With a final backward glance at Tsukushi, Rui silently followed Soujiro and Akira out of the house. He was beginning to feel uneasy about this whole set up. First, this morning, Soujiro had primed Doumyouji for something, by suggesting that he needed to prove his ability to attract a woman, and now. . . They'd forced Rui to leave Tsukushi alone with the man. Worse, alone with the man who'd treated her with so much less than common courtesy required, ever since he'd woken up in the hospital with no memory of her. The man who now was being suspiciously attentive, attempting to untangle the delicate knots Rui had tied with loving care in Tsukushi's hair. More likely, Doumyouji's clumsy fingers would be yanking it out, strand by strand.

Rui winced.

He shouldn't have let himself be herded out here like some disobedient child. He needed to be where Tsukushi was. But there was no help for it. Soujiro and Akira were firm. He must come.

Well, at least he'd warned Tsukasa to keep away from Tsukushi. The last thing she needed now was more confusion, borne from a false hope in Doumyouji's recovery. ..

-----

Inside the house quiet reigned again.

Tsukushi sat cross-legged on the floor, head bowed, as if in deep contemplation of the well-worn floorboards. From his chair, Tsukasa watched her for some time, trying to even come up with any kind of guess as to what she might be thinking of. At last, he gave up.

"So?" he demanded, rather more harshly than necessary.

"What?" Tsukushi turned her head sharply to regard him from too-bright eyes.

Doumyouji felt as if he were being alternately sucked deep inside those huge dark eyes and repelled from them, as if from some impenetrable barrier. He recoiled, refusing to admit how disconcerting the feeling was. Still, he could not shake the vertigo quite clear as he cleared his throat to speak again.

"So, aren't you going to come over here so I can untangle your hair?" He knew he sounded cold. But he didn't know why that should bother him so. Much like the sensation of falling, as he accidentally met her eyes again. It must be the drugs playing tricks on him. Yeah, that had to be it.

"No. I can do it myself." Tsukushi shook her head in denial, too fast, too tensely, to even try to pretend to hide her discomfort.

"Don't be stupid." Doumyouji's voice cut through the air like a whip. "You're just going to make it worse."

"Why should you care!?" Tsukushi strove, futilely, to hold back tears, as she glared into his emotionless eyes. "You don't even know me. You don't even try to be civil to me. Why are you pretending to be nice now? Why don't you leave me alone, you jerk?" Tsukushi climbed to her feet hastily, and turned to leave the room. . .

"Wait!" Doumyouji called out after her, rather plaintively, "Don't leave. . ".

"Why shouldn't I?" Tsukushi turned in the doorway, hands on her hips. "You're just going to find some way to insult me again," And even if that were all, he had no way of knowing just how uncomfortable it was for her to be alone with the guy she loved-- the guy she'd just abandoned for his best friend. The guy who persisted in treating her like a total stranger, or worse, a complete nonentity. The guy whose cold eyes pierced her heart like tempered steel.

Doumyouji hesitated. He wished he knew when or why he'd lost the gut instinct to demand everything he wanted immediately—and to beat the shit out of those that denied it to him. But, that was one of the memories he'd lost, and now, he merely found himself at a loss, unwilling to reveal weakness, unable to bluster as he once had done.

He didn't want to admit to this utter stranger that he was lonely, left here alone while his friends cavorted outside, and indulged in conversations from which he was necessarily excluded, by dint of his lacking all recollection of so many shared experiences. Nor did he wish to admit the fear he felt dragging him down; the fear that this wound in his side was slowly killing him, as it leached the vitality from his soul. Even worse, Tsukasa feared that he was losing the will to fight. Ever since he'd woken in that hated hospital room, he'd felt something was missing, some vital component of his self. Without that, whatever it was, he couldn't find the spark, the will, to fight the crippling lassitude that threatened to drag him to an early grave.

So instead, he asked the other question that had been bothering him all weekend.

"What is everyone hiding from me? You know, don't you, why no one will meet my eyes? What's the big secret?"

Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Tsukushi regarded him levelly, Even as she tried to harden her heart against his entreaty, she could feel herself weakening. Just the look in his eyes, as the desperately lonely boy inside peeked out for a few anguished seconds, had the power to cut straight through all her defenses.

But to answer that question of all things. . . . what was she supposed to say?

Tsukushi sighed, and temporized,

"They're trying to protect. . .. you. . ."

"From what?" Tsukasa persisted, more confused than before.

Tsukushi squeezed her eyes shut in misery. Am I supposed to tell him, that this is my fault? That everyone is uncomfortable because I'm dating. . .No, because I slept with Rui? That they're afraid that telling him might trigger his memory—and his violent streak? That They're afraid to mention his bizarre crush on Sakurako because I might get upset? That no one likes the situation. And no one knows how to change it? Least of all me. . . And I'm the one who needs to find the answers the most. . . well, almost as much as Doumyouji does, at least. . .

Doumyouji watched in fascination, as Tsukushi withdrew into herself, while she contemplated his question. She didn't seem to be snapping out of it. So he tried another tack.

"Is it really true? Were we? . . ." Being Doumyouji, he couldn't quite bring himself to finish the question, and a subtle blush spread across his cheek as he started intently at Tsukushi. Damn it, no one should have to ask such a question of another! Not that he could easily believe the answer, but if it offered any clue to what secrets were being whispered around him, he needed to know.

". . . yes. . . " Tsukushi murmured, a slow tear making its way down her cheek.

"When?"

Another sad sigh escaped Tsukushi's lips, as she bowed to the inevitable. "Until two weeks ago."

Doumyouji's reaction was instantaneous. "You're Lying!" He couldn't possibly have dated this girl at the time of his accident. He couldn't admit to himself that he might have forgotten something so important, so he reverted to angry denial, the most basic of the immature defense mechanisms.

"No. I'm not." Tsukushi looked him square in the eye, even as her voice rose, "Didn't we tell you? Over and over again? I was your girlfriend, you stupid man! Would you like to see the dress I wore the day you were stabbed? It's in my closet at home, covered in your blood. Blood that wouldn't wash out, no matter how I tried. Even your blood is as stubborn as you! I thought you were going to die that day!" As if each word was draining the strength from her legs, Tsukushi sank to the floor, though her eyes, now burning with a cold desperation—a need to make him understand—still remained fixated on his. And Doumyouji couldn't break that iron gaze of hers even if he'd wanted to.

In a quieter voice, Tsukushi went on, "Did you know, that we stood out side the operating room? Your heart had stopped, you were giving up the will to live. I thought I would die along with you. And I cried and pounded on the glass. Did you hear me? 'I'll never forgive you if you die!' I said. I wouldn't have! Anything else, I thought. It would be ok, just as long as you didn't die.

"I was wrong. How could you forget me? Why did you want to?! You jerk! And you wouldn't even listen, you wouldn't believe us! You wouldn't believe me. . . . I don't know if I can forgive that. . . but . . I suppose. . . it doesn't matter anymore. . .

"Because. . . I've gone and done something that you'll never forgive. . . I guess that makes us even. . . somehow. . .

"As long as you just don't die, I'll be ok. . ."

Tsukasa stared in shock, as Tsukushi's tirade wound down. Automatically, one hand went to press on his bandages, as if to reassure himself that her strong words had not magically reopened the gash. Feverishly his brain tried to process the small girl's flood of words. . . If she was his girlfriend then, Why was she now with Rui? Mentally, he smacked himself. Was is some devious female scheme? To make him remember through jealousy? Strange, he didn't feel jealous. Just confused. Perhaps he'd be jealous if one of his friends were after Sakurako? No. . . he reflected, he wasn't sure about that any more either. He didn't like the way she flirted so readily with the guys, the way she so casually brushed up against them, or pouted temptingly. She'd toned down on the fire that had first attracted him to her, and now, he wasn't quite sure what he'd been thinking when he'd kissed her. Desirable as she'd seemed when she'd stood in his hospital room screaming at him—that spark was no longer present; the timbre of her voice didn't speak to him, and her sparkling doll's eyes didn't consume him, didn't draw him into their dark vortex.

. . . not like Makino's now were.

He shook himself free of her eyes for an instant, only to peer more intently at Tsukushi's pale face as they drew him back in.

She glared back. Her power of speech may have failed her, but she was going to stand her ground, whatever it took. She was tired of the way she kept backing down, kept giving ground, kept acting like a weak little fool. Enough was enough. Especially since the Doumyouji that sat before her now, acted and sounded very little like the man she'd fallen in love with.

"Well?" She demanded, when Doumyouji still didn't respond to her speech, "Aren't you going to tell me that I'm lying again? Aren't you going to deny everything? Crawl back into your shell, where everything is safe, and ignorance is bliss? Come on, I can see it in your eyes, that you want to." Crawl back to the place where your heart is frozen solid, and only ice reflects in your eyes. . .

"No," Doumyouji came to a decision. "Tell me more." With great effort he refrained from infusing his voice with the doubts and confusion he felt. Though he could not remember what reasons he had for caring, he hated hearing Makino's bitter, defeated tones crackling brittlely in the air between them. It almost made him want to go over there. . . and. . . .

And, what? Take her in his arms, and tell her everything would be ok? That he believed her? Tsukasa could almost feel his missing memories clawing at the locked doors in his skull, begging to be let out, as he was seized by this sudden impulse. The noise of their screams sent tremors running through his fingers. . . If only he could understand what they were saying. . . If only he could find the key to unlock all those doors. . .

"What more do you want to know?"

"I can't remember ever liking a girl," Tsukasa mused, "Why did I like you? Or did I?"

"You can even ask such a thing!?" Tsukushi stood up from her seat on the cold floor, and, unable to harness the stressed energy that now filled her veins, began to pace the room.

"Well, I can't remember, now can I? For all I know, you tricked me, seduced me, even." Tsukasa's face grew red, just saying that, "Besides, you move awfully fast don't you? For all you say we dated, you don't mention—were we in love? How could you be dating Rui now, if you loved me? . . . And stop pacing like that! You're making me tired just watching you." He felt like he was discussing the affairs of strangers; not his own life, not his own friends—it all felt too distant, sounded to surreal, to be a part of his world.

Tsukushi stopped in mid-pace, and swiveled abruptly to face Doumyouji once more. "Rui is my best friend. He has always been there for me. I'm dating him, because. . ." She faltered momentarily, but regained her place, as she let her anger at Tsukasa's accusations, valid as they may have been, fuel her speech, ". . .Because, the man I loved may as well be dead. And all he ever left me was pain!" He's still causing me pain, "Rui loves me!" Sometimes it feels like he's my only strength, "I'm tired of not knowing what's going to happen tomorrow, a week from now, a year. . . Rui is stable. He can give me something you never could!"

Doumyouji was looking at her speculatively. The girl sounded like she was talking to herself, completely forgetting about her silent audience of one.. .

"You don't sound very happy." He pointed out, annoyed by her continued jabs at his theoretical failings. "What kind of stupid person keeps doing things that make them unhappy?"

"The kind like you and me." Tsukushi finally sat down, perching on the edge of a couch across from Tsukasa. "But it doesn't matter anymore now does it?" She forced a hint of a smile into her voice, "Because I made my decision, and I'm sticking to it."

"You keep talking about this 'momentous decision'" Tsukasa snorted derisively, "So what the hell is it?"

"It's what everyone's afraid to tell you." Tsukushi startled herself with the sudden feeling of liberation she felt, as she decided to tell him. It was almost as if a cloud of doom was lifting. Once she told him, it really wouldn't matter how she felt—Tsukasa would never be able to love her again anyway, or at least, so she thought—so she would truly be free to try and love Rui. Even if, from time to time, she still dreamed of Doumyouji. . .

"Rui and I weren't a couple until. . . last night." She looked expectantly up at Doumyouji, wondering if she was going to have to spell the whole thing out. Apparently, judging by the blank look in his eye, she was. "I slept with him." Tsukushi could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I guess it doesn't matter to you anymore, but once you would have killed us for that. That's what everyone's hiding. Why things around here are so weird." Tsukushi couldn't resist one more side note, now that she'd managed to force herself to admit her betrayal, "That and the fact that you've been kissing Sakurako! Do you know how wrong that is? Do you love her now? You never used to be able to kiss a girl you didn't like! Just ask Shigeru. . . So what the hell are you doing hitting on Sakurako? You're upsetting her!"

Tsukushi couldn't believe just how good it felt to get her confession off her chest. Sure, she was weighed down with regrets for what could have been, what should have been, and for what was. But now was the present. And Doumyouji's eyes were cold as steel, while Rui's were warm and welcoming. That was just the way things were. The way things now had to be.

Doumyouji was speechless. Even his imprisoned memories ceased their cries for freedom for a few long seconds. As Tsukushi's words sunk deeper into his conscious, Tsukasa's cheeks began to echo Tsukushi's blush. He was embarrassed—embarrassed at her too-casual mention of sex, and at her obvious knowledge of his personality—those questions about Sakurako! He almost felt like he'd been the one to do something wrong—the disappointment and disapproval in Tsukushi's voice twisted deep inside him, following familiar passages to pluck at well-sensitized nerves.

And he found he could not meet her eyes, even as a few words stumbled almost unconsciously from numb lips, "Do you love him?"

"No." Tsukushi was honest, sad as it made her feel, "But, I did, once. Maybe I will again, someday." She made it sound like a distant hope. "But now, I'm hungry. I'm going to go make a snack! Do you want anything?" At least in the kitchen, she could hide from his questions, that blank look in his eyes, too confused to be hurt, too empty to be angry. Besides, she'd said what had to be said, right? He'd only wanted her to stick around to answer his questions—and she'd done that. So she could leave now, without an extra dose of guilt? Yes? . . . Then why were her feet refusing to move? Damn it! Tsukushi burned with the need to escape this suddenly claustrophobic room, to run from the eyes that now pinned her to her seat. . . .

Tsukasa was confused. Tsukushi had said too much, too quickly for him to assimilate. After all, he was not the world's fastest thinker, not by a long shot. And now he was trying to fit together the pieces of her story into a coherent picture that even he could understand. It didn't help that his subconscious was raising an unholy racket, screaming at him with a thousand different voices. They clashed and collided into a wave of mental white noise—too painful to be ignored, too incoherent to be understood. His head hurt.

As he tried to sort the pieces out, he continued to stare at Tsukushi, hoping that if they sat here long enough, something would click, and he would understand again. Understand how he came to be who he was now, how he could have let it all slip away, and now, what was rapidly becoming of utmost importance to him; how this girl came to be at the center of it all. Even he, having now talked to her for just a few minutes, could see that much—that his friends became different people around her; strangers to him, though he'd known them all his life. What powers did this plain, nervous girl posses? His eyes bored into hers, but could read no answers in their deep shadows.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Change so rapidly." Doumyouji gestured with a hand, "One minute you're sinking so low, you'd think the ground had swallowed your feet, the next you're cheerful again. you're angry, you're calm. Watching you is making me dizzy."

"Oh," Tsukushi was startled. She had force herself to keep remembering that This Tsukasa was a stranger, and didn't understand anything about her. "It's because I'm a weed!" She had given this explanation to people so many times before, and the words flowed easily, "You can stomp me down and crush me as much as you want. But as long as my roots are intact, I'll always bounce back as good as new!" Unable to stop herself, she pointed an accusing finger at Doumyouji, and continued didactically, "You, on the other hand, are a pampered hot house flower. You need constant attention, or you wilt and die. See! Look at yourself now. If I were in your place, I wouldn't let that little hole in my gut kill me! I'd grit my teeth and fight! That's what a weed does. Nothing can keep me down. But, what about you, oh spoiled rose? You're weak. You don't know how to fight! If we didn't take care of you, coax you to heal, you'd probably just sit there in your chair and rot away from within!"

"Flowers?" Doumyouji was getting more confused by the second. What was all this talk of plants and gardening? Strange girl. ". . . Wait, did you just call me weak?"

"Yes." Tsukushi crossed her arms defiantly as her words began to have the desired effect.

"The great Doumyouji Tsukasa is Not Weak!"

"Then prove it!" Tsukushi's voice rose to match his, "If you're not just a wilting pansy, prove that you're strong! Get well again! Fight for your health. Fight for your memories! Don't just sit there waiting for everything to be brought to you on a silver platter!"

"Fine then, I will!" Tsukasa was not about to let this little snippet of a girl show him up.

"Good." Tsukushi felt strangely satisfied with herself. She'd admitted the Truth about herself and Rui, she'd hopefully gotten Tsukasa to at least think about reconsidering his crush on Sakurako, and now she'd gotten him psyched to heal himself. Not bad work for a girl who, herself, was falling apart just a few hours before. . . "Now, do you want anything to eat? I really am starving now! I don't think I've eaten since last night." She climbed to her feet once more, ". . . Do you know where the kitchen is around here?"

"Why don't you just ring for a servant?" Doumyouji looked at her blankly, "Isn't that what they're for?"

. . . And just when I thought I was making progress, Tsukushi sighed to herself. "Never mind, I'll find it myself."

"You really are a strange girl."

"Yes, I suppose I am. " Tsukushi smiled slightly as she turned away.

. . . But very interesting, for all that. . . Doumyouji, left alone again, closed his eyes, and was soon lost deep in thought. . .

To be continued. . .