Breaking the Cycle

by Hieronym

Her life a mess of subterfuge and lies, Yoshino wishes fervently that the future will never arrive. The future, however, is already here.

2. Fall from Grace

Author's note: Yay for three month update. Lag due to some confluence of real life and this chapter being really long. So long, in fact, that it got divided into two parts. Chapter Two is only the first part. Second part awaits first revision.

It's interesting to write something that postdates something else you haven't written yet. You have to avoid spoilers at all costs, and it only works in this case because Yoshino and Uchida are so isolated from Haruka and the others. Even so, you'll notice a distinct lack of even the most indirect reference to Haruka, Natsuki, Hosaka, etc.

---

"Aren't you supposed to be like…driving something to somewhere?" Uchida asked, challenging the suited man standing across from her. "What are you doing standing around here?"

Arisawa looked back at her, the two of them flanking the door behind which Yoshino and her chief servant were having their mysterious important discussion.

"I am the young mistress's personal servant," he explained imperiously, "in the same way that Nakanawa-san is her personal handmaid. I drive her when she wishes to go places, and buy things when she asks me to. I have no other official duties. It is only natural that I stand here, and wait for her if she needs me."

He emphasized the word "personal" in a tone which made it clear that it also carried connotations of "superior".

"But Nakanawa does other stuff too!" Uchida said. "I don't see her standing around all day after she drops off breakfast and stuff."

"Strictly speaking, she should. It's just that the young mistress never asks her for anything," he defended, adjusting his suit coat with gloved hands. "On the other hand, I drive her places all the time."

Mostly to her school and my house, Uchida thought drily.

"Besides, I could just as easily ask you the same question," he countered. "Didn't she tell you to wait in her room? Why are you here?"

"She didn't tell me to wait in her room," Uchida pointed out. "She told me to wait for her, period. I don't see what's so weird about waiting for her out here. What else am I supposed to do?"

They glared at each other.

"Alright," she said. "Let's just both admit we're standing here to try and listen in on what's going on in there. It's the only real reason."

"I am doing nothing of the sort," he asserted, face straight.

"Whatever. At least tell me what's going on!" Uchida demanded, leaning forward on her toes in an effort to increase her height.

"I really don't know," he said. "All I know is that she sounded really upset over the phone. Nothing else."

He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"Please," he pleased. "I'm not your enemy."

She subsided.

There was a moment of silence, and then she leaned over to place her ear on the keyhole.

"If they open the door, you're going to fall," Arisawa warned.

"Shh!" she ordered.

The man held his silence while she listened, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Anything?" he asked a long while later, voice barely audible.

"Nope," she conceded. "Can't hear a thing."

"Here, let me try it," he suggested.

She stepped aside so he could lean over nearly double and put his ear to the keyhole, dignity forgotten.

"You're right," he concluded finally. "I can't even make out a murmur."

A woman cleared her voice behind them loudly. They jumped and spun around.

"Nakanawa-san," he said, and Uchida could have sworn he blushed slightly.

"Yuka-chan I'd expect this from," the maid said sternly, hand on hip, holding a basket of freshly-folded laundry with the other arm. "But you! How old are you anyway?"

"Ah, well, I was uh—" he began.

"Nevermind," she interrupted, sweeping her free arm outward. They blinked.

Her expression softened.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" she asked.

They shook their heads no.

"Everyone is in a tizzy," she explained. "Supposedly Yo-chan called and sent the Boss into quite a state. No one had ever seen her so distressed! Then she shut herself in her office. I saw her myself; I've seen statues look less frozen."

Uchida and Arisawa shared a look. Arisawa made a questioning gesture to her with one eye.

"No, she didn't call home before she got to the restaurant," Uchida said, shaking her head. "She didn't call anyone, in fact. They must be wrong about who it is."

Then to Nakanawa:

"I was with her the whole time. She didn't call anyone. It couldn't have been her."

Nakanawa tilted her head.

"But it was obviously her! It sounded like…"

Her voice trailed off.

"Listening in on the private line, huh?" Arisawa queried archly, eyebrow raised.

"Not me!" the maid insisted. "Though he did say Yo-chan's voice sounded off…"

Uchida and the chauffeur exchanged glances. Finally, Nakanawa shrugged elaborately.

"We'll find out eventually," she said, bowing slightly, and strode off.

They waited until she was out of earshot.

"Well, that's interesting," Arisawa said.

"I wonder—" Uchida began, but realized she was hearing what sounded like yelling through the door.

They immediately lurched back over, the both of them leaning over to listen again. This time the voices came through, though garbled.

"You have to! It's…to do! You know that! It's…"

A woman's voice, palpably full of despair.

"All my life, I…gotten for it?...Absolutely nothing! It was…my goddamn time!"

Yoshino's voice, angrier than Uchida had ever heard her.

Then, a moment later, a loud crash, the sound of something shattering.

She looked at Arisawa, eyes wide, and saw that he was shocked as well. An unspoken message flickered between their eyes, and they stood up. Arisawa grabbed the doorknob.

The door hurled open, and Arisawa barely managed to avoid falling, using the doorjamb to break his tumble. Uchida stepped aside instinctively, then tried to step back into the doorway.

Uchida barely noticed being shoved roughly aside, barely felt her back hitting the wall with a thud. Instead she was staring in shock at Yoshino's face in profile. Fury, disgust, hatred and, above all, pain, were written there, as if she held an antipathy to the world and everyone within it.

It was an expression whose approximant Uchida had only seen once before, on the day they met.

Then the moment ended, her hand instinctively moving up to rub her chest where she had been struck. Her eyes followed Yoshino's flight down the hall, past Nakanawa flattening herself against the wall, laundry basket on the floor, and to her room, whose twin doors closed with resounding slams, one after the other.

Uchida's head snapped back around, past Arisawa getting back on his feet, to Yoshino's mother-of-sorts, who looked absolutely horrified, hands to her mouth, a shattered lamp at her feet.

Then Uchida turned on her heel and followed Yoshino's trajectory down the hall.

Her attempt to turn the door handle failed—of course, locked—and her fist almost reached the door panel before she restrained herself.

No, she thought. She'll want time before I go banging on the door. I should respect that.

But…

Uchida lingered in front of the door, indecisive.

The side door! she realized.

She pulled open the door at the end of the hallway, glided past the dual spiral staircases, and flung open the double door leading to Yoshino's office—or study room, rather—and thus indirectly into her room.

Well-acquainted with the house, she turned immediately and reached for the handle to the connecting door. Irrationally, it seemed less obtrusive to walk in than to bang on the door, and she didn't hesitate.

It was locked. Yoshino had been thorough.

She leaned against the door, deflated, the events of the past few minutes catching up to her. Yoshino the reliable, that was how she had always thought of her. Yoshino the dependable.

What could it be? she thought. She's never—

No, she realized. That wasn't true. There had been a time, long ago, when Yoshino had relied on her for support, and she had given it.

That thought firmed her resolve, and she stood up straight, nodding to herself. She would wait. Yoshino would come out eventually, and then they could talk.

Someone grabbed her shoulder.

"I have a key," Yoshino's mother said gently, looking down at her. "But let's wait a little."

"What's going on?" Uchida asked pleadingly, but the woman shook her head.

"I'll let her tell you, if she wants to," she said.

Uchida felt a chill. The woman's voice was slightly strained.

They stood there, each lost in their own thoughts, for agonizing minutes, until the woman, acting on some internal cue, stepped forward, drawing a metal key out of her pocket.

They found Yoshino lying on her bed, staring straight up at the ceiling, hair disheveled and wet with sweat. The sheets were complete disarray, and her numerous pillows scattered haphazardly over the surface and on the floor.

She seemed exhausted, but looked up at their entrance.

"Interesting door to choose," she said, smiling drily, sitting up slowly.

Her demeanor mobilized every ounce of sympathy Uchida had, and she ran forward, dropping any pretence of normalcy. No need to pretend anything at a time like this.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, stopping herself in front of Yoshino and looking her in the face. "What's going on?"

Yoshino looked back at her, and Uchida realized that something was seriously wrong. Those eyes were full of pain, not just for things which had already happened, but for something she was about to do.

Her heart quavered.

"You didn't tell her?" Yoshino asked, avoiding Uchida's eyes to look inquiringly at her head servant.

"No," the woman said, looking from one girl to the other with obvious concern. "I thought it wouldn't be appropriate."

Yoshino didn't respond, looking down at her hands.

Uchida's breath caught in her throat. Never would Yoshino hesitate to tell her anything.

Or so she had thought. But clearly she was wrong.

She could see the thoughts flitting across Yoshino's face, the great gears of her mind turning. It was a process which had always impressed and fascinated her, but not now—now it tore at her.

"I—" she began—anything to break the silence.

"No," Yoshino said decisively, shaking her head. "I can't. I won't involve you. It's not your problem."

Yoshino looked up and, viewing the message in her eyes, Uchida stepped backward involuntarily. The message there was terrible, and the effect of Yoshino's words on her was completely disproportionate to how much she had said.

What is this? she thought, mind spinning.

She swallowed resolutely. She was overreacting.

"But I want to help," she argued. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, of course, but I want to—"

"I said no!" Yoshino snapped. "Stay out of this! It's not your business!"

Her face twisted in anger, hot and terrible, but Uchida had known her long enough to know when she was faking it. This was displaced anger, anger at something else, redirected at her.

It still made her knees weak. She recoiled in shock.

"Why—why would you say something like that?" she asked, still reasonable. "We can just talk. I mean, I—"

"Get out!" Yoshino snarled. "Can't you tell when you're not wanted? It's not your business; it's mine. Get out and go home. It's been fun, but I don't want to talk to you."

Uchida looked at her, overwhelmed. What was this?

"W—why?" Uchida squeaked out, realizing suddenly that she was on the verge of crying. "Why are you angry? What have I done to you? Why are you doing this? What's going on?"

Yoshino tore her gaze away from her, but Uchida still read the pain and guilt that glimmered across her features.

What is this? Uchida wanted to scream. Why is she doing this to us?

"I—I came because I wanted to help," she choked out. "And you—you—"

Yoshino's mother swooped in, wrapping her arms protectively around Yoshino, no longer wanting to watch the painful tableau.

"If she doesn't want to talk," she said, now seated next to the girl, voice held stern and steady by an iron will. "Then we have to respect that. Maybe you should go home."

She watched Uchida levelly. It was not a suggestion.

She felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest.

She stepped forward, tears in her eyes.

"How—"

"I'm sorry!" Yoshino said, looking her again in the eyes, the anger gone. As Uchida had thought, it was never really there to start with.

"I'm sorry," Yoshino said. "It's for the best. I'm…"

Her voice trailed off, and she again looked away.

"I don't believe that!" Uchida insisted, stepping forward. "I can't—"

"Have Arisawa drive you home," Yoshino interrupted quietly but firmly. "Go home. I think it's better if we pretended none of this ever happened. Wouldn't that be pretty nice? Just forget you were ever here."

"I can't do that!" Uchida replied incredulously. "How could I possibly—"

"Do it anyway!" Yoshino ordered, gaze sharp and serious. "If you can't, then it's better if we didn't talk at all, if we weren't friends at all! Do you understand what I'm saying? You—do not—need—to—know."

Uchida looked at her in shocked disbelief. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. This—this was too much for her to say.

Then Arisawa put his hand on her shoulder, appearing out of thin air.

"Come along," he said sadly. "There's nothing you can do."

Uchida turned around and stormed out, as Yoshino had done before, heedless of Arisawa matching her speed and following her to the carport, opening the door to the car for her, starting the engine, driving them out of the building.

"What is this?" she asked out loud to no one, eyes unseeing, the tears finally starting to trail down her cheeks. "Who did this? Why is this happening? Why won't she let me help her?"

Arisawa provided no answers.

---

She didn't even bother to hide her depression. She stumbled out of the car, ignored Arisawa's farewell, opened the front door by pure muscle memory, skipped the nearly mandatory ritual of announcing that she was home, shuffled listlessly past her inquiring mother, and shut herself in her room.

Glancing at her homework, which lay unfinished on her desk, she was filled with a feeling of almost total loathing. Impossible.

She dropped face first into her bed. There she stayed, staring straight at the wall, her wheels of thought completely halted. She was too weary to attempt the risky task of thinking, but was not actually physically tired, rendering her unable to sleep. It was as if she were in some kind of stasis.

There Uchida lay until, nearly two hours later by her bedside clock, a knock sounded on her door.

She thought about refusing, but said:

"Go ahead."

The door opened slightly, her mother sidling in. Uchida looked up at her, then went back to staring at the wall.

She heard the door shut and the sound of footsteps approaching.

The bed creaked and shifted her mother's weight, but Uchida still didn't move.

She felt a hand on her back.

"Come on, Yuka," the woman said. "It's not like you to be like this. What's wrong?"

She said nothing. Maybe, if she stayed quiet long enough, she wouldn't have to say anything.

"I know that kind of behavior," her mother said. "Is it a boy?"

Uchida shifted. She couldn't let an assumption like that go unrefuted, no matter how little she wanted to talk.

"No, of course not," she said emptily, still not getting up. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, I just thought, this kind of behavior…" her mother began, her voice trailing off.

Uchida refused to say any more.

"Is it Yoshino-chan?" her mother asked, a moment later, recalibrating her expectations.

She still kept silent, but realized that she had closed her eyes shut, forcing back any betraying tears. Her expression would betray her, she realized, and a few tears were threatening to burst out anyway.

"A fight?"

She didn't want to think about it. Why was her mother insisting on talking about it? She just wanted to be left alone.

"Look, everyone has fights every once in a while," the voice above her said. "Just because you guys have never had a big one doesn't mean it's the end of the world if you have one. It will work out. Just think about what happened, work out a solution, and apologize. I'm sure she's miserable too."

"She won't even talk about it!" Uchida finally snapped, turning herself half over to look her mother in the face. "I can tell she's suffering, but she won't tell me! That's the worst part."

She buried her face in her pillow.

"I can't understand what she's doing. First she's angry, then she's sad. None of it makes sense! You know what she said? She said I should just pretend nothing happened, and if I couldn't, then it would better if we weren't friends. How could she say that? The two of us…"

She looked up, and she knew her eyes, looking back at her mother's wary face, must be full of anguish, but still she had to say it, one more time, the thoughts that echoed endlessly in her mind.

"I don't understand," she finished, feeling the emotion welling up again, grabbing the woman's arm and burying her face in her chest. "What could have done this?"

"I—" her mother began, moving her hand to pat her daughter on the head, trying to think of what was proper to say. But she was at a loss for words. That her little girl should suffer so, that her daughter, so similar to her that it made her heart throb, should have a problem she couldn't solve, one for which she couldn't provide a pat answer like "work harder next time" or "I'll talk to your teacher"…

It had to happen someday, she thought with a pang of sadness.

She worked through the situation in her mind as best she could.

"In my experience," she began again, swallowing covertly, "if she's saying something like that, it's because she doesn't want her problems to worry others. She's trying to protect you. That has to be it. She doesn't seem like to the type to do something like this for any other reason."

"Fine job she's doing," Uchida protested, head still buried. "I'm still miserable."

"Yes, it's funny how that works," her mother said, and Uchida could hear her voice resonate in her chest, and the sigh that followed.

"I never had a friend as close to me as she is to you," she said. "I don't really understand how the two of you work. Is it worth it to challenge her on this? Must you know all her problems?"

"Yes!" Uchida insisted, pushing her away and glaring at her, eyes full of betrayal. "How could you even ask that?"

"She won't tell you for a reason," her mother said, parsing her words carefully. "And she says she's even willing to stop being your friend if you push too much. Whatever it is, she must think it's even worse for you to know. Do you really want to force your way in?"

Uchida looked down at the floor.

"I can't leave her to face this alone," she said quietly. "I don't care what it is. I won't abandon her. I don't care what she says."

Her mother looked at the ceiling. What else could she say?

"What does she mean to you, Yuka? Is she worth it?"

"Of course!" Uchida responded instantly.

They looked at each other.

"I'll be here if you need me," her mother said, finally, getting up. "I'll leave you alone. Dinner is at seven like usual. Promise me you'll come eat. That's all I ask for now."

Uchida nodded, once, and the woman left, looking back at her one last time before closing the door again.

She lay back down, staring out her window this time, at the tree branches outside.

All of that, and only one sentence had really resonated with her. Only one line really demanded an answer.

What does she mean to me?

---

Uchida's mother strode out into the living room, looking and feeling greatly perturbed.

"So, were you right?" her husband asked, not glancing up from his magazine.

"No, I wasn't," she said, voice distracted, sitting down in the chair across from him. "You were right after all. It was Yoshino-chan."

"You see?" he said, folding his magazine up for storage. "You always make weird assumptions, when in the end it's nothing but—"

He stopped, looking up and seeing the stricken look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it that bad?"

"Maybe," she said, looking off into empty space.

He waited for more, but she said nothing.

"Well?" he asked, more insistently, leaning forward in the couch. "What kind of answer is "maybe"? She's my daughter too, you know."

"It's just, I had a reason for thinking what I did," she said, glancing at him. "And no, it's not because I'm obsessive. I got over that years ago."

"So you say," he observed drily.

"I'm serious!" she insisted, leaning forward to give him a focused, serious stare. "I was just thinking back to when I was about her age. The only times I ever moped about like that was when I was turned down by a boy I liked, so I thought it was the same thing."

"But it wasn't," he finished.

"No," she agreed, lapsing back into a contemplative silence.

He looked at her expectantly, but again she said nothing. She wasn't being secretive, he realized. She simply had too much to think about to be paying much attention to him, which was a little aggravating. Sure, she was home more often, and he had never personally had the experience of being a teenage girl, but that didn't mean his opinions were worthless!

Or so he hoped.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Hmm?" she responded, having lost track of the conversation.

"Oh, come on! Let me do something here!" he said. "I was the one who said she had a fight with Yoshino-chan, after all. I was right, wasn't I? I think I deserve to be involved in your thoughts here."

She looked at him, and visibly laid her thoughts aside for the moment, her face losing its pensive quality.

"Something really strange has happened to Yoshino-chan," she said, succinctly, "and she's so worried refuses to tell Yuka what's going on, so much that she even threatened to stop being friends, if Yuka tries too hard to ask. It's making Yuka miserable, but it seems it's really serious. I don't know if it's really as big a deal as Yoshino-chan thinks it is, but you know how it is at their age."

She paused.

"Though if it really is that bad, then I don't know what to say. It seems like the kind of thing that might break a friendship. I can't even imagine what it's like to lose a friend like that, and I don't know what I can even do. She's old enough that I don't think I can really involve myself too much."

He thought for a moment, then cleared his throat, broaching the topic carefully.

"This might seem off-topic, but do you remember what I was saying the other day, about how it was good thing they're both girls?"

"Yes," she said, her attention refocusing on him. "What of it?"

"Well, I was lying a little," he said, looking away from her. "For the sake of the conversation. Actually, I've always thought things would be easier if Yoshino-chan were male."

"What?" she asked, incredulous, her attention definitely on him now. "That's ridiculous! If that were true, then—"

"I know, I know," he said, holding up a hand to forestall her questions. "But think about how perfectly everything would work out. Imagine if Yoshino-chan really were her boyfriend. Could you really disapprove? Does well in school, level-headed and reliable, compatible personalities…"

She thought about it, finger on her chin.

"No, I guess I really couldn't," she said finally. "Honestly, I'd probably be all for it, secretly."

"Yes," he agreed. "Not to mention the money…"

He regretted mentioning it even before he finished speaking, but it was too late.

She looked at him askance.

"I can't believe you just said that," she reproved, eyebrow raised.

"Well, it's not a big deal," he backpedaled. "But it's still true, and it's definitely a factor—"

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear anything," she said. "To think I married a crass man like that—"

"Look, I'm just pointing out the facts," he defended, hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "I'm not saying it's a good reason. I'm just saying."

"What does this have to do with anything, anyway?" she inquired, no longer as amiable as she was before. "I can't believe I let you drag me to random topic like this!"

"What I'm saying is," he explained. "If all of that were true, and they were a couple, and then something like this happened, what would you do? What would you say?"

She gave him a strange look, but settled down and gave it serious thought. Suddenly, comprehension dawned in her eyes.

"I'd say this fictional male Yoshino-kun is being stupid," she said. "And that Yuka definitely deserves to know, whatever it is. I'd say he's being disrespectful of her abilities, to think he needed to protect her. I'd advise Yuka to talk to him and set him straight, however much yelling it'd involve."

He nodded slightly.

"Just so. They're so close, a couple is the best comparison, right? And we do have experience with that."

She looked at him wondrously, and he felt a warm glow. So, after all these years, he still had the ability to impress his wife. The eyes reminded him of when he had first met her, when she had been so innocent, and he would try all sorts of tricks to look cool in front of her and, miraculously, it would actually work.

"Well," he said, feeling a little happy. "I wish I could say I came up with that on the spot, but actually I've been thinking about it for a while."

She squinted at him quizzically.

"What? Why?"

"Well, you know, like I said, she's my daughter too."

It wasn't really an answer, but she didn't press on, too busy with the revelations of the new way of looking at things. He could see it in her eyes.

"Though they're not really a couple," she said out loud. "So it can't be exactly like that. I can't tell her to force Yoshino-chan to tell her, but I can tell her to strongly encourage it."

"Something like that," he agreed, nodding.

He watched her as she continued to think.

"You want to talk to her again?" he asked, when she finally got up.

"Yes," she said simply.

"I could talk to her too, you know," he pointed out, starting to get up himself. "I've been thinking—"

"No," she flatly refused, already walking. "It's a mother-daughter thing."

"Of course," he conceded amiably, sitting back down.

In her excitement to leave, her elbow hit the vase next to her chair, sending it wobbling dangerously. He flinched—but she spun around and caught it in her hands.

"You see?" he said, smiling. "Between you and her, this is why we can't have nice things."

She turned to narrow her eyes at him, forgetting temporarily the excitement of the moment.

"I'll let that slide today," she said. "But next time—well you know how it works."

He just smiled, and she left in a huff.

She's so easy to needle, he thought. Just like Yuka.

And she doesn't think things through to their logical conclusion.

He sat there, alone with his thoughts.

---

Uchida sighed, realizing she stood no chance of falling asleep anytime soon.

She glanced at her window, and the ghostly light of the night filtering in through her blinds.

Both her parents and her relatives always made it a point to talk about how similar she was to her mother, but personally she didn't buy it. Her mother had burst back in, positively bubbly to dispense some new advice for her. It hadn't been too hard to extract from the woman what line of thought had produced this new revelation.

Honestly, thinking of her and Yoshino as some sort of alternate-universe couple. What would she come up with next? Uchida doubted she was ever as foolish as that.

Still, she had to admit that the sheer energy of delivery had been enough to shake her from her stupor. Her mother's new advice had been good, and closely matched what she was going to do anyway. But, now that she thought about it, one of the things her mother had said disturbed her.

What did she need to force Yoshino to tell her? She had assumed she needed to, as a matter of course, but others disagreed. Not Yoshino's mother, not Arisawa, and obviously not Yoshino herself. They all thought it might be better for her if she didn't know. Why the difference of opinion? What was Yoshino to her, if she needed to know that badly?

She shook her head slightly, and turned over in her bed. Not for the first time, she missed having someone there. It seemed strangely empty.

What would her parents think, if she admitted something like that?

She looked at her hand, monochromatic in the darkness, and a part of her mind relaxed.

If she was going to be truly honest to herself, her mother had not been all that foolish. If Yoshino were male, and they were this close, she would not hesitate to call her a boyfriend…and then there was the matter of the alcohol.

It was a silly little game they did, that was all, and neither of them could remember a thing of what happened. That was part of the charm.

Except that was not entirely true, and it was exactly this kind of nighttime tableau that would remind her of that.

It was never anything definite, just strange flitters of memory appearing randomly. A hand on a pillow, a sock on the floor, the strangest things would remind her of something, and a similar image would flash by in her mind. They were all connected somehow; she was sure of it.

And the eyes. Yoshino's eyes, far larger, and thus closer, then seemed normal. Those same eyes, full of determination, looking down at her. Those same eyes, anticipating something, watching her intently.

Why would she remember things like that?

It was disquieting, and thinking back to the very first time, what had happened in the morning…

She had always ignored it. It wasn't important. It was just her imagination playing tricks on her.

But those were excuses, weren't they? Something about Yoshino's demeanor suggested she really did not want to talk about what happened on those nights, and so Uchida never asked, and never even thought about it, out of a strange respect. But if they couldn't remember, what was Yoshino afraid of? What was Uchida afraid of?

Did she want to know?

What does she mean to you? her mother had said.

No, her mother had disavowed that sentence.

But she was still right. Uchida had answered confidently that whatever Yoshino was going through, she wanted to share in it. She believed in that fully.

But what did that mean? Why had a question like her mother's struck such a chord?

She's my friend, she thought. My best friend.

This past day had been one of the most painful in her life.

So what? That's to be expected.

But even friends have their limits. If a friend has a private matter, one she doesn't want others to know about, then it's not your business. Why are you prying?

Yet it wasn't proper for her to not know. It was her right to know. That, she knew with exceeding conviction.

But then…

She closed her eyes.

Regarding the previous matter, with the alcohol…it was no longer a matter of whether she wanted to know. She needed to know. She had to clarify every aspect of their friendship. She had to understand why she believed Yoshino's business was her business, why she needed to know. And if she couldn't…then it wasn't really her business at all.

She had to start thinking. Yoshino wasn't here to do the thinking for her.

She glanced at her computer, quiet and dark for the night. She had gone online earlier, after finishing her homework, in the vain hope that, perhaps, Yoshino would want to talk about it. Of course not.

It would be a long night.

---

Uchida made a half-hearted effort to peer down the street, hoping that among the amorphous shapes of cars approaching from a great distance, she would be able to spot the one she wanted. But minute after minute had passed with no sign of the car. Yoshino wasn't coming.

It was tradition. Never one to flaunt her wealth by showing up at the school entrance, Yoshino had early on settled on meeting her every day on this very street corner to complete the walk to school. Anything for a bit of extra time together.

Yet what was tradition at a time like this? Nothing, it seemed.

Uchida shivered in the cold and turned away, eyes dim. She hadn't really thought Yoshino would show up, but she had stayed to look, ever-hopeful. But hope, too, was nothing, it seemed.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk wearily down the sidewalk. Despite how little sleep she had gotten, she was grateful for school, today. It gave neither of them any excuses; they would have to look each other in the face, whether they wanted to or not.

Uchida started to sigh—and her head snapped around automatically at the sound of a horn blaring behind her.

She found herself looking right into the eyes of the girl she was looking for, standing five feet away, next to her iconic black vehicle.

She wondered what her face looked like. Confused, perhaps. Happy, perhaps.

But it she was expecting a tearful reunion, she was sorely disappointed. Instead of running forward, Yoshino instead turned her head slightly and nodded at the car's shaded window.

As the car drove off, Yoshino stepped forward, and Uchida opened her mouth to speak, not even knowing yet what she was going to say—

Yoshino grabbed her shoulder, surprising her into silence, but said nothing. Instead, Yoshino kept walking, grinding melted chunks of snow underfoot.

"We're going to be late," Yoshino said blandly. "Let's go."

For a long moment, Uchida watched her back, trying to think of what to do, what to say.

She still didn't dare.

Finally, she started to follow, walking quickly to catch up. Despite everything, despite the silence, it meant something that Yoshino had shown up.

That'd have to do for now.

---

Uchida spent two full periods glancing at Yoshino more or less constantly, covertly watching the uncharacteristic expressions on her face. She was usually the model student, always managing to look studious and attentive, but now…she looked bored and annoyed, as if her reason for caring had evaporated.

Uchida wasn't the only one who noticed. People around Yoshino had stirred uneasily when she first arrived, then hurriedly looked away when she gave each of them a pointed glare. They still glanced at her occasionally, Makoto especially, sensing that she was unhappy, but Uchida hoped they would ascribe it to an unusually foul mood

The first true sign of trouble came in third period math. It was their teacher's practice to have students do problems on the board to completion, as much as possible, then have everyone discuss it, and Touma had been cursed with the poor luck to be picked first.

Hardly had she started when Yoshino said quite loudly:

"That's incorrect."

Everyone looked at her, surprised. Her face, rather than showing the amiable countenance of a peer trying to be helpful, showed the dark expression of someone impatient to get on with it.

"That factor has multiplicity two," she said, voice hardly charitable. "So you have to make a fraction for each of the possible powers. This was in the reading."

"Ah, yes, right," Touma said nervously, unwilling to admit that she hadn't done said reading.

And a few minutes later:

"Minami-san, remember, form Ax+B, one less than the power of the irreducible form."

"No, no, since it's degree two on the bottom, it's degree one on top, so Ax+B. I wasn't talking about two separate fractions."

"Minami-san, there's no need to write a negative there. I mean, you could, but that'd just make things needlessly complicated."

Or, most bluntly:

"C=4, not 2. Check your algebra."

When Touma was finally done, she was visibly sweating, her performance having gotten worse and worse with the pressure. No one said a word about the problem, since there was nothing left to critique, and she returned to her seat a bit of a nervous wreck, shooting looks at Yoshino—and at Uchida.

This performance was repeated once more, and Yoshino was halfway through with a third student when the teacher, visibly distressed by the need to berate a star pupil, belted out abruptly:

"Yoshino-san, please, we know you know the material, give someone else a chance to look at the problem. Please."

—whereupon Yoshino spent the rest of the period staring pointedly out the window, refusing to participate.

Uchida had spent the whole time in visible agony, chewing her lip. What on earth was Yoshino doing? She was alienating everyone, and though Uchida's concern was for Yoshino, not herself, she caught quite a few awkward, beseeching glances in her direction. For better or worse, they were linked in the minds of their classmates.

"What is she doing?" Makoto asked, showing up at her desk during the brief break between periods. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You've got to talk to her. Touma isn't sure whether to be angry or worried, but she's certainly not going to say anything. Not while you're here to do it for her."

"You think I don't know that?" Uchida snapped, surprised at how much tension she had stored up. "What do you want me to do? Yell at her in front of the whole class? We're not telepathically linked!"

As she spoke, she thrust herself further and further forward, until she was essentially standing, forcing Makoto back into a desk in the next row. Everyone within earshot—which was nearly half the room—had leaned at least slightly in their direction.

"Leave me alone," she finished, sitting back down and lapsing into a sulky silence.

It felt good being angry, because anger meant she didn't have to think about anything else. She maintained the anger into the next period, English, the class now possessing two focal points of disquiet—Uchida, sitting next to the door with an expression of icy fury, and Yoshino, next to the window, coldly correcting the grammar errors of the first student to walk to the board to try and discuss the possible responses in a simple conversation.

"Very good," the English teacher said, in English of course, as the unfortunate victim return to his seat. Blasé as always, she hardly seemed to realize anything was wrong.

"Miss Uchida," she said. "Why don't you go next?"

Uchida's carefully maintained angry glare shattered instantly, replaced by a look of shock and confusion. A murmur of inartfully-concealed whispering began in earnest. They all knew the old woman was clueless sometimes, but this clueless?

She stood up, managing not to appear shaky, and stalked up the row of desks.

Grabbing a marker, she turned and faced the class, her eyes landing on Yoshino's now-ashen face.

You're the one who started it, she thought. Now reap what you sow.

Except she had no idea what that meant. Would Yoshino correct her mistakes like she did the others? Would she stay silent? What did it mean either way?

She realized suddenly that the instructor's voice, next to her, had gone silent, and that she hadn't heard a single word she had said.

The marker shook in her hand, and she couldn't see anything but Yoshino's face.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, tearing her eyes away by the simple expedience of turning her whole body to the right. "Could you repeat that?

No, shit! She thought.

Besides starting all students on English earlier than was standard, their school also had a policy of immersion language learning—one she had completely failed to follow. The blood rushed to her face, and the marker shook more violently.

"I—I am—" she began, struggling to drag the proper English apology out of her now-addled brain.

"Here," the teacher said wryly, in perfect Japanese, handing her the book of fake conversations she had been reading out of, and Uchida realized that the woman had not been clueless at all. It was her way of defusing the situation, by attacking what she as viewed as the problem point-blank.

She took the small parchment book in her hand and turned back to face the class, the words on the page blurring in her vision. She couldn't focus, not after all of that, not with all of them watching her breathlessly, not with Yoshino's now-panicky eyes on her. The girl looked down, trying to help her, but it did nothing. Her throat felt tight, and the longer she stood there, the worse the pressure got.

By then the book was visibly shaking in her hand, and the realization that they could all see that helped not at all.

"I can't do it," she said, and how she managed to construct the English sentence in that situation, she would never know.

She turned, bowed abruptly, shoved the book back, and said in stuttering Japanese:

"I'm sorry—I'm not—not feeling well. Nurse's office. I need to go."

"Uchida-san!" the teacher said, moving to try and intercept her, realizing she had underestimated the situation and stepped in a land mine.

Uchida placed the marker back next to the whiteboard and strode out of the room with rigid steps, mind focused exclusively on maintaining composure. It'd be okay. She could just say she had the flu. It'd be okay.

As long as she kept her thought processes frozen, she could continue believing that.

---

Lying down on a sheltered, curtained bed in the nurse's office wasn't all bad. She had quite a bit of sleep to catch up on, and despite everything, she was finally exhausted enough to do it. Though going to the nurse's office to sleep…

She drowsed there, under the soft glow of fluorescent lights viewed through thin fabric. The nurse hadn't questioned her; instead, she had just pointed straight at a bed. Thankfully, there was no one else there to see Uchida's expression.

She wondered how many students passed through here with the equivalent of a nervous breakdown. Probably quite a few, she guessed. One heard stories.

The door to the room slid open, and there was the brief sound of muted conversation, further muffled by the curtains around her.

She sighed. She was taking up space here. She would have gotten up to go back, but it was almost lunch, and…she didn't want to face any of them. Not now.

The curtain shielding her from the rest of the room slid along its rails, allowing the now-blinding glow of the lights in. She saw the silhouetted figure and sat up instantly, alert.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, more harshly than she intended, now that the initial edge of anger had worn off.

Yoshino closed the curtain again with a movement of her arm, shrouding them both in renewed twilight. Then, she dropped two bags on the floor, one hers, and one Uchida's.

"I was dismissed," she said. "Right after you left, actually. The both of us are being sent home for the day. To clear our heads, she said."

Uchida was grateful for the news—she definitely wanted to go home—but said nothing, continuing to watch her friend warily.

"I'm sorry about that," Yoshino said, looking to the side.

"You'd better be!" Uchida shot back instantly. "What the hell was that? Are you stupid? No, you're not stupid, which is why I'd like to know why you were being such an idiot!"

She opened her mouth to say more, but clamped it shut, remembering where she was.

"She's not here," Yoshino said, gesturing with her head in the direction of the nurse's chair, invisible behind the curtain. "She left when I asked. Apparently, this kind of thing happens all the time."

She smiled wryly.

"Though I believe we just triggered a flag inside our health records," she added.

"Who cares about that?" Uchida exclaimed. "Answer the question!"

Again Yoshino dodged her look. Yoshino started to reach for her, then seemed to change her mind.

"I said I'm sorry," Yoshino said quietly. "I didn't think it'd affect you that much. I certainly didn't expect her to call you up like that."

"Of course it would!" Uchida said, pointing at her with her finger. "Have you lost your mind? Are you not thinking at all anymore?"

Yoshino still didn't look at her, but Uchida saw her bite her lip, an extremely rare gesture.

"It's just so hard—" Yoshino began, but stopped abruptly, with a slight shake of her head.

"So hard what?" Uchida asked, getting up out of the bed, caught in the unfamiliar position of interrogator. "So hard to keep treating me like this? So hard to keep acting a selfish baka-yaro?"

The harsh insult had lost its power among their circle of friends, due to Chiaki's abuse of the phrase, but she used it entirely seriously—that was clear from her voice.

Yoshino cringed, and turned bodily away.

Why won't she look at me? Uchida thought.

"It won't happen again," Yoshino said, still quiet. "I apologize."

"No, you listen to me," Uchida said, finally standing up and grabbing the other girl by the arm, trying to turn her back around.

Yoshino flinched as if struck, but turned around, backing against the curtains. Her face looked confused, almost embarrassed, but the expression was concealed in an instant.

Another memory flashed across Uchida's mind. The same look of embarrassment, but in a different context, happier—

Uchida swallowed whatever it was and continued.

"Have you considered how thoughtless you're being, doing this? I told you I want to know—what could possibly be worth this?"

"I can't tell you," Yoshino said quietly, and instead of sounding self-assured, or angry, or determined, she sounded scared and meek.

Uchida looked at her and found that Yoshino looked shocked, meeting her eyes accidentally. The girl looked hastily away, and Uchida realized that it had not been an intentional phrase—it had slipped out.

"I can't tell you," she repeated, voice firmer, but turning to hide her expression. "It's not your business."

"If you can't handle it, then it is my business!" she said, almost shouting. "And you're not looking like you can handle it!"

Yoshino visibly stiffened, and Uchida stopped, hoping for a breakthrough, that Yoshino was giving in. She held her breath.

"I understand," Yoshino said, dashing her hopes, voice carrying some ineffable quality that suggested she was back in control. "I told you: it won't happen again. That should be enough."

"No it's not!" Uchida said lamely, knowing the moment was over.

"I'm going home," Yoshino proclaimed, bending down to pick up her bag.

She flung aside the curtain and strode toward the door.

Reacting a few seconds later, Uchida ran forward to chase her down, lurching forward to grab her arm just in front of the door.

It was a miscalculation, there was something on the floor—

Goddamn it, I'm so clumsy— she had time to think.

They collided into each other, and Yoshino stumbled, bracing herself against the door, which slid open unhelpfully. Yoshino caught the door handle with both hands, trying to stabilize, her back turning towards the ground, and they would have fallen into the open space had Uchida not successfully caught the wall with one hand and Yoshino's back with the other.

There they stayed for a moment, looking at each other, Yoshino still holding the dangerously creaking door with both hands, the position unfamiliar due to Yoshino's superior height. Uchida strained to pull Yoshino back up and, against all odds, found herself blushing.

What the hell? she thought, then noticed Yoshino wearing a similar expression.

A moment later, with an adroit half-jump, Yoshino put herself back in a standing position, spun around, and marched away.

"Hey! Wait!" Uchida yelled, reaching for her, already knowing it was futile.

She stood there for a moment, one hand on the wall, then sighed and straightened out of her half-crouch, smoothing her hair with her free hand.

And then she realized they had an audience.

She turned around, and beheld the nurse standing there with a girl next to her, the two of them wearing identical expressions of wide-eyed surprise. The girl, with an obvious cold, was holding a tissue in one hand, having completely forgotten about the snot now dripping out of her nose. Clearly, the nurse had asked her to wait outside with her, out of respect for the students inside.

Uchida groaned out loud.

Chiaki. Of course it's goddamn Chiaki. The only one of them not in my class, and of course she has to be right here to see it.

Well, technically speaking, Shuuichi wasn't in her class either, but that guy didn't count.

She summoned up every ounce of dignity she had, walked back into the room, picked up her bag lying on the floor, and strode back out calmly.

Chiaki was now wearing a narrow-eyed, inquisitive expression, if a little sleepy and sick-looking.

"Uchida—" she began.

Oh, to hell with it, Uchida thought.

She ran.

---

She had obtained two key insights from the experience.

Firstly, she had obtained a half-passable reason to justify her demands that Yoshino talk to her. She could not reasonably be expected to remain unaffected by what was happening to Yoshino; therefore, it was her business.

Secondly, whatever memories she had that were being triggered, Yoshino definitely shared at least some of it. And whatever it was, it was embarrassing.

The image in her mind's eye had clarified substantially, and what she saw…resembled what she had recognized long ago as the natural conclusion, but one she had rejected as definitely incorrect, and that Yoshino had agreed with her was definitely incorrect.

On what grounds had they made that judgment? Nothing solid, she now saw.

She turned in the bed, facing the ceiling, allowing her hair, now free, to spread itself over the pillow. Her hair was frazzled with sweat, and she lay there exhausted.

Her mother had been waiting for her at the door, having been told to expect her by a call from her school, but Uchida had been in no mood to explain herself, eat, or do anything but sleep still wearing her uniform, plopping herself onto her bed, a piece of furniture which was starting to become distressingly familiar.

The beady eyes of the stuffed horses she so treasured watched her, and, at that moment, they seemed rather intrusive.

What am I waiting for? she thought. Why can't I sleep?

She feared she had an answer, and inside that answer, another suggestive riddle. Why would she even think of that? She had no source of such an idea…that she could remember.

She looked at one of the larger stuffed animals, the one which Yoshino had won her only recently. The girl was remarkably skilled at the strangest things, but Uchida took comfort in the fact that, try as Yoshino might, she had never come remotely close to touching Uchida's skills at trick shots. That, and sand castles.

Well, it was something.

She grabbed it, and hugged it close to her chest, using it to replace what she suddenly felt as an aching lack of presence.

What's happening to me? she thought.

It was her last waking thought.

---

"Yuka!"

She sat bolt upright, startled.

Mom! Uchida thought. What is she doing here?

Instinctively, she grabbed the nearest region of the blanket and held it in front of her, but try as she might, she couldn't spot where the woman was. Next to her, Yoshino sat up.

Then she felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her—

"Yuka!"

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself looking into her mother's face.

"What is it?" she asked grouchily, shifting in her bed, trying to stretch. She felt the extreme annoyance that came from being woken from a pleasant dream, even if one couldn't remember the exact contents.

"Your friends came to visit you," the woman said, looking both displeased and worried. "The least you could do is greet them. One of them looks sicker than you do."

"You didn't have to wake her," Touma commented, sticking her head into the doorway.

"It's unseemly for her to be sleeping now, anyway," her mother said as Uchida sat up blearily. "I mean, it's not good for her health. Or for her skin. You want another breakout, hmm?"

Uchida was too weakened to do anything but glare sharply at her mother for the unnecessary comment. On the rare occasions she took long naps, they made her feel horrible—but she loved them all the same.

Nodding in satisfaction, her mother excused herself and left as Touma and Chiaki filtered in, the former making it a point to close the door behind her.

Uchida's hair must look horrible, she knew, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Still, she reached up and rubbed it down as best she could.

They took up positions, Chiaki perching herself on the desk chair to watch her with piercing eyes, and Touma sitting cross-legged on her bed, her bulky frame awkward.

Uchida knew what this was.

It's too much to hope that they haven't talked to each other, she thought.

She looked around at the two of them, and asked the obvious question:

"Only the two of you?"

Touma gave a half-smile.

"I asked him not to come."

"You didn't have to come either," Uchida said politely, secretly wishing they hadn't. "I'm sure you have practice, and it's not like I'm actually sick, unlike—"

She glanced meaningfully at Chiaki, who was in the process of wiping her nose on a tissue she had obtained from Uchida's nose.

"No, I'm fine," Chiaki said, sounding hoarse. "It's not that bad."

"You're easier to get to than Yoshino, for what it's worth," Chiaki added. "I tried calling her, but she made it pretty clear she didn't want to talk about it."

Uchida thought she heard a glimmer of displeasure in Chiaki's voice, but then again, the girl always sounded a little displeased.

"We don't want you to feel pressured into saying anything," Touma said, looking at Uchida. "Just…you two are okay, right?"

"I was surprised," Chiaki said, pausing to clear her sinuses. "I mean, I was surprised to see you two there. You two made up, then? It was kind of hard to tell, honestly."

Uchida blushed irrepressibly. She knew what they thought. Of course they would think that; they always had. It made sense that they would.

"No, it's not—it wasn't what it looked like," she said, with much less conviction than she had managed on previous occasions. She was finding it harder to dispute them now.

"Of course," Touma said diplomatically. "But that was quite a fight to have, right in the middle of class. You did have a fight, then?"

"Something like that," Uchida said, looking at her stuffed animals.

"And it's okay now?" Touma pressed.

Uchida studied one of her horses for a moment longer.

"No, not really," she said quietly.

She looked up and saw the two of them share a look across the bed, trying to decide by mutual consensus what to say. She decided to preempt them.

"Do you guys mind if I ask you a question?" she said.

Again they looked at each other.

"Go ahead," Touma said, finally.

"How would you describe the two of us? You know, our friendship."

Chiaki and Touma looked at her queerly, before sharing yet a third look. Chiaki made a gesture with her hands, ceding to Touma the unenviable role of speaker.

Touma cleared her throat, putting her fist in front of her mouth, obviously buying time to think.

"Well, I—I, uh, guess I'd analogize you guys to the two ends of a magnetic dipole."

Chiaki suppressed a laugh, triggering a fit of coughing. Touma looked at her, unsure whether to glare at her for the laugh or show sympathy for the cough.

"A dipole," Uchida repeated skeptically, suddenly wondering if it really was a good idea to ask them.

"Yes!" Touma insisted, face slightly red, but sticking firmly to her hasty metaphor. "You see, one end of a dipole cannot exist without the other. One is never found without the other, and they depend on each other to exist."

"Unless they finally find one of those elusive magnetic monopoles," Chiaki interjected, keeping her face as straight as possible.

"Will you let me finish?" Touma demanded, turning to glare at Chiaki again. "I don't see you volunteering to do this!"

Chiaki shrugged and looked nonchalant, but Uchida had been around her to know that she was secretly enjoying Touma's discomfiture.

"Anyway," Touma said, turning back to her. "You two are like that. She's rational, mostly reserved, and likes toying with people. You're impulsive, outgoing and happy, and, uh…"

"Get toyed around with a lot," Chiaki finished."Though not in a bad way or anything like that."

Touma again glanced at her reproachfully, before turning back.

"That's probably the best I'm going to do," Touma said. "But it's true. The dichotomy of your two personalities started breaking down the moment you two had a fight. I've never seen Yoshino act so stupid, and I've never seen you so angry. That's how I knew what must have happened. It didn't match either of your personalities. It was pretty shocking. I—"

She paused to consider her next sentence, looking slightly embarrassed.

"If you two were to really stop being friends, I'd lose a little of my faith in the world. But that won't happen, right?"

Touma looked at Uchida until Uchida, finally, shook her head slightly.

"Of course not," she said quietly.

There was a long moment of silence as they watched her.

"Anything else to add?" Chiaki asked, sniffing, directing the question to Touma.

"No, I'm going to stop there," she said.

"I knew my vocabulary lessons would pay off," Chiaki commented.

Uchida sat there thinking. She couldn't believe she was about to ask this, and of them of all people! But who else? Her mother?

I need to know.

"Can I ask you another question?" she said suddenly. "It's a…a little weird."

Touma frowned.

"Weird?" she asked. "Well, I've seen plenty of weird in my life."

Uchida made it a point to look straight at her wall for this next one.

"So, you know, hypothetically, I was wondering, if I were the kind of girl who'd be, er, attractive. To other girls. Since, well—I'm curious! And you might know."

It was finally too much, so she planted her glowing red face straight into the wall in question to hide her expression.

In the background, Touma made a choking noise—then, a long silence, which bothered her.

"Well?" she asked, not shifting her position. "I asked, so—"

"I, for one, have never considered the issue," she heard Chiaki say, and Uchida could almost picture her crossing her arms haughtily and looking away disdainfully.

Touma cleared her throat.

"Well, frankly," she said. "You're not bad-looking. Some people like short, and you've got the, uh, assets, which I must say—stop looking at me like that!"

After yet another long silence, Uchida finally moved her face from the wall, overwhelmed by curiosity, to see Chiaki and Touma glaring at each other like hawks.

She barely stifled a laugh, but they heard it.

They turned their eyes back towards her.

She looked back at Touma, feeling strangely bereft of embarrassment. Maybe she had tripped some sort of emotional circuit-breaker.

"It's good to finally hear you admit it," Touma said.

"It's hypothetical!" she insisted.

"Oh, of course," Touma said patronizingly, not even pretending to believe it.

"It's not just stuff like that," Chiaki said. "Don't let Touma's shallowness give you any wrong ideas."

Uchida turned to look at her.

"There's also personality and stuff," Chiaki said, resolutely ignoring Touma's glare at her. "Though I admit you two probably have compatibility in spades."

"Don't just start talking about us like that!" Uchida protested. "I told you it was hypothetical!"

Touma grabbed her shoulder and stared her in the eye.

"Uchida," she said. "Let's be honest here. Maybe we're wrong, and you two are truly platonic, but the very fact that you'd ask, and you'd choose us to ask—maybe it's not as platonic as you think, hmm? At least not for you. Is that the problem you two are having? As you may have guessed, Chiaki described the whole nurse's office thing to me in fairly good detail."

Uchida looked down. Sure, it really had been an accident, but that was almost beside the point now.

"No, I don't think it's exactly like that, but…I don't know," she said. "It's not what started it, as far as I know. But ever since this started, it feels so strange to be without her, if that makes sense. And I keep thinking…"

Her voice trailed off. How could she explain all of it?

"I keep thinking of the strangest things," she finished. "Like this. I can't shake it. And I keep having the strange—"

She stopped, a giant reservoir of mortification rising up out of nowhere. Was she really going to talk about that? She couldn't talk about that. It was too much.

She struggled for breath, feeling the heat radiating from her face.

Touma shifted, but Uchida held up a hand to forestall her from offering help.

She looked up, tugging at her collar for air.

"Well, that's what it is," she managed to squeak out.

Touma looked at her warily, as if wondering if she would explode or if instead steam would vent from her ears.

"You don't have to talk about it," Touma said lamely. "Just, I thought, maybe I could—"

"Let's change topics," Chiaki interrupted, her voice as scratchy as ever. "For one thing, can I get a cup of water from somewhere?"

"M-Mom should have already brought something," she said, suddenly perplexed, her face cooling. "Where is she? I—I'll get her!"

Before they had a chance to protest, she jumped out of bed and ran out of her room, flinging her door open, leaving them blinking in her wake.

"Are you girls done?" her mother asked, when she emerged into the living room. On the coffee table was a prepared tray of rice snacks and tea.

She nodded stiffly, bending down to pick up the tray.

"Yuka," her mother said meaningfully.

She stood up and looked at the woman.

"Do you want me to try calling?" her mother asked, looking at her with concern. "You know, calling Yoshino's, uh, guardian? I could try to help. We can't have you missing school over this."

The moment the day before replayed itself in front of Uchida's eyes: Yoshino closing herself off, her servant telling her to go home.

Uchida's hands shook, and the teacups rattled in their dishes.

"No, it's fine," she said. "I'd rather you not."

Her mother nodded insincerely, openly torn over what to do—and incidentally worried about Uchida dropping the tray.

With an abrupt motion, Uchida turned and stalked back down the hall, not giving her mother a chance to say any more.

---

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded cautious and distracted.

"Riko-san? It's Uchida," she said, just in case. They'd exchanged numbers once, a long time ago but she wasn't sure if Riko had stored it.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," Uchida added. "I can call later."

Uchida glanced behind her nervously. Her door was closed, and she was using the cordless phone, but she couldn't shake the paranoia that her parents might hear her.

"No, no it's fine," Riko said. "It's good to hear from you. It's been a while."

There a brief silence, during which Uchida could feel Riko puzzling over what this was about. Sure, they had talked a couple of times, but only when circumstances brought them together. The phone number exchange had been a polite formalism. The girl probably didn't expect her to ever actually call.

"So what brings this call?" Riko asked, masking whatever surprise she might have felt. "Have some amazingly juicy piece of gossip for me? Or do you want to ask about high school?"

She sounded playful, as if she had decided that the call must be about a topic as pleasant as that.

Uchida took a breath.

Uchida had always found her surprisingly friendly and easy to speak to, for someone three years her senior—and, just as importantly, not as crazy as Kana.

And who else could she turn to? Certainly not her mother. And she had already tried Chiaki and Touma. For whatever it was worth, Riko was effectively an outsider—maybe she could talk to her.

Am I really this desperate? she thought.

"I called because I wanted to ask some, uh, advice," she said, bluntly truthful. "I don't think I can talk to anyone else."

She heard RIko inhale.

"Well, alright. Sure. Go ahead," Riko said, sounding wary and pleased. "Wow, I never thought I'd ever be in a position to have a kouhai asking me questions."

Uchida thought through what she was going to say one more time.

"So I have these two friends, A-san and B-san…" she began, feeling lame already.

"Uh-huh?" Riko prompted.

"And so, uh, recently, they've gotten in the habit of, uh, drinking occasionally, for fun—"

"Wait, wait, back up," Riko interrupted. "How old are these friends again?"

"They're my age," Uchida said. "But that's not—"

"Well, I think I see the problem already," Riko interrupted again, voice serious.

"No, no, I know," Uchida said, cheeks reddening despite the lack of a physical audience. "But that's not it. Not directly."

"Hold on, we're not talking about Kana's sister, are we?" Riko asked. "Because if so, I'd, uh, be—"

"No, no, definitely not," Uchida insisted. This conversation was getting seriously off-track, and the last thing she needed was for Riko to say something misguided to Kana.

"Please, that's not it," Uchida said. "And it has nothing to do with Chiaki. Let me finish."

"Well…alright, continue," Riko said, sounding skeptical.

"The thing is…they recently had a big fight because B-san is keeping something serious from A-san, and won't reveal what it is. And now they can barely talk to each other. A-san is really torn up about it."

Uchida stopped for a long moment.

"And she asked me for advice," Uchida added. "And I don't know what to say."

No! Why would I say that? That just makes me sound suspicious!

"O—okay," Riko responded cautiously. "Well, it's hard for me to say anything too specific, but I would say—"

"No wait, wait!" Uchida interrupted, privately cursing herself. "That's not it! Not the main thing! The real issue is that, uh, A-san has recently started to suspect that, during their drinking sessions, certain, er, well, things have been going on that…she can't remember. You know, things."

There was a dead silence on the other end of the line.

Uchida suddenly realized she had left out an important detail.

Riko spoke again, voice now carrying the traces of anger and shock.

"Obviously I made a bad assumption," Riko said, voice dangerous. "I thought we were talking about two girls. But do you mean to tell me, that this guy B-san, got her drunk and—"

"No, no, you don't understand!" Uchida interrupted hastily. "They are both girls!"

Her tongue tripped on the last few syllables as she realized what she was saying. She hoped Riko hadn't noticed.

This silence was even longer than the last one. Much longer.

Uchida shifted nervously, leaning back in her chair.

Finally, Riko chuckled drily.

"And I thought this would be a relaxing conversation," she said. "Is this girl sure?"

"Not—not entirely," Uchida said. "But she says she has good circumstantial evidence."

"Has this A-san considered that maybe the thing B-san won't talk about is exactly this?" Riko asked. "Maybe she's realized and won't talk. That's the obvious answer."

Uchida's eyes snapped wide open.

I can't believe I didn't think of that!

She shook her head.

No, it was a false realization. If that was what it was, then what was that whole spectacle with Yoshino talking with her servant, and the supposed phone call?

But it made sense—so much sense that it startled her.

"She doesn't—that is, I don't know," Uchida said, containing her surprise. "I never asked. But I don't think so."

"Then that's one thing to definitely think about," Riko suggested. "More broadly…"

Uchida waited as Riko collected her thoughts.

"I'd say A-san needs to get B-san isolated somehow, and force the issue," Riko said. "Perhaps by talking about it, but I'm not sure. It depends so much on whether that really is it. Personally, I suspect it is."

Again, Riko paused to consider

"If you ask me about the whole, uh, two girls thing," Riko continued. "Well, if it were a couple of years ago, I would have said something sentimental about love and how they should just go for it. Now, I—I don't know. From an objective standpoint, it's not a good idea at all. Well, maybe only for a few years, I don't know…"

She paused, having sounded almost world-weary.

"I'm sorry I'm not more helpful," Riko said, voice genuinely unhappy with herself. "I'm really not prepared for this. Well, I can definitely say A-san should think about it more carefully. And might want to make extra sure, just in case."

"No, that's alright," Uchida said. "That's—that's fine."

"Well," Riko added. "I guess…I guess if it's about Yoshino-san, it might be a good idea to talk to Keiko. Those two seemed pretty into it last time they talked. Who knows?"

A long pause, as Uchida felt the blood again rush to her face in mortification, realizing what Riko had just said. She had to say something, insist to Riko that she was wrong, but Uchida couldn't make her mouth move.

And then it was too late. The long silence would tell Riko all she needed to know.

"Wait, shit, I didn't mean to admit—" Riko blurted out, breaking the silence, giving Uchida the irrational urge to hang up then and there. Somehow she persevered, her hand clenching the receiver with such force it shook.

"I'm—I'm so sorry," Riko apologized, a moment later.

Uchida still said nothing.

Riko chuckled nervously, clearly unnerved by the silence.

"It's just—well, I mean, seriously, A-san? That's the oldest one in the book. Who would believe that? I—I just didn't—look, I won't tell anyone, okay? I'll be totally reliable. Uchida-chan, come on, talk to me!"

Now Riko sounded desperate.

"No, it's okay," Uchida said quietly. "I guess it was a little stupid of me to think that would work."

She added her own nervous chuckle to the awkward conversation.

"I, well…"

She let her voice trail off.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful," Riko said. "And remember what I said about the alcohol. It's really not a good idea. For reasons such as this."

"No, you were plenty helpful," Uchida said, and meant it, dodging the second topic. "And I'll—I'll call Keiko-san. Do you have her number?"

"Oh, sure!" Riko said, relieved to have an escape route offered to her. "Give me a moment…"

A few minutes later, Uchida hung up, pushing the lighted green button on the handset.

Well, it had been edifying after all, even if she had murdered her reputation with Riko in the process.

She looked at the receiver in her hand, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of another phone call. But she had to perform due diligence.

She dialed the number she had been given, leaning on her elbows onto her desk.

"Hello?"

The voice at the other end of the line was again cautious and this time Uchida knew for certain that its owner had no idea who was calling.

"Hi, Keiko-san," she said, as casually as she could manage. "This is Uchida. I don't know if you remember me. I'm one of Kana's sister's friends."

"Ah, yes, Uchida-chan, of course, I remember you," Keiko said.

Uchida waited for Keiko to say more, perhaps ask why she was calling, but the girl said nothing.

"So, uh, how are you?" Uchida asked when the silence finally became too awkward.

"Oh, I'm good, I'm good," Keiko responded. "How about you?"

"Good, I guess," Uchida said.

Uchida waited again.

"So, um…why are you calling?" Keiko asked, finally.

Uchida remembered how meek the girl was, and how strange she had found it that Yoshino and her had formed a rapport, however brief. Maybe that was why she was so unresponsive.

"Ah, well, I was..." Uchida began, then stopped to take a breath.

She repeated the story she had told earlier, except not masking the names, and greatly abbreviated, leaving out the parts she thought Keiko didn't need to know. More accurately, despite all the extra words she used, her entire description could be summarized by asserting that she and Yoshino had gotten into a fight because Yoshino wouldn't tell her what horrible thing was going on.

"So I talked to Riko-san," she finished, "and she said that you might be able to guess what it is."

Uchida waited while Keiko breathed into the receiver.

"I don't know why Riko-chan would say that," Keiko replied, finally. "I barely speak to her, and we're not all that similar…"

"I see…" Uchida responded, disappointed. "Well, thanks any—"

"Though as a matter of fact," Keiko continued. "She did call me right after school. I was thinking what a coincidence it was that both of you would call me on the same day."

Uchida's eyes widened. Paydirt. Riko knew what she was talking about after all.

"What did she ask about?" Uchida asked, trying not to make it sound like a demand.

"Nothing unusual," Keiko said, slowly. "Just talk, about school, and the news. The most unusual part of it is that she would call at all. She never has, before."

Uchida could hear the slight perplexity in Keiko's voice.

"I thought that she sounded a little stressed," Keiko added. "I even asked her about it, but she said she was just tired. I guess it makes sense now."

"Do you have any idea why she would call?" Uchida asked, hoping to extract more useful information out of the conversation.

"Well," Keiko began, before stopping.

"Let me think about it," she requested, a moment later.

Uchida waited impatiently.

"Yoshino-chan is an interesting girl," Keiko said, carefully. "It's hard to explain, but I've never met one as intelligent as her. Chiaki-chan studies hard, and gets similar grades, but it's not quite the same. It comes naturally to her, like it does to me. We had a lot of fun talking."

Uchida blinked.

"Really?" she asked.

"I don't know though," Keiko continued, brushing past her rhetorical question. "The impression I always got was that she wasn't too happy about it. Besides that…well, I guess the way to put it is that, personally, I've always been happy to just be the smartest girl in class, but I get the feeling she wants something else."

She paused.

"I'm sorry," Keiko said. "I think I'm getting sidetracked. The point is, I think she just wanted to talk."

Keiko paused again.

"I'm telling you this in confidence," she said, "Given your position, I think it might be useful. I…well, the fact is, the first time we really talked, she told me that she felt lonely, and it was good to have someone to talk to. Yes, I think that's how she put it. Well—"

Uchida realized she was holding her breath, and forced herself to breathe. She felt as if she had been struck by lightning, and she didn't yet have any idea why.

"Lonely?" she asked, interrupting Keiko, who was still talking.

"Well, yes," Keiko said. "She was quite serious. She seemed unhappy about it, but I told her it was normal. It happens to all of us, especially when you're not too similar to your peers. I'll be honest, I feel it sometimes too. Kana-chan and Riko-chan aren't that much like me. But it shouldn't be a big deal. Still, it was pretty personal, and I'm not sure she'd like me sharing it. I just think…"

A parade of observations flooded Uchida's mind. Yoshino, too brilliant to relate to her peers' struggles with school, too intellectual to genuinely share their interests in video games, or soccer, or TV. Yoshino, isolated by her wealth from her peers, with only a skeleton of a family to go home to, when everyone else she knew had sisters, brothers, parents…

"It's quite a big deal," Uchida said, voice emotionless.

"You think so?" Keiko asked curiously. "It's pretty common—Ah, hold on—"

A brief silence as Keiko did something.

"I'm sorry," Keiko said, returning to the line. "She's calling me again. I'll put you on hold."

Again?

"I—It's fine," Uchida said shakily. "Go ahead."

Silence.

Uchida regarded the phone in her hand.

Lonely? she thought. But why? I'm here for her! I thought...

Unbidden, an old memory surfaced.

The first time Uchida had ever seen Yoshino, all those years ago, she had been silent and angry, rebuffing all of Uchida's attempts to talk to her.

And then…

Uchida had been there to see Yoshino blast her chief servant with a tantrum the likes of which she had never seen. In retrospect, Uchida had been struck by the eloquence of her speech, had realized that she had never met a girl her age who talked like that.

At the time, she had been struck instead by the sheer amount of pain and hatred that had poured out of the girl. Pieces of it flashed by her mind's eye.

"I just want to be normal," Yoshino had said.

"That's all I want! Do you think I want to be the only one in my class with no parents? They're not even dead!"

"I'm sorry I can't get along with them! I'm sorry they make fun of me for knowing how to speak properly and read books and not watching TV! I'm goddamn sorry!"

Uchida remembered the face she had seen, so much hurt, so much self-hatred, the core emotions bared for her to see.

She had never understood why it had affected her so strongly, but that night, she hadn't been able to sleep, thinking of that face. It was the first night she had ever laid awake.

The next day, she had laced together her most versatile pair of shoes, asked for directions, and did perhaps the most fool-hardy thing she had ever done. She was a six-year-old, hiking her way up a series of barely-used hiking trails, up one of the most imposing hills in the area.

She had been so happy when she finally got the girl to start talking to her, and even happier the first time she got her to smile back.

It was miraculous, how quickly Yoshino had turned around. By the end of that summer, she had difficulty remembering what Yoshino had even been like before. Yoshino had become so different, and it had been deeply gratifying to think that all it had taken was for Uchida to show her some kindness.

Even now, thinking about it made her feel powerful and, more importantly, happy with herself, as if she had made a difference. She had never realized before, how much that meant to her.

I wanted her to be happy, Uchida thought. I couldn't stand the idea of someone like her hurting so much. I wanted to heal her and protect her; that's why I stuck around. I wanted someone to rely on me. And I thought she was happy.

Over the years, to all appearances, the relationship had reversed, until it was Yoshino protecting her, and though Uchida had always remained watchful, she had been satisfied in a job well done. She had succeeded.

Or so she thought.

"I just want to be normal," Yoshino had said.

Uchida hurled the phone towards her bed, the receiver bouncing against the bed and clattering against the wall, thankfully undamaged.

Uchida looked at it, breathing heavily.

What the hell have I been doing? So conceited to think I could keep her happy, when I couldn't even notice something as simple as that.

She's been hiding it from me all these years, Uchida thought.

"Hello?"

Keiko's voice, garbled by distance, emanating from the receiver on her bed.

Uchida dived for it and put it to her ear.

"Yes, yes, I'm here," she said hurriedly.

"Ah, Uchida-chan," Keiko said. "I, uh, well, where were we? Well, I don't really know what to say. Yoshino-chan must be pretty distressed, to keep calling me like that. I'm sorry, but I can't really guess what's going on with her. If I'm not being too forward, though, I'd recommend you call and apologize, even if you think you did nothing wrong. That usually works."

Uchida shook her head, almost amused. If only it were that easy.

Suddenly, a surge of irrational anger washed through her. That anyone could speak about it so carelessly….

She swallowed her anger. It wasn't Keiko's fault that Uchida hadn't told her enough to know how bad it was.

"Well, if she calls again," Uchida said. "You can tell her I'm sorry for not noticing. In those exact words."

"Not noticing?" Keiko repeated back as a question. "Not noticing what?"

"No, nevermind," Uchida amended. "I'll tell her myself."

"That usually works better," Keiko agreed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful."

Uchida thanked her and hung up.

They had both been more helpful than they could have possibly imagined.

---

That night, she sat in front of her outdated but serviceable computer, musing on what to do.

Yoshino wasn't online, of course. She had given up on that.

She glanced warily behind her. She wished her door had a lock. Still, though, it was closed, and this was far past the time when her parents would typically sleep. Plus, her lights were off, and anyone would think she was already asleep. She was as safe as she would ever get.

Not that she was doing anything particularly distasteful. It was just a little expedition into Wikipedia to confirm a few facts, that was all. She'd just rather not be interrupted.

An hour or so of morbid fascination later, she finally stopped clicking, leaning back into her wooden chair, feeling as if she had dealt a death blow to whatever remained of her innocence.

However, while she had learned quite a few things, it was what she already knew that bothered her. As she suspected, she knew far more than she should, and caught herself on several occasions frowning at inaccurate details in the articles.

This was not knowledge she could have acquired from mere osmosis.

It's no longer possible to deny, is it?

She leaned her elbows onto her desk, cradling her head in both her hands, trying to process the ramifications.

Her screen eventually flickered into a screensaver, but she didn't notice.

Uchida realized that she was far more shocked by the implications of the fact than by the fact itself. That is, she felt as if she should have been first been shocked by the revelation itself, and only then moved on to worrying about talking to Yoshino and so forth. Instead, she seemed to have skipped the first step entirely.

She reflected on what she had thought about Chiaki and Touma, what she had said, what she had done, the lines of thought she had followed. She had been preparing for this eventuality for a long time, she realized, reaching the necessary conclusions and building the necessary cognitive architecture to accommodate it when it came, just in case it did. But why? How? Instinct? Secret knowledge?

Now that the event was here, then, there was no agonized thought, no desperate self-denials. Instead, beliefs, conclusions, self-resolve flowed smoothly into place with all the precision of plans laid long ago.

All except in one aspect, the one she had no plans for, having not until now realized it would be a problem.

How to hell am I supposed to tell her? she thought despairingly, eyes staring into the computer monitor as if somewhere in the text an answer would appear.

How can we possibly deal with this? she thought. How? I don't have a clue!

We…we—

Her mouth quirked. It really was "we", wasn't it?

She had thought of them as "we" for so many years it was entirely natural, but this…this was different.

She stared at her desk.

Holmes and Watson. Boke and Tsukkomi. That was the way it was supposed to be.

It wasn't how it had turned out.

Eventually, her monitor flickered off, plunging her into darkness, but she continued to sit in silence.

She needed to think.