Author's Note: Epic delay, etc. etc. All I can really do is apologize for being exceptionally busy.

Well, also: Jealous Uchida is adorable.

"We could have gone to your summer villa."

"Yes."

"Okinawa."

"Easily."

"Hawaii."

"Getting you a passport that quickly? I doubt it."

"China."

"Let's ignore the passport issue. And everything else. Do we really want to blow most of a day traveling back and forth? For a four day trip?"

"Brazil."

"That's even worse."

"Antarctica."

"Okay, I'm going to start ignoring you now," Yoshino said.

Uchida snorted.

"Okay fine," she said. "But you get my point. We could have easily gone somewhere cool, like Kyoto or something."

"Not listening," Yoshino said, looking pointedly out othe window of the train, watching the snowy landscape fly by.

Uchida frowned, looking aggrieved, then reshaped her face into a pout, but Yoshino ignored her, partly because she wasn't looking in her direction.

Uchida took a breath, shifting in the cushy chair, then leaned over to get near Yoshino's ear.

"Wait, so you have a passport?"

"Yes," Yoshino confirmed.

"Why?" Uchida asked.

"Why not?" Yoshino asked.

Truth be told, her "mother" had acquired it in case Yoshino should ever blow a fuse and actually accept one of those invitations to Hawaii or something she kept receiving. She certainly wasn't in the mood to let Uchida know about that, however.

Uchida made an annoyed grunt.

"We could have gone to Egypt—" she began.

"This is what it's going to be like now, huh?" Yoshino interrupted, turning to look at Uchida. "You're going to use me to fulfill every insane wish you have. And you're going to whine if I don't."

"Well, yeah," Uchida said. "You told me how much you're worth. It'd be like pennies to you."

"No compunction about spending my money, then?" Yoshino asked. "I owe you now?"

Uchida looked across the center aisle with a sideways expression.

"Well, yeah," she repeated. "You gotta take responsibility now, you know? Something like that."

Yoshino tilted her head in confusion—then got the joke.

She suppressed a startled laugh.

"Okay, I'm not marrying you, if that's what you're looking for," she said, mentally verifying that the compartment they were in was mostly empty.

Uchida persisted in wearing a stubborn expression.

"We could have at least been driven here," Uchida complained. "I don't see why we've got to take the train."

"I like trains," Yoshino explained. "They're nice and soothing."

"Of course you do," Uchida said. "You have a chauffeur."

Yoshino frowned.

"Look, is there a reason you're mad at me?" she asked.

"I'm not mad," Uchida said.

"Yes you are!" Yoshino insisted.

"I'm not," Uchida repeated, looking down at her feet. "A lot of things have happened recently. It has me on edge. I just wanted to complain a little."

"So complaining about stupid things helps?" Yoshino asked.

"Yes!"

Yoshino frowned. It's not that she didn't believe her, but something seemed off—

"Though if you must know," Uchida said resignedly, "I have some issues with your whole 'Leave Yuka behind by herself on a whim' so-called 'plan'."

"I thought you were okay with that!" Yoshino exclaimed.

"I am now," Uchida said. "After thinking about it for a while. But why did you think it was a good idea to spring that on me like that? Was it fun, surprising me like that?"

"You said you were fine," Yoshino said.

"What was I supposed to say?" Uchida asked. "They were watching us. I just said the answer that would look the best."

Uchida looked away.

"Look, I understand," she said. "You figured if you were going to tell everybody, you might as well make a dramatic announcement out of it. Very Sherlockian and all that. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe that wasn't the greatest of things to surprise me with? Especially right after making it clear that you told Touma everything. It was careless."

Yoshino felt the words bite into her.

"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it, voice frustrated. "I wasn't thinking. But why didn't you say anything yesterday?"

"I was busy," Uchida growled.

She didn't seem mad at all yesterday…

But maybe I just can't read her as well as I thought.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Yoshino said.

"It's alright," Uchida said briskly, turning back around in her seat, dropping the anger like a mask. "Let's talk about something else."

But is it really—

Yoshino shook her head, trying to clear it.

She watched Uchida's face.

"So you say you offered to ground yourself for the rest of the school year—" she began.

"I actually volunteered to lock myself in my room and do nothing but study for entrance exams," Uchida said.

"And this worked?" Yoshino asked.

They had already had this discussion.

"Yes," Uchida said, annoyed. "I told you: my parents take my academic achievement really seriously. It was a deal. In exchange, I go on this trip."

She had been elated when Uchida had called with the news that she was now somehow able to go with her. At the time, Yoshino had been convinced Uchida's parents had gone absolutely insane, but was too happy to question her too carefully. She had been even more excited when her own servant voiced no objections.

Now though, it all bothered her, like an itch she just couldn't scratch. None of this should be possible. None of it.

She had even considered calling Uchida's parents…but doubted they wanted anything to do with her.

In retrospect, she had seen the dark expression flickering across her head maid's face, but she had ignored it. Why destroy a good thing?

"Are you sure nothing else happened?" she asked.

"Yes!" Uchida insisted loudly, glaring at her, voice brimming with exasperation. "Why do you keep asking?"

This wasn't like Yuka at all.

Just keep it going as long as possible, Yoshino thought. I have no urge to face this now.

"Alright, alright, I understand," she said, smiling brittlely.

Uchida didn't look at her, hiding her expression by looking across the causeway.

Yoshino took a moment to glance surreptitiously around the train car. They were seated near the rear, and the nearest passenger was a man reading a newspaper nearly seven rows in front of them. In addition, they were shielded from scrutiny by the high, airplane-style seat backs. There were probably security cameras somewhere, but who cared about those?

She tapped Uchida on the shoulder.

"What?" Uchida asked, turning her head.

She grabbed the girl's head and kissed her.

A moment later, Uchida jerked away, looking in panic toward the man seated in front of them, who had coughed. Fortunately, he was on the phone.

Then she turned back toward Yoshino.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"I'm taking it while I still have a chance," Yoshino said.

She leaned forward.

"Remember, we're staying with my servant's parents. At my own request. I'm not going to disrespect her parents by doing anything stupid. Best behavior, Yuka."

Uchida wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

"Far more worried about you than me," she said, indignant.

A moment, Uchida leaned back in her chair.

"What are your grandparents like, anyway?" she asked.

Yoshino gave her a severe look.

"That's what they are, basically," Uchida insisted.

"They're what you'd expect," Yoshino said, conceding the point. "Granted, I haven't known them for that long, but they seemed to have internalized the whole grandparent routine quite well. Prepare to be spoiled, get way more food than you want, and so forth."

"They seemed to have accepted you rather well," Uchida comment.

"Yes, well," Yoshino explained. "It seems she's been sending them cute pictures and telling them funny anecdotes on a regular basis for the past ten years. It helps. They're quite keen to meet you, by the way."

"I see," Uchida said, meaningfully, eyes narrowing, looking like she was dreading the prospect.

"Ah, don't get me wrong," Yoshino amended, realizing what she had forgotten to say. "They don't know anything. No one has told them. They just want to meet you because of all the stories."

"Oh, okay," Uchida said, looking instantly relieved.

"Which also reminds me," Yoshino added.

Uchida looked at her curiously.

"They're going to grill you hard for information about any relationships their daughter might or might not be involved in," Yoshino said. "The proper response is feigned ignorance and indifference."

Uchida seemed to hesitate slightly.

"Something wrong?" Yoshino asked. Uchida shook her head.

"Got it," she acknowledged.

"Though I like to spice things up by 'accidentally' dropping information," Yoshino said. "For the fun of it."

Uchida gave her a look.

"Of course you do," she said, unnecessarily.

"Oh, and I know I already told you the husband is paralyzed beneath the waist," Yoshino said, "but don't stare or anything, okay?"

"Okay," Uchida said.

"Is that it?" she asked a moment later, having digested all of Yoshino's directives.

"I think so."

Uchida made a show of stretching her arms out above her head.

"How much longer is this trip, anyway?" she asked.

"Half an hour," Yoshino said. "It's almost over. Take a nap or something."

"I think I'll do that," Uchida said.

Yoshino's phone rang a scant five minutes later, which had been more than enough time for Uchida to fall dead asleep on her shoulder, mouth starting to drip drool. She had been watching the girl, envious of her ability to sleep on the fly.

"H—hello?" she said cautiously, trying not to wake up the girl next to her, barely managing to read the caller id.

What does mother want at a time like this? she thought, with trepidation.

"Hello," the pleasantly stern voice said. "Everything going well?"

"We're only about twenty minutes away," Yoshino said. "I was just about to call them and confirm arrival."

That's right, Yoshino thought. This is the first time I've travelled alone. It makes sense that she'd call.

She hadn't even thought of that aspect of it.

"I see," the voice said.

Yoshino waited expectantly, but the line stayed silent.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, finally.

"Either you are a better actor than I thought," her mother said thoughtfully, "Or you genuinely have no idea."

"No idea of what?" Yoshino asked, making a mental note to review her own behavior during this call, so she could fake cluelessness more successfully in the future. However, this time she really didn't know what was going on.

"Besides, have I ever lied to you?" Yoshino added, deciding she might as well tack on the obvious facetious joke.

The woman snorted, then cleared her throat.

"I thought you should know, then," voice chill. "It turns out, Yuka didn't receive permission to go at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. In retrospect, I'm not sure why we both believed something so ridiculous."

Yoshino's hands froze on the phone.

"What?" she asked incredulously, barely keeping her voice low enough to keep from waking the girl in question. "Why? She can't have possibly thought she'd get away with something like this? Are you telling me to get ready to see cops at the train station?"

So it wasn't possible after all, a distant part of her registered.

"No, no, calm down," the woman said, providing an example of calmness for Yoshino to follow. "Nothing so drastic. According to her parents, she left a note explaining herself. Apparently, she volunteered to ground herself for a month and begged them to let her stay the whole four days. Obviously, that didn't fly very well, but, as I was forced to explain to them, I'm not prepared to send a snatch squad over to kidnap the two of you back, and no one here is prepared to involve the police in anything."

Yoshino swallowed to stabilize her panic.

"You're telling me to calm down," she said, "and then you start talking about snatch squads and kidnapping and the police."

"Well, it's not going to happen!" her mother hastened to say. "Look, I know it's all pretty crazy, but I've decided to leave it up to you. Just listen."

Yoshino paused, swallowed again, then nodded, even though no one could see her.

"I calmed them down a little," her mother explained. "She can finish this vacation if you two want; they'll even call her in sick. Or you can come rushing back. Either way, expect the metaphorical shit to hit the fan quite hard when you return. I hope it's all worth it. I really hope it is."

"Why?" Yoshino asked.

"Why would she do this?" her mother asked. "Well, I think you would know better—"

"No!" Yoshino interrupted. "Why try to make it so we could stay? Why didn't you just send Arisawa or something to drag me back? Why didn't you just call your parents?"

At her side, Uchida stirred, then went still again, her face deceptively peaceful.

I really don't know why she would do this, though, Yoshino thought, patting the girl's hair.

Her mother breathed into the line, briefly.

"I just think it's a good idea," she said evasively. "It was, in fact, an excellent idea to take a vacation. It's probably not worth canceling just because she tagged along, no matter how she did it."

Her tagging along should have made it better, Yoshino thought.

Her uneasy feeling from before hit her again, stronger than before.

Why was everything still on track? Once again, none of this should have been possible. It was even more ridiculous now than it had been earlier.

She was missing information; everything just didn't make sense. Not only did she not understand what motivated Uchida to such extremities, there was…something else she was missing.

"I don't know what Yuka was expecting," her mother continued. "She even asked her parents not to tell anyone. As if that would work. I don't think she wanted you to know."

"She fooled me pretty well," Yoshino said, with a hint of affection, running her hand through the girl's hair. "Fooled us, I mean."

That's right," her mother agreed. "I didn't think she was capable of hiding something like this. That's the main reason I believed you, and probably why you believed her. Goes to show you."

"Yes," Yoshino said. "To think she could look at me, and act normal, and smile, after doing all of that—"

An unexpected surge of emotion forced her to stop talking, her eyes tearing.

"You alright?" her mother asked.

"Yes, yes," Yoshino breathed. "It's like everything is exploding around me, and I don't know—"

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breath until she was calm again.

"And I don't know why she would do this," Yoshino said. "Was it really that important to come with me?"

"Maybe she thought so," her mother said. "I couldn't say."

She paused.

"I wonder what it would be like to be so young again," she said, sighing. "I certainly wouldn't miss being so foolish."

Yes, Yoshino thought.

"Well, I'm certainly not coming back now," she said, ignoring her mother's comment.

"I thought so," the woman said. "Well, have fun, if you can."

"I will."

After they had finished their call, Yoshino looked down at Uchida one more time.

Disaster after disaster, she thought shakily, but at least I have these couple of days. I won't tell her I know. Let her have her peace.

She wanted to scream.

They met her servant's mother at the station, exchanging formalities, bows, and introductions.

The woman gave Uchida a thorough once-over, and Uchida bore it levelly, not showing discomfort as the woman inspected face, clothing, shoes.

"We've heard a lot about you," she said finally.

"She told me," Uchida said, smiling.

"While you're here, I want you to treat it like your own home," the old woman said. "Let us take care of everything. We'll have to make up for the fact that we don't have anything prepared."

"That wouldn't be polite of me," Uchida said, noting the implicit omission of Yoshino from the "guest" group. "That's quite alright."

"I hardly gave you two any time to prepare," Yoshino absolved. "Don't worry about it. Yuka doesn't mind. Isn't that right?"

"Of course not," Uchida said.

Things continued in that vein all the way to the small flat where they were going to spend the next couple of days, and then the ceremony was repeated when they met the wheelchair-bound old man.

They unpacked their bags.

"I guess they really don't know anything," Uchida commented, seated on the bed. "Or else they wouldn't dare put us in the same room."

"Not as if there's anywhere else to put us," Yoshino said, lying down next to her, trying to avert her eyes. "It's the only extra room. It used to be hers, you know."

"Best behavior, right?" Uchida asked.

"Yes," Yoshino agreed. "So maybe you can refrain from sitting next to my head. The proximity is distracting. Some of us are trying to sleep. Oh, and nice skirt, by the way."

Uchida jumped up and turned away, tugging at the article of clothing in question instinctively.

"You are a dirty bastard," she said.

"I mean it," Yoshino said. "I mean, it's a bit out of season for something so short, but the trim is nice. And the color contrasts quite nicely with that of its contents."

"I'm leaving," Uchida said.

She quickly followed through with her threat, leaving Yoshino to try, and fail, to sleep.

"So what kind of man is this Arisawa-san, anyway?" the man seated across from Yoshino asked, gingerly picking up some fish with his chopsticks.

"And I want to hear it from someone else this time," he said, gesturing at Uchida with his eyes, as Yoshino opened her mouth to speak.

Yoshino kept her face straight, wondering how Uchida would handle it. Depending on what happened, it could be pretty entertaining.

Uchida made a face.

"I don't really know," she said.

"Oh, I can tell you do," the woman to her left said. "No need to be so secretive."

Yoshino smiled to herself, wondering if she should bail Uchida out.

"What does it matter?" Uchida asked, sounding annoyed. "It's not your business anyway."

The old couple looked taken aback. Yoshino blinked in surprise.

"Hey Yuka," she whispered, leaning over. "I know I told you to be reticent, but I also told you to be polite. This is taking it too far."

"Why do they want to meddle anyway?" Uchida snapped, quite out loud. "It's nobody's business but hers."

The other two gave each other glances and Yoshino grimaced, trying to think of a way she could signal that really, Uchida was usually more pleasant than this, and that she was just as happy and energetic as the stories suggested.

"Ah, well," Yoshino said, rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment. "I apologize. You see, a lot of things have happened with her parents recently, and she's not in the mood to…say anything."

Yoshino had paused in the middle of her sentence, realizing that her confabulated explanation was actually highly plausible, and probably the real reason behind this.

Damn it, she thought. Why didn't I think of that before letting the conversation get into this? Our first meal here and—

"So, uh….do you two know anything about the high schools in the area?" Yoshino asked, knowing that academics was a topic sure to catch their interest.

"Before that," the old woman said, clearing her throat. "Er…"

Yoshino and Uchida paused to look at her.

"We know Uchida-chan has some family issues at the moment," she said. "We know that's why you're here. We won't pry by asking what it is, but if we have been insensitive, we apologize. We didn't think—"

"No, that's alright," Uchida said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

She smiled wanly, and in its somewhat forced aspect, it was a pale ghost of her typical happy smile. It hurt to look at.

"Well, anyway," the old man said. "We think we have a way to cheer you two up."

They looked at him in interest.

"We heard you two liked plays and things like that," he said, his wife nodding at him. "And we asked, and we were shocked to hear you two have never even been to one. So…"

He pulled two small, rectangular pieces of hard paper out of his pocket and thrust them forward.

Yoshino grabbed them, and it took a moment for her eyes to focus and for it to register what they were.

"Tickets," Uchida said.

"Yes," the woman said. "We heard there was a performance of 'Romeo and Juliet' tomorrow night, and we thought it would be perfect. Con—"

Yoshino coughed, suppressing a laugh.

"Is something wrong?" the woman asked, the others looking at Yoshino.

"No, no," she insisted, waving her hand.

"Well, uh, anyway," the woman continued, regaining her conversational balance. "Consider it a late birthday gift."

"How much did these cost?" Yoshino asked.

"It's a gift," she said.

"No, look," Yoshino said, shaking her head. "It's not right for me to, uh—"

She paused, trying to think of the proper way to express the sentiment.

"If you're going to try to pay for it or something," the man said, "just give up. We won't. Take it up with your—I mean, our daughter, if you really must. She won't either."

But I pay her salary! Yoshino thought. Okay, only indirectly and it's complicated, but—

"Alright," she grumbled.

"And that's that," the old woman said, with an air of finality. "Now let's see if we can maybe get some dinner eaten, instead of all this talking, hmm?"

"I'm surprised you didn't go with them," the man said, helping Yoshino assemble the pieces on the chessboard.

"I don't really like shopping as much as I pretend to," she demurred, adroitly dropping several pawns into place. "I think it kind of takes the flavor away when you can buy whatever you want. Uh, no offense."

"None taken," he said, placing his last rook in to place. "That's what she told us. Our daughter, I mean."

He had donned a pair of reading glasses for the occasion, even though Yoshino couldn't see how they would help. The Friday afternoon sun was held back by a set of closed blinds.

"So she figured it out," Yoshino said, grabbing a white and black pawn into her hands and shuffling them behind her back.

"She also said it didn't matter, not when Uchida-chan is present," the man said, looking at her and cocking his head slightly.

Yoshino gave him an inquisitive look.

"Are you worn out from school or something?" he asked, changing the subject. "You look like it. I've seen fifty-year-olds with fewer bags under their eyes,"

"Something like that," Yoshino agreed airily.

"That one," the old man said, pointing at her right hand.

"Then you are black," she said.

"Darn," he said mildly.

She opened the game , then grunted when he responded with yet another symmetrical defense.

"Really?" she asked, playing her response. "You know I'm weak against Indian defenses. That's what I'd play."

"Of course you would," he said, doing likewise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, shifting her knight.

"I'm just a stodgy old codger," he said, doing likewise. "I like my static defenses."

"Alright," she teased. "But that won't play out well for you. Positional games are my strong suit."

"Says the girl who just advocated an Indian defense," he commented sarcastically.

"As white!" she protested. "Not as black."

"Doesn't make much sense to me," he murmured.

A small flurry of pieces later, he leaned back to contemplate his next move, now that the opening was finally over.

"There is a bit of a serious reason I stayed here, however," Yoshino said, eyes serious.

"Of course there is," the man said distractedly, moving a knight, deciding that he had enough support to establish the outpost.

Yoshino studied her pawn structure, then shifted one up, making a grab for more space. She was white, after all.

"I appreciate the way you two have accepted me," she said, carefully. "But what do you really think of me? I've only been here a few times at most, yet you treat me as if I've been visiting since I was a child. Perhaps it's out of respect for your daughter, but I want to know. You can be honest."

The old man's hand froze in the middle of adjusting his bishop position to buttress his defenses. The square would hold despite the new pawn, but it necessitated some adjustments.

A moment later, he set the piece in place and leaned forward.

"Distracting me, eh?" he asked, faux playfully. "That's a new one."

"I'm serious," she said.

"I know," he said, simply, face becoming somber.

He glanced downward, deep in thought, as Yoshino moved her queen, laying the groundwork for the attack they both knew was coming.

"When she first told us she was taking this job," he began, taking a moment to process her move. "She started by telling us the salary. We were elated. And then she told us the rest of it."

"That sounds like her, alright," Yoshino said. "She would know to give the good news first."

"No offense," the elderly man continued. "We weren't exactly pleased. We were hard up for money, true, but we were looking forward to her finding a suitable husband, grandkids, all of that, fairly soon, especially given how young she had started working. We were hoping such a man could finally relieve her of having to support us. And of course, all the usual stereotypes about meddlesome parents."

Yoshino nodded, slowly, as he put a pawn forward, resisting her intrusion, and incidentally opening an avenue for a potential counterattack.

"It wasn't long before she started sending us pictures, and asking us advice, and talking to us on the phone," he continued. "We had no idea who you were, at the time, but you could hear in her voice how serious she was about this, how taken she was about you. She was obviously trying to sell you to us."

He paused, eyes full of nostalgia.

"She was worried about you, that first year, but you should have heard how she burbled on and on about this cute dress she ordered for you out of a catalog, or your first time at the pool, or your taste for sweets, and on and on and on. We had our reservations, but how can you say anything to someone like that? We waited at first, but—"

Yoshino waited as he paused, then shook his head.

"That was what got us, really," he said, eyes not meeting hers. "She's always been a good daughter, and she never complained, even when she had to opt of high school to earn us money. This goddamn leg! If only I hadn't—"

He stopped, his hand pulling at his leg in frustration.

He visibly controlled himself, and Yoshino took the opportunity to initiate a piece exchange in the center—respectfully, of course.

"Anyway," he continued, "when she called us the summer afterward, and started telling us about how you had changed, and how happy she was, and all the plans she was making, trips to the beach, new toys, there was something in her voice. It—"

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, taking off his spectacles.

"It was the first time I had heard her truly happy since her childhood," he finished. "You can't imagine how much I missed hearing her like that."

He blinked several times.

"How could I possibly say anything?" he asked rhetorically. "So we acquiesced."

Yoshino stayed silent, watching the chessboard as he responded to her capture. There was a brief burst of activity, pieces coming off the board. His knight outpost was gone, but so was her best bishop. She hoped it was worth it.

"After that," he said, "it was surprisingly easy to get excited with her. You say we didn't know you, and I guess we didn't really, but we have a whole album of pictures she sent us, and every phone call, it was Yuka-chan this, and 'Did I tell you about that time they dug up the garden?' that. It was exactly the same feeling as having a granddaughter you never see."

He fiddled with a rook with his fingers, then shifted it horizontally.

"It still is," he said. "We always wanted to visit, or for her to bring you, but we didn't know how to ask, and she never suggested it herself. I think she was still worried what we thought of you, though she never said anything."

"It was my suggestion, in the end," Yoshino commented, moving her queen to try to flank his defenses.

"Don't worry about things like that," the old man said. "Things are complicated, what with you still having living parents, but we're happy to have you as part of the family, however that works exactly.

"But why me?" Yoshino asked. "Why did she love it so much? I know she loves me, and I'm not belittling that, but it's so mysterious. Why would she?"

The man took a breath.

"I don't know," he said, "Not really."

He leaned back in his chair, abandoning the chessboard temporarily.

"She told me once that she saw a little of herself in you," he said. "I can't tell if she was right. Not anymore, now that you have her imprint all over you, but…"

He considered his words carefully.

"We tried to give her a happy childhood, but we were missing so many things, and everything was so tough," he said bitterly. "She was bright, and wanted dearly to go to college, never mind high school. She never complained to our faces, but I could tell she was crying inside. It broke my heart. I—we begged her, told her we would be fine with just her mother's earnings, but she knew that just wasn't true."

He made eye contact with Yoshino for the first time in conversation.

"I won't mince words," he said, eyes sad. "You didn't have a happy childhood either, despite all that wealth. If I had to guess, that was what she saw. That was why. She wanted to fix your life, see you grow up, and see you do everything she couldn't do."

Yoshino reflected, eyes watering.

We all see reflections of ourselves in our children, Nakanawa had said. We love our children for who they are, but we all dream of who they could be.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, looking at her with worry on his face. "I've made my move, but we can stop here—"

"I'm fine," Yoshino insisted, voice harsh.

They played the rest of the game in near silence, the man watching her as she made her moves with something bordering on anger, emptying her feelings into the chessboard.

"Oh," he said finally, thinking through her last move.

"It's a Bianchuta interference," she said.

"Plachutta," he corrected, butchering the foreign name without knowing it. "Well, that's it. I resign."

She nodded.

"Thanks for the game," she said mechanically.

"It was good," he replied, equally mechanically.

With a leaden motion, she stood up, then plodded to her and Uchida's room, looking suddenly very, very tired.

He watched her leave.

I have a bad feeling about this, he thought.

"Hello?" the pleasant female voice answered over the phone.

Damn it! Uchida thought. What is that idiot doing?

"Hello," she said politely and screechily, distorting her voice into her best "I am a random classmate" voice. "Is Makoto-kun there? It's…uh…Yoshihiro-san. I have a message for him from Touma. I'm on her soccer team."

She tugged at one of her pigtails nervously. She had borrowed a cell phone from Yoshino's "relative" and hid herself on the other end of the department store, in an alcove hidden in the jacket section, citing "delicate family business" as a reason for her departure.

She doubted the old lady was the type to deliberately eavesdrop on her, but she glanced around one last time, just in case.

She silently prayed that the woman on the other end of the line—Makoto's mother—would fall for her deception. It wasn't necessarily safe to call as herself and, while she could do a sterling Yoshino impersonation, that was just as risky as calling as herself. The woman would know Chiaki and Touma's voices too well for her to fake it, and the rest of the Minami family was out of consideration for the same reasons.

It was very risky—the woman had met her before, more than once.

Maybe I should have just risked it, Uchida second-guessed. I mean what are the chances she would know?

"He's in," the woman responded blandly, and Uchida barely suppressed a relieved gust of breath.

"Could you say what this is about?" Makoto's mother asked curiously.

"Well, Touma herself is busy with practice, but uh…it's rather personal, if you don't mind."

There were at least three flaws in her explanation, but it would take someone familiar with the people involved, and their school, to notice most of them.

Most.

"Hmm," the woman said skeptically. "So it's okay for you to know and not his mother? Well, I won't pry. I'll get him."

When she was sure the woman was gone, Uchida let out the suppressed gust of air. It didn't help that Makoto's mother tended to be a lot more suspicious, nowadays.

"Misawa-san?"

Makoto's voice, quizzical.

"It's not Misawa-san," Uchida said. "It's Uchida. I faked out your mother."

"Uchida?" Makoto asked, surprised. "Why did she say—"

"That's not important," she interjected, even if his confusion answered her most important question. "I want to check up on a few things. You remember what I asked you for yesterday? What happened to answering the phone personally? You promised!"

"She got there first!" Makoto defended. "And yes, of course I do."

"Well, let's hear it then!" Uchida demanded, rather acerbically.

"I do you a favor, and you act like this?" Makoto said, with a trace of annoyance.

Uchida forced herself to calm down.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm in a hurry."

"What's going on, Uchida?" Makoto asked. "What is all this?"

"All of what?" she asked.

"This whole situation," he asserted. "First all of this happens with Yoshino, then you call me and tell me you're joining her on her trip, and you want me to collect information. Then you tell me to keep my mother as out of the loop as possible, and to try to answer all phone calls today. And then you practically yell at me when I do pick up. You can't tell me that's not weird."

He paused, then more slowly:

"We talked about it at lunch. Neither Chiaki nor Touma had any idea you were going. That's confusing too. Why me?"

Uchida swallowed.

"Look," she pleaded, projecting every psychological tactic she knew into her voice, trying to sound vulnerable. "A lot of things are going on. I can't explain all of it. But I need to know. Please."

For a moment, the unnatural steadiness she had been maintaining weakened, and she gripped the diminutive phone so hard it shook.

"Alright," Makoto conceded, interrupting her sudden breakdown. "Alright."

"I asked around," he said, voice automatically lowering. "People don't seem to hold Yoshino's suspension too much against her, though they are disappointed that she couldn't be calmer. I got the sense some are happy to see the 'perfect girl' act out a little."

Uchida nodded, swallowing again, pulling herself back together

"Most people don't think your absence today is a coincidence," he continued, "or that you are really 'sick'. The rumors about you and Yoshino are running higher than I've ever seen, and they were pretty high to start with. You two are definitely the hot topic, for our class at least."

"What are they saying?" Uchida asked.

"All the usual stuff," he said, "with added flavor. Some people say there's some sort of triangle, which is new. Others say Yoshino is being blackmailed. I think my favorite one is the one alleging that she's secretly the Banchou of some delinquent group, with you and Touma as deputies."

He chuckled.

"It's surprisingly popular. People say you're the honey-trap of the group, which I would say sounds about right."

If Uchida could convey an outraged expression through the phone line, she would have.

"That is the most ridiculous —" she began, growling.

"People have tried to drill us for answers," he interrupted hastily. "I think we've done a pretty good job of stonewalling them, though. Still, a fairly good percentage of stories have gotten the right idea about your parents finding out, but I think that's just logic. No one has guessed anything about a trip. No one has hit upon anything involving Yoshino's family. The consensus is that, since she has no parents present, she can do what she wants."

"People know her parents are gone?" Uchida asked.

"They do now," Makoto said. "Those who knew have spread it around everywhere, now that it's suddenly a relevant issue.

He paused again.

"And that's it," he said. "None of this can possibly be a surprise to you. What are you looking for?"

"I didn't find it," Uchida said. "That's good news."

The whole point of this call was to check if anyone had heard anything, however implausibly, about her leaving home without permission. If they had, then there was the strong risk the news would filter back to Yoshino.

She didn't want that. Let Yoshino, at least, have some measure of peace.

She shuddered, thinking again of what had happened, what she had done. Her breathing quickened. She had overreacted, but what was done was done. How could—

"Am I going to get an explanation of this?" Makoto asked.

"No," Uchida said. "I'm sorry. That was your only hint."

"I didn't think so," Makoto said, sighing. "Well, if that's all—"

"Actually, I had something else to discuss with you," Uchida interrupted.

"What?" he asked, after a moment of surprise.

"That day we were at the café, I spotted you arguing with your friend," she said. "Given what I know about him and his uh, obsession with Yoshino, it seems too much to be a coincidence. What happened?"

She waited through the extended moment of silence.

"I'm not sure I should be sharing it," he said.

"So it is about Yoshino," Uchida said. "Well?"

"Look, you're not telling me what's going on either, so I think I have the right—"

"Makoto!" she protested, then covered her mouth in embarrassment, looking around. Fortunately, no one was there to hear her.

"Come on," she argued. "I think we can both agree I have a bit of a right to know, given everything. As for what's going on here…I'll tell you when I get back. I could hardly keep you from knowing, anyway. Please?"

Makoto made a despairing noise.

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "It's not technically a secret anyway. I just don't think he would want me to say…"

"Out with it," Uchida said.

Makoto was probably the only person in the world she could successfully pressure like this, she reflected. Part of that had to do with personality, and part of it habit. She had threatened blackmail a couple of times in the distant past, and it had always worked, even though they had both known she would never really fulfill her threats.

That had been fun.

"The thing is," Makoto begun, "he heard about Yoshino's suspension, and why it had happened. He wanted to make some sort of gallant offer to do it for her, in the future. Basically, be her bodyguard."

"What?" Uchida interrupted instinctively, struck by the absurdity of it. "Do what for her?"

"Hey, don't look at me," Makoto said. "I'm just quoting him. I think the way he put it was: 'offer to beat up people like that for her, so she doesn't have to soil her beautiful hands'."

"Wow," Uchida commented.

He reminds me of someone…

"Anyway, I was trying to talk him out of it," Makoto said. "But he wouldn't listen to me. You guys left just in time. I don't think I could have stopped him."

Uchida made a disgusted noise.

"If it comes to it," she said. "It might be time to just tell him she's taken. Let him stew on that."

"That's—that's just the thing, though," Makoto said.

He paused.

So this is the real reason he didn't want to say, Uchida mentally annotated.

"He already knows," Makoto continued. "And he knows who it would be, too. I'm still denying it, but he doesn't even pretend to believe me anymore. He's been watching."

Uchida screwed her face up in confusion.

"He knows? But—"

"He knows, but he's determined to keep trying anyway," he said. "He says he's not disgusted or anything, and that he's more than willing to compete with you for her."

Uchida sat there for a moment, flabbergasted, thoughts swirling in her head.

"And you didn't want to tell me?" she demanded.

"Why would I want to tell you?" Makoto responded. "We both know he doesn't stand a chance! Snowball in hell, all of that. I'm just trying to keep the peace here. The last thing I need is for you to show up breathing jealous fire."

"That very concept is abs—" she began automatically, then stopped cold.

She was appalled that he would even think her capable of 'breathing fire'. After all, she was a nice, pleasant girl. But—

What is this feeling? she thought.

It was a strange combination of rage and fear, and her eyes danced with visions of applying torment to her hapless competitor.

Why am I so affected by something like this? It's practically meaningless! she thought. Is—is this—

Jealousy. Makoto was right. After all, why had she wanted to know so badly to start with?

So, that's what it's like.

She reflected on that, then shrugged.

That's just how it is, she thought. He doesn't stand a chance, but it will make me feel a lot better to keep my eye on him…and give a little friendly warning. Might as well embrace it.

A moment later, she smiled, not pleasantly. Had anyone been there to see her, they would have recoiled at the sudden cruelty of her expression.

"Hello? You there?" Makoto said.

"What is this kid's name, anyway?" she asked, bleaching the emotion out of her voice so he wouldn't pick up on why she wanted it.

"You don't know?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"No," she asserted.

"How could you possibly not know?" he asked, confused.

"Why would I know?" she said. "We make it a point not to know useless facts like that. Yoshino never even looks at his letters, and I think we do a pretty good job of running away from his confessions."

She heard Makoto breathe into the receiver.

"And why do you want to know?" he asked, finally, clearly sensing danger despite her attempts at concealment.

"Makoto," she said warningly. "We both know I will find out eventually. Why not just spare me the trouble? I assure you I won't do anything tasteless, like spread ugly rumors."

"I don't think I'm reassured," Makoto said.

"Just spill it," she ordered gravely.

Makoto sighed.

"Nakanawa," he said. "Nakanawa Takka. You sure you don't know him? Well, I guess he is in a different class."

"Of course I don—" she began, then froze.

"What?" she said. "Repeat that."

"Nakanawa Takka," Makoto said. "You know, like the uh —"

"Are you serious?" she asked, voice full of shattered skepticism.

"Yes, of course I am," he said, a mite indignantly. "Naka—wait, why is it weird? Do you know him from somewhere else? Don't you see him all the time? How could you not recognize him?"

"I don't know him," she said.

She paused.

"You know, Makoto," she continued, seemingly off-topic. "I've learned a lot recently. For example, that the world is stupid."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

She could hear Makoto's befuddlement through the phone.

" Makoto," she asked. "This friend of yours, has he ever mentioned meeting Yoshino before?"

"He says some really crazy stuff, actually," Makoto supplied, after a moment of thought. "He insists he met her before, a long time ago, even though I tell him that can't possibly be true. He refuses to ever explain, and always mumbles something about love at first sight. I wonder about him sometimes."

He paused.

"Anyway, what is all this about?" he asked. "Do you really know him from somewhere?"

Oh this is perfect, Uchida thought.

Uchida didn't bother to enlighten him.

"I might call you later," she said decisively. "Thanks for everything, but I think I need to go."

"Uh, O—okay. No problem," Makoto responded, nonplussed. "But what—"

She hung up.

Nakanawa Takka. What did Nakanawa-san call her son? Ta-kun. Where did he go for school? Why, the same school, or so she said. Same grade too. Why had they never met him? Because Yoshino said she had met him as a kid and she wanted nothing to do with a jerk like him, so they had never even tried to find him.

Just wait until I tell Yoshino this one, she thought.

"You sure?" Yoshino asked skeptically and ironically, looking at her out of the corner of an eye.

"Yes!" Uchida insisted, leaning towards her out of her seat.

"Huh," Yoshino said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. "That makes a disturbing amount of sense."

"Doesn't it?" Uchida asked rhetorically.

Yoshino went back to thumbing through her theatre program. They had balcony seating for this particular event, but had arrived early, engaging their time in idle chitchat.

Uchida started to say something, disturbed by Yoshino's seeming lack of response.

"I suppose I should be less harsh when talking about him, then," Yoshino interrupted, as an aside.

"What?" Uchida said, shocked.

Yoshino glanced at her in surprise.

"Well, it's only natural to have a tiny bit of sympathy," she explained.

"No, you don't want to," Uchida said flatly.

Yoshino looked at her queerly.

"It's not like I said anything unreasonable," she said. "Why are you so worked up? What is that face you're making?"

"I'm not worked up," Uchida lied. "I just don't think it's worth having any kind of sympathy for someone like that."

Yoshino gave her another strange look, but dropped the topic, leaning forward onto her elbows.

A look of concern flashed across her eyes, immediately concealed.

"You call your parents since you got here?" she asked with deliberate carelessness, a moment later.

She watched Uchida's sudden tensing up from the corner of her eye.

"Uh, yes," Uchida lied, acting more casual than Yoshino had deemed her capable of. "It's only natural, to let them know how I'm doing. I haven't really traveled without any adults around before, so they're naturally worried."

She managed to suppress a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah, I called home too," Yoshino said airily, after glancing at a spasmodically coughing man in the row behind them. "It's good to let them know, even after everything that's happened."

"Yeah, probably," Uchida agreed insincerely.

Yoshino noted Uchida's sudden death grip on her seat armrest.

"So, uh, you ever figure out the 'catch' to your parents' behavior?" she asked.

"No. No I didn't," Uchida said, too fast and too decisively.

"Hmm," Yoshino said thoughtfully, but didn't press the line of questioning.

It can wait, she thought. Not now. Not here.

She considered herself more adept at hiding her thoughts than Uchida, but could not suppress a brief conflicted expression.

"I—is something wrong?" Uchida asked nervously.

"No," Yoshino said. "Just impatient for this damn thing to start already."

I can see you suffering, she thought. I can't take it anymore! This must end!

They sat in uncharacteristic, stiff silence, and it was a relief when the stage lights finally dimmed.

Truth be told, Uchida did not really consider 'Romeo and Juliet' as amazing as people made it out be. Sure, it was pretty good, but all of that? She didn't see it. It probably worked better in the original English.

Still, though, as the play began, she couldn't suppress a certain fascination at the actors strutting about on stage, wearing their elaborate costumes, speaking their pointlessly ornate lines.

She glanced at Yoshino, who was watching with an expression that, while not enraptured, was quite intense, as if the source of all enlightenment were on stage, if only she could understand it.

Soon, Uchida understood why. The plot and dialogue, so cliché and only passably interesting when they had been obliged to read it in school, struck closer to home than ever, and she didn't need a Shakespearean expert to tell her why.

Soon, she watched the stage just as intently.

Time passed in a blur, and when it came time for the climax, Yoshino's froze her face unnaturally stiff, not trusting herself to think, or to feel. It was nothing but sophistry anyway, and she knew the plot beforehand, so why should it affect her? Any similarities to their own situation were just a complete coincidence. But the sheer idea of it—

It was then that she noticed Uchida was gone.

She startled awake from her trance, looking around in a panic.

Shit, shit, shit—

"I believe your friend went to the bathroom, if you're looking for her," said a voice behind her.

She whipped her head to search for the source of the voice, but couldn't trace it. Everyone behind her was watching the stage, as might be expected.

Giving up, she settled back into her seat, trying to relax.

The bathroom. Of course. Why was I panicking? No reason to panic. Though to leave during the climax—

She froze, then stood up so suddenly it drew annoyed complaints from those around her.

Abandoning the rest of the play, she shoved her way down the aisle and headed for the nearest restrooms.

Yoshino found her almost immediately.

She watched in silence for a while as the girl sniffled in front of the mirror, completing the last steps of pulling herself back together.

Finally, Uchida cracked open the purse next to the sink and pulled out a handkerchief, inspecting herself in the mirror, starting with the eyes.

The handkerchief dropped out of her hand, and she made a slight gasping noise. She was losing it again. Yoshino stepped forward.

She caught Uchida's hand just as she start to reach down for the lost piece of cloth.

Uchida spun around spastically, looking up with an expression of shock and dismay, quickly extinguished.

"H—hey," Uchida greeted, smiling weakly. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes were bloodshot, there were tear tracks down her cheeks, and she couldn't possibly have believed she looked normal.

"Weren't you the one who got mad at me for hiding things?" Yoshino said. "What is this?"

"What are you talking about?" Uchida asked mechanically, clearly just going through the motions.

"Hold still," Yoshino ordered, grabbing the handkerchief in her own hand.

She bent Uchida back slightly so she could get a better view of her face and, dabbing the cloth with water from the faucet, did her best to clean Uchida's face. The whole time, those normally bright eyes watched her, reminding her of a trembling fawn.

Finally, she placed the cloth back in the purse, snapped it shut, and stepped back, taking the purse with her.

"Let's go outside," she suggested, smiling soothingly. "Forget this play. Let's just go and talk. We need it, now more than ever."

Uchida studied her face, even now still deciding, however implausibly, whether or not she should try to keep up the charade.

"Alright," she agreed, finally, looking downward.

The air outside the theatre was cool and crisp. Yoshino stood under the bright streetlamps and storefronts, looking for a suitable location. People, mostly young adults, wound their way around them. The doorman looked at them curiously.

Finally, she spotted a suitably empty bench down the block and moved for it, Uchida tailing her. Yoshino somewhat regretted coming out here, with its crowds of people, but it was too late to change her mind.

They settled down on the bench, Uchida leaning forward, elbows on knees, Yoshino turned slightly, watching her.

"I'll abridge this," Yoshino said. "I know how you're here. You never got permission to go anywhere."

"How?" Uchida asked quietly, not looking up. "Was I that obvious? I thought I did a pretty good job, even if it was stupid of me to get angry yesterday."

"You did really well, actually," Yoshino said, "Normally, I probably wouldn't have started suspecting something until today. I didn't think you capable of something like that, so I swallowed your story way too easily."

"So my parents didn't keep quiet, did they?" Uchida said, watching the legs of the pedestrians passing by her.

"Why would they?" Yoshino asked. "That was unreasonable to expect."

"I just thought maybe…" Uchida began.

She fell silent.

"How long have you known?" Uchida asked, finally.

"I heard about it just before we got here," Yoshino said.

She looked down.

"I thought I could just not say anything, but it doesn't seem like that's working very well."

"You shouldn't worry about me," Uchida asserted with sudden life, looking up. "I can take care of myself."

"I find that difficult to believe," Yoshino said.

She took a breath, then grabbed one of Uchida's shoulders, looking her seriously in the eyes.

"Like I said earlier, who's the one who got so angry about me keeping things to myself? It seems a little hypocritical of you to do the same. What do you think is going to happen? Everything is going to magically fix itself when you get back? I won't have any questions when I don't see you for a month?"

"I just wanted you to be happy for a few days," Uchida said bitterly, eyes askance. "Of course I knew it wouldn't last. I guess I couldn't even manage that."

"Stop sounding so guilty!" Yoshino insisted. "If you're going to feel guilty for something, feel guilty for doing something so crazy without even asking me! Would do you think I would have said?"

"You would never have approved," Uchida said, legs asprawl. Once, long ago, she would have swung those legs under the bench under the weight of Yoshino's displeasure.

Those days were long past, and her legs were too long.

"So why did you think it was a good idea?" Yoshino asked.

Uchida looked away, but stayed silent.

Yoshino released her grip on the girl's shoulder and leaned back to inspect her.

"If you want to be impulsive, that's one thing, but something like this is hare-brained, and you know it."

She waited, but Uchida still didn't say anything.

"I feel like I'm lecturing you," she said, "and I don't want it to be that way. I appreciate the gesture, and of course I had fun with you here, but I can only imagine the kind of repercussions you'll get from your parents when you get back."

"What do you know?" Uchida snapped sharply, glaring at her.

Yoshino recoiled, but Uchida looked instantly regretful.

"I'm sorry," she subsided. "I don't mean that."

Yoshino watched her for a long moment.

"Something's happening, isn't it?" she asked, finally.

"You've got enough on your plate," Uchida said, clearly not wanting to say. "You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"There it is again!" Yoshino said, leaning forward. "How can you possibly say that? Do you realize how contradictory you're being? You're practically quoting me!"

"This is different!" Uchida insisted, looking at her.

Then she looked away.

"You're not okay," she said quietly, mournfully. "You pretend to be, but you're not. Talking to me like this, telling me you would have been okay without me…you want to carry it all. You're driving for perfection again. I don't know if I can stop you, but the least I can do is ease your burden."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoshino said. "I'm fine."

"Perhaps," Uchida said.

She fell silent.

"Please," Yoshino pleaded. "Just tell me.

"It's my parents," Uchida said. "I found out what the catch was. Wednesday, when I got back from school, they told me. They're not accepting any of this. They went out and found a matchmaker. They want me to cooperate, and go out to a bunch of dinners, and keep trying until I 'find someone'. They even had someone lined up that very night. I declined."

She spoke with a sort of prepared blandness, as if she had deliberately rehearsed these lines so she wouldn't fall apart saying them. The only exception was the last sentence, which she practically spat out.

"People still do that?" Yoshino asked, appalled.

"Of course they do," Uchida said bitterly.

"At your age, I mean," Yoshino clarified. "I thought that was strictly confined to people like me or people old enough to be desperate."

"Apparently not," Uchida grieved. "Apparently there's still some demand. I wonder how many girls' lives they've ruined."

Yoshino watched her, trying to think of something to say.

"Do you have any idea how I felt?" she asked, exploding in Yoshino's face unexpectedly. "How angry, how painful—"

She cut herself off, taking exactly two deep breaths.

"When Touma left her house to stay with you, when I heard about that, I thought I'd never understand something like that," she continued. "I understand now. 'How can I live with these people?' 'Where can I go?' That's all I spent the night thinking about. I needed to get out."

"The worst part is," she said, taking measured breaths to maintain calm. "The worst part is, I still love them. It makes everything worse."

"You could have—" Yoshino began.

"How could I possibly tell you?" Uchida demanded. "I knew how badly you needed a break. How could I ruin it?"

She looked down.

"I did mean to ask, I really did," she said. "But how could I? How could their answer possibly be yes? And I thought, maybe I can kill two birds with one stone."

She paused.

"Do you know how happy you looked, when I said I was going?" she said quietly, painfully. "I wished I could stay in that moment forever. But of course I couldn't."

Yoshino blinked away sudden tears, the words resonating in her heart.

"Of course you can't," she said, watching the black, black sky, stars washed out by the light of the streetlamps. She allowed their ambiance to wash over her, so that she could give voice to the thoughts that had tormented her.

"All I wanted, over these past, miserable days, was for time to turn back, stand still. I wanted to keep it all just the way it was. I didn't want to think about my future. I didn't want to face all of this. I wanted it always to be me and my friends, holding parties and having fun. Always you and me, burning the night away, arguing over stupid things, doing whatever. Looking back, that's all I've wanted for years. For things to stay exactly like that. Was it so bad to wish something like that?"

Uchida looked at her, and she looked back, and for far too short a moment, they understood each other perfectly.

But that moment ended too.

"Well, at least it's been a fun two days, right?" Uchida asked, eyes wet. "And we've got two more. Let's make the most of it."

Yoshino nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed.

She blinked away her tears, then looked around her carefully.

"But let's refrain from any affectionate gestures," she said. "We are still in public, and we're lucky no one eavesdrops on two strangers on a bench. Or no one we care about, anyway."

Uchida smiled.

"Do you remember the last time we came to an amusement park like this?" Uchida asked, bright and early the next day, spreading her arms wide to indicate all that was around her.

It was far too early in the year for amusement parks to really make sense, given the chill. Perhaps that was why the crowds stayed home. It was strange for the place to even be open.

It was an auspicious day, though. It was warmer than normal, and the light snow blanketing the area had melted the day before. The sun shone with surprising force.

Yoshino stayed silent, nursing her tired headache, privately cursing global warming or whatever target seemed rational to blame. She regretted not wearing a sunhat.

Uchida's hat flopped as the girl dropped her arms. She had been smarter; their observations of the weather had been why they impulsively decided to go, after all

"I know you do," Uchida said, almost pouting.

"That was a long time ago," Yoshino said hoarsely. "I'm—sorry, I'm just a little tired."

"I know you are," Uchida said, "But come on, you have to at least pretend to care."

Yoshino stayed silent.

"Hey, a cotton candy stand!" Uchida exclaimed, turning her head and moving in its general direction. Yoshino followed.

She grabbed Uchida's hand before she could reach into her purse, using her own money to pay the vendor. Uchida made a noise of protest, which she ignored. It was ritualistic.

"I don't remember the last time I paid for anything in your presence," Uchida commented a while later, tearing off pieces of the spun fibers.

"I don't either," Yoshino agreed.

"Want some?" Uchida offered, sticking her left hand out with a sticky piece of puff.

Instead of answering, Yoshino spun around and headed back for the stand.

"So you wanted one too," Uchida commented, as Yoshino collected her change from the cheerily smiling man, clearly surprised and pleased by the unexpected business.

"It helps," Yoshino said.

Yoshino collected her refined sugar and focused on consuming it, hoping it would energize her somehow.

"What about the last time we went to a festival? You remember that?" Uchida asked.

"I don't remember anything like that," Yoshino said.

Uchida frowned, studying her briefly, but shrugged.

They walked forward at a leisurely pace. There was no rush. Practically no one was there.

"Oh, hey, a goldfish-catching stand!" Uchida exclaimed, turning directly to her right.

Yoshino seized Uchida's arm, dragging her to a stop.

"We're not going through that again," she said, too tired to be more diplomatic. "We're too far away from my home to be able to put the fish anywhere, and I know you won't leave until we catch one."

Her head felt stuffed full of wool, unable to process even the simplest of things. She was unable even to notice Uchida's slight smile, much less realize why she was smiling.

"I knew you really remembered," Uchida said playfully. "What kind of amusement park has a goldfish-catching stand? That's a festival-type thing, and the whole thing with the goldfish was last time we went to one."

"I don't think I want to remember," Yoshino said.

"I can imagine why," Uchida commented, a touch sourly.

"I'm sorry about misleading you like that," Yoshino said, managing to give the proper response. "I never did get a chance to properly apologize."

"And I'm sorry for being so gullible," Uchida said, striding off and pulling Yoshino by the hand to make her follow. "That kind of explanation—'we had taken a shower,' you said. 'We were too sleepy from the alcohol to get dressed again,' you said.—quite a sterling explanation. What was I, stupid?"

"You didn't want to believe the obvious," Yoshino commented, head down. "It was easy enough to exploit. And maybe you want to keep your voice down?"

"There's no one here. And don't sound so condescending to someone you need to apologize to," Uchida said, still dragging Yoshino forward with aplumb. "But I forgive you anyway. Was that the first time?"

"You know very well it was," Yoshino said.

Uchida stopped abruptly, causing Yoshino to almost run into her.

Uchida turned around.

"What is it?" she asked, grabbing Yoshino's head and feeling for a fever. "I know you had a bad night—you woke me up at least five times with your tossing and turning—but why?"

"You know very well why," Yoshino said. "Unlike you, not all of us are capable of pretending everything is okay."

Uchida frowned, the smile dropping off her face briefly.

"That's untrue," she said. "I know you. You're more than capable of faking it if necessary."

"Not for so long," Yoshino said. "I didn't sleep well yesterday either. Or did you miss it? I've been making it up with naps and sleeping in late, and today we got up early."

Uchida watched her carefully.

"You know what would cheer you up?" she said, suddenly bright, standing up with hands on hips. "A ride—"

"I don't feel well enough to ride the roller coaster," Yoshino interrupted. "Even if we are standing right in front of one."

Uchida frowned sharply.

"I'm sorry," Yoshino said. "Go without me for now. I'll see if I can find a coffee shop. I promise I'll be more fun afterward."

"Alright," Uchida said. "But at least take my hat. You look like you need it."

She took off the accessory and offered it to Yoshino, who refused with a wave of the hand.

"I'll be fine," the girl said.

Truth be told, Uchida secretly hated roller coasters; Yoshino was the one who had a strange fascination with them, riding them in complete silence, almost as if she was studying them.

Uchida kept up the smile nonetheless, and got in the short line, amazed and secretly glad there even was a line. What were these other people? Insane?

Her smile lasted until Yoshino was out of sight.

We're miserable, she thought, expression fading.

She apologized, pushing past the young couple behind her to exit the line. She had no urge to go.

She sat on a bench near the ride exit, taking in the sights, until Yoshino returned, sipping a paper cup of caffeine as fast as she could without burning her tongue—which wasn't very fast, but still.

"So you're back!" she greeted cheerily, getting up.

"In more ways than one," Yoshino said, smiling meekly. "Want to go for another ride?"

"Of course," Uchida said, nodding vigorously.

Before getting on, they left their bags with the attendant.

"Did you buy something?" Uchida asked. "Your bag looks heavier than I remember."

"Yeah," Yoshino said, nodding. "It's a surprise, though."

"Oh," Uchida said, suitably surprised.

The roller coaster was just as bad as she remembered. She hated the sensation of air crushing her chest every time she went down a hill, and could never quite shake the intimation that her restraints would fail spectacularly at the worst possible time.

Still, she congratulated herself on managing to exit the ride without staggering. That was something.

"I feel like I should probably say this," Yoshino said, as they recovered their bags from the pegs from which they hung.

"Yes?" Uchida asked, trying to be chipper.

"You don't…actually like roller coasters, do you?" Yoshino asked.

Uchida descended into a coughing fit, startled in the middle of trying to swallow to calm herself. She leaned against the wooden railing, pinning her bag to the wall with her body.

"Why—why would you say that?" she managed finally.

"You don't have to lie," Yoshino said with faux magnanimity, walking away. "I've always suspected you don't. It's fun to watch your reactions, though."

Uchida blinked in her wake.

"What?" she demanded, charging towards Yoshino. "You baka-yaro! I was trying to be nice, and you—"

She stopped short, eyes focusing on the object Yoshino had thrust in her face.

"One of these damn stuffed horses you like so much," Yoshino, looking away to hide her embarrassment. "It really is eerie how every place we visit manages to have one."

Uchida grabbed it with both hands.

"I—I, well, I mean, thanks. I love these things! They're so cute!"

"So you've told me," Yoshino said drily. "Many times."

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Uchida said ecstatically, throwing her arms over Yoshino's shoulders. "I'm happy!"

She opened her eyes a moment later, frowning. Yoshino looked decidedly glum.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You should think of it as something to remember me by," Yoshino said. "For when your parents hermetically seal you into your room. Or worse."

"Come on," Uchida enticed, rubbing her head into Yoshino's hair. "Didn't we promise to enjoy ourselves? Why do you keeping brooding over that?"

Yoshino stayed silent.

Uchida opened her eyes again when she felt Yoshino make some abrupt shifting motions with her head.

It turned out that Yoshino was actively trying to gesture at the people around them, moving her eyes and pointing with her head. Indeed, there were a couple of people looking at them curiously.

"Please remember where we are," Yoshino said, finally, avoiding their glances.

Uchida pulled back.

"What do we care?" she asked, pouting. "We don't live here. No one here knows us, and I honestly don't see how things could get any worse if they did. Aren't you the one who wants to do weird things like that? Why do I feel like we've reversed roles?"

Yoshino withheld comment, instead starting to walk again.

"Come on," she said, gesturing with her hand. "I see another roller coaster. We're going to keep riding them until you like it."

"It doesn't work that way!" Uchida pleaded, arms outspread.

Yoshino turned, giving her a quirky smile.

"I got Touma to like Earl Grey. If I can do that, anything is possible!"

With sudden energy, she offered her hand and smiled winningly.

Uchida turned away slightly, pouting again, trying to resist the smile.

"I hate you," she said.

She grabbed Yoshino's hand.

"Fine then," she said. "But it's not going to work."

"We'll see."

"I'm sorry about making us come back," Uchida apologized.

"For the last time, stop apologizing!" Yoshino asserted, advancing up the staircase with a determined pace. "It's not your fault. I should never have pushed you so hard."

"But…" Uchida began, dragging the sentence out to look behind them.

"Something wrong?" Yoshino asked cannily.

Uchida shook her head.

"Probably just my imagination"

"Anyway," Yoshino continued, turning to go up another flight of stairs. "If there's anything you did wrong, it's not telling me the pendulum ride would make you sick."

"I didn't know!" Uchida said. "I've never been on one of those before…"

"Well, in either case, our tickets are good for the rest of the day, so we can go back after dinner."

"You want to go back?" Uchida asked incredulously.

She thought she saw Yoshino's back tense a little, bag settling against her shoulder.

"Well, you know…" Yoshino began, the rest of the sentence degenerating into mumbled incoherence.

Uchida strained her ears, barely making out the phraseology.

"You want to ride the Ferris wheel?" she asked.

"Well, it's a nice day," Yoshino extemporized. "And there's lights at nighttime and such. And, you know—"

"It's maybe the most cliché thing we could possibly do," Uchida said drily. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Yeah, sure, why not."

"Don't be embarrassed," she added, teasing.

"Well, we're here," Yoshino said unnecessarily, grabbing for the doorknob with undue haste.

"Yes, yes, thank you, goodbye," the woman said, just as the door swung open. Since she was second in, it took Uchida a moment of confusion to realize that the woman was on the phone.

The woman hung up, and it seemed to her that both she and the seated man next to her looked vaguely guilty about something.

"Something important?" Yoshino asked.

"Oh, not at all," the woman said, "Just a telemarketer."

"I see," Yoshino said simply, placing her bag on the floor. "May—"

She cut herself short, and instead stepped into the kitchen while Uchida sat down on the sofa, dropping her bag next to her.

Yoshino reemerged with two cups of water, and Uchida realized what had happened.

Yoshino's instincts, quite understandably, were to ask others to do things such as getting water for her. She was typically quite canny about keeping that part of her under wraps, but just now she had slipped, just a little.

Yoshino placed one glass in front of Uchida, chugged her own, then placed her empty cup on the table.

"I'm going to be taking a long nap," she said simply, walking over to recover her bag.

With that, she departed for their room.

Uchida looked at the empty cup on the table.

Proper manners would have been for Yoshino to wash it herself, on the spot.

She must really be tired, Uchida thought.

Closely pressed, Uchida would not have been able to properly explain why she chose to check up on a sleeping Yoshino. Perhaps she had heard something without quite realizing it. Perhaps something Yoshino had said had registered on her subconscious. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither—there was a chance she would have done so even if nothing were wrong.

Regardless of why, however, the fact remained that exactly forty minutes after Yoshino had closed the door behind her, Uchida placed her hand on the doorknob and, ever so gently, pushed the door inward, expecting to find an exhausted Yoshino doing her best impression of an immobile log on the bed.

Instead she found the girl in question seated at the desk, half-heartedly attempting to pry the cap off a bottle of liquor, head slumped to the table.

Uchida blinked, eyes blurring, then focused again on the sight in front of her, the room clarifying. Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

"I'm sure they have bottle openers," she said, slipping in and closing the door behind her.

Yoshino's head snapped around, hand dropping the bottle with a thunk.

"But there's no way I'm going to get you one," Uchida finished. "Where did you even get that?"

"Amusement park," Yoshino said dully, turning back to face the wooden table in front of her. "Paid some poor-looking man to buy it for me. Fed him some bullshit story, which I doubt he believed."

The clock on the wall ticked.

"What's wrong?" Uchida asked quietly. "I don't have to tell you this isn't like you. This door doesn't have a lock. You'd never take a risk like that."

"I can't sleep," Yoshino said. "Haven't slept in days. I thought I'd try something new."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

Yoshino slumped onto the table, and Uchida stepped forward to view her countenance. Yoshino's body language spoke of nothing but exhaustion.

"I can't take it anymore," the fallen figure said. "I just can't take it!"

She spoke the last line with clenched teeth, sitting up, exerting a force of will to keep from screaming it.

"I'm sorry," she said, slumping back down.

"It's okay," Uchida said impotently, shifting on her feet, wanting to hug her, knowing this wasn't the time.

"I can't do it," Yoshino lamented. "I have no idea how to even start. "I've made promises left and right. I told you I'd solve our problems. I told my mother I'd make things up to her. I told the student council I'd help organize the upcoming ceremonies. I told my parents I'm going to meet them. And on and on and on. I'm on the hook for promises I didn't even make myself, obligations my grandfather made. Half of them I don't want to do, and most of them I don't even know how."

Yoshino looked forward, into the middle distance, eyes wide, and Uchida could tell that she wasn't looking at the table, or the books stacked on it, or the wall. She wasn't seeing anything at all, except a terrifying future she didn't know how to face.

"Just try your best," Uchida said tritely, quietly aware that she lacked the tools to give any real help. "You don't have to do everything perfectly."

"That's the thing, though!" Yoshino said, glaring at her with some vehemence. "You keep saying that, but I can't be not perfect. I can't! People are counting on me. I can't let them down—"

"Then forget them!" Uchida interjected, with sudden rage. "Why are you still hung up on this? Why are you so obsessed with this? It's not that you can't let them down, is it? You can't let yourself down!"

Yoshino didn't even argue this point, returning to staring in front of her with empty eyes.

That's right, Uchida thought. I don't have to know what she needs to do.

"Normal people don't overburden themselves like this," Uchida added, leaning over Yoshino. "Normal people don't breakdown when they can't fulfill. Normal people just accept that some things just happen, and get some damn sleep."

"I'm not normal," Yoshino growled. "No matter how you look at it."

The clock on the wall counted the seconds, and Uchida suppressed an irrational urge to tear it down and smash it.

"What about you?" Yoshino asked. "All happy-go-lucky and worry-free. We both know that's a lie, but you keep the mask up anyway. I tried, but I can't do it. What's even the point?"

Uchida looked off to the side briefly.

"It hurts, you know, all of this," she said. "I smile because if I don't, I'll crack. It's hard, forgetting what's going to happen when we get back, but it's the only way. Maybe I'll have a crying fit when this is over, but for now, I can live in the moment."

"And that's another miserable thing," Yoshino said. "We can't. However much I want to, we can't. Tomorrow always comes. Tomorrow, we'll pack our bags and head home, and we won't even be able to smile."

"Life is like that," Uchida said.

She looked down, mourning the world as it was.

"It doesn't have to be," Yoshino said. Uchida looked at Yoshino's sudden intense look with surprise.

"All of this agonizing is artificial, when you get down to it," Yoshino said, almost whisper-quiet. "Even now, I have more money than I know what to do with. I know how to access it. I could transfer most of it out with only a few phone calls. With that done, we could pretend to head home, get "delayed", then go hide in a hotel somewhere. I'm confident I can get us fake ID's. Then, when they stop seriously looking for us, we could even fly out of the country, visit all those places you wanted to visit. And once we hit age of majority, we're free. None of this would ever matter again."

Free.

The word hit Uchida with an unexpected force, leaving her slightly dizzy. An enticing future opened itself in front of her eyes. Just the two of them, without a care in the world.

"I had to get completely desperate before I would think of something like this," Yoshino continued, "but it was the play that gave me the idea. Why not run away, like they did? There's nothing really stopping us. I won't have to deal with all these absurd problems, and neither will you."

Yoshino looked at her, eyes brimming with tears.

"We could do whatever we wanted," she said. "Just live our lives, travel the world, with no worries or problems. Wouldn't that be grand?"

Yoshino grabbed her hands, looking up at her. Uchida looked back into those achingly beautiful eyes, lit with an insane fire.

In that one instant of time, Yoshino was entirely serious, willing to do it all. All it would take is her word.

Her head reeled. Visions danced in front of her. Eating food on hotel rooftops. Visiting pandas in China. Swimming in Hawaii. Every fantasy she had had as a child—it was all possible. All her problems gone. Just one word.

But it was wrong. She could feel that in her heart, the same way she had when Yoshino had asked her before, all those years ago. It would be running away, not just in the strictly physical sense, but in every possible sense. She knew that, and she knew Yoshino knew that. But Yoshino—Yoshino was thinking about it anyway.

She shook her head slowly, and it was more painful than she would ever again care to admit.

"You're right," she said, eyes strangely wet. "It would be grand. But you know we can't. Even after all that's happened, they're still my parents. I can't just leave them. And I know you can't leave it behind either. I know you love them. You can't hurt them like that."

The feverish light in Yoshino's eyes dimmed.

"I can't," Yoshino agreed, looking down. "But I can't think of anything else worth doing. I—"

Yoshino was silent, and it took Uchida a moment to realize she was crying, softly.

"You know what the worst part is?" Yoshino asked rhetorically, fighting to say it through the tears. "I understand. I finally understand."

"What?" Uchida asked, when Yoshino didn't continue.

"My parents," Yoshino said, tears flowing slowly. "My father. That's exactly what they were doing. Running away from everything. I was just another problem to be cast aside."

Yoshino swallowed with effort.

"I can't forgive them," she said. "I'll never forgive them. But I understand. I wish I didn't. I liked it better when I could just hate them as monsters."

She looked to the side.

"It's all there, you know," she said. "I looked it up. Climb up my family tree just a little and you see everything. Violence. Alcoholism. It haunts me now. I think back to all those times I fought as a kid, all those I wanted nothing better than to break someone's face, and I worry. I remember all our experiments with the alcohol, how much I enjoyed being drunk, and I worry. I can't be that. That's why I can't bear seeing my parents. The last I want to do is meet them, and realize I'm just like them."

She shuddered.

"That's why I have to be perfect," she added shakily. "It's redemption. I want everyone to remember. I am not my goddamn family."

Something clicked in Uchida's head.

The moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived. She knew what to do.

She embraced Yoshino's head in a motherly posture that was faintly absurd, given their relative heights.

"I don't know why all this had to happen," she said. "I don't know why everything had to be the way it was. It doesn't matter. The world doesn't stand still, but we can make us stay the same. No matter what changes, we can always be like this. That is what matters."

She felt Yoshino's tears start to soak her shirt.

Uchida took a breath.

"I know now what I want from you," she said. "What I've always wanted from you."

"I wanted to be your savior. Somehow, I knew what you were trying to do, and I wanted to be the one to help you do it, the one to save you from it. I wanted someone to need me."

Yoshino gripped her shirt sleeves.

"You can act perfect all you want," Uchida said. "Or not. Just remember that you aren't. If you can't take it, if it's too much for you, remember that there's one person in the world you don't have to act perfect in front of. That's why I'm here. It's what I want."

She fell into silence, patting Yoshino's head, letting her cry.

Eventually, without prompting, Yoshino began to talk, lying on Uchida's chest while she sat on the bed. She talked about the past, and the future, and the present, things she never shared, things she had kept private, trivial and important, and Uchida listened.

"You know," she said, looking up at the ceiling, "when I was a kid, I was afraid that if I talked, I would scare people away. Everyone always looked at me funny whenever I talked. I didn't understand, then. I thought that if I said anything, everyone would realize what kind of terrible child I was, and they would leave me. It's funny to think about now, but that's what I believed."

Uchida nodded placidly.

"I know," she said. "And the reason everyone looked at you strangely was because you talked too eloquently for your age and, later on, because they were surprised to hear you talk at all. Eventually it became a habit."

"That's why I loved my books so much," Yoshino said. "And I dragged you into doing those acting skits. I wanted to pretend to be someone else, because I wasn't happy with who I was."

Uchida nodded. She had figured this out, too.

"I never really cared much for the student council," Yoshino said. "I only joined to prove myself. The truth was, I would much rather have spent those afternoons walking home with you and everyone else."

"I suspected as much," Uchida said, patting Yoshino's hair complacently.

"And I really only shop to keep you company," Yoshino said. "To tell the truth, I'm not usually that interested, except when there's something interesting about it, like that one time with Touma."

Uchida's hand froze.

"Really?" Uchida asked, betrayed. "Seriously? You always seem so enthusiastic—"

"And the truth is," Yoshino interrupted. "I actually like those stuffed horses of yours, but I've teased you too much about it to admit that now. They really are quite cute."

"I knew it!" Uchida exclaimed, leaning forward to try and look down at Yoshino's face. "You finally admit it! I—"

She stopped and narrowed her eyes.

"You're changing the sub—"

"Same thing about why I always make fun of your eating habits," Yoshino interrupted. "I'm just envious about your ability to do that and still look so good. Though I do have my reasons for trying to keep you thin…"

"Perverted reasons," Uchida quipped.

"The first time I realized just what I wanted from you," Yoshino added, "I was mortified. I tried to secretly do my own laundry, even though it was completely unnecessary, and I added bleach for some crazy reason. We had to throw it all out. It was my favorite nightshirt…"

Uchida tilted her head in perplexity.

"I don't think I follow," she said.

"It doesn't matter," Yoshino said. "What do you think of Touma?"

"What about Touma?" Uchida asked.

"Don't you think she's attractive?" Yoshino asked pensively. "I think so, though I'm not sure I should be admitting that to you—"

Uchida grabbed Yoshino's head into a vise-like grip with both hands, forcing her head up so that they made eye contact.

"I'll take that as a no," Yoshino managed, cheeks squeezed together. Uchida's expression wasn't exactly friendly.

Yoshino sat up when Uchida let go, finally breaking the contact.

"I had no idea you were the jealous type," Yoshino said, trying to smooth out her hair.

Uchida watched her with an aggrieved expression.

"Alright, alright, I apologize," Yoshino said. "I wasn't being serious anyway. I was just distracting your attention."

"Distracting—" Uchida began.

"You know what I want to do someday?" Yoshino asked. "I would love to adopt a child when I'm old enough. Probably a daughter. I'd love to—"

"Wait," Uchida said, holding up a hand for her to stop, other hand plastered to forehead in a mime of a headache. "I can't tell anymore. Are you being serious or are you just messing with me? You haven't made any sense at all ever since you started talking about shopping."

Yoshino smiled thinly, perhaps amused.

"I can't believe you!" Uchida said. "I thought we were having a moment."

"Oh, we are," Yoshino said.

"Then—" Uchida began.

She wasn't able to finish the sentence, finding her words suffocated by a kiss.

She pushed Yoshino away.

"Not here, you i—" she began.

The door to their room slammed behind them, and she realized it had opened just moments earlier.

"You are an idiot," Uchida growled, quite sincerely. "What were you thinking, risking being seen like that?"

"I probably am an idiot," Yoshino agreed. "But they would have found out eventually. In fact, I suspect they've been already been told and are just hiding it. I thought it was an acceptable risk."

"You are an idiot," Uchida repeated.

The girl tilted her head, leaning over Uchida.

"I think we should hide out here for a while longer, don't you agree?" Yoshino said.

"Only if you keep your hands to yourself," Uchida said.

"Fine," Yoshino said, sitting back up, pouting.

That was a rare expression for her.

They waited, and waited, for the door to open again.

Finally, just when they were about to give up and go out themselves, the door opened, but it was not who they expected.

It took them a moment to realize who it was, and then they were downright shocked.

"Arisawa?" Yoshino and Uchida said, simultaneously.

"You shaved your moustache!" Uchida added.

"Yes," Arisawa agreed.

He bowed, greeting them.

"What are you doing here?" Yoshino asked.

"You really think we'd let you go traveling on your own?" he asked rhetorically. "I was tailing you the whole time. It's amazing how easily you can hide in plain sight with just a minor facial hair adjustment."

They stared at him incredulously.

"Anyway," he said, looking down on them from his standing position. "I was called in because her parents thought things were getting out of hand. First, they hear crying and then, when they try to check up on you, they find—well you know what they found."

"Did they know?" Yoshino asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Yes," Arisawa said, voice sonorous.

"Then I was lied to," Yoshino said.

Arisawa shrugged.

"It was to keep you two under control," he said. "We wanted you to think you needed to hide it."

Yoshino opened her mouth to speak, but Arisawa cut her off, speaking first.

"Is everything alright, young mistress?" he asked. "They are terribly worried, and I am as well. That is why I was called here. They do not think things are well."

"It's fine," Yoshino said, eyes downcast. "Why would they call you instead of talking to us directly?"

"They did not feel it was their place," he said. "I have known you for far longer."

"They shouldn't worry about that," Yoshino said. "Tell them that. And tell them—"

She paused, then took a breath.

"I'll tell them myself later, but you can say it too. I'm sorry for all of this. I took advantage of their hospitality, accepted their gifts, and ended up causing nothing but trouble. It's inexcusable."

Arisawa tilted his head.

"Alright," he said. "But I do not think it is as bad as all that. A logical corollary of them having been informed is that they were prepared for this eventuality. The truth is, they were told to be wary of something like this. Indeed, they spotted it coming."

Yoshino stood up decisively, pulling Uchida with her.

She shook her head.

"No. I will go apologize in person. They are my…grandparents, after all."

"Are you really alright?" Arisawa asked, when she reached the doorway.

She stopped.

The truth was, she had seen the door open and the old woman look in. That was why she had done it, regardless of whether they actually knew or not.

Things had to be faced. No more running away.

She squeezed Uchida's hand, and nodded.