Lunch that day was surprisingly subdued, considering how many of them were all sitting together. As the minutes passed by with only somewhat stilted conversation, Tohru stared down into her bento, wishing there was something she could do to drive away the awkwardness. This was the last time they'd be able to sit like this, all together; they were supposed to be enjoying it.

She was supposed to be enjoying it.

Other people were trying. She'd periodically hear Hatsuharu's voice, or Momiji's. Arisa's. Kakeru's. Yuki's. Voices she'd heard so often, over the course of the past couple years; at lunch, in the hallways, out and about. Voices of friends...or at least friends of friends, in Kakeru's case, and even he had managed to grow on her, over the past several months.

And much as she wished she could talk to them, she couldn't. She couldn't even look at them just now, sitting instead with her gaze on her lunch as she listened to the latest conversation attempt...and tried not to cry.

"So do you wish you'd gotten to collect the diploma instead, Yuki?" Momiji's voice was outwardly cheerful, as cheerful as ever. But Tohru knew him well enough to tell that he was fighting to sound that way, and she swallowed hard before taking another bite of her lunch.

"Yes," Yuki said, sighing quietly. "I asked Sensei about it when I learned they wanted me to give the third-years' speech; I would have thought that since I spoke at last year's graduation, they'd want someone else to speak at ours. But she said all of the faculty were in agreement."

"See, that's the problem with you, Yun-Yun," Kakeru said, his easy manner unchanged. "You always show your hand too early; the teachers all know you're competent and not gonna make some terrible joke or insult the PTA or anything, so naturally you're gonna get roped into doing things like public speaking for as long as they have you. Never let anyone know you're competent if you can help it, that's my motto."

"Just how many mottos do you have, anyway?" Arisa asked, and Tohru almost smiled. As much as she was feeling emotional right now, she had to agree with her friend; she was sure she'd heard something similar from Kakeru before.

"Enough to get me by, no matter the situation! And thanks to that particular motto, I never oughtta find myself in a situation like Yun-Yun."


That morning just before lunch, they'd had their graduation rehearsal. Tohru hadn't expected the rehearsal to be that upsetting; all that she, along with most of the rest of the graduates, actually had to do was walk in, sit, stand and respond when their name was called, and sing along with the rest of the graduates for the anthem, school song, and graduation song. Her part was easy; it wasn't like the student from 3-B who had to go up and collect the diploma, or Yuki, who had to give the third-years' speech.

But it had still been hard, almost impossibly hard. Even telling herself that it was just practice and that they still a whole day before the real thing did nothing to stop her tears or make her feel better; it only served to remind her that she'd have to go through this again the next day, only worse. Infinitely worse, because tomorrow there would be the actual speeches, and the actual diploma, and they'd have actual rosettes pinned to them and actual loved ones in attendance...

And be actually saying goodbye.

Tohru was grateful that they only had to sit with their classes and not in any particular order beyond that. As pleasant enough as the classmates who sat around her were, and as nice as the students who came before and after her in the alphabet were, she wouldn't have wanted to be sitting there, crying her eyes out, with them. Not when she could be sitting next to Kyo, his hand gently rubbing her back as she sat with her face buried in her hands. Not when Arisa could be on her other side, her hand lightly resting on Tohru's shoulder. Even if she had to attempt a modicum of decorum and couldn't just sit and bury her face in Kyo's chest, this would be good enough...

Mostly because she had no choice.

And after rehearsal was over and they'd all marched out, she finally allowed herself a full and proper breakdown, collapsing into Kyo's waiting arms and sobbing. She knew it had to be embarrassing for him, and it was admittedly embarrassing for her, too.

She just couldn't care, right then.

"Hey, it's ok, Tohru," Arisa said, standing awkwardly beside them with Saki. "This was just the rehearsal, remember? No big deal, nothing formal or important other than making sure we all remember the words to the school song."

"That's right, dear Tohru," Saki said, her voice as gentle and comforting as ever. "Your sensitivity does you credit, but we still have lunch, and the rest of the day."

"That's right," Arisa agreed. "I mean, yeah, the rehearsal was so boring I almost wanted to cry too, but it's all over now. So how about we all get our food and head up the roof, huh? The Prince said his girlfriend and that crazy friend of theirs were gonna join us today, along with Haru and Momiji; sounds like a fun and energetic group, doesn't it?"

Tohru could appreciate her friends' attempts, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to calm down. She hated this; hated how emotional she could be, hated how difficult she was. Hated making a scene, hated making her friends worry about or wait for her...

"Hey." Kyo's voice was gentle, but authoritative, and Tohru almost reflexively looked up. But Kyo wasn't looking at her; he was looking instead at her friends as he said, "Can you guys just take our stuff and go? We'll meet you up there in a bit."

Arisa and Saki were quiet for a moment, then Arisa exhaled and nodded. "Yeah, we can." Her hand came up to pat Tohru's shoulder once more, and Tohru did her best to respond with a smile. Her friends were right, after all; it had only been a rehearsal, and they still had the rest of the day. They had lunch, their last school lunch, with several of their friends. She should be smiling and happy, doing her best to make the most of the time she had left.

But she couldn't, just yet.

And she was almost pathetically grateful that her friends all seemed to understand that, Arisa and Saki as they went back to the classroom to grab all their lunches, and Kyo himself as he stood there, holding her in the hallway. She knew she had to be frustrating for them to deal with; she knew she was making things harder on them this way, too.

All this week, she had been trying not to think too hard about the graduation ceremony itself, or what it meant. She was trying to think about the positives: being done with schoolwork, being done with the long walk to and from school. Getting to start her new life, with Kyo, in the home they'd chosen and furnished for themselves. Staying by his side, where she'd always belonged.

But walking into the auditorium that morning...going through the flowered arch, seeing all the underclassmen sitting and applauding them, watching the speakers and the student collecting the diploma going through their motions...

Singing the graduation song...

It had only been a rehearsal, but that rehearsal had been enough to force her to face the facts she'd been ignoring: as of tomorrow, all of this would be over. No matter how many positives there were, and how excited she was about those positives, she was going to miss this.

All of it.

Eventually, though, her tears ran dry and she could finally look up and give Kyo a proper, but admittedly embarrassed smile.

His return smile was genuine and affectionate. "Feeling better?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on Tohru's waist, and she nodded. "Good. Hopefully that tides you over for a while, and you can have a good time at lunch with everyone," he said, giving her a light squeeze. "Ready to head up?"

She nodded again, and he let go of her waist to take her hand.

As that started walking, Tohru couldn't help but marvel at how far the two of them had come. The day Kyo had started at Kaibara High, he'd been so high strung, and so upset; he hadn't wanted to be there, not at the school, not around Yuki, not around girls in general...not around her, in specific. He'd been so easily provoked and so combative, to say nothing of easily embarrassed.

And now...

Tohru blushed slightly at the sight of his somewhat scrunched and messy uniform. "I'm so sorry, Kyo," she said quietly as they walked along. "I messed up your uniform-"

"Don't worry about it," he said, looking over at her with a smile. "I'm not, so you shouldn't be, either."

She gave him a wobbly little smile, but it hadn't been able to reach her sad eyes. "I know, and I'm trying, Kyo, really, but I just can't help but think how embarrassing I must be, breaking down like this over every little thing these days. It's bad enough you have to been seen with me, but-"

"Hey now," Kyo said, the smile pivoting sharply to a frown as the two of them stopped on the stair landing. "You think it bugs me to be seen with you?"

"When I'm...melting down?" Tohru said, her blush intensifying. "Yes, I do!"

"Well, you're wrong," he said firmly, starting to climb once again. "You think I don't know how hard a time you're having right now, Tohru?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "You think I don't know how much harder it all is 'cause of me?"

Tohru was immediately concerned. "Kyo, you know I want-"

Kyo stopped again, and Tohru stopped with him. "I do know, Tohru," he said, turning to face her and squeezing both of her hands. "I know you wanna go, and it makes me so damn happy you do," he said, his face shining before clouding over slightly. "But I know us going makes everything else harder, and let's face it, you were always gonna have trouble with graduation anyway," he said, smiling ruefully.

He wasn't wrong.

"I hate seeing you upset," he continued, "and that's not gonna change anytime soon. But I'm never gonna hate being with you, or trying to help you feel better, and I don't care who sees. Got it?"

Tohru sniffled, then looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes that took nothing away from her loving expression. "Got it."


When the two of them made it to the roof, the others were all up there eating already, and Tohru and Kyo took their lunches from Arisa with quiet gratitude. No one commented on their tardiness or Tohru's tear-streaked face; Kakeru looked like he might have wanted to say something, but a well-placed kick from Yuki stopped him before he could do any more than open his mouth.

Instead, the conversations continued as they had been: attempting to seem normal, and almost succeeding.

Tohru herself couldn't talk, though, or even look up. Even though she hoped she was done crying, she didn't want to test herself when she was still feeling so raw. Instead, she sat and listened, looking down at her food and imaging what everyone else had to be looking like, just then.

Hatsuharu sounded the same as he ever did, she thought as she listened to him ask Yuki about his speech and his nerves. She guessed he'd be looking the same as ever, too: calm and relaxed.

Would he still be that calm and relaxed, tomorrow? She'd never seen him looking any other way, except when he was Black, so she guessed he likely would. But even if he didn't look upset, that didn't mean he wasn't feeling it and didn't mean he wouldn't miss them.

She certainly hoped so, anyway.

Momiji was trying to sound upbeat. He was laughing as he teased Arisa about having to stay awake for the whole ceremony, and Tohru almost smiled. But she could hear the catch in his voice, the slight hesitations in his words.

She'd already cried with Momiji, more than once. For all that their relationship had started out with her thinking he was an elementary school student, the two of them had become so close in the time since; he had become one of her dearest friends in his own right, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Her moving away was bound to be painful, for both of them.

Was he looking at her, at all, with sadness lurking in those laughing eyes?

Arisa's voice was almost a mirror of Momiji's: she was trying to sound light-hearted and teasing as well, reminding Momiji that it was her prerogative as a graduate to sleep during the ceremony, or at least the speeches. Listening to her now, it was amazing to remember that Arisa had once been a delinquent, someone that other students had feared. Someone that some other students still feared, for reasons Tohru couldn't quite understand. Her friend, smiling and joking, doing her best to sound normal even when Tohru could hear the worry in her voice.

Was she looking at Tohru, too?

Dear, calm Saki. Tohru knew she was capable of strong emotions; she'd both seen it and heard it, more than once before. But now, like so many other times, she was a bastion of calm and peace.

Tohru actually did smile as she thought about their tea time that morning, when Saki had decided to get up and join her even though Tohru had woken up over an hour before the alarm. The two of them had sat together at the Hanajimas' living room table, tea cups in their hands, and Tohru had been grateful for the company.

No matter how much time she had to talk to her friends, it would never truly be enough.


Of the three of them, Saki was the one who'd be seeing the least change immediately after graduating. Although she had surprised all of them by announcing her new position as the cook at the Sohma Dojo, she also planned to keep living with her family for the foreseeable future; the dojo was a commute, but not much further than school had been. She had told Tohru that she'd considered finding a new place, but her family had all encouraged her to stay and she had decided to take advantage of the opportunity to start saving up some money herself.

'After all, dear Tohru, funds will be imperative when we finally start taking those trips we've discussed. I would hate for any of us to miss out on trying any delicious new foods because of a lack of resources.'

Saki had told Tohru how happy she was for Tohru and Arisa both; happy they were stepping out to find their own places in the world, happy they had each found someone they wanted to share those places with.

'Perhaps one day, I too shall find my person. When that day comes, I shall look forward to introducing him to you both.'

As sweet as their conversation had been, it had been a bitter sweetness. For over four years now, the three of them had been a unit; well-matched in devotion, well-balanced in temperament. Saki had been there for Tohru and Arisa, and they'd been there in turn for her; they were like three tentpoles, each leaning against the others.

And in just a few more weeks, Saki would be the only one left.

Tohru would be lying if she said she wasn't worried about her friend. For all that Saki wasn't moving, her life would nevertheless be changing with the loss of Tohru and Arisa. And while Tohru was confident that Saki would push forward and find a new social circle of some sort, she couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt at leaving her behind.

How long would it take, before that guilt began to fade?


Listening to Saki up on the school roof, Tohru could almost believe it was any other day. She sounded as calm as ever; did she look as calm as ever, too?

Kakeru definitely sounded the same as ever.

It had taken time, for Tohru feel comfortable around the boy she had for some time felt to be Yuki's closest friend. She hadn't remembered him, at first; not the things he'd said to her after her mother died, or the way he'd looked at her the day of Kyoko's wake, so angry and cold.

'Don't think you're the only one who's grieving.'

She hadn't remembered him, after that. She'd forgotten him...or perhaps it was more like she'd blocked him from her mind. Seeing him at school with Yuki, so carefree and goofy, she hadn't been able to place him, not even when a little voice at the back of her head had told her she knew him, from somewhere.

The day she'd finally remembered, it had all come rushing back with almost aching clarity. Her mom's wake; the girl whose father had been driving the car, standing in front of her and asking permission to burn incense. That girl, the girl whose father had also died in that accident.

Kakeru, that girl's boyfriend. Standing there in front of Tohru when his girlfriend had gone to light the incense, looking at Tohru with such cold, harsh eyes, telling her not to think her grief was more important or deserving of pity.

It had been so hard, reconciling that Kakeru with the Kakeru she saw at school. But it was him...and she'd forgotten.

Apologizing to him for forgetting him had felt only right. Even if their connection was painful, it didn't deserve to be forgotten. He didn't deserve to be forgotten. As worried as she'd been for what he'd say, or how he'd react...she'd still had to apologize.

And Kakeru had apologized himself. He had been wrong then, to say what he'd said. She hadn't deserved his vitriol, or his judgement. And as long as it had taken him to make amends, he felt better for having done so.

They had walked away from that encounter not as friends, but both happier for it all the same. After that, the barriers, such as they were, with Kakeru were gone. She didn't pretend to understand him, or his friendship with Yuki. But Yuki's friendships didn't have to be hers.

After all...Yuki had his own life to live, too.


Listening to Yuki's voice, patient and measured but also just a tiny bit exasperated as he told Kakeru how selfish that 'motto' was, discussed his speech, and talked to the others about their plans for the next afternoon, Tohru was reminded yet again just how true that fact now was. Yuki had always been so poised and confident; as long as she'd known him, she thought he was the very picture of grace when it came to dealing with other people. It wasn't until later, when she'd moved into the house and gotten to know him better, that she came to learn just how much of his confidence was only an act.

The difference between the Yuki she knew in passing during those first few months of high school, the Yuki that had seemed so regal and in control, and the Yuki she now lived with and saw every day was staggering. The Yuki of today didn't need to be aloof, or perpetually calm; he didn't need to hold himself separate from others, out of either fear or shame. He could show irritation and annoyance, happiness and pain. He didn't have to mask himself, to try to project whatever it was that others wanted him to be.

And he didn't have to be alone.

When Tohru finally looked up from her lunch, it was Yuki who she was looking at. Yuki, sitting on the roof with the rest of them, his legs stretched out in front of him and his body language relaxed; Yuki, eating his lunch and rolling his eyes at something Haru was saying, not caring who saw his annoyance. Yuki, with his arm around Machi, holding her against him as she rested her head against his shoulder and stared down at her lunch...

Once again Tohru felt a pang, and she dropped her gaze back to her lunch. It had just been one glance, but that glance had been enough to hurt her heart and fill her with shame.

Whatever feelings Tohru was feeling about graduation, however much she was struggling, her feelings had to have nothing on Yuki and Machi's. Tomorrow she would graduate, yes, and so would many of her friends. In a couple more days she'd be moving, and it would likely be months before she saw any of them again. But Kyo was graduating, too, and she was willing sacrificing the ability to be with everyone else to be with him, instead.

To never be away from him, ever again.

Yuki and Machi didn't have that option. Tomorrow Yuki would graduate, and in another couple of weeks he would leave as well, bound for Kyoto and his new life as a university student. Meanwhile, Machi...would stay behind.

Tohru had only looked up for a moment, but that moment had been enough to see the tightness in Yuki's hand as he held Machi close, the way Machi leaned against him without caring whether anyone else saw. The expression on Machi's face as she looked down at her lunch, an expression of quiet sadness and resignation that was enough to almost break Tohru's heart.

Kyoto was much closer to Tokyo than Aomori, but it would still take two hours by bullet train to get from one city to the other. And they would have Machi's high school schedule to navigate, along with Yuki's university schedule, plus if Yuki joined any clubs or activities once the term started...

Suddenly Tohru couldn't see her lunch any more, her eyes too blinded by tears as she thought about the many challenges Yuki and Machi were sure to face over the course of the next year. It was no wonder Yuki had been spending so much time with Machi lately; the two of them practically had a countdown timer to separation.

Could Tohru herself have been so calm, if she knew she had no choice but to be separated from Kyo for an entire year? She had feared, once, that she and Kyo would be separated for a lifetime, and that thought had been heartbreakingly terrifying. But that had been in the before times; before they had admitted to each other how they felt, before they'd truly been able to be together. The idea of losing him had been unbearable, but she would have been losing a dear friend...and a desperate dream.

Machi and Yuki had held each other. Kissed each other. Told each other they loved each other, and spent nights together in each other's arms. Yuki had even told Machi about the Curse. They were a partnership; a pair, just as surely as she and Kyo. And soon, they'd be partners looking at each other across a deep chasm that would span a year.

The only thing that surprised Tohru was that they both seemed so calm. Listening to Yuki, she could almost believe it was any other day. And though Machi's expression was downcast, her eyes were dry and she made no sound.

Tohru had never been nearly so good at containing her emotions.

The tears were still blinding her, and she finally couldn't take it anymore. Hoping she looked stealthier than she felt, Tohru raised one hand and wiped the back across her eyes.

How long would it take, before she could think of partings without breaking down?

She was aware of the arm Kyo had around her subtly tightening, and she was grateful for his quiet perception. She knew she was being stupid now, just like she'd been stupid during rehearsal. She should be enjoying herself right now; enjoying her time with her friends, and making a few final memories from their time in high school.

This would all be so much easier, if emotions could only be rational.