A/N: Sorry it's been a longer wait for this chapter. I've found myself saddled recently with something closely resembling a real life, so this has had to wait a while. Also, I got rather caught up in Saki (which, even though it's about Mahjong, a game I do not understand in the slightest, is a charming little series) and it was hard to bring my mind back to Yumi.

Anyway, as I said before, we're in Yamanashi for the moment. But don't worry. We'll all be joining Sachiko soon :)


Yumi's uncle, Ibuka Eiichi, was an engineer at a nearby robotics factory, similar to quite a large percentage of the Yamanashi-ken inhabitants, and owing to that, he had a steady income that had allowed them to purchase the house that she was currently sitting in, drumming her pencil lazily on the windowsill.

They lived in a fairly large suburb on the outskirts of the city of Yamanashi itself and the property was very much like her own- a spacious, western-style home with three bedrooms and a small garden to the rear. They'd recently moved from an apartment in the city centre in anticipation of the baby and, possibly, given the extra bedroom, with the hope of another in the near future. It was a nice house; tidy, but lived in, and Yumi felt comfortable enough with them now to help herself to tea and instant ramen without asking permission, especially with her uncle.

Eiichi-ojisan was tall and bespectacled, with messy, fluffy hair and a very calming personality. He was so laid-back that when she found out he used to play basketball for his university, she actually laughed and stared at him as he smiled serenely at her from across the kitchen table. She couldn't imagine him displaying any kind of competitiveness, instead calling to mind an image of him sat patiently on the court floor, legs crossed and leaning back on his hands nonchalantly, watching the proceedings around him with mild interest. He'd laughed with her later when she told him. He didn't have an especially sharp sense of humour, but he did love to laugh.

Unlike her aunt, unfortunately.

To be honest, Yumi found it hard to believe that Ibuka Miho, nee Fukuzawa, was related to her father at all sometimes. For a start, they looked almost nothing alike, and secondly, their personalities were wildly different. Yumi supposed though, correctly, that the latter was ultimately down to the age-gap between them; her father's sister was much younger that her brother by almost a staggering fifteen years.

Apparently, their mother, ostensibly Yumi's grandmother, had always wanted two children, a boy and a girl, and had twisted her husband's arm into trying for many years to provide a daughter for her to dote on. This meant that when Yumi was beginning elementary school, her aunt was only just nearing the end of her middle school tenure, and was, unfortunately, rather spoiled as a girl. It was no surprise when Yuuki had declared that he would rather stay behind in Tokyo- Miho-obasan had always been offhand with them in the past, snide and self-indulgent. She'd mellowed considerably over the years as she'd matured, of course, especially after marrying and settling down with the amiable Ibuka Eiichi, but it was still difficult for the Fukuzawa siblings to completely eradicate all bad feeling towards her.

Yumi turned away from the window, putting her pencil back into its case with a heavy sigh. She didn't want to be here.

She really didn't want to be here.

The house was settled at the top of a hilled street and the room she was in faced due east. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have mattered; the Yamanashi horizon looked much the same from almost every angle. The prefecture was nestled in a valley, flanked by a spectacular circle of three mountain ranges to the south, west and northeast, and if anyone looked out of any window on any hill, they would see the rugged beauty of Mother Nature's greatest works.

Anyone, that is, except Yumi, who had spent the last three-and-a-half days staring out of the guest room at the spectacular scenery, scenery that could soothe even the most turbulent of hearts, and seen absolutely nothing except a straight and narrow road back to Tokyo; back to Sachiko.

She hadn't spoken to her since Friday.

Yumi had left the sleeping heiress and returned home with a heaviness in her soul, and she hadn't been able to bring herself to call since then, brushing off her mother's suggestions of doing so with the same excuse each time; that she wanted to leave Sachiko to recover. It was a lie; Yumi knew it was a lie- she'd spent enough years with her body and mind to know when she was kidding herself. A whole week had passed now since that fateful evening, but every time she thought about dialling the number and speaking to Sachiko she found herself freezing up with fear, terrified that something in her voice would give her away, even if all she managed to say was 'hello'. And she was really beginning to hate herself for it. She wanted to call, really, she did… But what could she say if Sachiko asked why she hadn't called in a week, knowing that her onee-sama was ill? What satisfactory lie could Yumi tell her that she wouldn't see right through?

No, it was useless now. Maybe if she'd just steeled hersef and called a couple of days after it would have been alright, but too much time had passed now for it to go unnoticed, and Yumi kicked herself.

'…Sachiko…'

She whispered the name, sans honorific. It was something she did secretly and only in the privacy of her room and her heart. To Yumi, she wasn't 'onee-sama' anymore, or 'Sachiko-sama', only Sachiko… a beautiful blessing, a stroke of infinite fortune that Yumi was unlucky enough to have fallen for in the most exhilarating and terrifying way.

She went over to the wardrobe and delicately pulled out the fine, white cotton shirt that hung alone on one of the poles.

Yumi hadn't worn it yet. She'd wanted to wait until their next meeting to put it on, feeling it only right that the first time she wore it out should be when she was with Sachiko, as a private thank you. But when she'd returned home from the Ogasawara household and packed her suitcase for the trip, Yumi had folded the shirt neatly into its own plastic covering, placing it gently down with the rest of her clothes; even if she couldn't stay with Sachiko, she was going to take a little piece with her.

In three days, she'd done exactly as she was going to do now a total of 17 times; she pulled off her top, slipped her arms into the sleeves of the shirt and pulled it around her, feeling the soft, cool brush of the material against the bare skin of her belly.

Goosebumps rose on her flesh as she raised one of her hands up to her face and breathed in the scent of the material. The slightly stiff cuff covered her palm and she nuzzled her nose against it gently, thinking of Sachiko, always thinking of Sachiko, with a crippling combination of both hope and despair.

Yumi wasn't the brightest, wasn't the sharpest, but she was no fool. She'd entertained the thought that Sachiko might return her feelings, sure, daring to wish that it was true, that all the memories of their touches and smiles and time together weren't just in her imagination… but a small, sorrowful voice deep in the back of her mind had told her sympathetically that, even if she was right, the world was a harsh place to live in, and that the feelings she had for Sachiko would be a difficult thing for it to accept. She'd also recognised, with no small amount of pity, that the voice had sounded very much like Sei-sama.

Sachiko was Ogasawara Sachiko, and there was just no escaping it. What right did Yumi have to think that she was worthy of someone like her? And even if, even if, the universe had decided to swing madly in her favour and throw Sachiko into her arms to hold and cherish and protect and love so dearly

Yumi lay down on the bed and buried her face in the sleeves. The lingering scent of the other girl was still trapped in the fine weaving of the cloth, but it was beginning to fade.

even if it had, there was every possibility that there would be no room for Yumi in Sachiko's future. She had an international conglomerate waiting for her to adopt, the public image of which to consider, and an intensely traditional family whose patriarchs, most likely, would not take kindly to this kind of thing. How could Yumi compare to that?

Frustrated, she took the garment off and hung it over the back of the chair beside the bed.

She was getting ahead of herself, she knew. 'This kind of thing' was only a crazy, half-baked idea cooking in the oven of her own mind, and she had no way of solidly knowing how Sachiko really felt about her without asking. Which she most definitely was not going to be doing any time soon. How do you ask a question like that? None of the (few) romantic stories she'd ever seen or read were jumping into memory to help either.

Her stomach grumbled, loudly, and she looked at her watch.

6:26. Dinner-time.

On cue, Miho-obasan's voice sailed up from downstairs and through the gap at the bottom of the door. 'Dinner, Yumi-chan!'

Oh well, she thought, rising from the bed and pulling her t-shirt back on, time to placate the beast.

She locked the door in her mind and planted a smile firmly on her face. She didn't want her parents to worry, especially when they were on holiday, but as she took another last look at Sachiko's shirt hanging lifelessly over the chair, she did wish that there was someone who could help.


It was late into the evening when Yumi's mom knocked on her door.

'Hello, Yumi-chan,' she greeted, poking her head in without waiting for an answer.

Yumi smiled welcomingly, pushing away the sheet of paper she'd been trying to jot ideas onto, and beckoned her mother in. After her last bout of introspection and self-analysis, she'd thrown herself onto the bed and just given up. As a person, Yumi had never been given to thinking deeply about herself, content to sail along in life and just take things as they came (Sachiko liked that about her.) Consequently, this recent surge of soul-searching had thoroughly exhausted her, so she'd decided to try and fulfil her promise to the Yamayurikai instead and think of as many possible themes, plays and stalls for the cultural festival as she could.

Miki Fukuzawa sat down on the bed, stealing a glance at the paper as she did so. It was still blank. 'Is everything alright, Yumi?'

Slightly taken aback, she stared at her mother, confused. 'What do you mean?'

'Yumi.' A direct tone, a direct look. 'You've been quiet and out-of-sorts for days. You haven't eaten nearly half as much as you usually do.'

I've been eating plenty! She thought, a little indignant. …Haven't I?

She was sure she had. Dinner was lovely- okazu and soup, salmon and rice- and desert was… was… Well, okay, so she'd skipped desert. But she'd had a big lunch, hadn't she? She'd had... er…

Come to think of it, what had she eaten for lunch?

Or breakfast, for that matter?

And then she remembered the enormous growl that her stomach had emitted earlier on.

Oh.

Well, that explains that, then.

She turned to her mother again, who was watching her expectantly with an expression that was equal parts concern and disapproval, an expression that mothers reserve only for their children, and immediately felt guilty. Honestly, she thought she'd been doing a fine job, smiling and intermingling with the family, laughing and talking as though there was nothing on her mind. She'd really poured her effort into it, and it was disappointing to find that it hadn't worked, even a little.

'Um, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to worry you. Any of you.'

The direct look softened. 'Want to tell me what's on your mind?'

Yumi shook her head but smiled gratefully all the same. As much as she'd wished earlier for someone's help she couldn't speak to okaa-san about this, not without opening up a whole other can of worms. But she appreciated the gesture anyway.

'Ah.' Her mom nodded sagely. 'Teenage troubles. I wouldn't understand, right?'

Yumi laughed. 'Something like that.'

'Why don't you speak to Sachiko-san about it?'

Yumi prayed that her mother didn't catch just how much she tensed up at that moment. 'Uh, no, I-er, no. She's still, um,' Yumi coughed. 'Sick. Right now.' She swallowed around the lie stuck in her throat; she had no idea if Sachiko was still sick. 'I wouldn't want to burden her with this.' Really.

Miki Fukuzawa pursed her lips, 'I see,' and Yumi paled, hoping against hope that she genuinely did not see. 'Well, how about Touko-chan?'

Yumi gave a bitter little laugh at that. 'No, I don't think Touko would be able to help with this either, mom.'

Her mother shrugged. 'Maybe not, but she'll still listen to you. She is your petite-soeur, after all, your little sister.'

'Thanks, but I'll be okay for now.' Yumi said apologetically, and with a brighter smile she added, 'I'll try not to mope around so much anymore.'

Her mother returned the smile a little sadly and stood up to leave, her shoulders slightly hunched. 'Okay. You know where I am if you want to talk.'

Yumi knew that she'd only wanted to help, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably at having to hide so much from her. Usually, they were very close. Yumi would often go to her parents' bedroom to talk about things with okaa-san before bed; she'd done so most recently when brooding over the Touko'-chan' situation and, where her mom hadn't been able to give her the answer, she'd listened, and it really had made Yumi feel a bit better about things with her petite-soeur.

And then, just as the Touko in her mind gave her a sympathetic smile, a thought occurred to Yumi.

'Actually, wait, mom,' she called out, stopping her mother as she turned the handle. Maybe she hadn't hit the right nail when she'd suggested her 'little sister', but she had been pretty close to the idea that had just lightbulbed over Yumi's head.

'Do you think it would be too late to call Kobayashi-kun's house?'


'Hah! I win! Ten to three, Masamune favour!' The board was wiped clean again.

Masamune Kobayashi loved games. Strategy games in particular, and especially Go. Since joining the Hanadera Council, he and Fukuzawa had had a running Go tournament between the two of them, and he didn't feel any shame admitting that he was quite a bit better than his friend. Fukuzawa had improved considerably in recent months, yes, but Masamune still had the edge.

With a sour face, the Hanadera Student Council President, shining school beacon of integrity, perseverance and congeniality, crossed his arms over his chest and whined like a girl.

'We always play Go. We play Go so much I think my brain's seized up and automatically started calling it Stop. No wonder I'm still losing.' A heavy sigh. 'Can't we play something else for a change?'

Masamune laughed. 'You're such a sore loser, Yukichi!'

'You know, you can stop calling me that any time now,' he grumbled by way of reply, but his frown faded and he chuckled when Masamune gave him a chumly punch on the arm.

It was shortly into their next game when the phone rang.

Huh? Who would call me at this time of night? Masamusne picked up the receiver. 'Hello, Kobayashi residence?'

'Um, h-hello, Kobayashi-kun,' said a recognisable voice on the other end of the line. 'I'm sorry to disturb you and your family so late in the evening.'

'Ah, no problem, Yumi-chan. It's not really that late. Yukichi and I were just playing Go anyway.' He waved off the glare from Fukuzawa at using his nickname again.

She giggled. 'Are you still winning?'

'Always, Yumi-chan. Sometimes I wonder if that brother of yours is even trying to win at all.' He gave a mocking thumbs up to his friend, whose face promptly turned red, but Masamune was unconcerned; as much as Fukuzawa would grumble, he was never genuinely upset about it. He seemed to have an indestructable strength of character.

'Actually, Kobayashi-kun, could I possibly speak to Yuuki? Um, j-just for a moment. About something.'

'Sure,' he said, trying to keep his concern from colouring his speech; there was somrthing in her voice that sounded like tears waiting to be shed. 'I'll just pass you accross.'

Fukuzawa, who had heard his side of the conversation, of course, took the phone without hesitation. He seemed a little confused that Yumi-chan was calling but he gave a casual greeting and sat down on the couch to speak with her.

Masamune waited. He had already heard the almost-tremble in Yumi-san's voice so he was fairly certain that, any moment now, his friend could give him some kind of polite signal to leave the room if he required privacy. But it never came, and Masamune, instead of looking unobtrusively at the wall during his friend's phone conversation (as he'd intended), found himself staring at Fukuzawa's face with his ears twitching at the far off squeak of Yumi-chan's voice. He couldn't make out her words and, so far, her younger brother hadn't said anything more than a brief hello, but he found it interesting, watching the developing conversation unfold over his friend's features. He had been relaxed, casual, to begin with, leaning back into the couch with one foot resting on his knee as he listened, but somewhere along the line he'd stood up, his spare fist balled at his side and his eyebrows drawn tightly together. His eyes darted from left to right.

It was around about then that Masamune realised that he had never truly seen the Student Council President frowning. Not really. Not even close. Right now, Yuuki-san was deadly serious.

'Um, hold on a minute, Yumi-chan,' Masamune heard his friend say suddenly. Fukuzawa turned to him, covering the mouthpiece. 'Kobayashi, would you mind if I took this in your room?'

'Not at all,' Masamune answered at once.

Fukuzawa bowed gratefully but he was obviously flustered. 'Thank you,' he said hurriedly, and in a flurry of movement, he'd left the room and dashed upstairs without another word.


When Yukichi returned to the sitting room, over an hour had passed, and Masamune had reset the game board and begun a showdown with himself to pass the time. His friend sat down on the other side without a glance towards it; he had a pensive look on his face and he didn't say a word.

'Um... Is Yumi-chan okay?' Masamune asked after a few minutes of silence. It was quite forward of him, and not something that he would usually be nosy enought to ask, but during his solo game the sound behind her voice and Fukuzawa's serious expression had been playing over in his mind, and he had come to genuinely worry about her.

He was met with a completely blank expression. 'Hm?'

'Uh, Yumi-chan,' he repeated. 'Is she alright?'

'Oh, Yumi,' Fukuzawa said, as if only just remebering he even had a sister. 'I hope so. She seemed okay when she hung up, but that was ages ago... Hm.'

Masamune blinked. Yukichi had gone upstairs at 10:17pm and returned at 11:43pm. If Yumi-chan had gone 'ages ago', what had her brother been doing for the rest of those 86 minutes?

'I'm sorry for hogging your room for so long, Kobayashi,' Fukuzawa said, breaking into his thoughts. 'I was trying to think around a problem.' He sighed heavily. 'But I can't think of anything else to do.'

Masamune was thoroughly confused, but he didn't ask questions; the cagey words were enough to tell him not to pry. If Yukichi wanted him to know, he would tell him.

Instead, his friend rose to his feet again. He seemed to have come to a decision, but judging by the way he asked the next question, it was with a hefty amount of reluctance. 'Sorry, but can I use your phone again, Kobayashi? I need to request a favour...'

Masamune nodded. 'Sure,' he said, inwardly wondering who on earth Yukichi would dare to call at this hour.

'Thanks,' Fukuzawa replied, and as he made his way to the door again, scratching the the back of his head, almost as an after-thought he grumbled, 'I hope Kashiwagi-sempai doesn't shout at me for calling so late,' and then shut the door behind him.


Chapter Twelve - preview

'But today... Yumi paled as she felt her stomach give another lurch, and she sighed. Today was another matter altogether.

The car was stuffy and warm despite the air conditioning, her stomach had been fitfully turning over her breakfast for the past hour and a half, she couldn't sleep off the claustrophobic headache that had settled behind her eyes due to lack of sleep, and it was, in her humble opinion, absolutely and unequivocally, entirely Sachiko's fault...'

Apologies if my characterisation is a little off at all over the next few chapters. To be honest, I really did find it difficult to get back into the swing of things.

That said, though, I would like to thank each and every one of you who have taken the time to review this story because they are what made me so determined to carry on. Reading over all of your comments really cheered me on, so thank you so, so much.