Notes:

But it all worked out in the end…: Le Petit Palais comes directly from Aveza's fanfic, Plus One. The discussion of Catherine from the World Tour in Adventure 02 is also related to this story. I don't know how the story ends, so I'm being vague about the references to Catherine.

Fugue, Pt 3

Fugue, n: A musical composition written for three to six voices. Beginning with the exposition, each voice enters at different times, creating counterpoint with one another.

Present

Fingers caught the hem of Hikari's shirt and clung. While expected in her classroom, this was unwelcome on the streets of Tokyo. Eimi was crowding her back, leaning towards her and away from the crowd. Despite being born and bred in Odaiba, Eimi couldn't navigate the living river of sidewalk traffic. The pedestrians tilted, side-stepped, and angled around each other with instinctive choreography, while she smashed up against them like debris caught in a current.

Sometimes I think she shouldn't have moved into the country by herself, but this truly isn't her element. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Eimi released her and forced a smile. "How do you do this every day?"

"It's not usually this bad," Hikari said. "The crowd will disperse once we pass the station."

"Where are we going, anyway?" Eimi asked. Hikari's responding grin made Eimi pale and fall silent. Hikari walked on, savoring her air of mystery.

Their destination came into view, and Hikari merged out of the crowd and waited for Eimi to find a gap. She opened the door, then swallowed a laugh when Eimi froze in the reception area. Hikari understood her shock, and she watched a repeat of her own first reaction to this place play back in Eimi's large, expressive eyes.

Waiters in crisp white shirts and black pants strode between tables, which should have indicated that this was a restaurant. But the opulence of the dining room suggested the boudoir of a woman with an excess of money and a shortage of taste. There were golden tablecloths, richly upholstered cushions on delicate wooden chairs, and paintings in intricate frames. Crystalline chandeliers presided over the proceedings, raining fairy lights on the tables and the silvery surfaces of hundreds of mirrors.

Eimi was still gaping like a soul in shock when the host strode to a table. Hikari took hold of her wrist and led her along like one of her students. Her cousin collapsed into a chair, staring at the wall their table rested against. Statuettes of chubby, naked cherubs smiled down from little mounted pedestals.

"H-Hikari," Eimi said, staring at the shimmer on a tiny porcelain tush, "what the hell is this place?"

Hikari tried and failed to mask a smile. "This is Le Petit Palais."

Eimi dropped her forehead into her palm. "Of course it is. And why are we here?"

Hikari waited for the approaching waiter to pour the water, then cocked her head. "Because you offered to pay, of course."

Eimi checked her menu, gasped, and laughed. As its luxurious decor suggested, this place was so exorbitant that even Taichi, who had cash to spare and was eager to spoil her, muttered about the cost.

"Uh huh," Eimi said. "And you really like this place?"

"The food? Phenomenal. The place itself?" Rust colored eyes swept away from the menu just long enough to grace Eimi with an expression of deep skepticism. "Not a fan. I keep expecting the waiters to suddenly put on powdered wigs. Onii-chan hates it here."

Eimi's fingers drummed against the table. "Hrm. Is this a Catherine thing?"

"Mm. But that's all in the past, now." Eimi's eyebrows rose, but she said nothing. Hikari was grateful, since Eimi was well aware that she used to scowl at the mention of Catherine's name. But it all worked out in the end, and that's what matters.

Eimi asked her for a recommendation that wasn't too fancy or too reliant on organs that she wasn't in the habit of eating. Hikari allowed her to consider the options for a while, but her curiosity soon took point, pushing her towards her motive for isolating the two of them at a tiny table. "Didn't you mention that Takeru sent you to Tokyo with doctor's orders?"

Eimi's fingers convulsed around the menu, but its leather trappings didn't give. "I had forgotten about that, what with..." She glanced at Hikari's stomach, hesitated, then reached for her glass of water, drowning out the trailing sentence.

"What did he recommend?" Hikari asked. Eimi's shoulders twitched inward, as if an invisible hand had pulled her taut. "Hmm. Something difficult, then." As one expects when Takeru is involved.

Eimi's eyes darted around the room until they fell on the mirror mounted behind Hikari. She stared at her own pale, resigned face. Wince all you want, Eimi-nee. You promised Takeru that you'd talk to me about this, and I'll hold you to it.

Eimi's head tipped back, and she stared at the nearest chandelier until her eyes glazed over. Hikari could imagine her losing herself in the dreamy visual, creating a story or a song out of the twinkling haze. Her eyes stayed riveted skyward as she said, "He, uh... Well, apparently you two sit around discussing my love life, or something?"

Hikari's eyes widened, but she settled her features into her poker face in the span of a heartbeat. Takeru. I don't know whether to bless you or curse you. You sent her to me with this?! "We wouldn't have to speculate if you just told us."

"I just..." Eimi wrapped her arms around her shoulders like an old woman donning a shawl. "Why is it so important to you two?"

Hikari tried to ignore the pang in her chest. It hurt that, after a lifetime of being Eimi's sister in heart, she still wasn't readily admitted into her confidence. But because this was simply Eimi's way, Hikari responded with compassion. "Because we love you. We're afraid that you're hurting, and we want to help."

Eimi's head jerked up. "I didn't mean- I know. Thank you. Do you mind if I give you the short version?"

And hear your story that much sooner? Not at all. "Whatever makes it easier for you."

Although the restaurant was warm, Eimi shivered. She looked like a sinner in a confessional, eyes averted, face drawn with compressed muscles. "It's… It's Koushiro-kun."

Hikari gave her a swift, business-like nod, hoping to convey that this was a normal situation, not the heinous crime Eimi was charging herself with. "Right. That's what I expected."

Eimi's coloring flared up, stirring and spreading, reddening her cheeks, her neck, and even her ears. "You- You expected it? But- But- I haven't said a word!"

Hikari folded her menu and smiled wryly. "Oh, Eimi-nee. You should be more careful around Takeru and me. We grew up with you. We know you. Although Takeru seemed convinced that you were interested in Kido-san." Which might have been better, as he's single. I can tell this is killing you.

Eimi muttered something about the bathroom, but thankfully, the waiter approached to take their orders, cutting off her escape. Once he was out of earshot, Eimi leaned in and whispered, "If you knew, then Taichi- Yamato- Stars, Hikari, either of them could have told Koushiro-kun-"

Hikari took hold of her hands. They were twisted into shaking balls, and she eased them out with slow, patient strokes. "Calm down, Eimi-nee," she said, using the soothing tone she had developed with her kindergartners. "We haven't said anything to anyone else. Yamato's busy with his tour, and Onii-chan is busy balancing work with his love life. I doubt they know."

"Do you think- You don't think Koushiro-kun could know?"

Hikari hesitated. Eimi looked so fragile, leaning against the table like she'd fall over otherwise. Should she drop the topic? No. No, I can't leave her alone with this. "I doubt it," Hikari said. "But would it be so bad if he did know?"

Eimi's forearm slipped, dumping her torso against the table. The glasses rattled and clinked, a sound that quickly died out in the cavernous room. "Hikari! Of course it would! I'd get rejected and lose a friend. Or, at least, damage my relationship with him."

Hikari tipped back in her chair and studied Eimi's face for a long, uncomfortable interim. Her heavy breathing, grimacing features, and disheveled hair perfectly captured the European literary model of female madness. "It's not just fear of rejection, is it. I don't think that alone would cripple you like this, Eimi-nee. What's so bad about loving him?"

"He's taken." Eimi spoke the words with clarity and precision, as if fearing that Hikari might misunderstand her.

Hikari closed her eyes and slipped into the store of patience and love that she maintained for her students. "True. But feelings are feelings. They aren't inherently good or bad."

"It's what you do with them that matters, yeah. I got that from Jyou already."

"You- You told Kido-san about this?" Hikari was tempted to press for details, especially since Takeru seemed convinced that Jyou was a player in this mess. But let's stay focused, shall we? "What did he recommend?"

Hikari instantly recognized the look of a student who didn't want to lie to her, but who didn't want to implicate herself with her answer. "He… He said I should tell Koushiro-kun."

"That was… optimistic of him." Eimi stared mutely back. "Okay," Hikari sighed. "So... What are you doing?"

Eimi hesitated for a long time, then shrugged helplessly. "Living?"

Hikari stared right into Eimi's eyes, giving her no chance of avoiding her words. "You're ignoring your feelings." Eimi twitched, but remained silent. "How is that working out for you?"

She turned away, but illumination from the nearest chandelier betrayed her, twinkling against the liquid in her eyes. "It will fade."

Oh, Eimi-nee. Hikari squeezed her cousin's hands and forced herself to remain firm, despite her desire to switch to soothing everything away. "That's not an answer."

"Well- What do you want me to say? I've been happier, yes. But I'm trying to get over it. What else can I do?"

"How long has this been going on?" And how much damage am I looking at?

The surrounding sounds amplified in the silence that followed. Their table was encompassed by bright chatter, soothing French music, and laughter. The cousins scowled in unison as someone shrieked with mirth a few tables down.

"I don't know," Eimi said at last. "I first understood how I felt at the wedding. But the feelings were there beforehand."

An angle of inquiry remained, but Hikari was hesitant to pursue it. When no other options occurred to her, she sighed and said, "Do you know much about his relationship with Tachikawa-san?"

Eimi shot straight up in her chair. Her eyes popped, and she hissed, bent forward, and rubbed her palms against her spine. "No," she said, cutting off Hikari's question about her back pain. "No. I'm not playing that game, Hikari. I'm not trying to sabotage his relationship with Tachikawa-san. That's out of the question."

Hikari scolded her with a cool glance. "I'm not suggesting that. All I'm saying is that plenty of marriages naturally end in divorce, as many as half in some countries. Relationships in the dating phase are a lot more fragile than that. From a purely numerical standpoint, Izumi-san and Tachikawa-san are likely to break up someday."

Hikari watched Eimi absorb the words. Her breathing normalized by stages, and she fell back against her chair. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she resembled a severely jet-lagged Taichi, exhausted and disinterested in everything but that exhaustion. "I'm not really comfortable with discussing this," she muttered.

"I know." Hikari touched her hand, trying to communicate her sympathy and worry. "But you don't look well, Eimi-nee. I hate the thought of you suffering with this. Let's try to at least think about a happy ending for you. Wouldn't that be better than closing a door on your emotions?"

Eimi's hand tightened around hers. "If I claim to love someone, then naturally, I have to want what's best for that person. I've heard those songs, Hikari. The ones where the singer claims that the person they love is with the wrong person. The songs where the singer wants to take away someone's right to choose their mate for themselves." She struggled into an upright position and placed her fingertips on her chest. "I can't decide that I'm the right person for Koushiro-kun. Only he can do that. All I can do is keep wishing that he's happy. I can't sit here looking forward to them breaking up."

Eimi-nee. You're so upright that it's painful. "You're not," Hikari said calmly, turning the conversation away from moralizing. "Looking forward to something and being prepared for it are two different things. You should have some idea of what you would do if Izumi-san is single in the future."

"I just... I don't know. I can't see a man breaking up with Tachikawa-san."

"Ignore the players for a moment. Think of it statistically."

"I- I don't- It still feels wrong."

"Well, from where I'm standing, it's wrong to let you agonize over this."

The waiter approached, bearing two covered trays. He presented their lunches with a flourish that won a faint grin from Eimi. When his back turned, Eimi favored her plate with a frown that likely had little to do with the food. Hikari encouraged her to eat by example, but Eimi just pushed her food around with her fork. I bet her appetite has suffered lately. She's thinner than I remember…

It quickly grew apparent that Eimi didn't intend to eat. Fine. We'll talk, then. "It's really not a big deal. We're just talking, Eimi-nee. Let's say Izumi-san and Tachikawa-san part ways. What would you do?"

Eimi grimaced. "Feel terrible for them. Especially Koushiro-kun... I don't think he's ever been closer to anyone. I know what it's like to lose the person you've chosen to let in."

Hikari paused. Those words ripped through the tides of her memory, back to a lonely place that she didn't want to revisit. "It would be best to give him some time to recover."

"Not an enviable position. How could one recover from Tachikawa Mimi?" Eimi sighed and ran a hand over her neck. "And how could one follow her?"

"Sorry?" Hikari shook her head to clear out her memories.

"How could anyone follow Tachikawa-san? You've met her. To call her beautiful is an insult. It's not just her appearance. She's... She's magnificent."

Hikari exhaled slowly. It seemed that a new battle was beginning, and she wasn't sure that she had the strength for it. "I can't argue. But if Tachikawa-san is magnificent, then what are you?"

Eimi's posture sagged so much that her bones might have morphed into jello. She considered for a long time, then shrugged. "That's not an answer." Hikari turned on her teacher's voice, authoritative and unyielding. She grinned when Eimi straightened automatically.

"Er- Well, I don't know. I'm pretty... I mean, compared to her..."

Hikari downed half of her glass of wine. "Don't compare yourself to her. If Izumi-san is worth your love, then he wouldn't compare one girlfriend to another."

"He's only human," Eimi said gently. Hikari peeked to the side, longing to find Taichi there. He would have shouted the sentiment back at her- 'Well, so are you! Get over yourself and chill the hell out!'

While Hikari pondered over a kinder way to deliver that scold, Eimi's glance flicked beyond her shoulder, gazing at the mirror. "I guess I'm pretty average."

Hikari's neck snapped as her head rose. Perhaps it was because she was thinking of Taichi, but her temper was suddenly more biting than usual. "I'd beg to differ."

"S-sorry," Eimi said, edging back. "I wasn't trying to be defeatist. I just... I hang around at home and do what pleases me. It feels so selfish, sometimes. And if it's true that your value is related to the number of lives you touch..." Eimi held her hands out, ticking off the people who loved her. Hikari mentally joined in: Onii-chan, me, Takeru, Yamato, Sora, Kido-san…

Eimi tried to grin over the digits announcing her sad total, but her face was pale and drawn. Hikari met Eimi's nervous smile with an assessing look. "Do you prefer quantity or quality?"

"W-What? Oh- Well- Quality. But, um..." Eimi looked down and lifted her knife and fork, as if she was noticing her food for the first time. As obnoxious as this tactic was, Hikari allowed the pause to stretch on as long as Eimi actually ate.

When Eimi's pace slowed, Hikari caught her eye and said, "You are quality."

Eimi gave her a confused look, but her mouth was too full to argue. Hikari couldn't help smiling, even as she jumped on the opportunity. "Maybe it's because you're so isolated in the country, but you seem to forget how much all six of us love you and need you, Eimi-nee. Where did Takeru run when he had a problem?"

Eimi swallowed and said, "Yama's out of town-"

"True. But Takeru could have called him before he came to you. He didn't. Do you know why?"

Eimi managed a tiny smile. "Give me some credit. Men are proud. It's sometimes easier for Takeru to bring a problem to me. I mean, you know Yama. Gorgeous, talented, successful, and married to Sora... He doesn't mean to, of course, but Yamato casts a pretty big shadow."

Hikari felt her jaw slacken. Takeru adored his brother, so he buried any jealousy as deeply as he could. Until now, Hikari thought she was the only one who sensed it. I should have known better.

"I can't say that isn't true. But there's more to it, Eimi-nee. Takeru came to you because you're warm, and because you understand him instinctively. Don't you see how special that is?"

"Warm?" Eimi echoed. "I'm not warm. Tachikawa-san is warm. She can make you feel comfortable and wanted in a second."

"I didn't say 'charismatic,'" Hikari retorted. "I said warm. There may be some faltering involved, but if one of us comes to you, you give your all for us."

"Well- Not like your brothers."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You aren't as fierce and passionate about it, but your quiet, gentle care is... Sometimes, it's more welcome."

Eimi fidgeted with the napkin on her lap. "Well... Thank you." She didn't look much happier than before, and Hikari tried to steel her nerves for the next phase of the war.

She smiled, intertwined her fingers, and rested her chin on them. "That's not all you'd have to offer him, you know."

"Oh- Hikari- I don't- Thank you, really. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't see the point. He's taken. That's... That's just how it stands."

"But that might not always be how it stands, and I want you to have confidence in that scenario. Now, don't you and Izumi-san have a lot in common?"

Her posture was reluctant, but a flicker of interest rose to Eimi's eyes. After all, no one can resist talking about the person they love, and Eimi-nee has never gotten the chance. "Well, I guess that's how we became friends. We used to meet up all the time to talk about science."

"Are you interested in his work?" Hikari asked. She wondered if her too-innocent tone was registering.

It was tempting to laugh at Eimi's sudden animation. "How could I not be?" she asked. This time, Hikari couldn't hold back a tiny giggle, and Eimi sighed. "Fine, fine. I guess a lot of people wouldn't be, but I am. Sometimes I don't even understand what he's talking about, but if I can convince him to explain... Hikari, you wouldn't believe the ideas he has, and, even more, the dedication and skill to follow through on them. You know, a few months before the wedding, he discovered a way to-"

Hikari held her hands up. "Stop, stop!" she said, laughing. "I'm sure it's all very amazing, but my point is that not everyone would think so. Sharing interests is an attractive quality, and someone as intellectual as Izumi-san must really appreciate someone who wants to engage him about his interests. And doesn't he attend some of your local concerts?"

A little smile formed on Eimi's face, like a long-awaited dawn. "Well," Hikari said, "there's another thing you have. You're talented, and Izumi-san knows that. From what I know of him, his choosing to attend your events is a big mark of favor. I really think you had better add another person to your tally, Eimi-nee."

Hikari's smile melted away at the bruised, uncertain look in Eimi's eyes. "Do you... Do you think so?"

"I do. But what's wrong, Eimi-nee?"

"I just... I've been trying so hard to avoid him. I thought it would help, I thought it would make me forget about my feelings for him. But... Honestly? I feel worse than ever."

"You should reconnect with him," Hikari said. "He has to feel your loss, Eimi-nee. Don't you think turning your back on someone who cares about you is morally worse than struggling with romantic feelings for that person? One is out of your control. The other isn't."

Eimi's eyes went wide, and their dark color created harsh contrast with her blanching face. "I- I didn't look at it that way."

"If he isn't a fool- and I'm told he isn't- then I'm sure Izumi-san misses you."

Eimi muttered something indecipherable, and Hikari sighed and moved to the side, revealing more of the mirror behind her. "Look here," she said. "Do you know what I see?"

Eimi smiled ruefully, but obeyed. "I see a lady with sauce on her face." Hikari laughed as Eimi lifted her napkin.

"True," she said fondly. "But what I see is a warm, intelligent, funny, talented, beautiful woman. And I'm sure Izumi-san sees that, too. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see your relationship change if he ends up single."

"Thank you. But... I'm not sure if I should get my hopes up."

"Maybe not," Hikari said gently. "But you should hold your head up."

Raw aching overwhelmed Eimi's face, and Hikari knew she couldn't press the subject anymore today. She smiled as warmly as she could, then turned the topic.

It hurt to admit it, but all she could do now was check on Eimi sometimes and hope for the best.

Another Day

Taichi's mobile rang, and he picked it up without looking away from his laptop's screen. "Koushiro. Hey, man, where've you-"

He paused when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other line. "Taichi- It's Eimi."

Scowling, Taichi checked his phone's display, as if Eimi's voice wasn't adequate confirmation. "Damn. Sorry. I was just thinking about how I wanted to talk to him, I guess."

"Taichi," Eimi sighed. "Doesn't your phone play one of my songs when I call?" Taichi tsked, not bothering to confirm.

"Taichi- Wait- You- You're worried about him, aren't you. Please- Please- Is he alright?"

Taichi rose from the desk chair and began to prowl the hotel room, as if to locate and squash the source of his worry. "I don't know," he said at last. "It's just a feeling. It's been really hard to get a hold of him recently, even by email. When's the last time you heard from him?"

There was no answer until Taichi called her name. "Oh- Uh- I guess it's been two or three weeks."

Taichi scowled at the Sydney Opera House through his window. It was awash in lights that showered dramatic shadows on its tiered shells. Purple and pink hues from the Sydney Harbor Bridge danced upon the waves, but the striking nightscape failed to improve Taichi's mood. "That damned long? Did he piss you off, or something?"

"No. He's just a busy man."

Taichi favored her with a drawn-out raspberry. "Too damned busy for his friends? I don't think so. You're the closest to him; do me a favor and swing by his place."

"Er- Actually, I'm in Tokyo right now."

A portion of Taichi's dark mood fell away. "Oh, right. Hikari texted me. Did she seriously take you to Le Petit Palais?" Taichi took her drawn-out sigh as confirmation. "What did you think of it?"

"It was like stepping back in time and watching rich French people try to out-gaudy each other. Food was good, though."

"Fair enough," Taichi said with a grin. "That was always what I tried to focus on. Who are you staying with now?"

"I'm with Sora." Another long sigh crackled over the receiver. "I'm glad to see her, but I miss Yama. His tour seems so long..."

Taichi's heart knotted up into an aching ball. He tried to focus on the pain instead of visualizing Sora, alone and lonely in an apartment far too large for one person. "Yeah, well. Now you know how we felt. How is Sora holding up?"

"You know how it is with her. She's tough as nails; doesn't let anything show." Her voice lowered, and Taichi imagined her cupping his ear with her hand to better convey a secret. Knowing her, she was probably performing that gesture against the phone right now. "She seemed so happy to see me. I think she must really be missing Yama."

A sigh expanded his ribcage into a gaping cave that soon collapsed on itself. He stared sullenly at the harbor. It was filled with drifting ships, some with hoisted sails that shimmered in the moonlight, like phantoms walking on water.

Shit. I hate this. Taichi's fondest wish was to see his friends collected in Odaiba. Although he enjoyed the excitement and stimulation of constant travel, he missed his friends, and even he couldn't say why he ran around the world so much.

If I run hard and fast, I'll never be left behind...

Taichi's teeth gnashed as Yamato's lyrics whispered through his mind in the blond's crooning baritone. "How's Hikari?" He spoke so loudly that there was a thump from the next room, and an offended hiss from Eimi.

"She's fine. Not deaf, unlike me." Taichi snorted, then waited for her to drop her annoyance. "Actually, I'm calling you as a favor to her."

He turned away from the window with a start. "The hell does that mean?" Her hesitant 'uh...' did nothing to ease his spike of temper. "Does she need something? Is she alright? Eimi- I swear to god, if you don't start talking-"

The threat smashed through her reluctance like a bull rampaging through a glass wall. "Sit down," she snapped.

Taichi couldn't help smiling in response to the order, although he registered no pleasure. "How do you know I'm not sitting?"

"You're pacing," Eimi replied, her tone tart and bossy. "I can hear your footsteps."

Well, damn. He grimaced at his bare feet. Had he really been making so much noise, and against a plush carpet, to boot? Muttering under his breath, he gazed about the room for a place to sit. It was modern and masculine, colored black and white and filled with sleek, slight furnishings. He rejected the leather arm chair as being too small for comfort, then headed to the bed. It was a king-sized monolith draped entirely in black.

"Alright," he growled as he pulled back the blanket. "I'm sitting. Talk."

She inhaled slowly and deliberately. Due to her vocal training, she could fill her lungs to unnatural capacity, and he cursed when the delay ran past his tolerance. She snorted, then coughed over the air she had expelled too quickly.

"Ugh. Taichi. Look. I'm here to argue on her behalf. According to Hikari, you're putting too much pressure on her, and on Takeru."

"The hell I am. If I were, one or the other would have caved. But, last I heard, Hikari is still dating Takeru, and Takeru is still a dead beat."

The pause that followed had an ominous quality, but Taichi was too brazen to feel concerned. "Takeru is not a dead beat," Eimi said at last. Her cool, detached tone had Taichi sitting up. It reminded him too much of Yamato, and he was no stranger to arguing with his best friend.

"Look, I know everyone loves Takeru. I've known the little shit since he was a toddler; I like him, too. But you can't ignore the facts because you like him, Eimi. He doesn't have a job-"

"He's a writer!" Eimi cried. "He has three published volumes of poetry!"

"Whup-de-fucking-do." Taichi lifted his hand in a mocking spiral. "That pays way less than minimum wage, at least at the pace he publishes. And don't tell me his articles make up the difference. They don't."

Eimi tried to cut him off again, so he raised his voice over hers. "I'm not done. He's racking up more debt for school than a trophy wife with her husband's credit cards. How is he going to pay that off? Spoilers: he's not. He'll marry Hikari, and she'll have to pay it off with her teaching job that hardly supports her. Hell, Hikari already cleans his apartment for him and feeds him. It doesn't take an accountant to figure out that this won't work out financially, and it doesn't take a genius to see that this isn't fair for Hikari, and I thought you, of all people, would be on my side."

The words ripped out of him with greater and greater force, like clumps of snow falling from branches and causing an avalanche on impact with the drifts below. By the time he was finished, he was breathing heavily and sitting straight up in bed.

The silence on the phone was stone dead and cold. This time, Taichi couldn't shrug it off. He called Eimi's name with some hesitance.

"I'm not on your side. I'm not on Takeru's, or even Hikari's. I am my own representative, and so are they, Taichi. They get to decide how to run their lives, not you."

His teeth slammed together with aching force. "So you're going to ignore it. All that shit I said- All of that completely true shit-"

"I'm choosing to focus on the people. Takeru visited me a few days ago. I've never seen him the way he was, Taichi. He was just... Just staring around with blank eyes. He hardly seemed interested in lifting his head. I really think you might have broken something in him with whatever you last said, Taichi. If not, you came way too close. I'll be honest: I'm frightened for him."

"What?" Taichi squished his phone between his neck and shoulder, freeing up his hands, which he slid through his hair. "I- He was acting, Eimi. Had to be. You know how he is, always over the top. I didn't tell him anything I haven't told him before. Just that a friend at work needs a patent writer. It's writing, it pays well, it was a nice offer. How am I the damned villain here?"

"You didn't see him..." Her faint sniffle made him wince. "If only you could have seen him. It was a nice offer, Taichi, but you need to understand... Taking that job would be deferring a dream. It's not an easy thing for him to accept, and with all of the pressure right now..."

"Pressure? You're joking. What, is listening to old farts quote Shakespeare getting too hard? And he can be a writer later. He won't die if he puts it off for a few years." He cursed and edged away from his phone at the clattering that followed. "You're dropping things again," Taichi sighed. "They should invent some kind of velcro phone glove for you."

Eimi murmured indistinctly, which further scraped his nerves. "Pressure," he repeated scathingly. "Pressure. What kind of pressure could Takeru feel, with Hikari taking care of his scrawny ass?"

It might have been his thought of Hikari, or the passing reference to Takeru's extremities. Whatever the cause, Taichi jerked upright. The cover of Hikari's baby name book floated through his mind with vivid clarity, right down to the infant's squishy, dimpled belly.

A rushing sound overwhelmed him, as if he had launched himself down an alpine ski slope. Vertigo seized him, but, instead of welcoming the rush with a fierce grin, he sank beneath it. He fell back on the bed, striking his skull against the headboard. His vision swam, and he cursed without hearing it.

"Taichi! Are you okay?"

"Eimi," he groaned. Her words were distorted, but he recognized her voice, and it gave him comfort. Taichi closed his eyes and tried to focus on that clear, lilting sound. "Eimi. She can't- Hikari can't- She can't be pregnant."

"Taichi. And why can she not?"

Taichi's palm slid down his face, clammy and cold. His strength was rallying, shoving him through his stupor and pain and towards action. His brain stumbled through a few more broken thoughts, then shifted into gear. "She can't afford it. She can't take care of it by herself, and Takeru's no damned help. She's not married."

"Taichi, I swear to you, if you try to take the moral high ground on this, I will literally fly to Australia and smack you. Or make it so that you'll be the one who can't have a baby."

"It's not a fucking moral high ground!" The last of his dazed sensations burned away with his blaze of temper. "It's practicality, Eimi. Our parents will flip, and she'll need the stability to raise a kid, and- Fuck! Just tell me- is she pregnant or not? And why am I hearing it from you?"

"Hikari doesn't know yet. I left her with a box of tests, but if she's used one, she hasn't contacted me." She paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "And you're hearing it from me because Hikari's afraid to tell you herself."

Taichi's half-formed protests died out with a nasty gurgle. The details of the room blurred, then darkened. "I- I- What?" His body sagged back into the mass of pillows. "D-don't say shit like that." He tried to speak forcefully, but he could hardly hear his own words. "Hikari's not- She would never be afraid of me. I'm- I'm her brother."

"You are." That horrible, stern coldness thawed from Eimi's voice. It sounded like a carress now, and Taichi closed his eyes, eager for anything that could ease his pain and queasiness. "You are, and Hikari loves you. And that's exactly why it would rip her heart out if you told her the things you've been telling me. Trying to convince her to put off starting a family was bad enough, Taichi. Telling her she can't have the child that may be growing in her now- She couldn't bear to hear that from you."

Taichi's hands slid under his shirt, running over his chest. The aching was unbearable. His fingers flexed and scratched at his heart, probing for a way to rip it out. "I didn't- I don't want to hurt her. I'm trying to protect her."

"That's a strange sort of protection, Onii-chan."

Damn it. Taichi couldn't say why Eimi's words penetrated so far. Was it her tone, loving but firm? Was it her simple, potent logic? Or was it her timely use of his most cherished title? All he knew for certain was that the words had slipped between his ribs like a knife.

Still, his concern for Hikari was far stronger than his fear of pain. "But- God, Eimi. How will she live? What will my parents say to her?"

"We'll help as much as we can. There's no shortage of money between the two of us, Taichi."

"Money, sure. But who will watch the baby while she teaches? And she's so proud... Will she take money from us? And Takeru... What the hell does he think he's doing, getting her pregnant before marrying her..."

"That's life," Eimi said gently. "It happens sometimes, even if we try to avoid it."

"It's not supposed to happen to her!" Shaken as he was, some of his vehemence returned. He grasped his side, cinching an invisible wound, and tarried on. "My sister shouldn't be in this position!"

"Why?"

Eimi's obvious curiosity struck him like another blow to the head. "What- What do you mean, why? She's always been so, so pure and wise- And now-"

"Taichi. If you try to tell me that sleeping with the man she loves makes her impure or unwise, then I'll start booking my flight now. You're in desperate need of a kick in the ass."

"That's not what I meant! I just- I just- What is my sister going to do? What can I do for her in this situation?" He couldn't hear his own voice faltering, and he didn't feel the burning in his eyes.

"If you really want to help Hikari, then you'll trust her, Taichi. You'll let her make these choices for herself, without telling her how wrong she is. Try supporting her instead of protecting her. She's an adult; she doesn't need your protection. What she needs is her Onii-chan's love."

Taichi slid against the mattress and closed his eyes. There was a long silence as he tried to sort his thoughts out, but he was too overwhelmed to make any headway.

"It's late," he said at last. A surge of self-loathing followed. What, was he giving up? Fleeing? As much as he hated to admit it, he was. His strength was depleted, and he was nearly shaking.

"Okay." Her voice was tremulous and fragile. "Okay. Taichi- I know this is hard for you, but you can do this. And- And- I'm sorry. I love you."

"Yeah. Sure. Good night."

Taichi ended the call, dropped the phone on the nightstand, and stared at the drifting ships. The first rays of dawn were glittering against the water by the time he passed out.

Another Day

Jyou handed his ticket to an usher, who pointed him down a row of cushy chairs. His bones creaked as he collapsed into his seat. I wish I had known that I could make it ahead of time. Eimi could have gotten me much closer to the stage.

There was a program in his hand, but Jyou was too tired to read it. He wasn't really sure why he was here. An off duty, off call night was usually spent in death-like sleep, not dressed up to the nines in a fancy concert hall. But an email newsletter had notified him that there were some tickets left for tonight's performance in his area. Although he had planned to go straight to bed after work, he found himself donning the gray suit that swallowed him whole and hailing a taxi.

Jyou stared blearily at the stage. The concert hall featured red velvet seats, sumptuous crimson curtains, and intricate murals on every open bit of wall. Patrons in suits and dresses flitted through the rows. It was a much larger, grander venue than usual, and Jyou wondered how Eimi's manager had coaxed her into performing here.

It's totally normal for me to come to her show. After all, I haven't seen her since the wedding. Jyou wasn't sure whether to attribute the pain in his chest to guilt or the memory of their last meeting. Here he was again, attending a formal function that he didn't have time for, wearing the same suit that looked ridiculous on a wasted body.

I should have prepared for this, bought a new suit. Tried to get myself in better shape, or something. When Jyou wondered why he was concerned about Eimi's opinion of his appearance, he told himself that he didn't want his gauntness to upset her. I wonder if she'll be happy to see me… He looked at the closed curtains and sighed. I wonder if she found her change of heart overseas…

Jyou shifted his shoulders. There was a pricking sensation in his back, like a series of pins scraping his skin. It bothered him that he hadn't kept in contact with Eimi during her tour. Although he was even busier than he claimed to be, Jyou would have sacrificed sleep to check in with her. But he couldn't stand to discuss Koushiro with her again, even though he suspected that he was her only confidant.

He bent over his lap and closed his eyes, shutting out the people around him. I'm a worthless friend. I don't deserve to be here. Will she even be glad to see me? An impulse seized him, and he obeyed reflexively, pulling his mobile from his pocket. He opened their string of texts, as if the content might have changed since the last time he checked. But no; it was still a list of meaningless exchanges, 'how-are-you's and 'fine's. God, this is pathetic. When did our relationship devolve into this? The answer crashed up against the question, like a wave breaking over its predecessor, but Jyou ignored it.

The house lights dimmed, and Jyou silenced the phone and put it away. His fingers met a scrap of paper poking out of his wallet, and he removed it. He toyed with it nervously as the curtains drew back.

A single spotlight fell onto the stage, illuminating a chair, an acoustic guitar on a stand, and two microphones at different heights. Jyou grinned when he saw the intricate woodwork making up the back of the chair. It featured a stag's head whose antlers reached towards the frame. A second spotlight swept towards one of the curtains. A woman in a black evening gown stepped into the illumination and followed it to the chair, where she paused and faced the audience.

A polite smattering of applause welcomed Eimi's appearance. Blinking furiously, Jyou shoved his glasses up his nose, leaned closer, and squinted. The only seats available at the door were far back from the stage, so his view wasn't great, but she didn't look quite as he remembered. There was no goofy smile, no arms extended to the crowd in welcome. And she was thinner than Jyou had ever seen her. The close-fitting gown looked amazing, but her curves were less pronounced than he remembered.

Even so, his hands closed around the arm rests, indenting the plush cushions. She was speaking, probably greeting the audience, but the words were distant and garbled.

She settled the guitar over her shoulder and sat. It should have been strange to see a woman wearing a guitar over a gown, but the instrument seemed a natural part of her. The stray chords strung into music, and she began to sing. Her voice rolled sweetly over the hall, fresh as a breeze carrying the scent of flowers.

Jyou's eyes pinched shut as he recognized the song. It carried him back through his memory, and he saw her draped over his college bed, wearing nothing but the top of his pajamas. Most of the buttons were undone, creating a teasing display of her curves. The vibrations from the guitar rippled over the mattress, sending a faint thrum down Jyou's skin. Her voice washed over him, lulling him to sleep, a soft murmur that blended into his dreams.

The person beside him coughed, and Jyou twitched. He yanked himself out of his daydream with a string of mental curses. Although the hall was dark, Jyou spread his program over his lap.

He tried to focus on the music he was hearing now, but he couldn't escape the voice of the past. In his mind, she was singing in his bath, wet and slick on the low stool beside the faucet. Her voice was ringing off the tiles, echoing in the tiny room. She didn't notice him enter and strip on the opposite side of the screen, didn't hear him tiptoe behind her and kneel. He spoke her name, wrapped his arms around her, and cupped her breasts. Her breathing hitched, and she tipped her head back against his shoulder, exposing her neck. His teeth sank into it, biting just hard enough to make her sway. His hands slid down, her legs parted, and soon, she was vocalizing in an entirely different way.

Suddenly, the hall was bright, and Jyou shielded his eyes with his hand. The crowd was rising and moving about, and Jyou realized that the first half of the show had passed without his realizing it. People wanted to walk by him, and he tried to take up as little aisle space as possible. But standing wasn't an option, and he was too overwrought to really work with the patrons.

By the time he regained his balance, the intermission was over. The lights went dim, and Jyou sighed, relieved by the stillness. Eimi returned to the stage and began to sing again, and Jyou anchored his thoughts in the present.

The more he observed her, the more frustrated he grew. How did I let her slip out of my life? True, their anxiety used to build up like static between a sweater and an undershirt in winter, prickling and agitating them. But that was years ago, when they were undergrads. He was almost a fully licensed doctor, and she was a famous singer; surely, they had matured enough to handle that issue. And despite the throes of nerves during their relationship, Jyou couldn't remember being happier than he was when she was lying beside him, chattering in a chirping undertone.

I should have tried harder to convince her to stay back then. Jyou had argued, pleaded, and begged when Eimi announced her desire to break up, but those efforts faded from his memory as he watched her croon onstage. A vexing combination of anger and regret flooded him as her voice thickened over the emotional climax of a song. She could have been mine. If I had just worked harder to stay calm, then maybe I could have come home to her all of these years.

He pictured her greeting him at his apartment door when he entered, embracing him, kissing him, easing away the strain of the day. Did she still sing while she cooked? Did she still enjoy nattering while she gave and received back rubs?

A surge of nostalgia and longing overwhelmed him, and the thing Jyou had been trying to prevent finally happened: although Koushiro had nothing to do with their breakup all those years ago, he began to see him as the enemy. He already has Tachikawa-san. The program crinkled in his hand, and he worked it into a tight ball. Why does Eimi want him, too? Yes, he's a good man, and a talented one. But so am I, or at least, that's what Eimi says. Why can't it be me? Why does it have to be him?

The upright portion of Jyou's brain tried to reign in his negative thoughts, but the flood had already begun, and it couldn't be banked. And furthermore, it's hypocritical of Eimi to love him. She broke up with me because she said we were incompatible. But Koushiro is taken! He's not available. It doesn't get much more incompatible than that!

A new song began, and it was so familiar and cherished that it broke through Jyou's thoughts. His eyes focused on Eimi, bent over her guitar. She was singing Moon River, an old favorite that she had sung frequently while they were dating. In an instant, Jyou felt her arms closing around him at the end of the day, enveloping him in warmth, inviting him to lean on her.

His hand shook as he fished his handkerchief from his pocket. He held it against his eyes and rubbed gently, trying to relieve their intense stinging. God. God. This isn't about her, is it. Not entirely. He cared for her, yes, and he missed her. But what he really longed for was the comfort and support she had given him, which he sorely needed now. She was my sanctuary. That's what she does; give all of herself, every last drop, to just a few people. And I've been so busy and stressed and tired and alone for so long…

The song ended, and the show closed with it. Jyou stood with the other patrons and applauded, squinting as the house lights assaulted his burning eyes. I need to reconnect with Eimi, he told himself as he filed out of the aisle. But I can't do it now, not tonight, not with all of these needs and memories riding me. Not before I've figured out exactly how I feel about her; how much of this is love for her, and love for what she represents to me.

He stared down at the slip of paper in his hands, balled up against the program. It was almost worn beyond legibility, but he could barely make out the digits scrawled upon it. A nurse had pressed it into his hand a few days ago, giving him her number with a wink and a pretty smile. After a few flustered minutes, he had slipped it into his wallet and forgotten about it. Jyou stared at it for a while, then tucked it carefully back into place.

There was a lot to consider beforehand, but maybe it was time to give her a ring.

Author's Note: And there you have it. I will either update Four Years or Seeking Resonance next. Thanks for reading!