-That which for almost a year had constituted the one exclusive desire of Vronsky's life, replacing all former desires; that which for Anna had been an impossible, horrible, but all the more enchanting dream of happiness- this desire had been satisfied…
"Everything is finished," she said. "I have nothing but you. Remember that."
-Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
The woman before me must be Yukinoshita Yukino. My heart tell me so, even as a double-take convinces my mind they must be two different people. Siblings, most likely. But life has been spiting me relentlessly; at the moment, it can't resist revealing my wife's friend around every corner, at the end of every path I take, like some tacky prize on a gameshow.
The more I look, the more I see they aren't quite a mirror image. The similarities are more than enough to mistake them for each other, but now, I'm beginning to notice the differences. My mind begins to win out.
Their face shape is identical, the features align to the millimetre, but the black hair on this woman is shorter. It doesn't reach past her shoulders, let alone to the waist, as it does for Yukinoshita Yukino. The eyes are a dimmer, more ambiguous shade of blue. The figure is different too; where Yukinoshita Yukino is slender and petite, this woman before me is curvaceous and shapely. One is traditionally beautiful. The other is more… 'alluring' seems like the right word.
And Yukinoshita Yukino would never wear that dress. It's an amethyst purple and clings to her shape like a scrambling rock climber to a sheer cliff. It maintains an impression of elegance, but guarantees that eyes will turn.
She is grinning. I was surprised by her voice and then stunned by the familiarity of her appearance. I still haven't responded, but am still looking at her. I imagine she's extremely used to men looking. Even if I'm doing so for a different reason, I am just the latest in a long line.
"Oh dear," she says, eyes glinting. "Is there something on my dress?"
… Definitely not Yukinoshita Yukino, then.
"Sorry," I say, still sat at the bar. "I just… mistook you for someone else."
"Really? Good for them! Anyone mistaken for me must be beautiful, witty and altogether perfect." She laughs. "Just joking, of course. They'd only need to be beautiful."
"…" My eyebrow lifts. I imagine such jokes go down extremely well at parties like this; ones with guests all too keen to be taken in. "Oh, I'm sure you're underselling yourself."
"How perceptive of you, Takuma-kun. You are Takuma-kun, correct?"
So far this evening, I've pretended that's the case, saving the time of explaining that I'm only replacing him. I see no reason to stop now.
Especially now.
"Yeah."
"Good. My name is Yukinoshita Haruno." She nods at me with a considered politeness, but places a clear emphasis on her name.
I see. The person I will be speaking to, Nishimura-san, is a local politician. And the majority of local politicians are very well connected to the Yukinoshita family.
"Good to meet you, Yukinoshita-sa-"
"You're to be interviewing Nishimura-san, correct?" She interrupts.
"… Yes-"
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"I already have one coming."
"Oh, don't let that stop you," she says, smiling. Without breaking eye contact, she gestures to the barwoman, ordering a glass of red wine and a third of the mysterious cocktail I've been drinking. The barwoman ignores a man in front specifically to serve her.
"Thank you," I mutter, once my newly bought drink arrives. Yukinoshita Haruno is certainly adept at making an impression.
"It's no trouble at all, Takuma-kun. Us Yukinoshitas pride ourselves on our generosity."
The image of a birthday present flashes before my eyes. "… Apparently so."
"Nishimura-san has some other obligations to attend to, so you probably have an hour to kill before he gets here."
I frown. "On top of the half hour I've already been waiting…?"
She drinks her wine with such ease I know it must be habitual. "Oh, come now. A little heart to heart between us wouldn't hurt it, would it Takuma-kun?
"Do you often have heart to hearts with people you barely know?"
She laughs, eyes glinting again. "Depends on your definition of 'heart to heart'. People tend to like the idea of having one with me. It would be cruel not to oblige them from time to time. What about you, Takuma-kun? Does the prospect appeal to you?"
"I couldn't possibly say."
"How wise of you." Her smiles seem very calculated. "Follow me, Takuma-kun. I have a table."
No two swords are ever the same; apparently, not even those struck from the same metal. This elder sister of the Yukinoshitas spins around- I can't help but suspect intent in the way she does so, revealing so much of her amethyst dress- and strides away from the bar. It is clear I am expected to follow. I do so.
True, I have no way of knowing if this woman is as manipulative as my first impression suggests. Perhaps I'm misreading her, and this is all bravado, or else me finding meaning and implication where there isn't any. But if my first impression is correct, then perhaps it would be better if she actually was Yukinoshita Yukino.
… No. I suppose this is still preferable.
And, following Yukinoshita Haruno through a crowd of people, cradling my two cocktails, I decide I may as well find out if I'll have to tolerate her sister again too.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet a member of the Yukinoshita family," I say, still a step behind her.
"Correction: it's a pleasure to meet me. I assure you I'm the best of them. Or else just the prettiest."
"Well, I'd have to meet the rest to see if that holds up. Will the rest of your family be attending?"
"Not my parents, unfortunately for you. I'm sure you're just gasping for an interview with the face of Chiba politics, but it's just me and my sister here tonight."
"… I see."
She glances over her shoulder. "Don't worry though. My sister's running a little late. You have me all to yourself, Takuma-kun. I can pinch if you'd like to check this is a dream."
"Please do. I'm not sure things could get anymore nightmarish."
"How rude! Is that anyway to speak to a lady?" Her voice feigns offence, but is it my imagination, or did the glint in her eyes just get brighter?
I take a sip of my cocktail. I can't even bring myself to be surprised. In fact, I'd already braced myself for the possibility that my wife's friend would be attending. This is just the unwanted confirmation.
I wonder how Yukinoshita Yukino will react when she sees me.
… After the surprise has faded, what will replace that emotion in her heart? Will she be amused? Laugh at the absurdity of it all? Will she be bashful, asking that I don't take her conduct at such a formal event seriously? Will she narrow her eyes, make some comment about the unlikelihood of this coincidental meeting, and insist I'm some kind of stalker? All strike me as possible, given what I know about Yukinoshita Yukino, what I've discerned about her as a person.
Or perhaps I'll discover something new about her, something to deepen my resentment, something to keep me guessing and fretting for the next days, or weeks, or months. However long it takes for us to meet again.
… I… I am beginning to think that this is inevitable.
But nothing is inevitable. I'm not sure I believe that anything is 'inevitable'; that's tantamount to saying you believe in fate. And I do not believe in fate.
The table Yukinoshita Haruno leads to me is topped by a pure white table cloth, and occupied by a colourful array of drinks. A group of six men mill beside it, half of them sitting and half of them standing, and they all look up when the woman in the amethyst dress returns. She talks in hushed voices to one- I stand behind her awkwardly- and she points to the other side of the table, where none are the suited men are sat.
"Have a seat, Takuma-kun! Isn't this the perfect place for our heart to heart?"
"If you say so."
As soon as we're sat down, Yukinoshita Haruno leans over with her head on her hand, and proceeds to give an expert demonstration not only in small talk, but how to extend it for as long as possible. It's bizarre; the woman next to me takes our discourse everywhere and anywhere she desires, from random guests passing by to the vintage wine she ordered, and beyond that, to details of her day beforehand, all the while saying nothing of note, and never offering room for anything more than a monosyllabic response.
As she does so, she barely moves an inch, her hand still in her hand, her ambiguous blue eyes still tracing my outline, their glint ever-present, the facade she wears with such breathtaking ease total and solid. I find myself doubting my cynical assessment of her multiple times as she talks. Well, not really, but something about her undeniable charm, that amethyst dress which reveals so much, and the chatter which reveals so little, makes one wish deeply in their soul that she were honest.
What is it about the Yukinoshitas? Are all of them this deplorable to me? I must have found the one, single family in Japan which possesses every quality I despise.
When Yukinoshita Haruno finally gets to the matter at hand, it's so subtle I almost don't notice.
"…see the reports a couple of weeks ago?"
I blink. "Sorry?"
"The news reports. On Nishimura-san." She shakes her head. "I have to say, I thought the way they presented it just awful. Very misleading and misrepresentative. The media these days seem to be pathologically disconnected from the truth. Are you like that, Takuma-kun?"
"What, pathologically disconnected from the truth?" I echo her words, sarcastically.
"Yes."
"… I'm not sure anyone is hardwired to honesty. But no. I wouldn't say I was."
"That's reassuring. You'll be asking the right kind of questions to Nishimura-san, then."
"Which are?"
"Oh, y'know, things about his job, and all the good work he's been doing for charity over the past few years. Nishimura-san is an extremely reputable man. I know him personally. He's very charming. Scandal doesn't agree with him-"
"Scandal doesn't agree with anyone. Especially not personal ones."
"Oh, but this hardly qualifies as a scandal!"
"Having a public affair with an aid doesn't qualify as a scandal?"
She smiles. "It wasn't public until people like you got involved."
"Clearly." I finish off my second cocktail. I won't be having the third. "… But don't worry, Yukinoshita-san. I'll make sure to ask him the right questions."
"I hope we have the same sense of right and wrong."
"You can find out when the article gets published."
She still hasn't moved. "… I'd much rather find out now."
"Well, seeing as we have so much time on our hands-"
"How long have you been married, Takuma-kun?"
The interruption stops me in my tracks. For a moment, I wonder how she knows I'm married, before realising the thought is moronic. The wedding ring encircling my finger is right there, in plain sight.
I shift my hands onto my lap.
"… Ah. Is it my turn to be interviewed?"
"How long have you been married, Takuma-kun?" She repeats the question, in turn answering my own.
"… Four years. But we've been together for six."
She whistles. "Whew… that's a long time! I imagine you have some personal investment in this scandal, then."
"Not really. This is for my job."
"Oh, but someone as committed as you must be morally outraged when you see infidelity flaunted on the news. That's not very receptive to objectivity."
"Neither is journalism. Every news story has a slant."
"Every news story bends the truth, you mean."
"Is it bending the truth to say that Nishimura-san has had an affair?"
"No, but you'll be saying more than that." Yukinoshita Haruno still hasn't moved this whole time, or so it seems. "… Are you happily married, Takuma-kun?"
"Is my personal life relevant?"
"Nope. I'm just interested." She leans forward. Finally, movement. "How about I tell you a thing or two about my personal life in return?"
"That won't be necessary-"
"I have to say, I'm surprised Nishimura-san managed to restrain himself for so long. Like I said, Nishimura-san is a very reputable person. Not like me. As a happily unmarried bachelorette, I think he should be applauded for sticking with a dull woman like his wife for so long."
"… That… is more about Nishimura-san's personal life than yours," I manage.
"She's a nice woman, Nishimura-san's wife," she continues. "But like I said, a real yawnfest. The times I've seen them together, they never seemed happy. They've been together for eight years, and my, what a mindbogglingly tedious eight years it must have been. How many times do you think they had the same conversation? How many times do you think he longed for something less… vanilla? But then there's Nishimura-san's aid! She's the total opposite. Sexy, hard-working, intellectual, and according to all those misleading news reports, as far from vanilla as you can get. Who wouldn't be charmed, in Nishimura-san's position? Who wouldn't be tempted?"
"Are you always like this?"
"Come now, Takuma-kun. You're a married man, too. There must have been times, in the past six years, where your head has been turned."
"No. There hasn't."
"Well, I know for a fact that isn't true." She grins devilishly. "Your head certainly turned when I introduced myself."
I deafen myself to her response. "If you must know, Yukinoshita-san, then I do think this qualifies as a scandal."
"Really?"
"Yes. I can think of few things more cruel or selfish than having an affair."
"That's strange. I can think of few things more exciting. Perhaps if you fulfilled your desire and asked me on a date, we can find out who's right."
I sigh. "I told you. That was because you reminded me of someone else."
"And what a sexy, charming, far from vanilla someone they must be."
"Whatever you say."
Yukinoshita Haruno stares at me for a moment longer, before breaking out into a chuckle, which then breaks out into a laugh. I stare back at her, unimpressed.
"Wow… That was fun! I don't know what I was expecting from our little heart to heart, but it wasn't something that interesting. Do you mind if I write an article on you, as well?"
"You wouldn't have much to write about."
"Now you're the one underselling yourself, Takuma-kun—"
My phone buzzes loudly in my pocket. I take it out, relieved at the interruption. But it only serves to remind me what I'm missing by being at this ridiculous event. My wife's name is flashing on the screen.
"One moment," I grunt, standing up to take the call.
"Is that the lucky lady?" Yukinoshita Haruno inquires. I don't respond, turning my back on her and blocking one of my ears to hear the call better.
Hachiman: Yui? Sorry, it's pretty loud here. I won't be able to hear you very well.
She says something, but it's too quiet. I don't catch it. I ask her to repeat herself.
Yui: I- I said, how's the event going Hikki? Well?
Hachiman: No, not really.
Yui: Why not?
Hachiman: More reasons that I can count. I haven't even got round to the interview yet.
Yui: … So there's awhile left to go.
Hachiman: I'm afraid so, yeah-
Yui: You're not coming back tonight, are you Hikki?
I stand there, immobilised, the phone right next to my ear.
Hachiman: … Of course I'll be back tonight. Like I said, it'll be late, but I'll still be back. Why wouldn't I be?
Yui: …
Hachiman: Yui, I'll be back later-
Yui: Have a good night, Hikki.
She hangs up.
I…
I inhale deeply, my lungs filling up to the brim. My fingers have an iron grip on the phone. I call my wife back. She doesn't respond. I call her again. Still nothing.
I leave her a text, my fingers flying over the keyboard.
Hachiman: Yui, I'm really sorry I can't be there with you. Our apartment is the only place I want to be right now. I keep thinking about those candles you mentioned.
Hachiman: Love you
She doesn't open the text for something like thirty seconds. I stare at the screen so hard, without blinking, that my eyes start to strain. But then she opens it. The 'typing' icon pops up.
Yui: I love you too, Hikki. Like I said, have a good night x
Hachiman: I will when I get back.
Yui: I know. I love you, Hikki
My mind scrambles for another set of words to articulate the rumblings in my chest. The need to write more, tell her more, compels me through the lightheadedness from the cocktails I shouldn't have drunk. But I can't find the answer. I don't know what I could write to assuage her. I truly don't.
The anger I felt briefly when we spoke earlier returns, then disappears, then returns, then disappears. The emotion isn't directed at anything; rather, it's directed at everything. This whole job. This whole night. This whole unspoken predicament.
… There…
… There isn't much I can do other than return to what I was doing.
The inertness of that reality, the impotence of an inability to act, just makes me more angry. When I've retaken my seat beside Yukinoshita Haruno, the second to last person I want to see right now, I'm almost gritting my teeth.
"Trouble in paradise?" The woman says drily, and I have to forcefully swallow down the retort on my tongue.
"… It was nothing. Let's get back to-"
"It didn't sound like nothing."
"Well, it was," I say, with as much finality as I can muster.
"… Y'know, there's something I'm confused about here, Takuma-kun."
"What's that?"
"If your name is Takuma-kun, then why is your wife called Hikigaya Yui?"
… She must have seen the name when it flashed up on my phone screen. I curse under my breath. Yukinoshita Haruno continues to smile.
"… There's a very simple explanation-"
"I'm sure there is."
"I'm replacing Takuma-kun. I work for the same paper as him. Our editor sent me here tonight to cover for him. The only reason I didn't mention it is because it seemed like a hassle." I bow my head to her, trying to stay civil. "My name is Hikigaya Hachiman. I'm deeply sorry for the mixup."
"… Huh." She blinks. "That's reasonable. I suppose. Under normal circumstances, of course, I'd call security and have you thrown out on the spot. You must have had an invitation to get in, but this is all very suspicious."
"I understand that. Again, my sincerest apologies-"
"Don't worry, Taku-… Hikigaya-kun. It's all water under the bridge." She takes a long sip of her vintage wine. "You've helped make this evening much more entertaining than I expected. I'd hate to end it prematurely."
"… Will I still be permitted to interview Nishimura-san?"
She taps her finger on the table. "When he arrives, yes."
"And that can't be long now, yes?"
"No, it won't be long."
Her tone at this doesn't leave me feeling hopeful, and a silence falls between us. Yukinoshita Haruno doesn't seem in the least bit phased; I wouldn't be either normally, but this woman seems to me far from normal. Soon, I stand up, offering her another bow.
"Well… thank you for speaking with me, Yukinoshita-san. You've been very… accommodating."
"Haven't I just?" She waves at me. "I enjoyed our heart to heart. Come back if you feel like another."
I push the chair back under the table, and make to leave. I suppose it's back to the bar then, even if I won't drink anymore. I'd rather wait anywhere but her-
…
As I stood up, my peripheral vision fell on the entrance to the venue.
It isn't Nishimura-san who's arrived.
Why would it be? That would never happen. It would tie things up too neatly. At the moment, all I have in my life is loose ends.
I avert my eyes immediately, not allowing them to rest there too long, not wanting Yukinoshita Haruno to notice. I don't even look back at her. Neither do I look towards the entrance, where her sister has just walked in. If Yukinoshita Yukino saw me too, I can just pretend that I didn't.
I still haven't looked at either of them when I get back to the bar. The stool I'd occupied last time has been taken. The only free one is the furthest to the right- the very last in the line. I take the seat and fix my gaze on the wall of alcoholic concoctions, like some witch's lair, in front of me. The crowd of guests probably hid me, somewhat, as I walked over.
… My limbs feel tense, like over-tightened tennis strings.
"Would you like another drink, sir?" The same barwoman from before asks.
"No," I reply, flatly and tiredly.
"… Is something the matter, sir?"
"Why do you ask?"
She hesitates. "To be frank, it looks like you've had a long day."
"Nah. Just a long night."
She leaves me alone, sensing that's what I want. I haven't feel so determined not to speak to anyone since Sobu High.
What was that nonsense ability I used to pretend I had, back then? The ability to blend into the background, become unnoticeable… Stealth Hikki. That was it. Yeah. The thought of that ridiculous artefact of my youth almost makes me snort with laughter.
…
So is this what I've come to? Hiding with my back turned at the bar?
I mutter something about being pathetic, and being diplomatic with my sense of shame, I turn myself sideways so I can at least see Yukinoshita Haruno's table. It's partially obscured by the growing crowds of guests, but there stands the woman with the amethyst dress. And another woman with her back to me.
I wonder with precious little conviction what they're talking about.
Suddenly, my back is turned again. What will be will be, I think, and the voice in my head sounds defeated.
My phone emerges from my pocket, and I read through the texts she has sent me on repeat.
Have a good night, Hikki.
Hikigaya Yui has been like this before. Insistent that she is right, that something will come to be, and resistant to any attempt to prove her wrong. It is a strange form of stubbornness, to insist that something is the truth even when she doesn't want it to be. It's as if her belief in this invented reality overrides her desire for it to be false.
These occasions which spring to mind are all little things. Nothing big. Nothing major. Little things, problems, inconveniences, that didn't have to happen, but happened through the mere force of her assertion. One that springs to mind is that time we were late for a train.
We had gone out for a date in inner Tokyo that extended itself against our wishes. We had been supposed to catch the train back to Chiba at midnight; it was the very last train of the day. But we were running late. Our restaurant had been cancelled, and a busy, bustling night meant it took hours to find a decent place to eat.
When we finally sat down, Yui was stressed out of her mind. She kept insisting that we were going to miss our train. I kept trying to tell her that, yes, the walk back to the station would take awhile, and we would have to eat our food quickly, but if we hurried, we would still get there on time.
"No. We're going to miss our train. There's no chance of us catching it. It's too late." She was saying things to this effect. Or that's how I remember it.
We didn't order our food quickly enough because I kept having to reassure her. That wasted time. The food came fast, at our insistence, but Yui didn't eat her meal as fast as me. Yes, she's always been a slower eater, but she was concentrating on arguing with me instead of eating. That wasted time. The waiter faffed around with the bill, but Yui thought that they'd crunched the numbers wrong, and asked them to double-check. That wasted time.
She borderline refused to jog when, at long last, we emerged from the restaurant. "It's already too late. There's no point in running."
"Of course there's a point in running. We still have fifteen minutes, Yui! I'm telling you, we can get there on time!"
But when I'd brought her round to jogging, to trying, my wife had all but ensured she was right. We arrived on the platform just as the train was leaving. I tried to flag it down. She didn't. We watched as our way home, our salvation that night, dashed away from us at high speed, off into the distance, leaving us in its wake.
"See?" She had said. "It was always too late-"
"-wow, gorgeous…"
A man is chatting up some woman beside me at the bar. I roll my eyes at his obnoxious, slimy words and drown him out.
"It was always too late-"
"I would sincerely appreciate it if you found another woman to pester."
… A cold voice.
I… I don't turn my head immediately. That voice can only belong to one woman. There's no point in checking to make sure.
"But there's no one else here as beautiful as you! Can you blame me?"
"Without a shadow of a doubt."
Men like this aren't easily deterred. Pulling the pieces of myself together, I look at the scene to my left.
The man doesn't fit the stereotypical image of a crusty middle-age type pestering someone at the bar. Rather, he's well-dressed, probably quite good looking, and given his attendance at this event, used to things going his way. But I suppose that's just as stereotypical. Either way, he isn't giving up without exhausting every avenue of flirtation he can think of, and Yukinoshita Yukino, the object of his advances, is hard at work exhausting them.
… It would take a truly indefatigable confidence to even consider approaching her. Looking like that, I mean. She embodies the image of the ice cold beauty to an almost laughable degree. Her eyes are narrowed to feline slits as she stares at this man, the scowl on her face enough to scare off a cavalry charge.
And yes, she is obviously beautiful. No one is trying to deny that. To do so would require a tenuous grip on reality. How her hair always looks so immaculate is a mystery; on this occasion, it has been swept in the longest of ponytails over her left shoulder. Her midnight blue satin dress is simple, but worn like that, backless, with the cut at the side revealing one of her thighs, it succeeds in its obvious intention of being breathtaking. That is how a daughter of the Yukinoshita family is supposed to look in public. She is merely fulfilling that social obligation.
… Just look at the two of us. Yukinoshita Yukino and I. One would think it was me who was pestering her, obnoxiously chatting her up, given the absurd difference in our appearance. One of us is beautiful and has the world at her fingertips. The other is wearing a creased suit, forced to cover their lazy colleague at a work event. We are not of the same breed. We are not the same.
She would look better suited to anyone at this event than me. Yes, even the scumbag talking to her.
"I am not keen on repeating myself at the best of times," she says, her voice dropping to sub-zero temperatures. "Leave me alone. Now."
Then, Yukinoshita Yukino looks at me, her eyes rising over the shoulder of the man between us.
For me, the ice in her gaze thaws. She is looking at me with… with expectation? I think that must be it. She expects me to do something.
… She wants me to intervene? Is that it?
I see. She expects to me to ride in on a white horse; play the noble samurai. She expects me to let loose some suave quip, maybe pretend we're partners in order to ward the foul villain off. Is that it? Is that what she expects me to do?
Just who, exactly, does Yukinoshita Yukino think I am? Just what does she think this is? She's handling this fine on her own. There's absolutely no need for me to do something so ridiculous and self-indulgent. I don't know if that's exactly what's she expecting, but if so, there's no need. He's on the verge of leaving now anyway.
I don't move from my seat.
"Oh come on…" The man says, frustrated.
He reaches out his hand and touches her arm, and the line has been crossed. Pushing away my misgivings, I move to stand, but Yukinoshita Yukino has already slapped his hand away with sharp, sudden, precise force. She unleashes her coldest glower yet, and the man finally gets the hint. He lifts his hands in surrender, mutters an apology, and leaves her be.
There is silence as the younger Yukinoshita watches his retreating frame. But then she shifts her attentions to me. Without the man between us, I am confronted with the full extent of her statuesque beauty, the satin caresses of her midnight blue dress, and the look of both anger and hurt that swirls in her eyes.
"Thank you for the intervention, Hikigaya-kun," she snaps, but the hurt is more evident than the anger. "I always knew you were the consummate gentleman."
"…" I breathe in.
"It looked like you were in control of the situation, Yukinoshita-san," are the words I choose. "I wouldn't have held back if that wasn't the case."
She laughs humourlessly. "How easy that is to say afterwards!"
Again, I deliberate. Again, I censor. My fingers are digging into my leg.
"… You… you seem to think me some kind of dashing young cavalry officer," I murmur. "That is not what I am, Yukinoshita-san."
There is a pause in the aftermath of what I say. Her eyes widen. She looks ever more wounded by my words. She moves her hand to her chest.
"… I don't think that, Hikigaya-kun," she replies, and gone is the whip-like snap in her voice, replaced by a quieter, deeper kind of hurt. "But I do think you would have intervened for almost anyone."
…
My instinct is to indulge my anger, so effortlessly close to the surface tonight, and retort with something just as unnecessary. For what she just said is, without a doubt, unnecessary. Saying things like that does not help. 'I think you would have intervened for almost anyone'. How can that be anything but accusatory?
But with Yukinoshita Yukino, my hands and my tongue are tied. They have been from the start. So biting the inside of my lip, fingers still digging into my leg, I remove her from my eyeline and look towards the bar. I don't dignify her comment with a response. To do so would only invite more.
Thankfully, her swatting away of the man's attentions hasn't attracted too much of an audience. True, the barwoman who served me is still glancing our way, but the others around the bar who were momentarily intrigued have now returned to their conversations. And Yukinoshita Yukino is still standing beside me.
I hear a small sigh, and then she has taken the stool on my immediate left. Midnight blue satin invades my eyeline again, just after it had been removed. My right hand, the one bearing my wedding ring, rests on the table, bright light reflecting off the silver metal.
Her eyes are on my face. I can feel them, probing my features, searching for something. Validation, maybe. And a hunch informs me that, over there, by the table where I spoke to Yukinoshita Haruno, another pair of eyes are on me too. On us. Why does it feel like the two of us have become actors in some tedious theatre?
I want no part in this.
In truth, I'm beyond sick of it.
"… It…"
Yukinoshita Yukino begins a sentence, but it takes a good ten seconds for her to realise where she wants it to end.
"… It seems that, whenever we meet, we have a habit of getting off on the wrong foot."
"…"
"Wouldn't you agree, Hikigaya-kun?"
Barely disguising my dislike of this conversation, I grunt back, "I guess."
"Can we start this conversation over? Would that be agreeable to you?"
"I guess."
She is trying to be patient and mature. Her fingers fiddle with the strands of black hair flooding over her shoulder. "… You can imagine my surprise when I saw you here tonight, Hikigaya-kun. And talking to my sister, no less. That… is not a combination of people I expected to see."
"…" I think of when I saw this woman talking with Komachi. A vision of something else.
"Did you see me when I came in? You were just leaving Onee-san's table."
"No, I didn't. Sorry."
"Ah. So that's how it is."
"Yeah."
"…"
She inhales. "I went and spoke to Onee-san before coming over, of course. She said you are here to interview Nishimura-san, correct?"
"If he ever shows up." My eyes flicker to hers, but then away again. "Tell me if he doesn't intend to. I'm not keen on staying here all night."
"… I will certainly tell you, Hikigaya-kun."
"…"
Well, there's the small talk disposed of. What next, Yukinoshita-san? A literary discussion? Or perhaps something philosophical? What's next on your agenda to keep this dull, rotting corpse of a conversation going? The lightheadedness from the cocktails has evaporated. My sobriety has been swiftly and efficiently restored.
Does the woman next to me drink? No, I imagine not. Just look at her sat there, fidgeting, struggling to segue us onto the next topic. I think I remember Yui telling me that Yukino doesn't ever drink to excess. How predictably straight of her. What a mystery fun must be to Yukinoshita Yukino! While me and Yui were out at Chiba University, what was this woman doing, I wonder? Holed up studying? Or maybe she was reading Dostoyevsky alone in a cafe. Yes, something so cliched wouldn't be beyond her. An extension of her high school days, no doubt. The high school days that were once mine, before I met Yui.
"What… what did you think of my sister, Hikigaya-kun?"
So that's the next topic you've chosen? An interesting development. Just what will Hikigaya Hachiman say next? The voice for the thoughts running through my head is rude and sarcastic, but mostly embittered.
I may as well be honest. "I didn't think much of her."
"… How do you mean?"
That's right. I could mean that I don't like her, or that I literally haven't even thought about her. One must always be clear about how they feel.
"I think she's good at getting what she wants, and willing to do a lot for it. Does that satisfy you, Yukinoshita-san?"
She closes her eyes painfully at my tone. "… Is that really necessary?"
"How do you mean?"
"… I am only trying to be polite. I was under the impression that we were friends, Hikigaya-kun. I… would like that to continue."
"Of course. I feel the same, Yukinoshita-san."
Another nice, long silence. Now that the topics relating to tonight have been depleted, where does she go from here? Surely we don't have anything else to talk about, and she will now wish me a good night, and get started on whatever a daughter of the Yukinoshita family is supposed to be doing?
"… How's Yui-san?"
… Ah. Yes. There's that. In truth, it is the most obvious topic between two acquaintances such as us. Everyone has been there. The moment at a social gathering when the mutual friend leaves, and you are suddenly left alone with a person you have very little in common with. There is nothing else to talk about. You don't want to resort to scrolling on your phone just yet. So you ask about the mutual friend! How apt!
Yukinoshita Yukino must have noticed the visible agony on my face, because she immediately backtracks.
"I- I'm sorry-"
"No. It's me that's sorry, Yukinoshita-san. As much I'd love to keep chatting, I'm here for a job. I shouldn't be socialising with a friend. And I'm sure you have lots to be doing too."
The hurt that I instigated before returns to her in waves. She stands up from the stool. The icy snap with which she had dismissed the man also returns.
"My apologies, Hikigaya-kun. I had forgotten just how offensive my presence is to you. Rest assured you won't be burdened with it in future."
"If that is what you think is best."
Just look at her. Hurt and beautiful is all Yukinoshita Yukino is. She turns to go, hands trembling. But then she turns back.
"What, exactly, have I done for you to dislike me so much?" She says it quietly, but it leaves me breathless anyway.
"… Who said I dislike you?"
"It's plain as day, Hikigaya-kun. It's been plain as day since the moment we met that you dislike me. And I truly don't understand it. I… I understand that I am a cold person. I do not wish to be. No one wishes to be cold and dislikable. But that is who I am. I have always struggled to be warm and endearing. Nonetheless, I have done my very best to be warm and endearing for you. I wanted us to be friends, Hikigaya-kun. Yuigahama-san is a dear friend of mine, and she speaks and thinks so highly of you. And… and so do I. I wanted us to be friends. But all I have done is earn your dislike. Your resentment. And I think I at least deserve to know why."
How can she look at me like that? I see no justification for the earnest defiance on her face, the weakness, the cracks around the edges. Why is she clinging to the words of someone like me? Is she really that desperate for approval, this woman whose feelings I've disregarded because it simplified her, allowed me to believe she was just a statue, just cold and unfeeling marble. Something to look at, admire perhaps, but not understand.
"… You know full well I can't answer that question, Yukinoshita-san. Why do you insist on hearing things that can't be said?"
And even that is too much, for her eyes widen. She looks at me like she can scarcely believe I'm real, and then she carries on. Defiant, yes, but also hopeful.
"I think you dislike me because I'm beautiful."
…
There are so many ways I could respond to that.
I can almost hear them, that heavy multitude of responses, emerging from my tongue, each one as confused and wrong as the next.
But what is it that Yukinoshita Yukino wants me to say? That response, the one she favours, I know well.
"You think I dislike you for being beautiful, Yukinoshita-san? Really? Well, let me make this clear. It's not just your beauty. There are a hundred reasons I dislike you. I dislike your irritating habit of stammering when you're nervous. I dislike the overly prim, elegant way you hold yourself. I dislike the way you always seem to have the perfect retort waiting in the wings. I dislike the way you can steal everyone's attention without even trying, and then have the nerve to act like that's a curse for someone like you, not a gift. I dislike your intelligence, your taste in literature, your confidence which evades you when you most need it, and your total lack of charm and tact. There are a hundred reasons I dislike you, Yukinoshita-san, and being beautiful is the least of them."
But who would say something so selfish and cruel? Not me. I'm not that sort of person, and I have no intention of changing. So instead, I say what is logical. What will hurt everybody the least.
"It's not that I dislike you, Yukinoshita-san. I just don't care about you."
The words I chose were spoken quietly, so that no one else would hear. And I can tell she doesn't hear them at first. It takes an age for the sheer awfulness of what I've said to register.
But then it does. I can feel an invisible boundary rise between us. She recoils as if she had been struck. Her eyes flutter desperately closed. Her hand rises, balled into her chest, resting there like it's the only thing holding her up. I've noticed she does that when overcome.
"…" She says nothing, and I don't blame her.
I feel the humane urge to apologise, but that shouldn't be an option. I've made a decision, and I should stick with it. Yukinoshita Yukino breaths out raggedly, and then sits back down on the stool, her posture suddenly hunched, her elbows on the bar.
"… It… It's clear I have badly misinterpreted things, Hikigaya-kun," she chokes out. "I'm deeply, deeply sorry."
It isn't her that should be apologising. Not really. It's me who has been cruel. Well… no. It's me who has been kind. Kindness by another name.
But again, there isn't much that can be said without retreating, overruling or undermining. So I let the interminable silence persist between us until she decides to dismiss me as well.
"I… I would sin- sincerely appreciate it if you left me alone, Hikigaya-kun."
There it is. I wrench my fingers out of their vice-like grip on my leg, which I had forgotten about, and then, noiselessly, leave Yukinoshita Yukino sat hunched over the bar. Just as I had been when she approached me.
… Where do I go from here? Until now, I've spent most of this damn event sat at the bar. Now, where do I stand? What do I do? I am stood in the middle of the rose-coloured carpet, surrounded by crowds of intermingling guests, solitary, no idea what I'm supposed to be doing or thinking. My heart is beating quite fast, which I'd also forgotten about until now.
… I need some fresh air.
Ignoring everything, I change the course of my footsteps and stride to the entrance, then out into the reception area, away from the bicameral chandeliers and the casino-esque lighting, and then out into the street, passed the hotel chauffeurs, until I'm stood some ten yards away from the Shine Hotel, inhaling, exhaling, like a dog trapped in a hot car.
… I'm not thinking of anything. I'm just staring at the various taxis as they wait for customers, drop them off, drive them away. How easy it would be to slide into the back of one, tell the driver I have no destination, not even mine and Yui's apartment. "Go wherever you like," I would say. "I don't care."
"It was always too late."
I surreptitiously pull out my phone, opening the text conversation with my wife. Her last text is still there, blinking on the screen, staring at me.
Yui: I know. I love you, Hikki
I feel the desire to text her. I even start typing something- an ugly jumble of characters that are promptly deleted. What would I text her? What would be the point in telling her about what just happened? No. There would be absurd. There's nothing to tell. There never has been.
Usually I pace when I'm restless, or alone with my thoughts. But my head has been emptied of them. All I'm doing is standing here on the street, unmoving, unthinking. I've felt too much this evening; my nerve endings must have shut themselves down.
… Was that right, what I just did?
Finally, a thought, and its unwelcome. It's a question without an answer, so I snort audibly and shove my hands in my pockets. What a stupid question to ask myself. It doesn't matter if it's actually right. Only if I feel it's right. That's how you get through life. That's how you make difficult decisions. With the heart, not the head.
But is it? Haven't I always been a person who did the opposite?
…
It's best not to think about it. About Yukinoshita Yukino, sat inside at the bar, hunched over as she was, the strap of her midnight blue dress teetering over her left shoulder. What a feeling, to bring another person pain. In that moment, the second worst in the world, beyond the feeling you're responsible for.
I need to think about anything else. Memories. My wife. The evening we might've had. The aroma of scented candles. The touch of a woman. Hair. Hands. Lips.
I rub my eyes.
… There's no fucking way Nishimura-san is turning up, is he? He wasn't coming from the moment my conversation with Yukinoshita Haruno ended. Perhaps even during it. As soon as she realised we have a 'different sense of right and wrong', she must have texted and advised him not to come.
I should contact my editor and tell him it's a no go. I can tell him Takuma-kun wouldn't have done any better, even though that's not true. He would have controlled himself better. He wouldn't have antagonised Yukinoshita Haruno, or anyone else. He would have come here, done his job, and left wordlessly.
…
What a mess.
I rub my eyes and then avert them to the line of traffic which has been building outside the Shine Hotel. They settle on the nearest car to me: an old Mitsubishi with a scratched bumper. It has the look of a family car. Sure enough, in the front seats are a couple. They must be in their thirties, maybe forties. And in the passenger seat, staring wistfully out the window, is their daughter. Just under ten, I'd say.
She's not actually staring at me. It just feels that way. I am just another piece in the background of her window view. Observed, but only just, like the glimmering sign reading 'The Shine Hotel'. I imagine she's half asleep. She has pig tails, from what I can make out, and big, innocent, youthful eyes.
The father cranes his neck and says something to his daughter when the knot of traffic loosens. She smiles and laughs at what must have been a joke, the kind a father reserves for his daughter, as the Mitsubishi pulls away.
… The sight of the family recalls a memory. A memory of a conversation I had with Yui over a year ago. It might have been two. It's a conversation that, in this moment, feels as if it were part of another world.
We had just gone for a walk. My wife and I. Nothing special; we'd felt cooped up inside our apartment, and decided to have a stroll around the neighbourhood. An autumnal scene, but no one would have guessed. There aren't many trees in our neighbourhood. There were no leaves lining the sidewalks. Just light patches of sun, and patchier still swathes of cloud.
Our stroll took us past the one park we have near our apartment- an urban park that has always seemed too manmade, too artificial. The constant screaming from the children's play area has helped in persuading Yui and I to avoid it.
But as we passed it, there was another young girl, younger still than the daughter in the Mitsubishi, sat on the grass. She was making flower chains, and there was something unexpectedly sweet about her appearance. As we came within earshot, the girl looked up from her flowers, saw us, and waved.
"Ohayo gozaimasu!" The girl called out enthusiastically, despite it being closer to evening.
We chuckled, and Yui had reached out and grabbed my arm. "Awww… what a sweet kid!"
"Yeah."
My reply probably sounded normal, and we carried on our way quietly, but as it happened, her comment had played into the hands of an expectation of mine. An expectation of a conversation Yui and I were set to have.
After all, life changing commitments very often accompany each other. Once you've made one, it often feels like another is just around the bend. And while it was far from prominent in my thoughts, I had begun to feel a little suspicious, a little surprised, because two or three years had gone by and not once had the matter truly come up.
Of course, everybody knows the stereotype of the wife being the first to bring it up, to test the waters, and perhaps persuade the hesitant husband of the idea's merits. It's a stereotype I too was aware of, and had self-consciously prepared for. Once, in a spare moment, I had even rehearsed what I planned to say when the topic made its compulsory debut.
But the topic hadn't come up. And around that time, I had started to think that was strange. Me and Yui, at this time especially, told each other everything.
So as our stroll continued, back towards our apartment, it occurred to me now was a good time to ask. The conversation had raised itself, quite by chance, with Yui's comment. And there was no harm in seeking some clarity on the matter. So, I started to think about how I should bring it up, but all these ideas felt awkward and silly, even in my headspace.
In the end, it just slipped out. "… Do you want kids?"
Yui's eyes widened. We didn't stop walking, but she looked at me with shock, because although her comment on the girl in the park had seemed like a good transition, enough time had elapsed for it sound totally out of the blue. A moment later, and she burst out laughing.
"Ha ha! … Sorry, sorry, I just… That was so abrupt, Hikki! I wasn't expecting it!"
I remember scratching my head self-consciously. "Yeah… I wasn't really sure how to bring it up."
She laughed harder still. Yui's laughs, her real laughs, are loud and infectious, so it wasn't long before I heard myself chuckling too, but as if I was hearing it from inside a tunnel. In truth, I was on tenterhooks.
Finally, Yui had wiped her eyes, and managed to stop laughing. "You're so strange Hikki… Is this all because I thought that kid was cute?"
"I suppose."
"Of course it is. You're such an overthinker! In your head, that was me saying it's about time we got to business, wasn't it? That's just like you, Hikki."
"…"
She smiled at me, still holding my arm. "Is this serious, though? Are you really asking?"
"… Yes, Yui. It… it feels strange to me that we haven't spoken about it yet."
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
Yui opened her mouth, intending to plough on, but then hesitated. She hesitated again. Most of the time, I would say I have a good idea of what my wife is thinking, what she's about to say, but right there and then I didn't know.
"… Do you want them?"
"What?"
"Do you want kids, Hikki?"
She had turned the question onto me. I blinked.
Luckily, whenever I'd rehearsed this conversation in my head, it was always Yui who asked first. So I felt confident enough in responding.
"… Look. There's an awful lot of excuses I could bring up for not having kids. I could mention how generally people are having them in their thirties, when they have a bit more financial security, a bit more maturity. Lots of things. But I want you to know that I don't intend to hide behind those excuses. I have absolutely no objection to having kids, Yui. If you want them, let's go for it."
Her smile wouldn't evacuate her lips. "… Huh. That speech came off kinda roundly, don't you think?"
I winced. "Was it that obvious?"
She laughed for a second time. "Just a little."
"… I only practiced because I wanted to make sure the words were right. I was the telling the truth there, Yui. I have no objection at all to having kids. If anything, I… I think I would like them. So if it's something that you want, and you're just holding back from asking, for whatever reason… Don't hold back. Ask. Feel free."
And then it was her turn to make a speech. But there was the hesitancy again. The big brown eyes of my wife were full of an emotion I can't place.
"… To be honest with you, Hikki… Having kids absolutely terrifies me."
"…" I waited for her to say what she wanted.
"As in, not just frightens… Terrifies me. Right to the heart. That's why I never brought it up with you. I didn't want to. Just thinking about it makes me feel nervous. And I can't stop thinking about Sable."
I frown. "Sable…? You mean your old dog?"
"Yeah." She holds my arm tighter as we walk. "I don't need to remind you how we first met, Hikki, but… That moment when Sable pulled on the leash, and I let go of him, and he ran out in front of that car, I… I just froze up. It was only you that saved him from… And… And I had always enjoyed taking Sable out for walks, before. I had looked forward to it. But when I saw him running out into the road, that feeling of being totally responsible for another life, and failing…" She sucks in air. "That was one of the worst moments of my life. And it terrifies me, the idea of another moment like that. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I dreaded taking Sable out for walks afterwards. Even if we weren't walking along a road, I dreaded it just the same. Once, I even had a nightmare about it. About watching him run out in front of a car, stuck on the sidewalk, unable to move, over and over again…"
She looked up at me, and the feeling in her eyes was so naked, so raw, that I instinctively wrapped my arm around her waist. "So that's why I never brought it up, Hikki. I… I really don't think I'm ready."
"… Well…" I kissed her on the forehead. "Maybe that guy who saved Sable is still around? Would him being there make a difference?"
"Oh… More than he could ever know." She kissed me on the lips. "Stereotypes mean nothing, right? That's what you always say, Hikki. So bring it up again when I'm ready."
"I will, Yui. I will."
… So far, I haven't found the chance to bring it up again.
Maybe I will soo-
"My my, Hikigaya-kun… I honestly can't remember the last time I saw Yukino-chan in such a state."
The yanking away of the memory is so sharp and sudden I almost jump. And not just because of the reappearance of that amethyst dress, that studied smirk, in my vicinity. I bite my lip. I was so distracted that I failed to see Yukinoshita Haruno emerge from the Shine Hotel and walk up to me, looking like she hasn't had so much fun in months.
AN: So that was Part 3 of Pink and Blue. But the observant readers among you will have noticed that, yet again, the story isn't over. Deja vu, am I right? I'll refrain from making any further promises on the length of this story, or the amount of parts, seeing as we've just reached the 25,000 mark of a 2,000 word one-shot.
This was, needless to say, an emotionally charged chapter. I'm sure many of you will be wondering where the story, particularly Hachiman and Yukino's dynamic, can go from here. Well, there wouldn't be more to write if there isn't a heck of a lot more in store. And of course, we've still yet to see the end of Hachiman and Yui's all important conversation at the start.
Not much else to say. Hope you enjoyed the update; please consider leaving a review.
-GOF