7: The Bee, the Blush, the Hay
Blue views are boarded up; our sweet vacation
Dwindles in the hour-glass.
Thoughts that found a maze of mermaid hair
Tangling in the tide's green fall
Now fold their wings like bats and disappear
Into the attic of the skull.
—Sylvia Plath, Two Lovers and a Beachcomber by the Real Sea
July is the month of Shirakawa Boulevard.
You know what's going to happen, but even still, you are nervous about the operation for the first time, and part of you rejoice at the prodigal sensation.
You find your way to the Hierophant easily, but you don't rush to kill it, instead opting to hang in the background, getting in a mostly harmless slash between giving orders to Junpei, Yukari, and Akihiko. There is an equal mix of dread and anticipation in your mouth (and it tastes furry). You know you are simply postponing it. It's not a very effective strategy, because even with your half-hearted thrusts, your team manages to whittle it down to a pool of darkness that disappears with an agonized cry.
The room is locked, and while the team is trying to search the purple, gaudily lit room for the trace of Shadow that Fuuka is talking about, you walk steadily in front of the large mirror.
You see yourself: a pale girl with auburn hair, faint grayness beneath your eyes. There is a hidden pimple underneath your bang, above your right eyebrow, that obnoxiously started to appear yesterday. You hate your nose, with its rounded, button tip. Your eyes are clear and glassy as you reach out your hand. With a resigned sigh, you touch it and the world fades.
When you wake up, you aren't sure that you have woken up.
Everything seems to be a little blurry, but not in a way that it appears unclear, but rather it's as if all the edges have been smoothed out. Or like somebody put candlelight in a light bulb. That must be it, you decide, that's why everything looks so inviting.
It takes you a few seconds to realize that you're sitting on a four-post bed. You move up a little and feel the soft cushions shift underneath you. It's such a large bed, yards of silken bedding stretching out before you. Such a nice color too: a sort of warm, pinkish color that you see on coral necklaces a lot. Strange, you can swear you've seen the exact pattern of swirls on the sheets before. Maybe it's the same bedding as the one in your parents' house? You'll check when you go home for Christmas, you know, wherever home is.
The color looks good against your skin though, you notice and giggle a little. You don't know what you're giggling at, but you wiggle your toes and look at the curve of your bare calf against the sheets. It's a little chilly in the room, and you tug your skirt down your thighs a little more.
Ooh, you're wearing your favorite pleated skirt, it must be a special occasion.
Speaking of which, what is the occasion again?
But you have no time to think, because a hand suddenly drops on your thigh, the tips cold and the palm warm. You follow the arm and see that Akihiko is waking up as well.
You lie back down, but put a hand on top of his to keep him there. You like the weight of it, and how the coarse callouses feel against the creaminess of your inner thigh. With your other hand, you move his hair out of the way as you drop a kiss on his forehead, furrowed in a frown as he grunts and opens his eyes.
He stares you straight in the eye, and you wonder if he recognizes you. For a few seconds, the both of you breathe like that, locked in place.
Until suddenly, with a forward thrust that is perfected by long years of boxing, he flips himself on you, knocking you back. Your head hits a pile of pillows, not painful but still you're out of breath. Before you can regain composure, he presses his lips to your neck and licks.
God, you think without thinking, and raise your hand to his waist. You can feel the sinews of his muscles underneath his thin red shirt, and you involuntarily clench when he nips down the side of your neck. His hand has danced its way up and is now underneath your skirt, fingering the lace trim of your panty. You shiver as his fingertip skims the very base of your thigh, and you arch your neck in such a way that you breathe into his ear. You take his earlobe into your mouth and tug at it with your teeth, and feel his entire body give in to a spastic shudder. You sneak a hand under his shirt and use your nails to run up his spine, the way you know he likes. He lets out a low, guttural grunt and presses harder into you. You smile against his ear and push him up to look into his eyes.
His eyes are hooded and pupils dilated, he doesn't look like he'd recognize himself let alone you. Somehow, this angers you and you bite down on his lips.
"Ow!" he responds, and for a moment there is clarity in his face again. But quickly he drops down on you again and starts kissing you.
It's kind of sweet and pathetic just how bad a kisser he is, but he does not have the patience to learn. You get annoyed and rolls him off of you. He makes a noise of protest, so you tell him, "Go shower."
He cocks his head to one side and smiles adoringly, "Okay," he agrees, and jumps from you, a spry energy to his step as he goes inside the large, overtly ornamental bathroom door.
You hear the shower turn on, and the sound of water falling soothes you as you stretch out on the bed.
Embrace your desires… The present is all we have…
Oh. Oh fuck.
The voices that are meant to convince you to fall deeper into temptation work to remind you of where you are. For a moment, you contemplate not answering Fuuka when she calls and just go ahead with this—but you know you can't. Not only is the entire team dependent upon you for the mission—and their safety—but also you will lose Akihiko to his guilt and shame forever.
Fuck, you think again as you smooth out the rumples to your shirt and adjust your skirt. Your hair is a lost cause, so you take out all the pins and re-braid it as you wait for Akihiko to be done.
The water stops and he steps out.
Being rational doesn't mean that you can't admire the clean lines of Akihiko's naked torso as he step out of the shower though. Well, alright, you have to be demure and not stare too blatantly, but you know every inch of his skin and every scar like a comfort blanket, and the sight of his skin, pale underneath his neck and glistening still with moisture, was enough to make you nostalgic.
He recovers himself after a moment of thickened silence. "Fuck," he mutters audibly and turns immediately back into the bathroom. You chuckle, although it's not that funny, and Fuuka, dependable, sweet Fuuka, reaches the two of you.
On the way back to the original room, you wonder at what happened between Junpei and Yukari. The reddening mark on Junpei's face is telling, but Junpei's not too awkward about it, and if he's still making lewd jokes, then you know nothing went too far. It's not like there's much of Yukari's skin that you two haven't seen after going to Escapede together—Yukari always wears this gold-pink, sequined little number that dips in the back, all the way down to her waist. She looks good in it, but you and Junpei can't agree on whether she would look better out of it. Junpei always says that nobody can have a figure that good, that it must be foam push-ups, but you've seen her in the communal showers at school (you've also seen her underneath you, squirming and teary-eyed as you take her first time, in another life), and you tell Junpei that no, some people are just born with it.
You break the mirrors without your reflections in it, while Junpei grumbles about bad luck.
It isn't just bad luck waiting for you inside the room though—it's a tall, grotesque Lovers Shadow.
Akihiko charge at it with a fury that he did not exhibit toward the Hierophant just earlier this night. Its rubbery wings flap through the air as it dodges one of Akihiko's fervent punches. He trips and falls to the floor, and you take the moment to quickly step in and give a false pierce, not putting your weight behind it but the Lovers dodge anyway.
You turn back and put your hand out, and he hesitates before reaching out, a blush rising to his cheeks. You grab his wrist, and you don't know whose sweat it is between his skin and yours, but it smells like leather and you pull him up with a tough jerk. You retreat back into formation, not looking at him twice, giving him some room to regain a calm fighting mentality.
The rest of the battle goes smoothly, and once you decide that Junpei was beginning to show signs of fatigue, you pull out Helel and breathe the fires of hell on Lovers.
It was only till after Lovers melts away that you see all three of them are scarlet in the face, and you realize Helel is well, practically entirely naked. It's not a provocative nudity—in fact, it's the sort of nudity found in museums and home decor. Despite his undeniable beauty, Helel inspires a reverent awe instead of appreciate of the male body: more of Michelangelo's The Dream than David. However, recent events made them rather susceptible to impure thoughts.
Helel fumes in the back of your mind—how dare they impeach the sacredness of the Morning Star! You soothe his wounded pride with soft strokes and refrain from saying how it takes only the wavering of a moment to make Lucifer out of Helel.
Fuuka is concerned, but everybody refuses to talk, and instead you walk in silence, with only the sound of Mitsuru's motorcycle ringing in the night.
-.-.-
The next night, you sneak out to give money to Tanaka. He takes it but then warns you against being mindless with your money. You nod and do not smile, because you know any sign of appreciation would make him retreat back into his mean, caustic businessman demeanor. He's not such a bad guy, you think, in a strange sort of way. It's not like everything he says is a facade—no, he genuinely believes it all, which gives him a sort of earnestness that's impossible to dislike.
So you give him the money he so desires. You have more than you can spend anyway.
-.-.-
You don't see what's the big deal about the whole cigarette debacle that's got the Student Council in such a fit. You usually end up bumming somebody's cigarettes outside Escapede when you're completely smashed. It's a great pick-up line, and works every single time.
In any case, it's one measly cigarette butt in the boys' bathroom. But the school officials are cracking down on it because they need to crack down on something before the end of the semester, in order to report back to the principal. And Hidetoshi, whom you secretly believe couldn't care less about smoking, takes this as an easy way into the teachers' grace.
Fine, you think, just stop having such long ass debates over it during Student Council meetings. You're only here as a favor to Mitsuru. (You will never admit to her that authority gives you as much a high as it gives her.)
-.-.-
Today's the day that Rio breaks down over Kenji. In another world, you would be the one to tell Kenji to go for it with Ms. Kanon, but as tears pour out of the usually stoic Rio like her eyes are broken facets, you tell her the truth: that they don't suit each other.
She thinks you're talking about Kenji and Ms. Kanou, but you might as well be talking about her and Kenji as well. But nobody wants to hear that. Instead, you hug her, and hear the voice in your head count to six.
The only time you see Ms. Kanon is when you're with Rio, and the teacher comes around as a mediator in the most unfriendly way possible.
You can see why Kenji is hung up on Kanon—she's the sort of teacher that boys awkwardly slipping into adolescence masturbate to in a locked bathroom. A slim neck, hair that curls around the milky skin at the base of her chin, a shirt that is perhaps too low-cut for faculty propriety, and a thin, lifting line of eyeliner. She knows she looks good too, which is the far more dangerous thing.
You wonder what Kanon sees in Kenji—not enough to warrant effort, but enough to drop him a bone here and there to string him along. And then you remember what Kenji is like: there is an appeal to being the one to teach, the jaded, the older one—and you think you know.
Still, no matter how much you empathize with Kanon, she offers no Social Link and therefore is useless. You pat Rio on the back soothingly and give a vague answer to the inquisitive volleyball team members.
But of course Rio gives herself away, and ends up winning over the team by sharing her bleeding pain. Poor Rio, she needs a bit of attention, you nod, even if it's not from the right person.
-.-.-
It's the monthly meet-with-Ikutsuki-and-try-not-to-wring-his-neck meeting.
Mitsuru gives a tight-lipped account of the happenings, and Yukari presses her into telling the 'dark secret' of the Kirijo Group.
You don't know why Yukari is surprised: isn't it the most natural thing in the world for people to be drawn to power? Weaponized Shadows would be incredibly profitable, not to mention the thrill of commanding such raw power. You yawn and forget that you too, once upon a time, were just as surprised.
-.-.-
Pharos visits, and before he can speak you ask, "Do you want to play cards?"
He looks at you in surprise, as if the thought of not giving you a foreboding speech is something utterly bizarre. But in the end, he gives a small nod and comes to sit on your bed.
You take out a deck of cards and ask him to pick one card, any card.
The magic trick seems to amuse him, but then he does one as well, except it's actual magic with no trick. You pout at the unfairness of it, and he apologies: "I am sorry," he says bashfully.
"It's okay," you reach out and pat his head. His hair is silky and very soft, and it feels more like cat fur than human hair. "I'm not angry."
He peers out from under his lashes, hopeful and yet ready to despair, "Truly?"
"Truly," you assure him, his timidity softening your heart until all you want to do is draw him in for a hug. Right now, it doesn't matter what he is, so you do just that.
He is rigid in your embrace, but soon melts into your arms like he was meant to be there, and clings to you like a lover, like a child, like a pet dog who cannot understand anything but bottomless devotion.
-.-.-
Ken is here. Akihiko looks at the boy in apprehension, while none of the other members cares too much. Yukari and Fuuka shows some concern about his age, but Ken is more mature than Junpei is, so they shrug and trust Ikutsuki's judgment. (Irony, you think, is present in the little things in life.)
You know why he is here though, and when you meet his eyes something must have alerted him, because he looks startled and suddenly very small, almost like the kid that he is.
You lower your eyes for a second to gather yourself, and then put on your cheery, bubbly smile and welcome him to the family, all warmth and hospitality.
He hears the false notes in your voice and the restraint that 'family' meant. He considers you for a moment, glancing at the bobby pins in your hair to the pressed collar of your shirt, all the way down to your slim knees and white socks. Then he smiles back.
Ken is more grown-up than Junpei will ever be.
-.-.-
Mid-summer sale at Sogo department store!
You tell that to Mitsuru, who lifts an eyebrow and asks you what can one find at a department store and not a couture boutique. You relay the same information to Fuuka, who blushes and says that her funds are limited, and she's trying to save up for a nicer pot. You scamper away at the thought of Fuuka cooking again, and tell Yukari, whose eyes instantly brighten by a hundred watts and runs to her room to get her purse.
The two of you go shopping (for the Yakushima trip nominally). You buy a new soft leather chained clutch for going out, a pair of mid-heeled sandals for the beach, a large silicon tote bag for beachwear, a set of high-waisted black and white striped bikinis and another one-piece with suggestive bands over your back, a sheer floral printed coverup gown, a floppy straw-rimmed ribbon hat, retro round rimmed sunglasses, a large geometric printed umbrella, and a pair of red-heeled pumps just because.
It is satisfying and cathartic to throw money out like that, and although Yukari is a little alarmed at just how much you throw, you assure her by buying her a new set of bikinis as well.
Yakushima cannot come soon enough. You savor the ferry ride there, the wind in your face and cares behind you. The sun is too beautiful to think of anything, so you close your eyes and basked in its warm glow, turning your face toward the sun and leaning against the railings.
"Whoa," Junpei pulls you back, "careful now, don't go overboard! We're stopping for no one!"
You glare at him, "Knock it off, I'm just tanning."
"Tanning? What are you talking about? You gotta preserve that milky whiteness for senpai over there!" he winks.
You shrug, "I'm getting so tired of pale skin though."
"It's not about what you're tired of," Junpei rebuts.
You scoff, "I don't need fair skin to get a guy." Although Ken always has a fascination with your skin—his mother had been a fair woman—and when Theo first sees Yuko he will think she painted her face. Men, you think in disgust.
"Big words! Let's see what happens on this trip then!"
"Sure," you agree easily, "let's keep score of how many people we each chat up." At least there's always Aigis to fall back on—so in the worst case scenario it's still 1 to 0 for you.
"A girl to my own heart," he throws his arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze. "I've been planning my Operation Babe Hunt. Plenty of single honeys on the beach!"
"I look forward to seeing your failure," you tell him honestly.
"Aw, have some faith in me!" he whined, winding his arm around your head to give your hair a pat. "It's Master Junpei you're talking to here!"
You shake your head. Adolescent boys have the worst chance and adolescent girls have the best—basic human facts that probably even Aigis could tell him, and yet Junpei, out of ignorance or just sheer will, does not know.
The beach is a beauty: the sands are fine and warm under your feet, turning whiter as you step closer to the water. A border of white foam lines the ocean, and when the waves wash up shore it is a thin sheet of icy blue before it laps back into the mother ocean. Plenty of people are already set up, sporadic umbrellas and chairs on the beach and strings of footsteps in the sand. Sunrise at Yakushima beach is supposedly a scene, and you look forward to it tomorrow.
Today, however, you lock eyes with Junpei and set the score running.
Operation Babe Hunt begins a day earlier, and Junpei has already given his usual commentary on his various teammates. You can tell that his favorite is Yukari's pink and frilled-lined bikini top and denim short shorts: cute and girly and just the right pinch of innocence. Mitsuru is stunning, of course, but in an utterly unapproachable way, even if the large flower pinned to her shoulder brings some color to the goddess-white swimsuit. Yuuka's is demure and very young, shying away from showing skin. You still think yours is the best: thick, zigzagging black and white strips are very 80's without going overboard, and the high cut around the legs to elongate your legs. The bikini top is basic, with a thin layer of ruffles at the top to enhance your chest (everybody needs some enhancement when next to Yukari).
Junpei asks Akihiko who is his type, and Akihiko whispers something in his ear. Junpei's eyes widen and you narrow your eyes at him, an implicit 'you better tell' with a warning.
He flashes a cheeky grin at you and runs off to hit on a girl lounging in a precariously tied bikini.
"Pervert," Yukari mutters under her breath. There's usually a tinge of fondness to every 'Stupei' she says, but this time there's only a faint hint of envy. You shake your head: it's a lost battle, Yukari, Junpei will always belong to Chidori. Just that neither of them knows it yet.
"Put some sun lotion on me," you distract her.
You find four empty chairs and throw your bag on the sand, climbing on one of the chairs and lying on your stomach. Yukari rubs your back and you almost fall asleep to the soft massage of sunlight and hands on your back, and the sound of waves crashing and whispered gossip at your ear.
This is what life is all about, you think drowsily, too lazy to flick that grain of sand on your face. You can feel every cloud that moves across the sun by the light splayed out on your skin, and each breath you take in is weightless.
You love the moment just before falling asleep, because it is without memories of a future or a need of a past. You begin to see yourself as some sort of shape—perhaps a hexagon, or an irregular polygon in a world of circles and squares—as if everything is as easily defined as mathematical dimensions. There is no internal contradiction, everything aligns and is calculated perfectly, with a precision that brings tears.
"Hey there," a voice intruded on your dreamlessness, "how's it going?" It's an overtly flirty tone, but you cut the guy some slack—it's the beach, after all. You slowly open your eyes and lift your head, and voila, a specimen of male arrogance and beauty stand before you.
Tall, lanky, and muscular, he's just your type. The hair is a bad bleach job, but his face is redeemable, with an angular jaw and a strong nose. If you aren't so intent on getting Akihiko, you might just go for this. On the other hand… you peer to see Akihiko and Junpei behind him, running away from a girl who's throwing a half-finished drink at them. "I'd be doing better if I had a drink," you say to the guy.
"Which is why I have two," he smiles, "one for each lady." Hmm, not going for Mitsuru or Fuuka then. You're not sure to take that as a compliment or insult. He has a drink in each hand—a tall, slim glass filled with amber liquid, with a cute, pink umbrella at the top. It looks innocuous (or as innocuous as Long Island Iced Teas could be), but you know better than to take a drink from a stranger.
How to Drink and Out-Drink Sailors like a Lady, from your long-dead mother: never, ever take a drink from a stranger, even if you wouldn't mind being raped by him. Always stick with one alcohol per night—tequila, vodka, rum, whiskey, choose your devil and stick with him. Never order fruity drinks, the kind with sugar enough to drown you, because it will drown you. Go to the bathroom often, but only after you finish a drink—never take up an unattended drink again, just say you changed your mind and be a minx about it. If need be, insert one index and one middle finger down your throat; fix your hair and then come out and say that you needed a bit of powder to your nose. Never touch your wallet, or even mention money—money is too vulgar a word for a lady, and there are things worth paying for, as a man.
Your mother didn't leave you much, but this always stuck with you. Were you too young to be drinking when she died? Of course. Did she plan to die? No—not even Aigis planned for her to die. But—well, let's just say that mother was a wise woman and would not leave her baby to fend for herself in the great shark jaw of a world.
You can't say that you always abide by every single one of her rules, but you generally start out the night with them in mind. So you rise up, rolling back your shoulder blades to stretch. "It's alright," you say to him while his eyes are still at your chest, "I don't like Long Islands."
"What do you like?" he purrs out, a low innuendo embedded in the way he licks his lips.
You decide that you don't like this guy after all, and answer airily, "Oh, a girl changes her mind twice every second." You look over and see that Fuuka is dutifully kneading Yukari's back, who is on her stomach looking rosy and satisfied. "Girls, want anything?"
Fuuka shakes her head and gives you a small smile.
"We have a private bar," Mitsuru injects, "they should have every kind of juice. Get me an acai and avocado."
Yukari answers gleefully, "Ooh, get me a margarita. I want a blueberry one." Despite being father-less, not mother-less, it would appear that Yukari does not know the Rules of Lady Drinking.
"No drinking!" Mitsuru says hotly, although she knows you won't listen to her.
Famous last words, you think, as Yukari jumps up, causing Fuuka to squeal in surprise and the guy to gulp visibly, staring at how she jiggles. "Let's go now!" she commands you, and you allow her to drag you away by the wrist.
It turns out that hidden in the back of the wooden concession pavilion is indeed a private portion for the Kirijo Group. A relatively young bartender stands there polishing glasses with a bored if stoic face.
"He's cute," Yukari whispers to you, pinching you slightly at the waist, and you agree. He fits the bartender shirt-and-vest combo very well, and his slightly shaggy hair falls around his face in the dimmed light like a waterfall. He has thin, long eyes, the kind that Yukari is particularly susceptible to, and a grim line to his mouth that makes him look older than he is.
"Go for it," you whisper and pinch back.
She giggles, and then struts to the bar. "Can you make me a blueberry margarita?" she asks in that particular tone she uses whenever she wants something.
The bartender nods once, without looking up. Yukari's shoulder sag a little, before she straightens her back out again and takes out her hair. Her hair bounces down her neck once unconstrained.
The motion causes the bartender to look up, and inevitably his eyes go from the glass to her chest and then her face—not by deliberation, but just the natural way one lifts one's eyes. But the natural way is an advantageous way for Yukari.
You come closer when it's apparent that the bartender isn't going to say anything. "An old-fashioned, Islay whiskey if you have it."
He looks at you and asks back, "Which island? We carry all of them."
You aren't sure if it's good service or a test, the way he says it, but reply, "Laphroaig cask."
He gives a nod and then brings out a tray of little bottles from beneath. "And your bitter?"
"Walnut and chocolate," you answer in pleasant surprise. This is a damn good bar.
"Good choices," he nods again.
"Taking advantage of the Kirijo fund, huh?" Yukari jokes. She knows that you always ask for a ridiculously priced whiskey when somebody else is paying for it.
"I'd feel bad not to commit their hospitality," you answer easily. You wink at her when the bartender's back is turned, stirring in the sugar cubes with an expert hand. You wonder why he is here. There has to be a story: a man of few words and a good hand with drinks, hidden away from the world in a bar that is rarely if ever used, slowly but surely decaying away. It's too good to not be a story. You give Yukari a meaningful look, and she bats your hand away.
"Here you go, miss," he gives you your old-fashioned with a tropical umbrella that looks funny with it. "So that you keep your youthful air," he explains.
Is that a joke? You can't tell, but as you leave he lifts his fingers to his temple, as if he had a top hat to raise.
What a strange person, you think, and genuinely hope that Yukari can charm him off his feet. She's a very charismatic girl, if he gives her a chance beyond the ill-advised blueberry margarita. She doesn't always respond to Chidori's intrusion of your threesome friendship very well, and it'd be nice for her to enjoy having a boy for a while.
You come out to the beach and find that the guy is still there, making small talk to Fuuka and causing her to blush once in a while. In a stroke of genius, you send him in to the bar—a chance for the bartender to save the girl in a heroic fashion, and all guys like playing hero.
"Man," a bummed out Junpei slouches toward you, "these ladies hard to please or what."
You politely sip your drink and do not elaborate on the 'what'.
"Whacha got there?
You don't say anything and just push it his way.
"Ugh!" he cries out in disgust, "It burns like a fucking fire ant colony!"
You are impressed with his analogy. "I know. I have no idea why I always insist on getting whiskey. It's kind of disgusting."
"I could get you something else if you want," a gruff voice says behind you, and you turn to see Akihiko, still red to the very ears from his last rejection. He does not look like he can take another 'no', so you tell him, "A mojito please." Then after a moment, "But don't interrupt Yukari and the bartender."
He nods and slinks away.
"Admiring his behind, huh?" Junpei nudges you.
You are—the Speedo is embarrassing but damn did it hug his butt like nothing else. "Some people have assets to stare at," you look at him pointedly.
"Whoa, whoa," he raises his hands, "hostility much! C'mon, bro, aren't you curious what his type is?"
"I know, bro," you toss back at him.
"You do?"
"Yeah—myself," you say with confidence.
He laughs. "And ya know what's funny—you're actually right."
You perk up at that anyhow. "C'mon," you link your arm through his in a friendly gesture, "let's find you a lady friend to hit on."
-.-.-
Solid arms wrap around you, cold and hard and immovable.
You hug back—"Aigis," you breathe out, eyes tearing up a bit.
"I have found you," she says, inflection still inflexible but you sense the wealth of unconscious emotion in it—or at least, you like to think that you can.
You have missed her, plain and simple. Aigis has always understood you better than anybody, even Akinari—the more cycles you go through, the better she touches your soul. Or perhaps it's the other way around: the more cycles you go through, the more you become like Aigis, an age-old bystander who fails to understand humanity's intricacies.
"My highest priority is to be with you!"
"I know," you mumble to her, "and I'm sorry." You have tried very hard to forgive her, but in the end, you know there is no forgiveness.
"Is it … normal for humans," she asks, "to feel as if … I have lost you many times, when I find you?"
You tighten your arms around her, and do not know how to answer.
And that is how they find you, locked in fierce embrace with a stranger girl, her hair glinting hard gold in the unseasonably red midday sun.
"No fair, she gets them all?" you hear Junpei cry with disbelief. Yukari is amused, and Fuuka is just bemused. Akihiko looks like he just ate a bug, or is constipated, you can't make up your mind.
But in your arms you hold something precious, so you close your eyes and let her carry you back to the mansion, where everything will follow, like it always does.