AN: Well, after almost ten years, I'm back! The knowledge that I never finished this has plagued me on and off, and I've finally set aside some time to just do it. Since last posting, I've gone from a high school student to a Ph.D. student, so a lot has changed. Luckily, I still remember where I was planning on taking this, so I'm going to take it to the end! If anyone is still out there, thank you for returning. I'm also wondering, do people think I should move to AO3 and/or cross-post there? I feel like the landscape has changed over the years. Thanks again for reading and for any and all support. - Kate
Alphabetizing the shelves was never the most exciting task in the world, but it did have one major perk. It gave the opportunity to go through the books in a more mindful way than when one's eyes roam the bookstore. Touko crouched down as she double-checked the Ys and the Zs, a small final bottom-right corner. She saw a small mistake – Yamamoto to the right of Yamazaki – and removed the Yamamoto title to adjust. She smiled slightly as she looked at the cover, indulging in opening the book and flipping through the pages. She had enjoyed this several years ago. It was a tender romance that gave the feeling that a better world was possible.
Touko sighed as she returned the book to its place and stood. She had been working at the bookseller's in this remote village for a couple of months, but her time with the Togami household felt like another lifetime. This work suited her better. She had the chance to work in an area she excelled at in an environment that wasn't particularly stressful. She was given time to work on her own writing. She even was able to send some money back home to her mother.
This was one point that made her heart ache. She had chosen not to return home, for fear that the Togamis might look for her there. As she had first fled, the risk of being found and forced to return – or worse, forced to explain – was too much to bear. Instead, she went as far into hiding as she could imagine.
The bookseller, a middle-aged rotund man who appeared to be balding a little bit faster than his face was aging, was skeptical when Touko arrived. She told him she had been sent out of her home because her family couldn't support another mouth. This part was true. She also told him that she had been unable to find safe work that gave enough to live on in the major cities she had passed through. This part was less true. Her story earned the man's sympathies, though, and he took her on as an apprentice of sorts. He helped her find a merchant whose route went all the way to her hometown and agreed to give an advance on her payment so she could send some money without sacrificing her wellbeing.
Touko included a short note with the pouch of coin: "I am alive, but please do not look for me. I love you, and I will return someday." Her plan was to wait until, hopefully, this whole situation blew over and she could come out of hiding. The cost of living in the village was so low that she could even build up some small amount of savings if she lived frugally. Overall, life was alright if she avoided thinking too hard about what she had lost.
Having finished one task, she went to begin arranging the new arrivals. This involved going through a crate that had arrived the day before and inspecting the books. She would ascertain what might appeal to the villagers and be sure to put those front and center on the table near the entrance. She saved this for last because it was the sort of activity that could take as much time as she allowed it. "Ascertaining what might appeal" could mean as little as looking at the cover and the back and as much as reading a whole novel! As she began sorting through the latest haul, one caught her eye. It seemed paradoxical. On one hand, the book seemed to want to exude an elegant tone. The silhouettes of a man and woman gazing at each other over a deep blue background gave the cover a reserved and minimalist style. But on the bottom, emblazoned in a gaudy scripted gold were the cheesy title, Writing Our Fairytale, and the author's name, M. Tanaka. And though the cover seemed like that of a tome, the book itself was shockingly short.
To Touko, it seemed almost an insult to the genre, a cheap imitation of the titles that had given her hope and that she sought to create. She almost relegated the copies to the back pile, but she was so baffled that she started to page through it. She paused as she read the description of the female lead, "Ms. Kokawa." The name was strange, and the description… a bookish woman with brown hair in two braids and wire-framed glasses? None of these were particularly rare characteristics on their own, but their combination along with the character's name made Touko feel unsettled. She returned to the beginning of the book and began reading more attentively.
After the first few pages, she moved to a chair and brewed a mug of tea. After the first few chapters, the tea was entirely forgotten as Touko raced through the pages. As she read the circumstances of Ms. Kokawa's disappearance, she began to mutter, "This can't be a coincidence." As she reached the afterword and read the confirmation that Tanaka was but a pseudonym, she lost the last of her composure.
"What's with this huge gesture? What's the idea here? Not to mention, it isn't particularly subtle. And what does he mean, 'time is running out'?"
It was clear that this book was a message. The instructions of the message were clear. But why should she follow them? She left for a reason. Returning would only mean subjecting herself to the torment of being a secret mistress and servant. She would also have to give up her new life here: the comfort, the stability, and the plans for supporting and eventually reuniting with her mother. It seemed like nonsense.
And yet, the phrase 'time is running out' haunted her. What was going to happen? Why had he rushed to write this clumsy, mediocre novel? What would be the difference between returning immediately and waiting for years?
Above all, Touko wanted to trust that Byakuya had a plan. She wanted to hope. She did not want to spend the rest of her life wondering what that afterword meant. By this point, it was late in the evening and the bookseller had gone home to bed. If she wanted to fully trust, there was no time to wait. She wrote the bookseller a note saying that she was terribly sorry, but an emergency had arisen and she had to leave immediately but thank you very much for everything he had done for her. With that, she hurried to her small lodgings to gather her belongings.
Having mustered her measly savings, Touko pounded on the door of the carriage house, hoping someone was there. A sleepy-eyed man with heavy-set eyebrows opened the door.
"Are you a carriage driver?" Touko asked. The driver nodded warily. She continued, "I need to travel to the region of the Inoue estate immediately."
The driver gaped at her. "Immediately? Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm willing to pay," she said flatly.
The driver laughed. "Lady, I wouldn't be doing it for free even we were leaving in the middle of the day."
"Is there any other driver who would be able to take me?"
He shook his head. "The other fellow left this morning. It's just me and the gentleman who runs the lodging here."
Touko felt a surge of panic. There was nowhere else to go in the village. "Please, it's an emergency!" she begged. "What would it cost?"
The driver considered this and gave a number. Touko turned around and thumbed through her pouch. It would be almost everything. She said, "That's fine."
The driver balked, not having expected her to accept the inflated figure. He muttered, "Let me change into my riding clothes" and shut the door in Touko's face, grumbling to himself.
Shortly after, Touko was in a small carriage, and they were flying down the road. The compartment was meager and uncomfortable, but it was moving, and that was good enough. They stopped a few times for food and rest. The driver tried to get information from Touko about the reason for her voyage, but she always dodged the question. Within the week, their horse was walking through a familiar town and approaching the gates of the Inoue estate.
Throughout the journey, Touko had pondered what exactly her plan was. The fact that Byakuya had used a pseudonym made it clear that she could not walk up and tell the guards, "Hello, I read Byakuya Togami's book and I don't know if you've read it, but the point is that we have urgent matters to discuss." She had also completely deserted the household months prior and was not sure what consequences awaited her. In the end, she decided to follow a similar strategy as she had employed with the bookseller: be vague and pathetic with nothing to lose.
Touko stopped the driver and said, "This is close enough."
The driver raised an eyebrow. "We come all this way and you don't even want to be properly taken through the gates?"
Touko shook her head. "I can pay you here." She emptied her pouch and counted out the amount owed. The last few coins returned to her pocket.
The driver muttered, "You're a strange one," but accepted the payment and let her and her belongings off the carriage.
Touko approached the gates. "Hello?" She called. "Is anyone there?"
A young guard came and peered at her. "Yes, I'm here," he said. "Who are you? You look familiar." He looked at her bag. "Are you selling something? Delivering something?"
"No, no," Touko said. "I work here. Or, well, I work for the Togamis. I mean, I did, but then there was an, ah, accident, and I've been away for a while, but now I'm back. I, uh, don't really like to talk about it…" Touko trailed off.
The guard seemed satisfied enough. "Well, I can let you in to at least meet with the head of staff. I just need to inspect your bag, just a precaution." Touko's nerves jumped as the guard's inspection reached the copy of Writing Our Fairytale she had taken, but he paid no attention to it. He led her through the gates, and Touko had returned.