. 

I remembered the story I had read, the one with the ice skater who cut herself. Instead of being sickened, however, this time I started to wonder why she had done that. Did it really make her feel better?

Hardly conscious of what I was doing, I walked over to my desk and picked up a penknife. For a second I saw the blade gleaming dully, and then I drew it, slowly, intently, across my wrist.

I let out my breath. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt – there was some sensation, but it wasn't painful. I felt my skin being pulled tight, and a sharpness slicing through the nerves. For a moment there was nothing, then blood welled up in a thin strip of redness, a thread snaking jaggedly across my sight.

This is for you, Raiha. See what you make me do. See how you have hurt me.

Not realising I was clenching my teeth, I cut along the same line.

I could have given you so much.

The feeling of the blade pressed against my wrist was not unpleasant; it was satisfying and somehow reassuring.

I could have loved you so much.

I dug the knife deeper into the wound. Digging out all the pain.

But you didn't want it.

Blood started to roll in big, lazy drops down my arm, streaking wide swaths of crimson along my skin.

It's warm, this…

Suddenly shaking, I dropped the knife, letting it clatter faintly onto the blood-splattered floor. I clutched my wrist, watching as the blood oozed out and slowly congealed.

I felt so detached, like I was watching a movie from far, far away. I stared, entranced. Would I keep bleeding, bleeding, until there was nothing left in me? No – the flow of blood was slowing. Now it stopped.

I began to think lucidly, methodically. I wiped the floor with a bunch of tissues, and washed my arm carefully, applying a dressing over the wound. I wiped the knife blade free of dried blood, and stowed it away.

When everything was cleaned, I flopped onto my bed, feeling much better. There was no pain from the cut beneath the bandage, and mentally I was at ease. I felt as if I had just had a good, long cry, and managed to thrash out all my problems. I was calm and tranquil and quiet.

I rolled over and went to sleep.

They say the best way to get over someone is to start loving another person. That filling your heart with a yearning is the fastest way to remove another ache.

I pondered upon this as I walked to school the next morning, pulling a sweater over my shirt to hide the dressing on my wrist. It was morning, but the day felt old, and tired, like the dullness of my self-inflicted wound.

"Fuuko," a gentle hand rested on my shoulder.

"Mikagami," I acknowledged him listlessly. They say the best way to get over someone is to start loving another person.

We walked in silence.

"Something's wrong, isn't it, Fuuko? You want to talk about it?"

"You know I care about you, Fuuko."

"I wish I could do something."

"I just want to help you."

"I love you."

In a movie, the hero would know I wanted him. He would come to my rescue, and give me a shoulder to cry on. He would be strong for me when I couldn't be strong, and make me forget all my pain. He would be perceptive, and sensitive, and understanding. And ultimately, he would fall for me and sweep me off my feet and we would fade together into the brightness of the rolling credits.

But this was reality. The world was colder, drearier and not half as romantic, and wouldn't come to a convenient closure in two (and a half, at most) hours. And Mikagami just wasn't like that. He wouldn't care.

He wouldn't care.

Still, I wanted him to say something, anything, that would make me believe in love again. Anything at all to show that he was a friend. Tell me, my heart screamed silently at him. Tell me I'm worth something. Show me you're different. Give me someone to trust in.

Finally I broke the silence. "Don't you normally walk to school with Recca and the others?"

He shook his head. "Only if you do."

"Me?" My insides jumped, hopefully. What was I supposed to think at that? That I meant so much to him and that he valued being with me?

"It's impolite to be the only one not walking with them. Since you don't go to school with them now, I have an excuse not to as well."

"Oh."

"Besides, I don't like company."

Was this a hint? That he found my presence an irritation?

"Oh."

By now we had reached the school gates, and he slipped away into the throng, saving me the need to think up a more intelligent reply.