Dear Reader,

Hola. Soy Aigis. ¿Cómo está usted?

I'm sorry; you may be worried that you have forgotten how to read. It would be a great inconvenience for me, writing these letters, if there was no-one able to read them. It's not your fault, reader. That greeting was in Spanish, a different language than you are used to. I was not familiar with it myself until yesterday evening with Fuuka and Naoto. The subject of Spanish came into conversation, spurred by my arriving at Fuuka and Naoto's (and my) apartment, bearing my gift and wearing my sombrero. I adopted my most charming smile for the occasion, and yet the two women were still somewhat nonplussed by my appearance.

"Why are you wearing that hat?" Naoto asked.

"Why are you wearing that hat?" I replied.

Naoto squinted at me, but I didn't squint back because I don't really know how to. Squint. That's a funny word. It doesn't really sound like what it is. But what is that?

She nodded. "Good point."

I let myself in, immediately sprawling onto the couch in our living room. It was part of my routine with Fuuka that, whenever I returned to the apartment feeling anyway unusual or 'under the weather' (a humourous idiom, as one is always under the weather as long as one exists beneath the atmosphere), I would sprawl onto the couch and await bodily inspection from Fuuka. Sometimes we would spend hours together analysing every aspect of my anatomy. I feel bad that I cannot do for her what she does to me, but Fuuka tells me she doesn't mind. She enjoys it herself.

I assumed the position on the couch not expecting for Fuuka to drop everything and come to me, but for certain ulterior motives I am, perhaps, embarrassed to admit. I have tried to be cavalier regarding Naoto's arrival in the apartment, but it is upsetting to me to have to pretend that I don't live with someone when I do. It is not that I wish to deceive Naoto – I want to be friends with her. But how can that friendship develop in such deceit? A flower cannot grow earthed in a soil of lies. I think Elizabeth said that when she asked me for money for a coffee in Chagall Café and I said I didn't have any.

I was doing what is called 'sending a message'. My subtle gesture would be indecipherable to Naoto, but have a much more profound meaning for Fuuka.

Look at me, it said. Remember all the fun times we used to have on this couch? We can't anymore, because someone decided to have a "roommate" so they could afford "rent". Look at what you're missing Fuuka. You bitch. Look at what you're missing.

All that was communicated by my position on the couch, even though I was lying face-down and could not observe Fuuka's reaction closely.

"Ai...Ai-chan...are you okay? You must have...tripped, Let me help you up!" Fuuka leaned in as she pulled me to my feet. "What are you doing?"

"Following my heart," I said, strong and resolute. Fuuka was so shaken by the strength of my words, she struggled to respond at all. "Shirogane-san, why don't you sit beside Aigis on the couch and chat for awhile? Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes."

"Oh...dinner...I see. I thought I might be cooking tonight."

"Nonsense, I've already started! Hope you like—" Fuuka paused, examining the contents of a huge crockpot in the kitchen. "—Lobster...stew, I think. There's definitely a crustacean...element."

"That sounds...intriguing, Fuuka." Naoto said. She sat beside me now, and searched my eyes fearfully. We spoke in low voices to keep Fuuka out of earshot.

"Y-you're not going to eat that, are you, Aigis? I feel faint just thinking about it..."

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh. But Fuuka's cooking for you, isn't she?"

"No, it's only for you. Fuuka knows that whenever I'm around her as she is cooking, I'm not hungry. It's a golden rule."

"I see...then this fight is mine alone." Naoto gazed into the kitchen as though she gazed into the void. I silently hoped her struggle would be a virtuous one.

"You can worry about that later. Did you catch that killer you were talking about today?"

"Shinzo Kakizaki...we got him alright. He didn't expect to be caught; the police got him unaware. He confessed to everything. The Chief is going to buy free beers for every officer that took part in the investigation the next time the force has a party." Naoto didn't sound too happy about that. She was pulling her cap beneath her eyes, averting mine.

"Isn't that a good thing, Naoto? You get part of that reward as well." As should I, I thought to myself, but voiced no such remark. I can't get drunk, so there's no point to my drinking beer. At least, I don't think I can get drunk...

"Yeah, it's my right as much as anyone's, but...I'll definitely be going to the next staff party; even if I didn't want to go, the Chief'd notice my absence, and there'd be trouble. I'm not much of a drinker compared to those guys...I'm worried about embarrassing myself. No, not worried. I'm convinced I'll embarrass myself. It's a guarantee."

"I see...but surely you don't have to go over your limits if you don't want to. It won't be awkward for the Chief if you only drink one or two beers, right? As long as you're taking part. You can still stay in control."

"Well, yeah, except—" Naoto's voice dropped to a mortified whisper. "I've never actually taken any alcohol before. I'm scared of it. I just know that if I take one sip, I'll become some... some gibbering drunk, and then I'll never hear the end of it!"

Gibbering drunk? It sounded like Naoto was putting words to a very specific, painful memory.

"You shouldn't be afraid, Naoto. You won't get drunk from one beer."

"You're wrong there, Aigis. I was at a nightclub once, with some friends—well, they weren't friends then, but they became friends—and had to spend the evening hostage to their boorish whims and revelry. They weren't even drinking. The environment was all it took for them to lose the run of themselves. If it could happen to them, it'll happen to me." Naoto shuddered on her words.

I found her plight somewhat amusing, I must admit. The prospect of tracking down and arresting hardened criminals and murderers was simply her day job, but once the possibility of socialising with her colleagues came up, she was overcome with anxiety. Among the vast spectrum of human feeling and sentiment I expose myself to, Naoto's shame was not something I'd consciously experienced myself. Conversation with her was a scholarly endeavour on behalf of humankind. Maybe I would be more anxious if I could get drunk among friends, but even if that were possible, I don't think it would bother me. It was exciting, just sitting there, knowing we were different people. I did not need to suffer her trials absolutely for me to understand, to help in some way. I need not be everyone to be someone.

I thought about all this, then heard another voice whisper 'rank up' to me, which I ignored. It didn't seem relevant. Fuuka called us in. A lot happened today, so forgive me if I split this letter in twain, like Shinjiro once split a shadow's head in twain with his axe. I shall tell you the rest of the story soon.