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.

3. Storming the Gate

Most of the next day passed without incident.

Yoshino had clamped down on her strange behavior, as promised. Now, superficially, it was impossible to tell that anything was wrong.

Superficially, and only to an outsider.

They didn't speak that morning, or at any point throughout their classes, even though Uchida didn't bother to hide the fact that she was watching her the whole time.

Others in the class made no secret of their curiosity, either, but no one tried asking her, or Yoshino, just what had happened yesterday. Instead, they confined their questions to Yoshino and Uchida's proxies in the class, the increasingly hassled-looking duo of Makoto and Touma.

It felt lonely, as if she were somehow isolated from the rest of the class, as if she and Yoshino were lost in their own microcosm.

Her default expression was now a combination of sullen watchfulness and thoughtfulness. However, any of their classmates who might have been watching her—and by now, Uchida refused to spend the energy to check around her—would have been perplexed by the way it kept switching to one that looked like she was choking on something, which was actually a result of her working hard to keep her face straight.

More bits and pieces of flotsam were floating back to the surface of her memory, and these were much less innocuous than those she had recovered before. It was almost as if they had been waiting for the opportunity.

If she still had any doubt, it was virtually annihilated now.

Their English teacher looked seriously relieved to see them both back and healthy-looking, and the old woman even called on the two of them several times, as if to test the proposition. They seemed fine.

During lunch, the lunch they had both missed yesterday, they congregated at one table as always. But despite Yoshino's now seemingly baseline behavior, it was impossible to paper over the lack of camaraderie. The emotional closeness was not there, and they couldn't fake it. It didn't help that everyone else there was on watch for exactly something like this. Conversation proceeded in fits and starts, if at all.

The two of them sat farther apart than was normal, even for most people. Uchida wondered if Yoshino really suspected, somewhere in that endless mind of hers.

She needed time alone with her. This enforced contact was useless if they were constantly surrounded by people. She had to isolate Yoshino somewhere, but how? It was a tough question.

Uchida found it painfully appropriate that she had to keep reminding herself that she couldn't ask the brilliant Yoshino, the clever Yoshino, to think of a plan for her.

By the end of the day, sitting at her desk alone in the classroom, she had determined that there was nothing left but to bite the bullet and ask point-blank.

She nodded to herself with the thought. In that case, it would be best if she went and did it now. She had procrastinated earlier, knowing that Yoshino had student council obligations to attend to on Tuesdays. If she waited any longer, however, the meeting would end and Yoshino would go home, and she would miss her chance.

Last year, the "Captain" had abandoned most of her involvement with council activities, dropping her seemingly unstoppable bid to become President by third year. In Yoshino's own words:

"It's not worth it. It's taking up too much of my time and, frankly, I'd rather be spending my time with you guys."

Or with Uchida, rather.

Uchida thought about that.

Well, regardless, the hour-long Tuesday meetings were now Yoshino's only commitment, reflecting her now greatly diminished role as a mere class representative. It was the bare minimum necessary for her to stay in contact with the others, which was all she needed to wield a considerable amount of influence. Favors, apparently.

And the hour was almost up.

Uchida packed up the homework she had been desultorily working on, closing the folder and dropping it into her bag. She got to her feet, stretched and, since the classroom was empty of people who might see her, took a moment to scratch herself on the back.

She turned, arm still contorted up the back of her shirt, and found that she had made a bad assumption.

Makoto, apparently also in the process of packing, was pointedly looking down into his bag, a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

Oh please, she thought. People took this kind of thing entirely too seriously.

She frowned, picking up her bag. When had she become so blasé about this sort of thing?

"What are you doing still here?" she inquired, walking over to look down on the seated boy. It made her feel sort of good knowing someone who was as short as she was, and male, at that.

He looked up, a little chagrined.

"Well, we were thinking that, maybe what the two of you need is some sort of mediator. I was supposed to pitch the idea you right after school, but since you seemed to be sticking around, I figured…"

He spoke without bothering to define "we" or "the two of you", but Uchida didn't need any hints.

"And they chose you," she said drolly.

He shrugged, making a seemingly indifferent expression.

"Apparently, I'm 'unintimidating'," he explained.

She smirked, but was then surprised to see him swallow nervously.

He stood up, opening and closing his hands, obviously suppressing an impulse to grab her to emphasize his point.

"This can't go on longer," he said, eyes exactly level with hers, darkly serious. "There's no reason you two should be this unhappy with each other. If all you need is someone to stand there and keep watch, then I'll gladly do that. No—I'd insist on it. And if you need someone to lock you both in a room…"

Uchida blinked back at him, surprised at his intensity. Her rating of him climbed a few notches. She had always wondered what Chiaki and Touma saw in him.

"I appreciate the offer," she said levelly. "And it can't hurt to have you follow me, but, for your information, I intend to talk to her alone. If you want to help, then chase her down if she tries to run away. Exactly that and no more. You think you can do that?"

"I—" he began, starting to argue.

She watched him. She wasn't budging. It was strictly private.

"Of course," he said, finally.

"Alright, then," she said, smiling drily, slinging her bag back over her right shoulder. "Let's go; we'll miss her if we don't hurry."

She walked down the hallway with Makoto in tow, past empty classrooms and classrooms full of such novelties as a music club and literature club, until they approached the room where council meetings were typically held.

"Quiet today," she commented, more to herself than to Makoto, but he nodded anyway.

It was typically possible to hear at least a loud murmur of discussion through the thin wooden door, but at the moment it was dead silent.

"I wonder if they finished early," she mused out loud.

Before she had even finished the thought, a loud clattering noise pierced through the door, almost as if someone had fallen off a chair.

She exchanged glances with Makoto, who she saw shared her sudden, irrational apprehension. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with—

Then the loud, bass voice of their student council president, so familiar from a hundred school events:

"Yoshino-san, please calm down! It isn't worth it!"

That tore it. Without any regard for decorum, Uchida flung the door open, taking in the scene before her, pouring every detail into her eyes as quickly as possible.

A giant circle of desks, arranged around the classroom that served as the meeting room, with a gap at the door where she now stood. Those seated nearest to her had turned to look at her in surprise, most of them in confusion, some of them in recognition and hope.

Everyone else, however, including the small group of magnates at the front of the room, was busy watching the scene across the room from her, where Yoshino stood facing the wall, arm raised, clearly preparing to strike something below her.

But two separate boys were standing around her, one trying to shove her backwards, and the other restraining her arm with two hands. Implausibly, they seemed to be having difficulty controlling her.

"Let go of me!" Yoshino growled, in a voice which carried all her customary authority and confidence—and which sounded so incredibly alien that it sent shivers down Uchida's back.

Uchida, who had started walking forward without realizing it, finally had the proper angle to see all she needed to see.

A boy lay crumpled on the floor clutching his belly, bruises flowering on the swollen left side of his face, blood streaming out of his nose.

Coupled with the toppled desks and chairs in Yoshino's wake, and the girl actively cowering under a desk next to it, it finally helped register in Uchida's mind exactly what had happened.

And yet that was almost a sidenote. What was more important was the look on Yoshino's face, an expression so twisted by anger and hatred that she hardly recognized it.

This isn't her! Uchida thought. What—what is—

No, that's wrong, she corrected suddenly. It is her, in every way. It's part of who she is.

The memory flashed before her, such a large epiphany crammed into such a tiny moment.

Ten years ago, in that grotto they loved so much.

"Why do you hate them so much?"she asked. "Surely if—"

"No."

Yoshino's face formed itself into a sneer that was dismaying to see on the face of a child.

"No, they're good only to be despised. If I break their noses, it's better than they deserve."

Her tiny hands clenched into fists, her voice dripping with venom. It was simultaneously ridiculous and disturbing in one so young.

Uchida stared back, at the other girl with wind running through her hair, horrified, appalled, and just a tiny bit frightened.

"But that's—"

"No!" Yoshino insisted, glaring at her with a look that quavered her. "No. I'm not going back. They can never make me."

Before she could say anything in response, Yoshino grabbed her by the hands.

"Trust me," the girl said, eyes burning in their sockets. "I can convince them. We can go to school together. There'd be nothing to stop us. We just have to convince them, and we can do whatever we want. Wouldn't that be grand?"

Uchida looked back, and nodded carefully, swallowing.

She knew instinctively that she shouldn't be letting it go, that she should keep trying to argue—but she was only a child, and no one expected that kind of responsibility from her.

And it would be grand. That was indisputable.

So she nodded, reflecting that, after all, she could always come back to this later.

She nodded because in those eyes she could see not just determination, but need, almost desperation. A need for her.

She could see in those eyes someone who couldn't live without her.

That was the most intoxicating thing of all.

And she never brought it up again.

She shuddered involuntarily, at the core of darkness in her friend's heart, and the revelation of her own perniciousness.

"Yoshino, stop!" she cried, before realizing what she was doing.

Yoshino, who had been struggling with the now-three people trying to restrain her, froze.

She turned her head to look at Uchida. They watched each other.

"What are you doing?" Uchida demanded. "You promised! Is this what your promises are worth?"

She didn't know what to say, only that she had to stop it, somehow.

With an abrupt gesture, Yoshino shook off the now-limp grip of those around her, breathing heavily.

Uchida's eyes tracked Yoshino as she marshaled some internal source of strength and walked over to Uchida, finally stopping in front of her.

Looking up, Uchida saw self-disgust, anger, embarrassment, and pain.

Yoshino's mouth worked to form words, but no sound came out.

"I'm here. Why won't you talk to me?" Uchida demanded, tears forming in her eyes.

Yoshino tore her eyes away and headed for the door.

"Yoshino!" Uchida protested, trying to grab her arm, but Yoshino shook her off with a rough gesture.

She departed, shoving Makoto to the floor when he tried to interfere. To his credit, he got up and started to follow, clearly intent on trying to pull her back.

Uchida watched this through the door, before starting to walk slowly forward, preparing for a sprint.

"Uchida-san!" the president said sharply.

She turned, shocked. She had forgotten entirely that there was even anyone else in the room.

"I know how you feel," he said. "But please, let her go."

Uchida blinked at him in confusion, then glanced hastily around, her head spinning.

What have I done?

They had had the equivalent of a lover's spat in the middle of a meeting of the full student council, a council staffed by people who were, almost by definition, the most socially well-connected and respected students in the school.

She dropped her bag, turning this way and that, looking into their faces, full of pity, and she felt the blood rush to her face once again. She couldn't bear to look, but she was looking. She couldn't mount the energy to run, and her eyes gave the impression of a deer trapped in a car's headlights. Her head felt light.

"Everyone out!" the president demanded, fist slamming the podium. "This meeting is over. You three, pick up that dumbass and carry him to the nurse's office!"

She barely heard him, his voice ringing in her ears as if transmitted from a different world. She caught a blurred glimpse of two girls hurrying for her and couldn't understand why they looked so worried.

That was the last thing she remembered.

---

The cold water on her face shocked her awake.

She blinked rapidly, trying to prop herself back up, and found one of the girls helping her up, the other screwing the cap back onto her water bottle, looking satisfied.

"What—" she began.

"You fainted," the first one explained, helping her into a seated position.

"Did I?" Uchida asked, now seated, feeling the dampness on her forehead with one hand. Her brain still felt a little numb.

"It's probably natural, under the circumstances," the girl said, leaning back. She shrugged and smiled amiably, trying to be reassuring.

Uchida looked around. The room was nearly empty now, with the partial exception of the two girls and the student council president looking at her severely, his spectacled face fitting the stereotype almost exactly. The circle of desks was distorted chaotically, with some remaining members half-heartedly returning the desks to their former positions, but most not even bothering. The toppled chair was still toppled.

Showing impeccable timing, Makoto chose that moment to burst back into the room, panting and looking around for Uchida.

"I'm—I'm sorry," he said breathlessly, spotting her. "I couldn't—she kept pushing me away, and I—I didn't know she could run that fast."

It was only then that he realized he was talking to a girl seated on the floor, hair dripping wet, and that all four of them were looking at him queerly.

"Uh—" he began.

"It's okay," Uchida assured him. "It's okay. You tried."

In the period of silence that followed, Uchida thought about what had happened. She could think more clearly now that she was no longer in the heat of the moment.

Not that it was helping very much.

I—what do I do now? We're going to be pariahs in this school!

No, don't think about that. That's not the important thing. Focus.

"Are you okay, Uchida-san?" the president inquired, startling her out of her reverie.

"Oh, yes. Yes," she said, jumping up onto her feet.

First I have to deal with this.

"I'm so sorry for everything," she said, bowing. "I'll leave, and I'll talk to her, and we'll get everything—"

"I want to speak to you in private," he interrupted. "About Yoshino-san, if it's not too much to ask. You need to know a few things."

Uchida blinked in surprise.

"I—what?" she began.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" one of the girls asked, eying the president warily.

"I hope so," he said.

He turned to address her.

"Uchida-san, I just want to stop you from doing anything rash. Yoshino's state of mind is of paramount importance to the functioning of this council. That is why I must speak to you. You can't operate on incomplete information."

Uchida exchanged looks with the two girls, then with Makoto. They were at a consensus: None of them had any idea what was going on, but there was nothing wrong with finding out.

"Alright," Uchida conceded.

"Then we'll be leaving," the second girl said, pausing to look at Uchida carefully for a moment.

"Take care," she said finally, walking out with the other one.

"Thank you," Uchida replied to their backs, genuinely grateful.

"I'll be waiting outside," Makoto added, turning to go as well.

"You can go home," Uchida pointed out.

Makoto looked at her.

"I don't think so," he said, finally. "It's…well, I just don't think…"

He stopped, searching for the right words.

"Alright," Uchida said, turning toward him, arms crossed. "Go ahead. You don't have to explain yourself. Just don't plan on walking me home or anything like that."

Makoto looked at her quizzically, clearly having planned exactly that.

"Why not?" he asked.

He really is clueless sometimes…

Uchida cleared her throat and began making vague gestures with her hands.

"I'm just saying it might be a little suspicious to certain people, since you know, it's not commonly done, especially not between those of opposing genders—"

She stopped, knowing she had achieved the desired effect when Makoto blushed beet-red.

"I—I was just trying to be nice," he stammered, flustered. "I forgot—I really didn't think—I wasn't—"

"Of course not," Uchida reassured, thinking how funny it was that the only person in the school who blushed as much as her was a guy.

"But appearance is everything," she lectured, leaning forward. "We know, and they know, that it doesn't mean anything like that, but what would anyone else think? What if someone saw us? The last thing we want to do is start a stupid rumor like that."

He nodded curtly, speechless, and turned on his heel to head out the door, sliding it closed behind him.

Uchida sighed, letting out a breath. It was a bit rich of her to be lecturing Makoto on social awareness barely fifteen minutes after she and Yoshino had humiliated themselves in front of the student council.

"It's so tiresome, isn't it, keeping up appearances?" the president of said council asked, reminding her of his presence.

She turned to look at him.

"It really is sometimes," she responded, carefully.

"Yoshino-san would certainly agree," he added, pushing up his glasses with one hand. "If she were being honest, that is."

Uchida raised her eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected reference to Yoshino.

"What?" she asked.

"She's a politician," he explained. "And like all of us, she often has to pretend to be something she's not. It can be wearing. She must be under a great deal of stress, to explode like that."

He paused.

"Though maybe you've never noticed," he added. "I wager she acts more authentically around you than around anyone else."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused by the lack of context in what he was saying. "What? Do you know her that well?"

"Ah, I 'm sorry," he said, waving his hands awkwardly. "I'm rambling. Without a prepared speech, I just go way off-course."

Uchida looked at him with an air of annoyance. He was wasting her time with this? He really was much better at giving speeches.

"Look," he said, sensing her unhappiness. "I'm just trying to explain what happened here. Forgive me, but I'm going to have to go into a bit of back-story."

He looked at her inquiringly, and she signaled for him to continue.

"First off, you need to know that I never would have gotten the votes for this position without her support. I don't know how much attention you paid attention to the whole thing, but I was the underdog newbie, facing the well-groomed veteran."

He looked slightly embarrassed.

"She supported me, you know that? Even though it made no sense for her. She said it was because I was the better person, not a fake like the others, and that because of that, I'd be better for the position than anyone, including herself. She convinced me to run and gave the votes to make it."

"She said that?" Uchida said, catching the implication. "She said she was a fake?"

"Yes," he replied, looking uncomfortable. "At the time, I didn't fully understand, but I think I do now. It's so easy to get so caught up playing power games, trying to maximize your own support, that you forget that you're theoretically supposed to be improving the lives of students."

He paused, then cleared his throat.

"She told me that I was the right choice because I still cared, whereas she had realized she was only doing it for her ego."

Uchida stayed silent. She had never considered carefully why Yoshino had chosen to join the student council. Yoshino was the obvious candidate for class representative, and Uchida had always assumed it had happenednaturally.

In retrospect, though, Yoshino had indeed made a serious attempt to push herself forward, and had never satisfactorily explained her motivations. Not that she was obligated to tell Uchida everything about everything but…it seemed a bit strange, looking back.

But, ego?

"Anyway," the boy said. "The point is, when she stepped aside, everyone expected her to support the next-in-line. It surprised everyone when she chose me instead. He never forgave her."

He coughed.

"The point is, of course, that he was the one you saw on the floor just now."

Uchida's eyes widened slightly in understanding, and she nodded for him to continue. She was starting to see the outlines of what had happened.

"He's always nursed a grudge," the boy said. "We all could see it, and he's spent the whole year trying to take her down a notch."

He shifted nervously, the aura of authority now gone, now just an ordinary second-year student.

"It's been pretty clear that Yoshino-san hasn't been with it these past couple of days. We've all heard the rumors. He spent the whole meeting trying to provoke her, so that she would make herself look stupid in front of everyone, and lose support. Well, I guess he got his wish."

Uchida's eyes narrowed as she thought over the situation.

"Don't tell me he won with a maneuver like that," she growled, finally.

She paused, clenching and unclenching her hands.

"But he did, didn't he? After provoking a reaction like that, people probably think she's crazy. I could kill him myself."

She started to pace, trying to find refuge in anger once again.

"No, no, calm down, Uchida-san!" the council president said, waving his hands for calm. "He didn't win. Not by a long shot."

She stopped, and looked at him.

"That's the bright side to this, if there is one," he said, eyes downcast. "He went too far. Yoshino-san has seniority, and a lot of respect, and a lot of people owe her favors. More importantly, everyone could see she was vulnerable. You don't take advantage of someone in a dirty way like that, especially—I'm sorry, but it's true—especially not a girl."

He paused.

"He still had support among some of the members, but he's probably lost it all now. He shot himself in the foot. The disgust on some of their faces…if Yoshino-san hadn't snapped, someone else might have. But I don't think he could stop. He was getting carried away in his own anger. I think—"

"Why didn't you intervene?" she snapped, glaring at him and leaning forward. "You're the damn president. You have the authority."

He flinched in surprise, then shook his head ruefully.

"I don't know. She was always able to take care of it, in the past. Her smackdowns were quite impressive, actually. I guess…I guess I thought she'd be okay. I was wrong."

He straightened his back and nodded to himself.

"Anyway, I know I've gone on for way too long again," he said. "But this is my point. You need to know why she snapped. It was because he went too far. You should have seen the shock on everyone's face. I think even he knew he went too far, but you can't take that kind of thing back."

"What did he say?" she asked quietly, already knowing she wouldn't like the answer.

His face darkened.

"I won't repeat it," he said, voice slightly tinged with anger. "Especially not to you. He's even more of an asshole than I thought he was. But what he said was about you. That's why she snapped."

He adjusted his glasses nervously.

"I heard what you said to Yoshino-san," the president said, looking at her. "Something about a promise. I won't pry, but please don't punish her for something like this. She was only defending you. That's an instinct I can understand. That's why I asked you to stop. What you were saying—it was killing her."

Uchida looked down at the floor, blinking away sudden tears.

I—Am I stupid?

She swallowed, choking away the emotion. Not now.

"What's your role in all this?" she asked, as placidly as she could.

That's it; collect all the information you can, even if you don't know what good it will be. It's what she would do, in my position.

He blinked, surprised at the question.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, looking at her with surprise. "Cynically, it is like I said: her mental health is important to keep this place from falling apart. Even as a mere class representative with no formal positions, she's quite important. With finals, entrance exams, and graduation ceremonies coming up, we'll need her leadership."

He looked away in embarrassment.

"Other than that, she was my mentor. I owe her at least this much."

"What happens now?" Uchida asked, straightening her face with a visible effort. "I don't suppose you could overlook what happened?"

"I wish I could," he said. "He had it coming. If it had happened somewhere else, I would make sure everyone 'forgot' about it. But this was far too public, and this school didn't climb to the top of the rankings by allowing fistfights in front of the student council, even after school hours. Too many people have seen it; the word is bound to get back to one of the teachers."

He shook his head.

"I texted the disciplinary committee members while you were passed out. We agree. Three day suspension for her, and one day suspension for him, for inciting it. It's the most lenient we can be without raising suspicions with the administration. I'm sorry."

Uchida nodded, swallowing.

"I understand."

"If it's any consolation," he added. "I'm keeping it off her records, for high school applications. Not exactly legitimate, but it happens more often than you think. One of the perks of power."

He shrugged, then moved to start putting the room back in order.

"Ah—" she began, as he started pulling one of the desks.

"Don't worry about it," he said, the legs of the desk scraping against the floor. "Go home. Get some rest. I insist."

A moment later, she nodded.

"Thank you," she said, bowing slightly, and departed, picking up her bag.

The moment she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against the wall, so quickly that she almost didn't notice that Makoto was standing on the other side.

Her eyes snapped open.

"What are you doing still here?" she asked, looking at him.

"I—I figured I might as well wait. I just—just thought that you might—and you know, who cares if someone sees us? They'll understand. How could they not? They're the ones who chose me to be the one to stay here."

She patted him on the head patronizingly, like Yoshino had done so many times to her. He didn't seem to like it very much either.

"You're sweet," she said.

She leaned against the wall again, staring at the ceiling, holding her hand to her forehead. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Say, Makoto," she said, finally, voice airy.

"Hmm?"

"Yoshino needs me, doesn't she? She can't do it alone."

She waited through the surprised silence, not bothering to look at his expression.

"Well, yes," Makoto said finally. "It's obvious."

"Why would she try to stop needing me?"

Again he paused to consider it.

"I don't know," he conceded.

"If I've been forcing myself into her life, because I want her to need me, does that make me a bad person?" she asked. "Because that's what it is for me. It took me long enough to figure out. I can't stand the idea of her doing something without me, successfully or not."

She almost felt bad dumping all this onto the poor kid, but she needed someone to talk to, and Makoto happened to conveniently be there.

This particular pause was extra long.

"No," he said. "It just…it just means you need her too, doesn't it?"

"Yes, of course," she agreed, though that, too, had taken her too long to understand. "But does that give me a right to force her to tell me? I always thought I was being selfless, trying to help her all the time, trying to take on her problems, but it's been for me the whole time."

She paused briefly.

"I did it because I wanted her to need me," she added. "Because I wanted her to want me there. It's more selfish than selfless, even if I try to pretend otherwise."

"Of course it gives you the right!" he exclaimed.

Startled by his tone of voice, she turned to look at him. He was blushing furiously.

"Of course it does," he insisted, voice determined. "She doesn't have a right to make you miserable! She doesn't have a right to make herself miserable. She's being stupid. If she needs you and you need her, then that's all it takes! It might be selfish, but that's—that's—that is…"

He faltered, stuttered, and bit his lip, tripping over the next word.

"That's what it is," he finally managed lamely, realizing he hadn't even managed to make sense.

"You don't have to say it," she said distantly, eyes looking far past him. "I know where you're going with this."

"Yeah?" he breathed, trying to catch his breath through the embarrassment choking his airways.

"'Ai', right?" she asked rhetorically.

He nodded.

She turned around, suddenly.

"I'm sorry for putting you through that," she said. "I knew all of that. I just wanted someone to verify that I wasn't crazy."

"It's—it's alright," he replied shakily.

"And I'd appreciate it if you never breathed a word of this to anyone," she added, giving him a dangerous look. "I mean it."

"Of course," he said, a tad nervously. "Obviously."

She began to walk down the hallway.

"Wait!" Makoto yelled, far more loudly that was necessary.

She stopped.

"What?" she asked impatiently, turning to look back at him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm off to do something phenomenally stupid," she said wryly. "Wish me luck."

Without waiting for his response, she continued her walk. A long moment later, she heard his footsteps behind her, getting softer, heading for the other, farther staircase.

She could care less if he followed her now. She knew what to do.

---

Two hours later, she found herself struggling uphill through knee-high snow, fumbling with her flashlight, hoping that she was still on some sort of trail, or that, at the very least, it was possible to reach her destination merely by heading consistently in the correct direction.

Ear muffs, woolen cap, and scarf. Two layers of shirts, the thickest jacket she owned, with hood. Two layers of pants. Extra-long, extra-thick socks. Hiking shoes and snow boots. Several chemical hand warmers, by now completely used up. Sleeves tucked into mittens, shirt into pants, pants into socks.

Her mother had been suitably impressed when she spotted Uchida heading out the door.

Pressed for an explanation, Uchida's lying skills had failed her, her mind generating the story that she was feeling sick, and therefore cold, and that she was only headed to the drug store.

It was, in retrospect, the worst possible justification, with the result that she had been forced to slip out while her mother was at the drug store, leaving a long note apologizing for her perfidy. With the benefit of ten minutes thought, the note also gave a much more convincing lie: she was sleeping over at Chiaki's, was in a big hurry because Chiaki told her to get there early, and could always get medicine from there. She placed a call to Chiaki, asking her to provide cover.

Of course, that explanation didn't justify why she had lied, and she hoped her mother would overlook that.

She was only delaying the inevitable, she knew. She didn't want to think about the explanations that might be required when she eventually got back, after her parents had been informed she had been found in Yoshino's place. She had no exit strategy. She hadn't planned for the way back.

Whatever the circumstances, though, she was dressed for a blizzard.

So why the hell am I still cold? She lamented, jamming her hands deeper into her pockets. She swore she could feel icicles forming on her eyebrows.

Drawing on her pool of accumulated spending money—very extensive, given her shameful habit of leeching off of Yoshino whenever possible—she had had a taxi drop her off as close to Yoshino's villa as she dared, a trailhead for a popular hiking route located half a kilometer from the steel main gate, with its surveillance cameras and security. The route was covered with snow and sealed with danger signs for the winter, and the taxi driver had looked decidedly skeptical as she got off, especially given that the winter sun had been actively in the process of setting.

She had run off before he had a chance to say anything.

She navigated partly by a hastily printed map with route highlighted in yellow, and partly by instinct. She was already off the marked public trails and was now picking her way through the private trails surrounding the villa, routes which showed up on no online map. She knew they existed only because of vague answers Yoshino had once given her, to appease her curiosity.

Which was not to say that she was now close. It had already been twenty minutes since she had climbed over the locked gate marking the edge of the property and she still had no idea how close she was. She was starting to regret taking the most circuitous possible route—surely, they couldn't have that much security near the front entrances.

Local girl found dead of exposure on property of local wealthy family! Accident…or foul play? Details at eleven!

She cracked a smile, a gesture which shocked her increasingly stiff face.

"Okay, no, that's not happening," she said to herself out loud, continuing to drag her feet through the piled snow, leaving massive foot prints behind her.

"Though seriously, how big is this place?" she demanded to no one in particular. "Who the hell needs this much land?"

She was starting to get really tired, and the sky was starting to exit twilight and enter true night. If she were lost—if she wasn't where she thought she was—then she was truly in trouble, of the kind that justified her description to Makoto of this as being "phenomenally stupid".

She rubbed her pocket, with its cell phone pilfered from her mother, like a talisman. It was currently off so she wouldn't have to field any calls but, in an emergency, she could still place a call out. Yoshino's villa, despite being way up in the hills, had mysteriously good reception, so she was sure she could.

Unless I really am lost, she thought.

Just as that depressing thought began to chill her natural optimism, a stiff wind nearly knocked her off her feet, stinging her face and causing her to stagger left a few steps.

She looked up. When had the trees cleared this much?

And there it was, the enormous building looking small in the distance, separated from her by a large patch of cleared land.

She took a deep breath, the cold air searing her lungs.

Then she took off sprinting, following her carefully outlined plan. She had to get to the building as quickly as possible, to minimize the chance of someone spotting her. Sure, she was approaching the unused north wing of the building, and it was highly unlikely anybody was hanging about outside, but the theoretical possibility existed.

A few minutes later, she leaned on her knees, panting, next to a secluded side entrance. She ignored the security camera discreetly hidden in the awning above her. She knew for a fact that no one watched the monitors, and that the recordings were automatically archived weekly. As for motion sensors—well, there were too many animals in the region for those to be reliable alarms.

Okay, so she was guessing that last part, and didn't even know if they had motion sensors or sophisticated image analysis in the cameras or whatever. But it was a minimal risk at best.

Not for the first time today, she wished she had listened more attentively the one time Yoshino had chosen to lecture her about the security systems.

One thing she did remember though.

She drew the small keyring from her pocket. One of the innumerable gestures of trust between the two of them, Yoshino had given it to her secretly two years ago, to insure against the remote possibility that Uchida ever got locked out. Uchida had taken it, dropped it into a drawer at home, and never looked at it again, though she could hardly tell Yoshino that. She knew better than to carry anything important like that around with her, given her propensity for losing things.

Uchida regarded the two glistening keys in her hands. One, a simple metal key, for access to Yoshino's room. The other, large, engraved with the outlines of mysterious circuitry, for entering the building itself. It disabled no less than three separate alarm systems, one audible and two silent, that guarded against burglary.

Why had Yoshino given her these, anyway? In retrospect, her explanation made little sense, given that in eleven years of visits, Uchida had never gotten locked out once, and there were servants constantly roaming the central areas of the building who could guard against just such an eventuality.

Was it for just such a situation as this? Did Yoshino anticipate that Uchida would ever need to find her own way in, as she had all those years ago? Why? Nostalgia?

What goes on in that head of yours? she thought.

She knocked the snow off her boots, kicking the ground. Wouldn't do to soil the premises.

Then she reached forward, put the key in the lock, and turned, holding her breath despite being quite certain that nothing would happen.

She slipped in, closed and locked the door behind her, then sat against the wall, enjoying the central heating and the chance to rest. It was such a waste, heating the whole wing just to preserve the furniture and paintings, even if it was only heated to nonfreezing.

The relative warmth permeating her body, and Uchida immediately decided that she would never mention the waste ever again, global warming be damned.

She illuminated the entry room with her flashlight, its luxurious furniture now buried under plastic sheeting. It was nice furniture, for whatever that was worth.

She switched the flashlight off and pocketed it awkwardly, plunging her into partial darkness.

As she sat there, she reviewed her vague memories of this sealed wing of the house. She had explored it with Yoshino a couple of times, when Yoshino had first moved in, and then they had lost interest. But those eleven year old memories were all she had, and she would have to rely on them.

Still, she knew the general direction to go, and she had remembered the door, hadn't she? How lost could she possibly get?

She withdrew her mother's cell phone, cursing herself for not wearing a watch.

She turned it on, listening to its electronic chime.

It was 6:10 PM and…there were no missed calls.

So far so good, she thought, turning the device back off.

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, turning things over in her head. She had known she would have to wait here; she needed to be as early as possible, to avoid getting trapped out in the cold of true nighttime. At the same time, she was forced to wait until she was absolutely certain Yoshino was done eating dinner.

It was a good thing the girl ate early.

Still, the wait was a curse. She could feel her resolve leaking away with each passing moment. The longer she sat there, the crazier her plan seemed to be.

Finally, she struggled to her feet, turning her flashlight back on. Her polar bear-like attire was doing an admirable job of keeping her warm in the subdued cold of the building; still, her joints were stiff.

Alright, so I head to the far corner of the room…head down this narrow hallway…open the door…

Yes, she was right; that placed her in one of the hallways that ran along the rear of the house, one liberally supplied with windows. The architect must have loved the idea of endless windows that opened onto a magnificent view; it was a motif that was repeated throughout the building.

Of course, since the building ran north to south, it meant hellish sunlight in the summer; in the occupied parts of the building, this was held off by thick curtains and, more importantly, the liberal use of air conditioning. Again, not exactly the most energy-efficient of residences.

Here, the curtains were always closed, which allowed her to tread down the hallway with abandon, without having to fear the distant chance that there was actually someone crazy enough to be walking around the rear grounds at this time.

She smiled slightly, happy she could still remember all this.

And here's an angled hallway…

Yep, there it was.

She turned, allowing the hallway to plunge her more deeply into the building. Only a few meters in, she turned into an alcove on the left side.

Up the stairs…turn right…down the hallway…

She stopped. There was a wall directly across her path, adorned by a single plastic-covered painting of some birds. Her only choices were right or left.

There shouldn't be a wall here! she thought, shaken by the failure of her navigation skills.

She turned right, back towards the rear of the building, making a quick decision.

She found a small reading room, with a small door at the far side of the room.

No, this isn't right at all!

Ignoring the door, she retraced her steps, choosing this time to take the left branch.

To her relief, this branch, after a bit of walking, turned sharply into a new hallway, one she recognized. She was back in familiar territory.

Right, of course. The central hallway. Why would I head towards the rear?

She had forgotten about that little alcove.

Her pace slowed as she struggled down the corridor in her bulky boots and coat. She was tired. More than that, her resolve was starting to waver, as she realized what exactly it was she was doing. Her destination drew closer, the air got perceptibly warmer, and her booted feet grew heavier and heavier.

I can't turn back now! she thought, realizing with trepidation that the sheer impossibility of going back the way she came was now the primary reason she kept going.

No, she thought. I can't be that weak. I have to show more resolve than that.

Stiffening her back, she quickened her pace, turning it into a march. She wouldn't let this slow her.

Faster than she expected, then, she reached the end of the hideously long hallway: another double turn, a brief stretch of causeway, then a single impassive door in front of her, another painting on the wall to her left, and a set of double doors to her right.

Unlike everything that she had seen before the last set of turns, this area was obviously kept under constant maintenance, the paintings and sidetables kept uncovered. She could even see a bit of dim lighting leaking through the door in front of her.

The doors to her right led to the guest bedroom, a room that had only been used once in her memory, that one time with Touma. By cutting through that room, she could shorten the amount of time she spent in the open.

…by maybe two meters. It was still worth it.

She pushed open one of the doors—thankfully unlocked—careful to avoid any creaking noises.

What am I worried about? If there were anyone close enough to hear any creaking, then I'm doomed either way.

She closed the door behind her, got her bearings, and walked over to the other door.

She switched off her flashlight and slipped it into her coat pocket. She reached into her outer pants and pulled out the keys again, this time focusing on the simple, small metal key.

It was only a few meters between this door and the door to Yoshino's office, but those few meters meant everything. It was the only time she would be out where anyone else could see her, since the office connected directly to Yoshino's room. If any of the servants happened to be walking by during the moments she was passing, it was all over. It didn't help that the area in question was open to the lower floor via the two fancy spiral staircases, and was also the main route for passing between the two floors.

She pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear if there was anyone on the other side.

Nothing.

She took a deep breath.

Opening the door, she glanced rapidly around her, saw nothing, closed it behind her, then dashed straight to the double doors of Yoshino's office.

Damn. Locked. But she was prepared for this. That was why she had the key out.

Fumbling with the key in her haste, she got it in on the third try, turned, stumbled in, and closed the door behind her, exerting all her willpower not to close it so rapidly it slammed.

She leaned against the doors, breathing heavily—but not too heavily, lest she be heard. She was in.

She half-expected Yoshino to be right there, sitting at her desk, staring at her, but no, the room was empty, the door to her bedroom closed.

It almost seemed ridiculous calling a room that belonged to a fifteen-year old girl an office, but that was what it was. There was no other way to describe it.

Uchida walked forward and sat down in the high back, absurdly comfortable chair, making sure to spin around at least once. She always wanted to, but Yoshino frowned on such behavior, to the point that she made sure Uchida rarely got a chance to sit there.

She took a moment to admire the mahogany desk, the absurdly powerful computer Chiaki drooled over, the giant monitor, the beautiful lamp, the plush carpeting, the bookshelves, the—everything, really. She rarely took the time to look, really look, but when she did, she had to admit feeling the slightest twinge of jealousy.

Of course, she was procrastinating, sitting there.

She slipped off her boots, dropping them on the floor next to the table. It had been horrible of her to walk through the building with them on, but she had had no choice; they were far too bulky to carry while also managing the flashlight. At least she had made sure they were as clean as possible.

She unburdened herself of her coat, her gloves, and all her other winter accoutrements, which were now combining to make her sweat in this heated part of the building.

She started to stand up, then stopped.

The muffled sound of a violin, through the door, as sonorous as ever.

No, wait…

She listened more carefully.

The tune was sad, yes, and seemed to be well-played, but the violinist kept pausing, as if she couldn't remember the notes—and there was the slightest hint of discordance. It wasn't mesmerizing, like it should have been.

Uchida got up again.

So.

She took a moment to peek her head through the curtains behind her, taking in the panoramic view of the hills behind the house and the moon overhead.

There was nothing to it now but to charge into the breach.

Uchida walked over to the other door, her carpeted feet padding softly against the carpet.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and turned.

She took in the scene all at once, deliberately. There was Yoshino, lying on her bed, struggling with her violin, playing from a decidedly nonstandard position. The curtains to the windows were flung wide open, to let in the moonlight. Next to the girl, on the table next to the lamp, was a half-empty bottle of some unidentifiable liquid Uchida was sure was alcoholic. It was clearly in use.

Wow, she mouthed involuntary. Never would she ever have imagined…

The music stopped with a screech, its creator clearly sensing something was amiss.

"I leave you alone for two days, and I find you like this," Uchida said sardonically, the words out before she realized what she was saying. "What the hell?"

Yoshino sat bolt-upright, a tad slower than she should have.

"What—what are you doing here?" she asked, staring at her as if she had seen a ghost. "Why—"

"You know very well why I'm here!" Uchida said, pressing forward, not giving herself a chance to lose momentum.

"Are you crazy?" Yoshino asked, blinking at her. "How did you—"

Uchida stalked forward towards the bed, ignoring the comment as Yoshino stopped talking, realizing the answer to her own question.

"I'll have you thrown out," Yoshino asserted. "I wouldn't even have to do it myself. I would just have to get their attention, and it would be all over."

"Try it," Uchida growled, still getting closer.

Yoshino started to get up off the bed, opening her mouth.

She's actually going to do it! Uchida thought incredulously. I can't believe it!

With no time to think, she jumped and dove forward, shocking even herself with her decisiveness.

Several seconds of struggling later, she had her right hand covering Yoshino's mouth, and Yoshino's body and one arm pinned with her weight, the other arm pinned with her left hand. Yoshino was the stronger girl, but she had the positional advantage.

Yoshino looked back at her with wide, shocked eyes, struggling to break her hold.

Uchida did her best to swallow her own trepidation and panic. She had not planned for this. What the hell was she doing?

I had no choice! She was going to yell for the others!

A singularly strange thought wormed itself into her head. She had Yoshino at her mercy.

She could—could do anything she wanted!

"I'm not going back," she said breathlessly. "Not after all I've been through. We're going to talk, whether you want to or not."

She could feel Yoshino's mouth try to move against her hand, her body try to shift under her. The unexpected sensations spoiled her clarity of mind.

When did I become some sort of kidnapper? she thought in horror.

"Promise me you won't yell or anything like that, and I'll let go," she said, almost reluctantly.

Yoshino's head jerked up and down rapidly.

Uchida released her weight and stepped back, bracing herself for the eventuality of Yoshino breaking her word.

But Yoshino kept her silence, sitting up. She looked, as might be expected, profoundly unsettled.

More importantly, Uchida, knowing now to look, could see the slight twinge of embarrassment in her face.

So she felt it too!

That had implications.

Nervously, she cleared her throat, but Yoshino spoke first.

"She told me I should have left you behind," Yoshino said, shaking her head. "I should have listened."

"No," Uchida said firmly, stamping a foot for added effect. "No more of this nonsense. You are telling me right now. I have a right to be here. I have a right to know."

"It's for your own good," Yoshino said darkly.

Uchida stepped forward and grabbed Yoshino by the shoulders, shaking, accepting the anger she felt.

"I told you! No more nonsense!"

Yoshino looked away from her, but otherwise ignored that she had said anything.

"What is it?" Uchida asked, more gently. "This isn't like you. None of this is like you."

She gestured incoherently at the abandoned violin on the bed, the alcohol on the bedside.

"Can't you see I'm suffering?" she asked

As she waited for a response, she felt her eyes wet with tears, and realized with a start that they were entirely genuine.

"Of course I can," Yoshino said quietly

"Then why—"

"It's for you that I'm doing this!" Yoshino snapped, turning to face her. "Can't you see? I'm trying to protect you! I—"

Yoshino slammed her mouth shut.

It occurred to Uchida that the alcohol was loosening Yoshino's tongue, and she was glad for its effects.

"Protect me? From what?" she asked, not demanding, but pleading.

Again, it was clear Yoshino didn't want to talk, but that was her eroding self-control was giving way.

"You don't deserve to be dragged into this," Yoshino mumbled. "Any of it. You should never have been involved."

Taking the opening, Uchida leaned forward, trying to force eye contact.

"Involved in what? In what?"

"In anything!" Yoshino practically shouted, blowing her back with the force of her voice.

Uchida should have been nervous about the servants hearing, but this was not the right time to be worrying about that anymore.

"What—what are you talking about?" she quavered.

Instead of responding, Yoshino looked down at the floor, expression gloomy.

"Why are you here, Yuka?"

Uchida blinked.

"I told you! You know—"

"No, not that! More generally. What have I ever done to deserve this kind of devotion? Am I really worth all that?"

Uchida watched Yoshino's eyes, frozen in pain. Something about those eyes broke her heart.

"What—what is this?" she stammered, her reaction all out of proportion to the words. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

Yoshino buried her face in her hands.

"Everyone thinks I'm so perfect, so rational, such a nice girl," she said, voice full of some kind of hatred. "I even had myself fooled. But they don't understand. I'm none of those things. Not even close."

"How can you say that—" Uchida tried to interject, her own voice filled with reflected pain.

"The only reason," Yoshino said, looking up, overriding Uchida with force of will. "The only reason I can make everyone think that is because I leech off of everyone else. My mother, who gave her life to be here. The Old Man, who's dead now. And you. None of you ever had any reason to support me like that. I've never given a thing back."

"That's not true!" Uchida interrupted, trying to formulate a counterargument. "Have you forgotten all those homeworks? All those times—"

"Not enough," Yoshino said. "Not enough. You have no idea what you're doing, do you, being there all the time? All that emotional support."

She gestured around her, and at herself.

"Look at me. Look at what happens without you. I'm a wreck. I'm not stable without you. I mean that. I've known for a while now. I'm not really a stable person."

Uchida's eyes widened, realizing that Yoshino was entirely serious.

What? Does she—I thought—I thought she was—

"But I'm glad to be here!" Uchida insisted. "There's no need to pay me back! I'm happy just being here! I'm happy to give you whatever you need. That is my payment. That, and you yourself."

Again, the words were out before she even knew it. She hadn't meant to say it quite that explicitly.

But I meant it.

Yoshino looked at her with such self-loathing that it hurt to see.

"I've always admired you, for how pure you are," Yoshino said. "That always sustained me. I fed on it. But I'm destroying you. You're pure, and I'm not. Without me, you wouldn't have to go through any of this. You have a family, you have friends, you could even get a boyfriend if you wanted—we both know it wouldn't be hard, for you. Instead, you follow me around, when I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it."

Yoshino drew a breath, and Uchida was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You take so much collateral damage, being around me. You know why I quit my run for student council president? Because I knew that if I really did it that seriously, people would start targeting you. So I quit. But it's not just that. It's who I am. I'm corrupting you."

"Co—corrupting?" Uchida spluttered. "What? That's nonsense!"

"Think about it!" Yoshino insisted.

She paused for a long moment, forming thoughts into words.

"Where would you be, if you had never met me? You wouldn't have to worry about me and all my problems. You wouldn't have almost passed out in front of the class. You wouldn't have had to burn your eyes out studying to get into a school you didn't even want to go to! You'd be so much happier, so much more the way you should be. An ordinary, undisturbed life, with none of this drama and agonizing,"

Yoshino stopped, then continued falteringly, her argument suddenly losing force.

"I, I—" she stammered. "None of this should ever have happened. I know you're suffering, and that's my fault. All of it. Without me, you could get a boyfriend, live a normal life…"

Yoshino's voice trailed off, as she continued to mumble reasons that were now inaudible, avoiding her gaze.

Uchida watched, mystified. The explanation showed no sign of the polished logic that usually accompanied a Yoshino explanation. Instead, it was vague and rambling. Sure, it might have been the alcohol, but Uchida was sure she wasn't intoxicated enough to forget her own reasons.

It was almost as if Yoshino's chain of logic had been broken, and she was trying to come up with another way to finish the thought.

And it was broken because…because…

Because she's trying to skip something important, something she doesn't want to talk about.

"Without me, you could get a boyfriend," she had said. "Live a normal life…"

That was the second time in this conversation Yoshino had brought up the topic of boyfriends, almost completely out of the blue.

I think I understand.

Uchida wavered only a moment before taking the plunge.

She sat down, embracing Yoshino from behind.

The girl stiffened, her incoherent speech terminating abruptly.

It was a dirty trick on Uchida's part, doing something like this to short-circuit Yoshino's defenses, but she felt such tricks were easily forgivable, in this situation.

"That's so silly," she said. "What's all this about deserving and corruption and whatever? If it's true that you need me, then like I said, I'm glad to be here. No, I'm more than glad, I—"

She swallowed, feeling strange quoting Touma at a moment like this, but she had spent all the past day preparing what she was about to say, and she would be damned before she would drop it now.

"Whatever you think I am, whatever you say you admire about me, I only have because of you. I wouldn't be me without you, just like you wouldn't be you without me. If you think you've been feeding on my "purity", whatever that is, then I've only been pure because you've been here. If you're corrupting me, it's only fair. We're two matched halves. It's only natural that we share each other's problems, and the only selfish thing is for you not to tell me everything."

She took a breath, diving into deeper territory.

"You think I've been any better, without you? I'm just as much a mess as you are. Before you ask such a stupid question as whether you deserve me, you should think about how much I deserve you. And I know I do. But you know what? Neither of those are relevant questions. It's not a matter of fairness, or deserving, it's a matter of—"

Uchida sucked in another breath. No, not yet. First things first.

She leaned forward, so she could speak into Yoshino's ear. The girl was breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating—she could feel it, and the sweat that was forming on Yoshino's neck.

"I know what happens, what happened before, with the alcohol," she said. "I can remember now, and I know you remember too. I can tell, now that I'm paying attention."

She leaned back slightly, still not letting go.

"And it's okay," she said. "Corruption or not, it's okay. It's like what you said about the furniture and stuff. We're not little girls anymore. Certain things…can't be the same anymore. I—"

She swallowed again.

"When I was a girl, I kept telling myself about my fantasy, that one day some prince would show up on his white horse and take me away, take care of me, protect me. I told you about it. I told everyone. And the silly thing was, he was here all along, doing all those things, and I never noticed."

She smiled, happy just to have it out there, certain she had made her point.

"Do I have to say it?" she finished. "Do you really want to make me say something so cheesy?"

Her mind was filled with a strange bliss. She was sure she had hit it out of the ballpark. Surely there was no way Yoshino could ignore her now.

So it was only more shocking when Yoshino leaned forward and turned her head to look at her, and those eyes were only darker and even more pained, as if her words had hurt rather than healed.

"I—what—how?" Uchida stammered, utterly distraught.

"I knew you'd say something like that if you found out," Yoshino said quietly. "That's who you are, what kind of person you are. It only makes the guilt worse. You have no idea how badly I've betrayed you."

Yoshino moved deliberately away, until she was facing the wall, head down, looking like she was trying to compact herself into as little space as possible.

Uchida watched her back, breathing softly, head throbbing.

"Betrayed? I—" she began.

"How do I even say it?" Yoshino interrupted, voice blanched of emotion, but somehow sounding all the worse for it.

"You think it's all accidents, impulses," she said. "Love, sure. I'll say it if you won't. But if that's true, that was only true once, the first time."

"I remembered, every single time, even though I told you I didn't," she continued, speaking almost matter-of-factly. "I made sure I did. Because every time after that, I planned it. Every single detail. How I would talk you into it. How much to make sure you drank before I did anything, so you would forget. How to trick you into thinking I was drinking as much as you were. How to hide the evidence afterward. How to override your protests. I got damn good at it. I couldn't control myself. I wanted it too badly. The temptation was just too…"

Her voice trailed off, the deluge of words terminating abruptly.

Uchida's head spun. This wasn't—

"I don't understand," she began, voice tremulous, eye twitching. "I don't—I—what?"

"Don't make me say it!" Yoshino growled, punctuating her word be slamming her fist into the wall, finally showing emotion. She was angry, not at Uchida, but at herself.

"You know what I mean! There are words for what I did to you. Words like betrayal. Far worse words. I can't say it. I can't say it."

She was starting to choke on her words, her chest heaving with sobs.

Uchida leaned over, putting her head in her hands, eyes wide, heart racing, mind sifting through recovered memories, casting them in a new, darker light.

Haven't you ever been curious? Yoshino had asked

I can't sleep at night, thinking about you.

I love you.

Was it all a lie? It was nothing but a mind-trick, a dirty ruse?

No, it wasn't. And that was the worst part.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asked, voice shaking. "We could have…talked. Why would you do something like that? Why would you lie to me? Why lie about something like this?"

She wrung the bedsheet in her hands, face anguished, the pain in her chest magnifying. The sense of betrayal was profound, and at the moment she couldn't bring herself to look up.

"How could I?" Yoshino asked. "I'd already taken so much from you. How could I tell you I was destroying your life? How could I let you know you were something like that? I had to protect you—"

"This is worse!" Uchida snapped, snarling the words, looking up.

"You think I don't know that?" Yoshino demanded, turning to glare back.

She accidentally met Uchida's eyes, then snapped her head away.

"Everything would have been alright, if I could have just—just—controlled myself! But I couldn't. I'm a monster. I kept going back. And I lied to myself, I told myself it was okay, no one would ever know, there was nothing wrong with it. But I knew. I knew."

She buried her head deeper into her crossed arms, trying to shrink herself into an even smaller ball, back still facing Uchida, who just sat there, stock still.

Her voice started to shake, the adrenaline fading.

"I'm a hypocrite," she sobbed. "I'm a failure. I can't do anything right. I'm not—I'm not supposed to be crying. I don't want to make you pity me. I want you to hate me, like you should. Hit me, scream at me!"

This last sentence came out as a cry of anguish, as she turned to grab Uchida by the shoulders.

"Don't just sit there like a statue!" she said, shaking Uchida by the shoulders. "Can't you understand what I've done?"

She made eye contact, breaking Uchida's introspective paralysis.

"I can't," Uchida said, digging furiously through her own soul as she spoke. "I can't do it. I can't hate you. It's just not there. I know I should—I just—I just can't!"

With these last words, she grabbed Yoshino's shirt, burying her head, seeking comfort in the last place she should, letting the tears flow.

Yoshino recoiled, but not with enough force to pull away.

"Even now, you—" she said, torn between the urge to reciprocate and her loathing for herself.

Uchida said nothing. She had no idea what to do anymore. Might as well just keep crying.

"It's alright, I guess," Yoshino said darkly, resignedly. "It doesn't have to come from you. I've known all along that it couldn't last. No one with a heart as black as mine could defy karma for so long. I've got my punishment, alright. It'll be over soon enough."

Something clicked in Uchida's mind

She abruptly stopped crying.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded, looking up, still clinging to Yoshino's arms like a pillar.

"It's none of your business," Yoshino said automatically.

"Of course it's my business!" she insisted, sitting up, turning her grip on Yoshino's arm into a grip of inquisition. In this moment of madness, it was the only shining certainty she had.

"How can you still care?" Yoshino pleaded. "How? You know what I've done, how I've betrayed you! Why won't you leave? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Of course it does!"

"Then why?" Yoshino demanded.

"I—I—" Uchida stammered.

"Give up already," Yoshino insisted. "I told you. I don't deserve it. I'm just a piece of trash."

Yoshino spat the last word out, but her tone wasn't what Uchida focused on.

Her eyes widened.

An ancient memory—

"My parents?" Yoshino has asked incredulously, on the day Uchida first talked to her.

"Don't ever talk to me about my parents!" Yoshino had growled. "I hate them! They threw me away like a piece of trash! Why should I care about them?"

—and Uchida could suddenly see it all in her mind's eye, so so clearly.

"Your parents," she said. "You're still hung up on them abandoning you."

Yoshino froze.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Uchida said. "You still care, even though you tell everyone you don't. Even though you tell yourself you don't. That's what all this has been about, isn't it? All this stuff with the student council, running for President even though you don't want to. All this about trying to be perfect, trying to be good, trying to be rational, all this hating yourself every time you can't do it—you're still trying to prove them wrong!"

Yoshino looked at her, face twitching between various expressions.

"What does it matter if you're right?" she growled contemptuously. "I didn't prove them wrong at all. I still turned out to be a piece of trash."

"No, you listen to me," Uchida ordered, getting on her knees to gain superior height, grabbing Yoshino's face in her hands and pulling her forward.

Yoshino looked back up at her like a frightened deer.

The clarity was intoxicating. Gone was Uchida's previous indecision and confusion. Everything was falling into place, she understood everything.

She brought everything she had ever learned about Yoshino to bear.

"No one is perfect. You don't have to be. No one is judging you. That woman in the room down the hall isn't judging you. The Old Man didn't judge you. I'm not judging you. No one cares if you have an angry streak, or if you don't know how to take care of your hair, or that you look stupid sometimes in pictures, or that you've never done a load of laundry. No one cares that you're not ranked number one in the school. No one cares that you didn't earn any of your money. No one cares that you're not the Boss's real daughter. No one cares that your parents left you behind. Stop judging yourself on standards no one can meet!"

She took a breath.

"And I don't care. I don't care if you've been leeching off me your whole life, or whatever. I can forgive that. I can even forgive all the dirty things you've done to me. The only thing I can't forgive is you trying to leave me behind, for something as stupid as this! You ask me why I care? I care because I love you! There isn't a difference between your problems and my problems! So tell me what this is about!"

She saw Yoshino's eyes soften slightly, relaxing from their previous shocked configuration, but then harden again.

Yoshino pulled her head away with a jerk, leaving Uchida's hands grasping empty air.

Why isn't this working? she despaired. Everything—I have it all worked out! Then why?

"You're right," Yoshino said, shaking her head, voice subdued. "Nothing you have said is wrong, but no. I'm not that easy. I don't care if you have it all figured out. I don't care if everything you said is true. I'm making my last stand here. I won't let you throw your life away for me. Maybe I'm wrong on the particulars, but I'm still right overall. You're asking to merge your life with mine, but your life pales compared to the sheer magnitude of what I'm tied up in. I realize that now. It'd swallow you whole."

"I don't care if you understand that. It's love, but it's irrational. The costs are far too steep. You can't convince me otherwise."

Yoshino looked up, and they locked eyes, not in camaraderie, but in confrontation. Fire against fire, will versus will. Stalemate.

I can't do this! Uchida despaired. I can't break through! I can't penetrate her logic!

Is this it then?

A thought occurred to her.

Thinking about it, planning it carefully—that was Yoshino's modus operandi. Yoshino always had her reasons, her justifications, and no matter how misguided or twisted they might be, they were solid as steel to her, and could never be broken on their own ground.

That wasn't her job.

She was the impulsive one, the emotional one. That was how their relationship worked. Why had she gone away from that? Why had she spent days trying to find justification, spent days plotting? Why was she sitting here pitting her logic against Yoshino's?

All her careful planning, calling Riko, talking to people, trying to do things rationally, had only obtained the smallest of gains. But breaking down in front of the class, losing control and confronting Yoshino in the council meeting, even her impulsive decision to walk through kilometers of snow to get here—that's where all the real progress had been. In the impulse, in the emotion.

"It's not rational," she growled, looking down, leaning over the other girl. "And don't go around thinking you're the only one getting anything from this, that it's just you who wants it. It's like I said. You're the payment. I need you to need me. I've realized that. I want your problems, I want your life, I want you."

She saw Yoshino draw breath to marshal a counterargument, but she didn't give her the chance.

She leaned over and completed the incipient kiss.

Yoshino's eyes became impossibly wide. She had surprised her.

She closed her eyes, not bothering to check whether Yoshino agreed, but…

It was nice, and she could feel Yoshino's hands on her back, moving, grasping, showing way too much interest in going down—

No, I can't get pulled in. Not yet.

She pushed Yoshino back, and the girl blinked back at her.

Yoshino coughed, face starting to redden, and Uchida was sure she had her.

Then Yoshino started laughing, and Uchida almost toppled over.

"You're laughing?" she demanded incredulously, without thinking. "Laughing? What could possibly be funny?"

"What other reaction is possible?" Yoshino asked, trembling slightly, barely managing to get the words out. "So it's true. It's all true."

Uchida watched Yoshino's body shake in mirth and realized that Yoshino hadn't been kidding at all. It really had been her last stand. Uchida had outlasted her.

The emotional pit that had separated them was closed.

"I win," she said, without any trace of irony.

"I'm exhausted," Yoshino said, wiping her eyes with one hand. "I've got nothing left. You can see that, can't you? I've done everything I can. You're still determined to be a fool."

"And now you're insulting me?" Uchida asked. "Sore loser."

"I'm a fool too," Yoshino said, eyes weary but relived. "For falling in love like this. I thought at least I could spare you, that maybe you weren't really that devoted. I guess I was wrong."

"You were testing me?" Uchida asked.

"No!" Yoshino insisted, covering one eye with her hand, looking downward. "Of course not. I just…thought that…if I could get you to go away, then yes, it'd hurt for you in the short-term, but I'd be the only one hurting in the long-term. Something like that."

Uchida glared at her, even though Yoshino wasn't saying anything she didn't already know.

"You really are a piece of work," she said. "The things you say sound like they should make perfect sense, but are actually perfect nonsense. Why do I trust you to make decisions?"

"I don't know," Yoshino said, smiling slightly.

"No more chit-chat," Uchida said. "You're telling me what's going on. Now."

---

"—and then there's that damn will again, which is of course useless in every aspect that matters," Yoshino ranted, hand up in the air, short hair growing increasingly unkempt. "I mean sure he tried, but he should have thought of something else. I mean, what, did he not ever think to ask one of the family lawyers whether a guardianship-transfer clause would even work? Which of course it doesn't! Why would he even think it could? Anyway, it's totally worthless, which renders the whole thing moot. What does it even matter if she can take the money and go if she can't legally take me with her? If only I were older…"

"I—I see," Uchida responded, blinking at the torrent of words, trying to say something meaningful. "So now—"

"Now they get to move me around like a puppet! Attend some of those damn parties, they say. Choose someone to get engaged with, they say. Move to a whole different island for high school. As if I could do any of that!"

"And that's the worst part, you know," Yoshino said, starting to lose momentum. "The other stuff I could tolerate; like she said, I could just fake it for five years, but being forced to move away…I couldn't stand it. I can't stand it."

She turned to look at Uchida, and Uchida could see the exhaustion and despair in her eyes.

Yoshino leaned over, burying her head on Uchida's shoulder.

Uchida felt a pang in her heart, and realized she had been waiting a long, long time for Yoshino to unburden herself on her.

She put her hand on Yoshino's back.

"Su—surely it's not so bad," she said, enforcing on her voice a determined calm. "I mean, we can visit, and call, and stuff."

She was trying to be reassuring, but in truth, she was starting to panic.

All she could think about was how lonely she had felt, these past two days.

But she had to remain calm. The last thing Yoshino needed was for her to break down too. Somehow that gave her enough resolve to stay calm.

"Of course it's bad!" Yoshino said, appalled, looking up at her. "How could you say that?"

"I—well, I—" Uchida began.

Yoshino put her head back on her shoulder.

"I—I thought I could save you," she said. "If I kept you away long enough, then I could just disappear one day and—maybe that would be better."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Uchida asked, incredulous but not angry, stroking Yoshino's hair with hand. "How could that possibly be better?"

A brief silence, as Yoshino shifted her weight to make their current arrangement more sustainable.

"You were right, earlier," Yoshino said, in the tone of a person confessing a sin. "I was testing you. I realize that now. I knew I was hurting you, I knew you didn't care if I let my problems suck you in, but I just couldn't believe you cared about me that much, so I thought the pain would be greater for me than for you. That–that would justify what I was doing."

Uchida grabbed Yoshino's shoulder with her right arm, giving her a half-embrace.

"I forgive you," she said, voice level. "But I find your lack of faith disturbing. And please drop this stuff about you corrupting me."

"It's not normal," Yoshino said. "It's not right. You know that."

Uchida wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she—she didn't know either. Not really. She understood the two of them, and nothing else. How would they fit in? How could they fit in?

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" she said instead, feeling like she was copping out.

She paused, mulling over her next words.

She had to say it, even if she didn't want to.

"But for now, don't you think this is a bit much? After all, it's not at all clear that they'll really make you do any of that. I'm worried too, but…maybe they can be talked out of it. I don't know. But your parents want to live with you. Maybe that means they care now, somehow."

She felt Yoshino tense, saw the flash of anger cross her face, and was instantly regretful.

But the anger subsided, and Yoshino's voice carried a grim resignation.

"You sound just like she does," she said, bitter. "And you're both right. I should just talk to them, at least try it."

Yoshino cast her eyes downward.

"But I can't face them. Not after hating them all these years. I don't know what I'd do. I might break down crying. I might storm out in anger. I don't want to face it."

Uchida stayed silent, not sure what to say. Yoshino was behaving emotionally, irrationally. None of what she had done had really made sense, whatever her justifications. That was what had started this crisis, for better or worse.

But now it was damaging her, destroying her ability to function. Uchida could see that.

"Why did this have to happen?" Yoshino asked, voice carrying a trace of agony. "All I wanted…was for things to stay the same. I just wanted it all to stand still. Was that so much to ask for?"

Uchida opened her heart wide, waited for the right words, for the impulse to overtake her and tell her what to say.

But nothing happened. This wasn't the right moment.

Why wasn't it working? It was frustrating, to get so far, and then be stymied here. After all the progress she had made—

"I don't know," she said. "But we'll make it somehow, okay? You don't have to do it now. We can wait a while."

Yoshino nodded silently.

Uchida watched Yoshino's face, trying to decide what to do next, but still no answers came.

"Can we stop now?" Uchida asked, trying for levity, dropping her arm and turning. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, pretending to be the responsible one. I'm not built for it! Can we go back to the way we were before?"

Alright, that sucked, she admitted to herself.

Yoshino cracked a slight smile.

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet," she said ruefully. "Maybe tomorrow."

Uchida made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. This wasn't going anywhere.

She looked at Yoshino again, looking defeated and tired, and felt again what she had felt the day before. The feeling was…

That it wasn't natural for her arms to be empty, that there should be someone there.

In this moment of frustration she was willing to do something, anything, to eliminate the feeling of impotence that suddenly plagued her.

Then she remembered what had happened earlier.

Well, that's a strange thought, she thought wryly.

But hadn't she decided it was wise to follow her emotions?

"Tell me something," she asked Yoshino, tilting her head slightly. The main doors to your room, they're locked, right?"

Yoshino looked at her curiously, surprised at the change in topic.

"Well, yes," she said. "I've gotten into the pretty miserable habit of locking my doors, these past couple of days."

"And for the same reason, they're not expecting to see you leave your room again today, right?" Uchida asked. "No reason that door would ever open?"

"Yes, you're right," Yoshino responded, a moment late, her eyes narrowing. "They're not expecting to see me again today, so you're temporarily safe, if that's what you're wondering. That is why you're asking, right? Or—"

Uchida pounced, not giving her time to react, pinning her arms and covering her mouth in the exact same way as she had earlier.

Yoshino looked back, eyes wide with surprise, but this time she didn't struggle. She looked back at Uchida, and her eyes transitioned from shock to curiosity. Curiosity…and something else.

Uchida looked down, and smiled.

---

"So can I ask a question?" Uchida asked, looking up at the ceiling, hands under her head.

Yoshino made an assenting noise. Uchida could feel her eyes watching her from the neighboring pillow.

"Do you have something against my hair?" Uchida asked. "Has it insulted you or wronged you somehow? Is that why you insist on pulling on it all the time? I can have it cut if it really bothers you that much."

She heard Yoshino suppress a laugh.

"And here I thought you had a serious question," Yoshino commented.

"It is serious," Uchida said, rolling over to face Yoshino. "I've had this style forever, and maybe it's time for a change. The pigtails aren't really a mature look. How do you think I'd look with short hair? "

Yoshino dutifully thought about it, then started laughing, her mirthful expression only growing more pronounced.

Uchida made a consciously annoyed expression.

"You'd look hilarious," Yoshino said, grabbing her by the shoulder.

"And why would I look hilarious when you don't?" Uchida asked, peeved.

In response, Yoshino slid her arm up her neck in a deliberately intimate gesture, sweeping her fingers into her hair. Uchida's breath quickened.

"Just keep it," Yoshino said. "Or at least the long hair. I like it. And I don't know what I'd do without something to pull."

She gave the strands of hair among her fingers a playful tug. Uchida shoved her hand away.

"What a weirdo," she complained, brushing her insulted hair with her own fingers.

"Just call it a fetish," Yoshino countered. "It's what it is."

Uchida blushed automatically, but rolled away to hide her face.

"Just for that, I think I have to cut it," she said.

"Oh, you wouldn't," Yoshino said.

Uchida waited through the awkward pause.

"And is it really true I got fatter?" she asked.

"Obviously I say that just to bug you," Yoshino responded matter-of-factly. "And to keep you on your toes, given your questionable eating habits. For the record, I'd prefer it if you didn't gain weight, since after all…"

Some combination of Yoshino's slight pause and the quiet rustle of sheets tipped Uchida off. Before she even realized what she was doing, she flinched away, twisting to grab Yoshino's reaching hand before it could squeeze her sides, another one of her annoying teasing habits, along with the head-patting, hair-pulling, and uncalled-for elbowing.

They made eye contact, and Yoshino blinked, frowning.

"Your reaction time has gotten better," she commented. "But you're so mean! You should just let me."

"The last person I want to hear that from is you," Uchida retorted.

They looked at each for a while longer.

"So is it my turn to ask questions yet?" Yoshino asked innocently, eyes unnaturally wide.

"If you want," Uchida replied, returning to her original face-up position. The energy she had been running on up until then was nearly depleted. Without a strong emotional impetus to keep her wired, her eyes felt heavy.

"Ask away," she asked, a moment later, wondering why Yoshino was pausing.

"It's more of a statement, I guess," Yoshino explained.

"Well, get on with it," Uchida said with a sigh, leaning back into the pillow, feeling suddenly really, really tired. And her legs hurt. And she was hungry. In fact, she wasn't sure whether she was more sleepy or hungry, but since she didn't have any realistic prospects of getting food, sleep seemed to be the better way to go.

"I'm not a prince," Yoshino said. "In fact—"

"Well, obviously," Uchida interjected, trying to hurry the conversation along. "Trust me, if I somehow had any doubt about that, it's definitely gone now."

"No, not that!" Yoshino said. "Metaphorically. I'm not saving you from anything. If anything, it's the other way around."

Uchida let the statement hang in the air for a moment, feeling suddenly too lethargic for any energetic discussions.

"I don't think you understand the metaphor right," she said, finally, still looking at the ceiling.

"And why not?" Yoshino asked.

Uchida shook her head.

"I'm tired," she said. "And I want to sleep. You know how it is. It's caught up with me all at once."

"Just tell me!" Yoshino insisted.

Uchida turned her head to look at her.

"You'll get it, if you think about it. I don't feel like saying embarrassing things right now. "

"That's a rather strange hang-up to have, given the circumstances."

Uchida stared at her pointedly.

"Alright, fine," Yoshino said, pulling up the sheets to cover them both, clearly feeling a little chilly. "Next topic then."

"Another topic?" Uchida sighed.

"I know you must have snuck around the front gate and done some tremendous climbing to get up here—"

"Which is why I'm tired and sleepy," Uchida said dryly.

"Funny that," Yoshino said, putting her finger to her face and looking upward with her eyes, making a deliberately introspective expression. "You didn't seem tired at all earlier. In fact, you seemed positively energetic."

"Can we skip the jokes and hurry it up?" Uchida asked, letting her exasperation leak into her voice.

Yoshino looked at her, reading in her demeanor that, yes, she was seriously tired.

"What I want to know," Yoshino began, implicitly conceding, "is what the rest of your strategy was. What did you tell your parents, for example?"

Uchida waited before responding. She didn't like where this was going.

"That I was sleeping over at Chiaki's," Uchida said. "I already told her to cover for me."

"Right, okay." Yoshino agreed. "Sounds reasonable. The more serious question is, how the hell do you plan to explain yourself tomorrow? Sneaking back out is out of the question, and I doubt we'll get Arisawa's cooperation, so…"

Uchida tensed. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded just how much trouble she was in store for in the morning. She had just wanted to sleep, and forget about it…

"I have no idea," Uchida said point-blank.

"I thought so," Yoshino said.

She paused briefly before adding:

"You know, the first thing that's going to happen is that they're going to call your parents about what you did, and then the whole thing breaks apart."

"Don't remind me," Uchida replied.

She let Yoshino look at her for a moment.

"I know I'm not going to be able to cover up my being here. That wasn't something I concerned myself with. I knew the chance would be worth it. I didn't plan an exit strategy."

Yoshino thought, then smiled slightly.

"Alright, fair enough. But you know, it'd make things easier for me, too, if we could sneak you back out."

"Then think of something," Uchida suggested peevishly.

"Mind hiding inside a car trunk?" Yoshino asked, after a moment.

"Yes," Uchida said. "Also, I don't have my uniform with me. Also—"

"Wait, you mean to tell me you told them you were staying at Chiaki's and you didn't pack anything?" Yoshino asked incredulously.

Uchida froze mid-gesture.

"Well, I mean, how could I?" she asked. "How was I supposed to carry it?"

"Tell me you at least pretended and hid your stuff somewhere," Yoshino groaned.

Uchida grimaced.

"No. And while I'm confessing my mistakes, I also may have given my parents the impression I was sick, so—"

"So they'd be even more likely to check up on you," Yoshino finished drily.

Uchida decided she should pout. Yoshino looked at her, considering.

"Well, whatever," Yoshino said, accepting the admittance of fault, returning to a reclining position. "Even given all of that, they're unlikely to notice anything too amiss, not if Chiaki tells them everything is fine. We should be okay."

"You sure?" Uchida asked.

"No," Yoshino said. "But I'm feeling lethargic."

Uchida waited a moment, considering.

"Any chance you have some food stored in your room that isn't alcoholic?" Uchida asked, finally, figuring she might as well.

Yoshino shook her head.

"Not a thing," she said.

"It's like I always said," Uchida complained. "What kind of girl doesn't have any snacks in her room?"

"One with discipline," Yoshino replied automatically, echoing the old argument.

Uchida made sure her face looked extra peeved.

"Just sleep," Yoshino suggested. "I'll set the alarm so we can wake up early and clean up."

"You mean hide the evidence," Uchida said.

"Yes," Yoshino agreed.

Uchida closed her eyes, getting ready to settle in, but she felt Yoshino shift her weight towards her, embracing her, placing her chin next to Uchida's nose. Uchida's eyes snapped open.

"You i—idiot!" she spluttered, face burning, nose filled with the smell of Yoshino's hair. "How am I supposed to sleep like this?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Yoshino said. "Or do you want me to point out how illogical it is for you to be embarrassed by this after everything else we've done?"

Yoshino looked down at her with that insufferable smile of hers.

"I hate you," Uchida said, closing her eyes.

"Of course you do," Yoshino said.

Uchida intended to grumble a bit longer, she really did, but she didn't manage another word.

---

A loud knock to the door shocked Uchida awake.

She looked up, finding Yoshino already up and sitting, holding her blanket over her chest, glaring at the door as if she intended to melt it with her gaze.

A louder, more insistent knock, as Uchida checked the time. It had been barely half an hour.

"Can you open up?" the voice on the other side of the door wanted to know. "You have a phone call!"

Yoshino cursed.

"What could it possibly be?" she asked rhetorically.

With a sweeping motion, she flung the sheet aside and jumped off the bed, stooping to pick up her clothes from where they had been suggestively scattered on the floor and bed.

Overcoming her initial surprise, Uchida followed suit, diving off the bed to do her share.

"What do—" she began.

"Take your clothes, hide in the closet," Yoshino said. "I'll take care of the bottles and my violin, and I'll pretend I just got in the shower."

"Right," Uchida said, ignoring yet another insistent query from the doorway.

Yoshino stood up and pulled open the drawer of her sidetable, hurriedly depositing bottle and cup into it, with no time to properly wash the cup and stash the bottle in her bag.

Yoshino slammed the drawer shut and Uchida dashed for the closet, sliding the door closed behind her.

Yoshino hurriedly put the bedsheets back in some vague semblance of order, then ran for the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She hastily splashed the water onto her face and hair, and pulled a towel off the rack to cover herself with.

She stepped out of the room just as her door opened, her servant finally electing to use her key.

For some reason, the woman stared at her, as if confused.

"Ah, so you were in the shower," the woman said.

"Obviously," Yoshino said, invoking all the acting skills she could muster. "Didn't you hear the water?"

She shifted slightly, making sure a couple of drops of water came off her face.

"Now what's so important you're unwilling to unlock my door to get in here?" she asked indignantly. "I could barely you hear you from in there."

"Phone call," her guardian said, holding up the receiver for her. "Yuka's father."

It took all she had to keep from showing her surprise and fear. Instead—

"Really? This is that important? Couldn't you have told him to wait?" she asked, managing to sound reproachful. She felt like she should win some sort of acting prize.

"I figured it was, given the circumstances," the woman explained calmly, not bothering to explain what "circumstances" she was talking about.

Yoshino forced herself to make an annoyed grunt. That was the right reaction, after all—the sound of her conceding that her servant had a good point. If she didn't do it, her behavior would seem off. And she certainly couldn't panic, like she wanted to.

She took the receiver and placed it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

She did her best to conceal her trepidation as they exchanged greetings.

"Anyway, the reason I called…" the voice on the other end began.

She involuntarily sucked in a breath.

"Yuka told us she is staying over at Minami-san's today? Is that true? It seems a bit unusual that she would go without you."

Damn. It's just like I thought. They noticed.

"Yes, of course it's true," she lied smoothly.

She paused.

"After all, I don't know if you've realized," she continued, sounding deliberately awkward, "but we're not on the best of terms right now. It's natural that we wouldn't go together this time."

This completed the plausible cover story.

"Yes, she told us," Uchida's father said blandly.

Yoshino puzzled over the situation in her head. She decided she had to ask.

"If you don't me asking," she began. "Why are you calling me? Why not just call Chiaki?"

"I wanted to hear it from you. Ah, well, clearly I'm being overly worried."

The man chuckled.

"An overly protective father, that's what I am."

It didn't ring true, and they both knew it.

As if I don't have enough to worry about, Yoshino thought resignedly.

"Well, I'm sorry to waste your time," he said.

"No, it's alright."

That ended the conversation.

Yoshino handed the receiver back.

"If that's all it was," she said. "Couldn't it have waited? Or did you not ask him what it was about?"

"I didn't ask," her servant said, smiling slightly and taking the phone.

Somehow, Yoshino knew she was lying. But why would she lie?

She must suspect that Uchida is here, Yoshino thought.

She felt sick to her stomach, sincerely hoping her head servant wouldn't come up with some excuse to search the closet.

But she kept her face bland.

"Alright," she said. "If you don't mind, can I go back to my shower?"

She tried to imply with her body language, as strongly as possible, that she wanted her out of the room.

Her servant nodded, and turned to leave.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

That was when Arisawa showed up in the doorway.

When he saw her, he automatically glanced away from her toweled form out of modesty.

"What is it, Arisawa-san?" her guardian asked, voice quiet.

He looked at Yoshino, then took a breath.

"We checked the security camera feeds, as requested. It is as you thought. She is in the building."

Yoshino swore to herself mentally.

I just hope Uchida was smart enough to put her clothes back on. Or, at least, to figure out to do that now.

Her mother-of-sorts turned around, and Yoshino opened her mouth to admit that Uchida was in the closet.

Instead, she froze—the expression on the woman's face, instead of being angry and stern, looked profoundly worried.

Before she had time to react, the woman strode forward and put her hand on Yoshino's head, feeling around in her hair.

"Your hair isn't wet," she said, sounding betrayed. "Not at the roots, only superficially. You can't have been in the shower."

"I just got in—" Yoshino began.

But the woman wasn't listening. Instead, she turned and headed for the bed, leaning over to examine the pillows.

"Awful lot of long hair stuck here," her mother stated flatly, running her hand over the pillow. "And the sheets are rumpled. That's rather interesting, given that I've never known the two of you to sleep this early."

Given that someone changed the sheets and pillow covers every day, this was strongly suggestive.

Yoshino swallowed covertly.

"Well, we just thought, you know, there wasn't really anything to do, and—"

"So you admit she's here?" her mother queried.

Yoshino let out a breath.

"Yes, I mean you checked the cameras," she said. "I can't argue with video footage. You might as well come out, Yuka."

There was a protracted silence, then the sound of the closet door sliding open.

Uchida stepped out, looking down at the ground and wringing her hands. It was very obvious that her clothes had been thrown on hastily, and she had buttoned the top of her shirt incorrectly.

"Sorry to intrude," she said, not looking at anyone's face, shuffling over next to Yoshino.

"Is it really such a big deal?" Yoshino asserted, suddenly feeling awkward in her towel. "I mean, so she lied about where she was going, and she snuck in here. No harm done, and we've made up, so I don't even want to keep her out anymore. You would have found out tomorrow morning anyway. At most, her parents are mad at her for lying. I'll take the punishment for hiding her, and even let you take her home if you want, but overall, it's a tempest in a teacup."

The words poured out of her in a torrent, and she straightened her posture to project strength. Nothing here was provable, even if the circumstantial evidence was strong. Audacious denial might well be the way to go.

Arisawa looked as if he rather agreed with the idea of driving Uchida home, but didn't say anything, maintaining his policy of relative professionalism.

"No," her mother said.

She turned around, and Yoshino saw only a slight trace of anger. Instead, what predominated was a mix of disappointment and steely determination.

"I've let this go on long enough," she said coldly. "I was willing to tolerate it as long as you two didn't step over the line, even if you did choose to ignore my hints. But this. You think I can overlook this? I thought you were smarter than that. That's where the line is."

"Overlook what?" Yoshino asked, gritting her teeth. She was lost, but she would be damned before she would go down without a fight.

"I won't dignify that with a response," her mother said, glaring back at her.

They stood there, Uchida clinging to Yoshino's arm, Arisawa with face frozen stiff.

"I thought I raised you better than this," her mother said, finally, expression losing its hardness. "I thought I had—"

The woman stopped, struggling to finish the sentence, face flickering through a series of different emotions—pain, anger, frustration—and Yoshino realized that she, the woman she had always thought of her one true parent, was losing control, swiftly and suddenly, as unexpected as an avalanche.

"I wouldn't believe it," she said quietly. "Even though the evidence was everywhere. There was no proof, and I kept thinking, maybe if I tweak things, drop some hints, things would work out."

Yoshino took a step backward. Not once in her memory had her mother ever lost control like this. The self-control was something that she had always admired, something she herself had never managed.

"I've given so much to this," the woman said, and her voice was heart-wrenching. "I've always thought that it will all be worth it, to see you happy and strong and mature. That was all the Old Man wanted, to see you grow up normal and fulfilled, not weak like your father or abusive and crazy like the rest of your family. That's all I want."

The tears had started flowing, but with an effort of will, her mother pulled her composure together temporarily.

"Just listen to what I'm saying," she forced out, talking venomously to herself. "What I'm telling you. Maybe I'm not good enough for this after all. He thought I could do it, but look what's happened, under my guidance. My own daughter, sleeping with other girls! What am I doing?"

None of them even considered challenging her use of the word "daughter".

"Yoshino-san!" Arisawa said, face pained, breaking his own rule about intervening. "It's not true, is it? I defended you! I told her she was wrong! Tell me this is a misunder…"

He stopped, stymied by the look on Yoshino and Uchida's faces, and by the facts of the situation.

Then her mother nodded to herself, finding some inner steel to draw upon.

"I've made a mistake," she said, wiping off her face. "I've been far too lenient. None of this should have ever happened. Enough of this. You—"

She pointed at Uchida, the fire in her eyes causing Uchida to quail.

"Get out," she growled.

They stood there, frozen.

Feet treading against the carpet, Uchida stepped back and began walking towards Arisawa.

Yoshino grabbed her arm.

"No," she began. "This isn't right. Mother—"

"Don't you dare argue," her mother said.

Uchida pulled at Yoshino's arm desperately, signaling that she was willing to go.

Yoshino tried to think of what to say.

"Have you forgotten who—" she began.

—is in charge here? she wanted to finish, but the words died stillborn on her lips. That was a step too far. She wouldn't risk that rupture.

Unlike an actual daughter, she had ultimate authority, but it wasn't one she could ever seriously use—not without potentially catastrophic consequences.

Arisawa glanced between the two of them, and Yoshino could see on his face the anguish of thinking that, for the first time ever, he might have to choose sides.

"Alright," Yoshino said, taking a breath to calm herself, stepping back from the brink with an effort. "She can go, but I don't think I want to stay here tonight. I'll stay with one of my friends, and come back tomorrow, when we're calmer."

She forced the words out, levelly and painfully.

"No, you aren't," her mother said firmly.

"It wasn't a request," Yoshino growled.

The two of them glared at each other, anger admixed with potent amounts of desperation of despair.

"Are you going to forbid it?" Yoshino asked quietly.

She placed to onus on her chief servant to call her bluff by risking the direct clash of power. She had no idea what she would do if she actually did. She held her breath.

"Fine," her mother spat. "Go. But I expect to see you here tomorrow at noon, without her. And call me when you get wherever you're going."

"School—" Arisawa began, after a brief pause.

"She's suspended!" she said. "Have you forgotten? Take them out of my sight!"

The woman turned and stormed out of the room.

A moment later, Arisawa bowed out of the room, and Yoshino followed. Uchida turned for the office, but Yoshino pulled her out of the room with her.

She ordered the first unfortunate maid she found—Nakanawa—to pack her bags for a one night stay, and to grab Uchida's jacket and other accoutrements off of her office chair. It was mean of her, to bluntly exercise power like that, but she needed to empty her emotion on something.

Then she headed for the car garage, trusting that the bags would follow her there.

In the distance, she could hear faint weeping.

---

Author's note: Before writing these sections, I reviewed my internal plot diagram…and realized just what the hell was going to have to go into it. Even now, I can't read it to myself with a calm face. Ah well.

Next chapter will probably take just as long as these last two since…it will also be quite long, and I'm still just as busy. Unfortunate…