A/N: Now that Masuda's recruited, we get a little deeper into the drama club subplot. Feel free to correct me if you know high school theatre better than I do - it's been a few years! Also, fun fact for the chapter title: the word "saudade," as defined by dear Google, means "a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese or Brazilian temperament." I felt it was the best word I was looking for to capture the feeling of this chapter. Or arc, or fic.

I got just far enough into Chapter 32 to give 31 some preview quotes, so this arc is gonna end at 31. Then it's back to Heartbreak Cure for a while.

For now, enjoy!

[Chapter 27]: Saudade

Festival season was, famously in the potter world and infamously in his, the most hectic few weeks Ayato had ever known. Worse than Christmas. It was also the longest, so when he woke up on Thursday for morning chores, it was in fact still only Tuesday and he had a dreary week ahead of him.

Kimito sent him to the store early and had him stocking shelves until the last minute. He left for school from there, distinctly grumpy from an empty stomach but otherwise glad to not pass the fork in the forest path on his way. Well, he had passed it this morning on the way to the store, but his mind had been otherwise occupied.

How was the school festival two and a half weeks away? This month felt like it was dragging on forever.

So many sunny days, too. Pleasant, mild warmth and wind, day after day. How boring – it looked like autumn, now it needed to start feeling like it. Actually he was even ready for winter at this point, just for a change of pace. Not because his birthday was in mid-December. More because it would be slightly amusing to see the tree-dangler dolts try to roughhouse when they were bundled in layers. Some frostbite might even humble them a bit.

He could hear Kurimu from all the way out in the hall when he headed to class that morning. It was a higher pitch than usual, the same squeak she'd had when he'd asked her to the bridge only a month ago. That girl's pipes could shatter some windows. She wasn't yelling or anything, but really… for the sake of everyone's hearing abilities, people should think twice before they put her on edge.

Sure enough, she and Hejjiguchi were facing Ami in what seemed like an off-brand version of their usual before-class gossip sessions. Kurimu's eyes were big and bright, almost comically so, as if she had bought lenses from a joke shop. It very much mismatched with the smile plastered on her face as she talked to Ami, and only faltered when Hejjiguchi muttered something behind her. Which was often, apparently. He was leaning the full weight of his head on his arm, half-lidded eyes dimmed dull, half a slouch away from sleeping on his desk.

Ayato hid a slight half-smile; he'd forgotten about Hejjiguchi's bad mood. At least that was something to brighten his mornings.

Ami turned around when she heard the door open, looking very desperate with a sour twist to her mouth. When she saw it was just him, she ruffled with dismay, which provided further amusement for him. She must've been hoping he was the teacher coming to put an end to the squabbling.

He still didn't even know what they were arguing about. It wasn't worth trying to eavesdrop, and besides that they weren't exactly about to speak freely around Ami. Instead it was petty comments and immaturity and offended sniffs, behavior of that ilk. Obvious commentary muttered under Hejjiguchi's breath that Ayato was sure had a double meaning. So childish! Ayato bit his mouth to mute his snickering.

The circumstances weren't quite as humorous to Ami, who kept sighing at her friends impatiently and trying to get the conversation back on track. But when Kurimu again demanded to know what Hejjiguchi had meant by an offhanded comment, Ami gave up and slumped in her seat. She pulled her phone out of her bag and started angry-texting.

After another minute of nothing but muttering and offended squeaks and tap-tap-taps, the classroom door rumbled open again. Ami idly cast a glance towards the front of the room – and lit up like she'd seen the answer to all her problems.

"Masuda-kun!" she said joyfully, leaping up. Her phone fell out of her hand and bounced off her bag, but she didn't seem to notice. She ran to the front of the aisle to meet him and took to the poor guy like a drowning person to a life preserver. "I forgot to thank you for yesterday!"

Masuda blinked owlishly, unsteadied by the impact and very much caught off-guard. Ayato caught his eye and smirked at him in sympathy, but he was just as confused as he was.

From the back, Hejjiguchi genuinely laughed when he noticed Masuda's baffled expression.

"Yeah, she's a hugger," he warned.

Ami broke away quickly to shoot Hejjiguchi a flustered kind of scolding pout, but in the midst of her exasperation she was still clearly relieved.

"Guys," she said crisply, whining but still happy. "I've been trying to tell you the good news all morning. Meet the newest addition to the drama club!"

Kurimu said something excitedly behind him, but he didn't hear her. Something about Yuri. He stared at Masuda in confusion, feeling the grin on his face slowly disintegrate into a frown.

Him? Yuri had recruited him?

Of course she had, she'd spent that one lunch period talking about just how cool and interesting he was. Now they'd be spending their time after school together, but he supposed they'd been doing that already. He wondered where they'd find time to rehearse in between their revealing heart-to-hearts and deep philosophical talks about how narcissistic Ayato was.

And he thought Yuri had been looking for clear-cut thespians, or at least budding ones. For someone with the physical features of a recurring anime character, Masuda didn't really stand out in the crowd. While he wasn't stone cold or anything, he still didn't exactly seem like the most expressive of students.

But what did he know? He was only in the same class as him. Yuri had obviously seen fit to get to know him better.

So Yuri's recruitment mission was over. That didn't change anything. No doubt she'd be working hard with Ami and Masuda to get ready for the school festival. Another mission – that would make her happy.

Kurimu talked to Masuda and Ami excitedly about drama club and the play for a bit, having lost most of her shrillness. Hejjiguchi, on the other hand, quickly lost his interest and descended back into lazy grunts.

Silent study time could not have come quick enough.

With recruitment a thing of the past, Yuri resumed eating lunch in the cafeteria with Ami and company. She was pleasantly surprised to find, upon arrival, that "and company" now included Masuda.

Ami had wisely chosen to sit between Kurimu and Hejjiguchi. Masuda sat across from Hejjiguchi, and she didn't know who had roped the other into a conversation but the latter seemed content to chat amiably away about track and field. Hey, whatever kept him from bumming Kurimu out. From what Yuri could tell from Ami's texts, the guy was still being a real sourpuss. Ami's term, not hers.

Kurimu – precious, soft, suspiciously bright-eyed Kurimu – was decorating a sheet of paper with what looked like cake patterns. She would soon run out of blank space, but Yuri spotted more pages sticking out of a black sketchbook. Nervous drawing again, the poor dear. Lots of flowers. She laughed loudly at something Ami said and drank her strawberry milk fast and asked about the storyline for the play.

And, well, Ami had told Yuri about it a couple of times and she'd read the script—okay, she'd skimmed it—but she hadn't actually been… on the ball, recently? With the Naoi thing, and recruitment and all. So she listened closely this time as Ami explained it to Kurimu and Masuda.

"So Jinko visits her aunt a lot, and when she was a kid, she was friends with her aunt's neighbor's daughter," Ami said, bursting with energy as she sipped Key coffee through a straw. Yuri nodded her approval; it was nice to have friends with good taste. "For privacy's sake, we'll call her Hanazawa. That's the name we're using for the play."

Yuri hummed in acknowledgement; she faintly remembered seeing the name in the script.

"Jinko used to play with her all the time—she says that's where she got her imagination," Ami continued fondly. "Hanazawa was really good at playing pretend. But there was this one story idea she liked the best. In it, there's a very weak girl. She's sick and sad because she's lost her heart. It got bad so doctors took it from her. She hid away because no one wanted to play with a heartless girl—"

"Geez," said Hejjiguchi, already sounding depressed. "Was this kid okay?"

Ami gave him a look, but Yuri quietly shared his grimace. The story was already breaking her own heart.

"It gets better," she promised. "The girl makes a friend. She starts going places, fishing, gardening, picking flowers, exploring caves and finding more and more friends along the way. And she becomes strong again, as each friend gives her a piece of their heart. She eventually feels a whole heart beating in her chest. It makes her brave too, and she vows to do whatever she can for her friends because she's not scared or alone anymore. So Jinko took all that and made it into a story!"

"Does she have permission?" Masuda asked curiously.

"Oh, yeah!" Ami assured him, waving a hand dismissively. "Tachibana said it was fine. She even—oh, that's her real name by the way—she even reminded her of the hide-and-seek storyline. Where all the friends disappear or get in trouble or something, and she's able to follow the pieces of her heart to find them again and save them. I thought that was cute, so we're using that as the conflict."

Cute. Yuri almost laughed out loud. Sure, that was a word for it. It had a hopeful sweetness for sure, but also had that classic characteristic of a children's story where if you took it a little more seriously, its roots were dark as hell. After hearing all of that, what she really wanted to do was give this poor Tachibana girl a hug. What kind of kid incorporated heart disease into their child's play?

There was symbolism there, though. She liked it – very hard-hitting. Maybe she'd give the script a re-read.

Ami already had the role of Hanazawa of course. With Jinko playing the first friend, just as she'd done in her childhood. Tachibana had told her once that it was meant to be a boy, but they had played the game so often with each other that she couldn't remember it as anything other than Jinko.

"Somebody should tell Tachibana to come see the play," Kurimu said blithely, coloring in a section of her decorations with sunflower yellow. "I think Jinko would like that, don't you?"

"Shouldn't have to tell her to do anything," said Hejjiguchi loftily, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his neck. "If she wants to see it, she'll come see it."

Ami gave him an odd look, while Yuri's and Kurimu's were simultaneously frosty. Come on, what the hell? Was that really necessary? Or was he muttering just to mutter things?

What a baby. What an absolute giant man-child. There were too many of those in this school.

(Thank goodness for Masuda.)

"Anyways," Ami said, and Yuri mentally applauded her sass. "That's a really good idea, Kurimu! But Misako and I, we already invited her and she doesn't know if she can. She's the student body president so she thinks she should be at her own school festival."

"That's fair," Kurimu said softly. She went back to doodling and coloring.

And that had been lunch. Hejjiguchi saying weird things, Kurimu pouting all over the place and doodling furiously. Sometimes listening to Ami, Yuri, and Masuda discuss a game plan for the performance.

Then after school, it dwindled down to Ami, Yuri, and Masuda as the drama club formally welcomed them into their group. The initiation mini-party was about ten minutes, tops, but Yuri understood. Best not to waste any time. They did have plenty of snacks and sodas, which was cool. Ami gleefully indulged in strawberry pocky before they got down to business.

"All right," said Misako, clapping her hands. She was a tall, thick, wavy-haired brunette with a semi-husky voice that made it easy for people to listen to her as director. "Cast list is on the wall if you want to look it over. We can always use understudies!" Yuri and Masuda nodded, not really expecting or shooting for anything more. Misako pointed to Masuda. "Masuda, how do you feel about lighting?"

"I can do that," he said confidently.

"Good. You'll be helping Watanabe with that." She turned to Yuri, who gave her a mock salute. "And Yuri – Ami told me you were interested in tech?"

"I know my way around computers," Yuri said with a shrug.

Misako nodded. "I'll put you in charge of sound, effects, general tech stuff. Ami's been trying to figure out a soundtrack as well as costumes, so you're not restricted to anything. Remember, the school festival is three weeks – we need all the help we can get."

"That's right," said Watanabe, the short and skinny to Misako's tall and thick. He had burnt orange hair and glasses framing a round face, which made his commanding voice that much more unexpected. "Everybody, do your best!"

The cast consisted of six people including the main two. Ami, Jinko, Sayuki, Kaori, and Horigoshi as the five friends, and Matsumoto playing the roles of various villains (sea creature, the demon, mysterious disembodied voice). To do so much with so few people… Yuri was a little impressed.

"Six? That's nothing," said Sayuki, a small girl with a short crop of black hair that was more in her eyes than it was on her head. "I did some research on other school's performances. Years ago, this one guy wrote, sang, and acted for a bunch of his own plays."

"Let me guess." Kaori, tall with shaggy chin-length hair, looked down at Sayuki expectantly. "Akio Furukawa again, right?"

"Hmm," Sayuki confirmed. For a moment, she looked dazed. "Did you ever watch the old videos I found of him? He was such a good actor, and handsome too…"

Kaori sighed. "Oh no, we got her started."

While Kaori rhythmically snapped in front of Sayuki's starry eyes, Yuri joined Ami and Watanabe just in time to overhear their conversation with Masuda over by a bunch of stacked boxes in the corner.

"—all the time," Masuda was saying, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "You name it, they've dressed up as it. Or forced me into it. As embarrassing as it is, I can bring in quite a selection if you'd like."

Ami and Watanabe were cracking up – she must've missed some juicy details.

"Well if you can arrange it, that'd be great!" Ami said enthusiastically, hands clasped as if in grateful prayer. "That's one more thing off my shoulders."

"Just one condition," said Watanabe.

Masuda raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What's that?"

Watanabe and Ami exchanged glances, then beamed at him unabashedly. "We want pictures."

"Ugh," said Masuda, facepalming. He stopped and considered for a second. "Well—"

"Of you," Ami added.

Masuda cast a tired look over his shoulder at Yuri. "What did you get me into?"

Yuri smiled sweetly, thumping him on the back. "Curtain up!"

After all, what was he complaining about? Who knows, maybe this kind of chaos was exactly what he needed. Good old-fashioned rib-jabbing, mind-hogging chaos.

Or maybe that was just her?

For Ayato, the days were beginning to blur together. Every one of them was Thursday to him – stuck in a very long, drawn out whirlwind of an abyss with a break just out of reach.

His sleeps were dreamless lately. Or maybe he was just getting a terrible memory. If anything, this was the season of dreaming in pottery. Kimito was making sure that was the only thing on his mind. He felt like the Hatter being punished by the Red Queen, locked in a room filled with hats and doomed to an eternity of making more.

The Mad Potter of Akuma. Maybe he'd get his own legend.

The pressure was making its rounds in the family – even Kimito was not entirely immune to it after all these years. Ayato would've thought he'd be numb to the extra workload by this stage in his career, knowing when to brace for impact or plan ahead. Instead, without fail, his jaw muscles would get tighter. His snarls would be louder and raspier. And his nervous tick – the throat rubbing, an odd little stressful neck massage? He indulged in it more often.

If there was a bright side, it was that the house was never tidier than it was this time of year. His mother scrubbed and dusted and mopped whenever Kimito was storming around during one of his tirades. Ayato knew it was reserved for then, because he'd come home from school a few times when his father was at the shop to find her reading a book or watching the news.

Whether it was to show support for her dear husband by being productive too, or simply an avoidance tactic, all he knew was that it certainly didn't work. It didn't keep Kimito from screaming at her. There was always a time and reason, like was she trying to sabotage this family (she'd had the audacity to ask Ayato if he'd done his homework yet when there was clearly still work to be done in the workshop) or did she have any idea how high she was running the water bill with all those relaxing baths?

Everyone was fighting this month. It was giving him a headache.

In fact, the arguing between Hejjiguchi and Kurimu wasn't all that funny anymore. It was downright annoying, actually. The initial appeal that had tickled Ayato so much was Hejjiguchi slumping over his desk and for once not letting his mouth run laps faster than he did.

But when he walked in one morning only to brush past a pouting Kurimu, who muttered something about going to find Ami, he made sure to give her boyfriend a dour look on his way to his seat. Hejjiguchi saw fit to tiredly return the frown before turning to stare out the window.

Ayato sat down with a quiet scoff. Honestly! There was being hilariously pathetic and then there was being a surly brat.

At the same time, though, his curiosity was a great plaguing evil. He couldn't stop himself from shifting in his chair to scrutinize the poor fool. "What are the two of you even arguing about, anyway?"

Hejjiguchi's eyes drifted to him lazily. "I'd really prefer if you kept to your own."

"Your hypocrisy is astounding," Ayato drawled. He gestured grandly to their desk aisle. "There's clearly no escape from all of you. So, humor me or keep quiet."

Hejjiguchi blinked at him slowly. God, Kimito would just hate him. Despite his afterschool activity, he was the epitome of laidback – which his father claimed was just a code word for lazy.

"Not that it's any of your business," he said, keeping his tone cool, "but Kurimu and I broke up."

Ayato took a moment to process this as Hejjiguchi put his earbuds in his ears. He stared at him, pivoted around more fully in his seat, stared at him harder if possible. Hejjiguchi pretended to be very interested in scrolling through his music library.

Then Ayato snarled, loudly, "You have got to be KIDDING me!"

He knew Hejjiguchi had heard him; there was rarely ever a time his music was on that Ayato couldn't hear it blasting into the guy's eardrums from two whole seats away. Unless Kurimu was there to scold him, but, well, she wasn't, and her ex-boyfriend would never be so courteous to him.

Broke up! He thought it was just some domestic squabbling! How long had they even been dating, a month?

"You two were disgustingly close only a week ago! You were coloring together!" His nose wrinkled in absolute disgust. Those two! They'd shared snacks and sweet words and colored pencils. The height of romance, truly. "What the hell did you break up for?"

Hejjiguchi glared.

"Keep your voice down!" he said, taking out one earbud like a good pet. "Look, we never should've been dating in the first place. We were only together because you played a dumb trick on us."

Ayato faltered at this, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "How did you know about that?" he asked. Hejjiguchi wasn't smart enough to figure out something like that on his own.

"Yuri told me," he said matter-of-factly. "You guys set us up. You threw us at each other!"

Wait… Yuri told him? He frowned, worrying his lip. Why would she do that?

"Ami tried to do it to me first," Ayato countered. "You liked her more than I did, I wanted the three of you off my back, it made sense. Why are you complaining?"

Hejjiguchi slumped glumly against the back of his chair. "Because we were just pawns in a stupid game," he muttered.

"You got a girlfriend out of it," Ayato reminded him. Really, he should be thanking him.

That earned him a dour look. "I don't want to be tricked into a relationship," said Hejjiguchi, more angrily as he kicked the front leg of his desk. "It's not right. I don't want to be duped, guilted, blackmailed, begged, threatened… nothing. If something's meant to happen, it should come naturally. Or at least be my choice."

Ayato considered this for a second, then scoffed. "I think you're making too big a deal out of this."

Hejjiguchi looked up almost immediately and opened his mouth to utter a retort, but – thank God and the entire universe – more classmates filed into the room. Including Kurimu and Ami. Ayato turned back around, satisfied to have gotten the last word in.

But then Kurimu sat down behind him with her sad little sigh, and he sat up straighter as the aggravating weight of the matter stopped levitating and crashed to the bottom of his brain.

Broke up! He and Yuri concocted a well-thought-out romantic situation to bring them together and they broke up! She'd befriended Ami as a diversion so they could go on their silly little dates and they broke up! She got tangled up in Ami's beloved drama club out of dedication to their ruse and they broke up! For God's sake!

Unbelievable.

And because she told them, too. They were the whole reason she'd gotten into this mess! There wasn't even any point now, so why would she—

His gaze flicked sideways to Ami, who was happily texting under her desk. A recap of the last few days flashed to mind.

The couple had been fighting since Monday. Ami had welcomed Masuda to the drama club on Tuesday. Unless she'd lifted the superstition rule, that meant there was a tenth member as well.

Yuri had joined drama club anyway. That made one thing quite clear.

She didn't miss him at all.

Yuri parents came home Friday morning, and she realized she forgot to tell them she'd joined an after school club. So she kind of chirped it through their bedroom door before heading downstairs with her backpack. She'd heard some distressed sleepy sounds of protest, but she took solace as she trotted into town that she'd left the phone numbers of the school as well as Ami and Misako on the dry erase board in the kitchen.

They could always call her cellphone – that's what they'd bought it for when she was fourteen. But this was, as always, a precaution in case her phone died as she was being held hostage by a gunman or something.

Whoa… She'd stopped in her tracks at that one. Too dark.

They wouldn't pull her out of it, right? She hoped not. Things were going along nicely in the drama club. They were a good group, endearing really. Kaori liked to argue with Horigoshi about manga and lean the weight of her arm on Sayuki's head while she talked. Sayuki liked to kick her in the shin and fangirl about the obscure Furukawa actor she admired so much. Going by the script, they were well cast for their parts. Kaori was playing a cool athletic boy with Sayuki as a lovable rich braggart. Originally, Sayuki was supposed to play Horigoshi's role (feisty brave friend that acted as a sort of mama bear) but she and Kaori really liked playing frenemies, so they swapped places and Jinko edited Horigoshi's character to be flexible with the gender.

Watanabe and Masuda got on pretty well too, partnering in lighting. He said he'd show Masuda the works if he showed him the pictures and, surprisingly a good sport, Masuda paid up. Watanabe and Ami had shrieked with laughter, which made Yuri sort of happy. Hejjiguchi's grouchy demeanor had been bumming Ami out during lunch and Yuri still felt guilty about that so it was nice to see her in a good mood.

(She would later learn from Ami that Masuda looked very fetching in a fruit hat.)

Thanks to Masuda, who was a man of his word and had brought in a couple boxes of things from home, the group was able to pick out costumes and get that out of the way by Thursday. But Jinko urged Masuda not to take the boxes home, and so the cast was able to goof around in trench coats and wizard beards for a bit while Yuri tested sound effects.

While messing around and having fun learning what was what, Yuri had pressed one button in passing. Just a casual graze as she was tapping away, her middle finger touched the button and then ceramics were breaking in her ears. She froze and jumped back with a loud gasp, like an absolute moron.

Most of the group stopped and looked at her, and simply laughed like good sports ("Wow, Yuri, drop something?!") before going back to what they were doing. But Masuda and Ami had, ugh, lingered on her with unabashed concern in their eyes. Ami had smiled all sympathetically at her. She knew what they were thinking, and they were both horrible for it.

But other than that, it had been a good day. A good week, really. Lunches with the group got easier when she learned to tune out Hejjiguchi's uncharacteristic cynicism. The trick was cheerfully complimenting Kurimu's daisy pattern illustrations and conspiring with Ami and Masuda to loudly change the subject to the school festival when necessary. Besides that, she'd re-read the script once or twice, or three times.

She had to hand it to Jinko – it was a gripping story for something based on a childhood memory. Some parts also gave her a faint sense of déjà vu, like she was reading an off-brand version of her old dreams. But maybe some things were just universal for children? Wanting to battle mysterious aquatic monsters, fearing shadows and the things they can't see…

Again, kids could be so messed up. She blamed nursery rhymes and already harsh realities.

After the initial re-read(s), she picked a few characters she liked and went over it again on Thursday night each time through a different role. Just for the hell of it. First as Sakurai (Horigoshi's role), then as Kamiya (Jinko's), then as Hanazawa.

So that was sort of why today in drama club after tongue twisters and warmups, she wandered over to the cast list by the door and eyed it for a minute. Eyed it as if she would a dessert menu. Unnecessary but an undeniable appeal.

"Not too late to be an understudy," Ami said lightly, coming up from behind with a knowing smile. "People get sick all the time, you know. We'd need you!"

Yuri laughed. Ami, she thought wryly, could read her like a tarot card. "I dunno. Who would run the thunder and the demon mist?"

"Misako could do it," said Ami. "Or Watanabe and Masuda! They're competent enough to run lights and sound at the same time."

"Unless Matsumoto gets sick too," Yuri noted. Masuda had already agreed to be understudy for one of Matsumoto's roles. His deep voice would serve well as the "mysterious disembodied voice" if need be. He'd already done a read-through and Matsumoto had looked vaguely jealous at Jinko's impressed shiver.

"Hmm." Ami smiled around at everything. Over by the window, Kaori said something to Sayuki that made her throw a clown nose at her forehead. The loud honk upon impact didn't seem to faze anyone. Again, it was a good crowd. "Any parts resonate with you?"

Yuri considered, toying with the corner of the cast list sheet. "Kamiya, kind of. And Sakurai. They're the nurturing hothead types, you know? I can pull that off."

Ami giggled.

"I'll bet," she agreed. She was quiet for a minute, regarding Yuri with this look like she wanted to say something important. Then she said, hot pink fingernails tapping her chin, "I think… I think you'd make a good Hanazawa."

What, the lead? Yuri gawped at her, then shook her head wildly.

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, regaining her composure with an easy grin. "I've seen movies. You get sick, I cover for you and do a fluke of a wonderful job, you seethe at being upstaged and we tragically hate each other forever."

Ami whipped a plastic pink and red magic wand out from the back of her skirt and bopped Yuri on the head with it.

"I wouldn't do that!" she said, stern although her bright smirk carried the joke. "The show must go on, right? If anyone could take my place, I'd want it to be you."

Yuri felt oddly touched, albeit baffled. Ami's was a level of unconditional support she didn't really know what to do with.

"Why do you think I'm a Hanazawa?" she asked doubtfully.

Truth be told, she hadn't gotten more than halfway through her attempt at reading for Hanazawa. At a distance, she was a great character. Distant, a little detached, but huggable. Sweet and inspiring as she blossomed. But actually being her... it was…

Well, it was a little too much.

Ami pursed her lips, kind of delicately tapping her fingertips together as she formed a thought.

"It's just that," she said, and seemed to be having difficulties with words.

Yuri's arms crossed in mock (maybe) indignation. "Is it the heartless part or the sad, lonely, and weak part?"

Masuda and Horigoshi looked over at her. Had she raised her voice?

Ami blushed. "It's the metamorphosis part. Coming back from pain and finding strength. In others, and in yourself."

"Coming back from pain?" Yuri repeated. Ami blushed deeper and threaded the magic wand through her fingers, looking very much ready to backtrack. Yuri decided she didn't want to know who or what Ami was talking about, so she did it first and added, still doubtfully, "Maybe. But I think I'd rather go with Kamiya. That way if Jinko gets sick, you and I can work together!"

Ami seemed to cheerfully accept this, and they both went to rejoin the group for more warm-ups (she envied Masuda's natural tongue-twister skills) and soundtrack discussion. By the end of the day they'd agreed on a music selection for half the scenes. All in all, very productive.

As she walked home from school, though, Ami's comments stayed with her.

What was she talking about, calling her a Hanazawa? Wasn't that her way of calling her sad and lonely? That, what, she'd lost her heart? She wasn't lonely! Was she trying to insinuate that… that she missed…

Whatever.

It was best not to think too deeply into it. Not take it too seriously. Yeah, she could probably be the Hanazawa understudy. But instead, more officially, she was going to do all the awesome tech tricks and possibly be Kamiya. If her life was cliché enough for a fictional universe trope.

Considering the bizarre circumstances she occasionally found herself in, she liked those odds. They entertained her enough to carry her through the front door at a lively pace.

When she trotted into the kitchen, her parents were already there waiting for her. Mom was typing furiously on her laptop and Dad was staring blearily down at some papers strewn before him, careful not to spill any coffee. They glanced up when they heard her footsteps, both looking pretty tired. God, their sleep schedule was horrible. Worse than hers, a teenager's!

"Look who's home," Mom said, resuming tacking away at the keys. Funny of her to say that. "Aren't you going to tell us about drama club?"

Yuri breezed past whatever "breakfast" her parents had left on the stove and searched hopefully in the fridge for leftovers. Her parents were really out of the loop, weren't they? She guessed she had been using her phone to call Ami more than them while they were away. Hadn't really thought about it, which was… well, not weird. She didn't tend to bother them on their trips unless it was an emergency. She let them be the ones to call her. And they'd only called maybe a couple of times to ask how things were going around the house. It was on them too.

So she filled them in – about Ami's request, about her after-school activities as of late, about finally officially becoming a member. All before the microwave beeped, which she prided herself on as she joined them at the table.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked carefully, once she'd finished and scoped out the expressions on their faces.

Her parents exchanged brief glances. Mom had always been very expressive with her eyebrows while Dad's were bushy and furrowed a lot, but she never really knew what the hell they were telepathically saying to each other.

"Not at all," Dad said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We're glad you're getting involved again. As long as we know where you are."

Yuri almost sighed with relief. She wasn't sure what exactly she'd been worried about. Hey, her parents could be cool!

Mom, nursing her coffee, made a small contemplative noise into the mug.

"I'm not all that surprised," she said, typing masterfully with one hand. "It's not like getting into the arts is unheard of in this family." Her gaze flicked fleetingly to the hallway, at the glass décor case.

Yuri had to think for a second before she realized who Mom was talking about. Of course – her uncle Shimon, Mom's younger brother. She hadn't heard from him in a while either, but he did send her a glass-blown purple star for her birthday. It looked really gorgeous in front of her nightlight. She was glad Uncle Shimon was doing what he loved, even though he came from a family of business and science and Mom worried about him sometimes. He was good at it.

"I bet I could've been in drama club," Dad mused. Mom almost swallowed her entire bottom lip in an effort not to smirk. But he heard her giggle anyway and sent her a feigned withering look, so she masterfully turned it into an agreeable hum.

Yuri felt even more hopeful at their good moods.

"So you think you'll have time to come see it?" she asked, sprinkling a bit more pepper into her bowl. Dad's pencil slowed. "The play, I mean. I'm an understudy so I probably won't be in it, but it's a pretty interesting story. Basically this girl loses her heart and makes some friends who help her grow one back…"

Her parents frowned thoughtfully, and so did she.

"It's better than I'm making it sound. I'd give you the script but I don't want to spoil you." Was she rambling? Her parents were still giving her uncertain looks. "But I'm in charge of making it look really cool, so there's that—"

"Yuri," Mom cut in severely, and looked guilty about it. "Isn't your school festival two weeks from tomorrow?"

"Yeah, first Saturday of November," Yuri reminded her. "Why?"

Mom gave Dad another telepathic glance, one Yuri could actually translate. You tell her. Dad's pronounced grimace – Me?!

Tell her what?

Dad sheepishly scratched at his hair. "We're going to be out of town again that weekend," he said.

Lowering her fork, Yuri stared at them both in disbelief. "You just got back."

"I know," Dad said, having the decency to look upset. "We—"

"I thought you guys wanted to stick around for festival season," she pressed. The special time of year where they could throw money around and add to their ever-growing art collection. "Check out the ceramics. You always say it's his—"

"—best work, I know," said Mom. She clicked impatiently at her laptop and it made sad pinging noises at her in response. "We did want to. We want to come home as soon as we can, but apparently that means Sunday evening at the earliest."

Yuri frowned. "Oh, okay." She went back to picking at her food.

Figures. It had been stupid to ask, really. Of course they'd be busy on the day she actually had something to invite them to. Even if they weren't traveling, they probably would've had some reports or paperwork that they still hadn't finished. She'd thought their interest in taking a break for cultural festivals was a sure thing. But the year she participated in something? It was just too convenient. It couldn't work like that in this family.

Never mind. She wasn't about to make a big deal out of it or anything. What could she do, stomp and scream and throw things like a spoiled only child who didn't get her way? She wasn't five years old. They might get the impression that she needed them or something, and cast aside all their big important meetings for one little play she wasn't even going to be in.

Why should they do that for her? For something so needless… If she was on the stage, maybe she'd have a stronger case. But she wasn't. She couldn't promise them that. She couldn't think of one good reason for them to stay.

Dad briefly glanced at her while thumbing through his stack of papers. "Don't they still record the plays, and make copies of them for the library?" he asked. "We could watch that when we get back. Right, Ehana?"

"Mhm." Mom drank some more coffee. She looked heartened at her screen for a moment and started typing again. "And hey – Naoi will be there, won't he?"

"I think he'll be helping his dad at the store," Dad reminded her.

"Might have a ceramics display at the festival instead. It's good publicity," Mom argued. Then she tossed Yuri a cheeky, knowing grin. "But he wouldn't have to stand guard all day – you know he'll sneak off to see it. At least you'll have Naoi there, right?"

Yuri put down her fork.

"Maybe," she said. She grabbed her bag and stood up. "I'm going upstairs to do my homework."

They dismissed her with small sounds of acknowledgment and went back to work, a half-finished bowl left still steaming at the empty spot next to them. She heard pencil scratching and keyboard-tacking all the way up the stairs. Safe in her bedroom, she dropped her bag behind her desk chair and wandered numbly to her bed.

Her face crumpled the second it hit the pillow.

A/N: Oh God, there was no right place to cut this chapter. Pardon the length! Also, strictly Naoi POVs after this chapter.

Preview:

"Your secret's safe with me."

"So you are paying attention."

"I still think it's a great idea!"

"Will you please take it outside?!"

"I'm supposed to take this from you?"

"Sort out your priorities."

"You should be very proud."

"—might as well not be there at all!"

[Chapter 28]: One Step Closer I.