By the time rain finally came, beating a reassuring cadence on the roof and seeping insidiously in around the windows, an odd sort of languor had settled over both women. The tension and awkwardness both had suffered from had slowly faded, replaced by easy contentment.

They had long since turned from catching up to reminiscing. They recalled fondly the countless festivals, the trips to Chiyo's summer home, sunny Okinawa and Yomi's stories of snowy Hokkaido. (Odd, Ayumu reflected, how living somewhere could change your perspective.) Hurled sea-cucumbers, endless snowball fights with no casualties, alien mind-controlling pigtails, disastrous attempts to ride tandem... it was incredible how much they had crammed into four years.

Eventually, they touched on an experience Ayumu had missed out on by mere minutes.

"I'm not joking," Chiyo insisted, "I'm dead serious. It was this army of cats, twenty, thirty of them, and they were going to claw me and Sakaki-san to pieces."

"And how did you get out of that?" Ayumu asked, not quite sure if she was taking the story seriously. She took a rather-too-deep swallow from her glass and coughed.

"Maya jumped down between us and scattered them. That's how we found him again... but he was pretty weak after, so we had to take him to a vet."

"But... he's one of those Yama... Yam... Pika Meow Meows isn't he? How did you get to keep him?"

"We took him to Tadakichi-san's vet and told him Maya was a crossbreed. I don't think he really believed us, but he was a friend..."

"Yeah, speaking of Tadakichi-san. How's the old Frenchman doing, anyway?" Ayumu realized belatedly that the dog might have passed away, but fortunately, Chiyo only smiled. "He's getting old," she replied. "Tadakichi-san's the biggest, fattest, laziest, crankiest animal you ever met now. He still loves me, though."

Before she could respond, Ayumu yawned jaw-creakingly, and with spectacular form. Some talents never leave you, it seems. "It's getting late," she finally said. "If we want to have any time tomorrow before you have to go, maybe we should get to bed."

"Yeah," Chiyo agreed reluctantly. She started to stand, then wobbled a little. "Ugh... maybe four glasses was a mistake."

"I switched you to Sprite after the first one, didn't you notice?"

"You mean I'm feeling all loopy for no reason?"

"Either that or you're the cheapest drunk on the planet." Ayumu shrugged. "Hey, you're taller, you want to take the bed? I'd be fine on the couch."

Chiyo stretched herself out, knees hooked over the end of the couch. "No, that's fine... oh, look!" She rooted through her pack. "I still have that plushie you got me for my eleventh birthday! He's kind of battle-damaged, though... Rose-san's dogs got a hold of him when I was visiting her family."

Sure enough, she came up with that strange orange cat, now looking a little bedraggled but just as eerie. With the plushie there to complete the picture started by her pajamas and carefree bearing, Chiyo seemed almost the same as the tiny, pigtailed ten-year-old Ayumu had met so long ago.

Ayumu wandered back towards her bed as Chiyo settled in. "Get me up tomorrow, all right? I'm not very good at waking up."

"Sure thing. Good night, Ayumu-san."

"G'night, Chiyo-chan."

And before the pleasantries were even complete, Morpheus swooped in and took her friend. Ayumu really envied people who could fall asleep without tossing and turning for hours. Best to get started on the tossing and turning part now... but after a few moments contemplation, she stood and grabbed up her jacket. "Oh, who am I kidding?"

As Ayumu set out on her habitual nighttime wandering, Chiyo was doing a little wandering of her own. Morpheus had dropped her in a strange, psychedelic landscape that would have made Jack Kirby vomit. Above, orange clouds scudded through a periwinkle sky and somewhere, someone was playing a sitar.

"Holy cow..." she said, "Did the sake do this to me?"

"I'm very disappointed in you!" a deep voice boomed suddenly. Chiyo whirled and beheld the ovoid feline glory that was Chiyo-dad! Even though she didn't really know what she owed to this bizarre creature, she threw herself at its feet and cried, "Please forgive me! I'll never drink again!"

"You thought I was upset about that?" Chiyo-dad crossed his ropy arms. "No, I'm just mad because you didn't make a better showing of yourself. One glass of sake and you're already seeing me? Pfft! What a lightweight!"

Chiyo rose to a crouch. "Huh?"

"Are you messing with her again?" another voice asked. Its owner emerged from nonexistent shadow, a massive armored figure that Chiyo could swear she'd seen before. "Um... maybe?" Chiyo-dad answered nervously, and then the other thumped him over the head and started dragging him away by his arm. "Sorry about that," the dark figure said over its shoulder, "He can't help himself sometimes."

"Th-that's all right," Chiyo said uncertainly. "Um, see you later..."

And she drifted awake, her eyes opening right into the unnerving gaze of the stuffed cat. "Ahh!" she flung the toy away in a panic. Chiyo lay staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, then turned her head and started to drift off again, muttering, "Never again..."

An hour or so later, Ayumu returned as quietly as she had left. She hung her sopping jacket on the corner of the restroom door and flopped into bed fully clothed. Normally her walks late at night cleared her head, but this time it had just given her more to think about.

Chiyo's visit could not have come at a better time; seeing her friend again was a real shot in the arm. She'd never have admitted it to the younger girl, but the life of a struggling writer was seriously starting to get old... but what else was there for her? What skills or talents did she have?

A bleak, despairing feeling rose in Ayumu, but by now it was an old friend. There was nothing. Nothing. She was consigned to be a salarywoman for the rest of her life. Or perhaps she'd just starve in a year or two and die young...

"No, I need to sleep. Stop it, Ayumu. Get it together." Ayumu calmed herself and lay very still, but still sleep refused to come. "It's going to be a long night," she sighed.