Kokawa Kokone's POV:

After about 4 hours of nonstop shopping, I was finally allowed to leave. I had what I needed after maybe 20 minutes. Kazuha, on the other hand…

"Kazuha," I sighed with frustration. "Just buy a damn dress."

"Don't get all huffy with me! The dress has to be nice, but not too nice. It has to be sophisticated, but show that I can have fun. Know what I mean?"

"No, I have absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about. You know, Heiji will like any one of these dresses. What's his favorite color again? Green?" Kazuha blushed a furious shade of red.

"I'm not buying one to impress Heiji, geez! I've told you that a million times…" She busied herself with a purple dress that had a peculiar collar and a rather short skirt. I sighed once again, checking my watch.

"Here. Pick this." I lifted a lightweight white dress off the rack nearby. It had a black belt along the waste, was modest, as it went down to the knees and covered up cleavage, and was sleeveless. "This will look nice on you. Now I need to go, I've got to meet up with someone."

"Ah? Not Ichiro-kun?" She asked curiously, taking the dress and looking it over with a look of approval.

"No, actually someone else. I'll see you later, Kazuha-chan." I waved over my shoulder as I left the store.

And now I was sitting at home, staring at the phone as it waited in painful silence in front of me. I had called Hyo Yeoung at least four times… My foot was tapped against the floor with impatience. Finally, I decided I had to do something to keep myself busy, so I got up to go to Ichiro's.

When I opened the door, I almost ran into my mom.

"O-Omma! I didn't notice -"

"Ahhh, don't insult my height you terrible girl! You're even shorter than I am. Where are you going?"

"Uh…" I said stupidly. "Ichiro's…"

"Aigoo, aigoo…" she shook her head as she pushed past me to get inside. "Oh, the funeral is tomorrow in the afternoon. It's at that place near the graveyard…you've been there before." I had unknowingly been pushed out of the house and watched uncomfortably as my mom shut the door in my face. Well then, I thought, guess that settles the actual time frame…

Once I got to Ichiro's house, I decided knocking would probably be more courteous, and scolded myself mentally for letting myself in so much. Ichiro's mom came to the door, smiling warmly and embracing me before letting me in.

"It's been a while, Kone-chan! Getting all these new restaurants set up I've been so busy with all these trips, and I've been traveling with Masaki on all of his business trips…in fact, he's in Kyoto right now. Ahhh, I wish I was able to go on this one with him, Kyoto is such a beautiful place…"

"Er, right. Uh, where's Ichiro?"

"Oh! Ichiro!" She called behind her. "He's been upstairs with his guitar all day, that lazy child…" She playfully scorned his name, but I could tell this pleased her for some reason.

"Ah?" He answered back.

"I need to go pick up some groceries, so I'll leave you two here. I'll be back in an hour or two, alright? He's upstairs, just let yourself in." She smiled once again to me and then picked up her purse, slipped on her shoes and left. I still wasn't completely used to this woman's charm; it dumbfounded me every time. I shook my head, as if to wake myself up, then started for the stairs. As I got closer to Ichiro's room, I heard the plucking of strings, Ichiro humming along. I knocked on the doorframe of his room.

"Knock knock."

"Oh? Hey. What's up?" He looked up from his guitar where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed. I sighed tiredly and walked over to take a seat as well.

"Nothing much I guess. I bought a dress. Kazuha finally bought one after I practically shoved it down her throat…" Ichiro chuckled. I pulled my legs under me to sit the way he was so that we were directly facing each other. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh…nothing. Just…thinking."

"About?"

"The trial. Do you think it'll be difficult?" He asked reluctantly.

"Maybe," I admitted. "You'll probably have to keep me from being a potential hazard to humanity, though."

"Don't I always?" He smirked that adorable smirk at me, and I couldn't resist smiling back. Then I thought of something and pulled my phone out, checking to see if I missed any calls. Nope. I bit my lip.

"Something wrong?"

"No, not really…it's just – well. Hyo Yeoung's aunt died yesterday. He left our…encounter early because of some emergency, and I haven't talked to him since. He won't answer any of my calls…" I stared at the screen of my phone, willing it to ring.

"Ah. So that's the funeral you're going to then?"

"Mmm," I hummed.

"That's too bad. Are you nervous?" I looked up at him and swallowed.

"…Yes." He nodded. "How are you supposed to act at funerals?" I asked him, honestly curious.

"…how are you supposed to act?" He clarified. I nodded, crossing my arms after feeling a sudden chill. "Well…generally people cry. Or they just mourn in their own way. People place flowers, attend the viewing, go to the burial -"

"I know the general process, what I need to know is what I'm supposed to do. I didn't know this woman very well…and even if I did…Ichiro, I didn't even cry at my dad's funeral. What if they think I'm rude or something?" I said quietly, looking down at my hands. He thought about his answer carefully.

"Well…be honest. Be caring. Be…I dunno, just be the way you are now."

"The way I am now? Are you joking?" He rolled his eyes.

"Obviously not. But you care, right? You want him to answer, to call you back. Because you care. Just act like that tomorrow and everything will be fine." I thought about this answer and decided it couldn't get any simpler than that.

"…Is it bad to not cry at funerals?"

"No? Not necessarily…"

"But that's what people do, right? They cry. They mourn. They -" I broke off, turning to look out the dark window. "They react normally." Ichiro was silent for a few minutes.

"People do cry. People do mourn. But what's normal and what's…abnormal? Those things don't have an absolute definition. You think I'm weird because I hate strawberries, right? I happen to think you're weird for liking them. There are hundreds of thousands of points of view."

"How can you hate strawberries!" I said in exasperation. But I realized he was right. I sighed. "That makes sense though, I guess. I just wish that other people would see it that way. You know what I mean? After Appa's funeral, my mom's friends were always saying stupid things like 'Hana, how can your child not react with a single tear? What's wrong with her?'" I looked down at my hands, holding my phone loosely.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Ichiro objected.

"That is definitely a false statement, and you know it."

"Well alright, so no one's perfect. That's how this world works. But your flaws don't necessarily equal what's wrong with you. I happen to like your flaws." I looked up at him in confusion.

"…Which ones?"

"Well…let's see…" His cheeks were just barely pink. He looked down at his guitar and strummed the strings lightly as he thought. "When you get into fights, whether they're physical or verbal. You're very argumentative, as you probably know, so I guess that could be considered a flaw. But it's extremely entertaining to watch, even though I have to pry you away just to keep you from getting into trouble. I kind of like that job." I snickered.

"What else? That can't be the only one…"

"…You hide things a lot. Sometimes you lie. Even though you usually don't lie to me, when you do, I know it's because you're trying to protect someone from something." Some cheerful chords came from the guitar as he spoke.

"Ah…?" I said thoughtfully. I was looking at him, observing how his hair stuck up like duck feathers but still looked attractive in that way. He was wearing his plaid pajama pants from that morning, a grey t-shirt on.

"See? I love your flaws. Among other things, of course." He looked up and grinned at me, and I smiled back as I leaned onto my palms, leaving my cell phone sitting in front of my legs.

"I'm glad someone does." I started to get up. "I should go. Big day tomorrow and all. I'll meet you at that party thing, maybe a bit late, so don't wait up, alright? The funeral's in the afternoon but it should only last a few hours, I suppose…" I was leaning against the doorframe now, looking back at him. He nodded.

"Okay. I'll see you then. Go to sleep," he almost scolded. "I mean it. If you don't, I'm taking you home as soon as you arrive at the party." I raised my eyebrows at his threat, then giggled slightly.

"Alright, tough guy. You win." Surprising even myself, I took a few steps forward and leaned over slightly to kiss his cheek. Smiling as I left him completely bewildered, I shut the door behind me.

I didn't, however, sleep that night. Again. I stayed up all night watching Korean dramas, even though I wasn't the biggest fan of them. There was usually too much going on in them, and of course they were usually pretty unrealistic, but I figured TV was TV, and that having to focus on the characters' lives was better than focusing on my own.

My mother didn't seem particularly bothered by this, just reminded me to get myself up in time to go to the funeral as she shut her bedroom door behind her. I often wondered if she even slept. There had been a TV in there at one point, but now it was just a simple bedroom. Or was it? I would never know; I never under any circumstances went into her room, much less her bathroom or her closet.

Now that the sun was rising, I figured I could get up and arrange what I was going to wear, maybe pick up some flowers, cook something. I snorted at that thought – like I could cook anything that anyone else would eat besides myself.

My dress wasn't all that fancy. Actually, it resembled the dress I picked for Kazuha, more or less, except it was completely black. I pulled out my black heels and a thin, gold necklace with pearls evenly distributed along the chain.

After my shower, I went to the kitchen to find something to heat up, or eat cold, it didn't really matter much. I sighed as I pulled out some left over kimchi and ate it cold.

It was only 11 in the morning by now. I went to get dressed, then headed out the door in search of a decent flower shop. I already knew there was no way for me to get a flower stand, a traditional sentiment for funerals such as these in Korea, but hoped they would consider the whole "it's the thought that counts" thing.

With my newly bought bouquet of chrysanthemums, I started to make my way to the place where the funeral was said to be. My mother had said I'd been there before, and indeed I had, but not since Appa's funeral.

It was eerily quiet inside. There were a few flower stands along the entrance, all from the small population of Koreans that had been associated with Mrs. Han. Some people were seated already, dabbing their eyes with tissues. I wasn't sure whether I should sit or not. I only saw one couple I recognized, but evidently they didn't recognize me. The Jeoungs passed me in silence, and I bit my lip and followed them.

I took a seat in the very back, placing the flowers next to me. Hyo Yeoung was nowhere to be seen, at least from where I was sitting. I stared at the all the way in the front for a long while; I had apparently missed the viewing, but silently was grateful for this.

And then there he was. He had stood up from the very front, with a man that was presumably Mr. Han as they approached the casket, placing a hand on it to say a prayer.

I swallowed, feeling the need to leave and move around, a restlessness that naturally developed soon after my father's funeral. I knew I couldn't just leave though, and got up, despite how I knew people would react.

As I tried my best to walk proudly up the dark aisle towards the casket, I could feel critical eyes glaring at me from every direction.

"That's her," one of them said. "That's the girl that disgraced her own mother."

"Really? I never would have guessed. I hear Koreans raised in Japan are more accustomed to those habits though…" This woman sighed in a 'what can you do' kind of way. I didn't bother to look to see who it was – what did it matter? It wouldn't have been hard to find out, given the amount of Koreans my mother was associated with. And so what if I was a disgrace? I felt rage simmer behind my eyes.

But before I could really think of what I was actually doing, I was at the casket, standing behind the two men. Mr. Han was mumbling something, maybe a farewell, while Hyo Yeoung stayed silent. Alright, I thought, here goes nothing.

I stepped up next to Hyo Yeoung and placed my hand over his on the casket. I felt him look at me, but I kept my eyes on the wood grain in front of me.

We waited for Mr. Han to finish the prayer, and then it was time to deliver the casket to the burial site not far away. I rode in silence with Hyo Yeoung and his father; neither of them seemed to acknowledge my existence, which was perfectly fine with me.

However, I decided to stand in the back during the actual burial. There were only 5 people including myself: Mr. Han, Hyo Yeoung, and the Jeoungs. Soon it was time to leave, but I wasn't sure if I should just yet.

Surprisingly, Mr. Han was the first to leave out of all of us. He passed me with a small nod, his face pale and beaten, and the Jeoungs stared after him in wonder. They discussed something quickly, then took their leave as well. That left Hyo Yeoung and I, me standing 3 feet behind him as he stood perfectly still, staring at the burial place.

I waited patiently. It took maybe 25 minutes of him just standing there, and I wondered if I should do something, but eventually he turned around. He hadn't expected me to still be there, but didn't make an effort to speak. He did the same as Mr. Han, passing me with a nod. But instead of heading home, he was going towards one of the benches that was concealed under the shade of a giant cherry blossom tree. Confused, I followed him.

By the time I got there, he was already seated on the cement bench, leaning over with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the ground. I stood in front of him for a few minutes.

"I'm so sorry, Hyo Yeoung-ssi," I said quietly. He didn't answer me. I took this as an invitation to sit beside him.

"You never answered my calls yesterday. I was really worried." Again, no response.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked, placing a hand cautiously on his shoulder. He raised his head slowly.

"She was a mother to me. She took care of me. She held this family together. I -" His eyes were tinged a slight red as he raised a hand to cover his mouth. He cleared his throat, leaning back over again to stare at the ground.

"I know. Believe me, I know. Why didn't you tell me about your parents?"

"Because you don't typically discuss that with someone that has the potential to be in your future."

"A-ah. I see…" I honestly didn't.

"Nothing ever prepared you for this. You know? Why did this have to -" he broke off, turning his head away again. Only seconds later his shoulders started to shake. He brought his hand to his face to cover his eyes. I felt myself inhale sharply; how do you handle these kinds of situations? He unconsciously leaned toward me, and I did what came naturally, though I never would have expected it to feel so normal. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and laid my head against his, willing him to stop his tears. I hated it when people cried, especially when I couldn't do a thing about it. We sat like that for a long while, and I watched the sun begin to set as I stroked his head with one hand while holding him together with the other.

Soon he was back to normal – or as normal as you could be during the funeral of a close relative – and started to pull away to sit up straight. He rubbed a hand over his face before turning to me. I watched him carefully.

"I'm sorry my mom didn't come. She would have but…I don't think she can handle funerals after my father's. You'll be okay? I'll stay if you want me -" I hadn't noticed what he was doing until he had actually done it.

He was kissing me.