They lingered on the train platform a good deal longer than they needed to, long after the other passengers on their train had made their way out.
"Having second thoughts?" Yoshino asked, trying to lighten the mood. "It's too late now to change your mind. There's no running away to New York or Paris now."
She tried to hide her nervousness, but it still leaked out in the awkwardness of the joke.
"I hear they're overrated anyway," Uchida said sourly.
Yoshino watched Uchida's face. She hadn't really expected it to work.
Arisawa listened to them with a bland expression.
Sighing, Yoshino pulled out her cell phone, more out of habit than anything.
"Well, they got here half an hour ago," she said, immediately putting the unnecessary phone away. "When we walk out the ticket gate, they're probably going to be right there waiting. Be ready."
Yoshino gestured at the stairwell leading down from the elevated platform, towards the station entrance.
Uchida responded by taking a deep breath and walking forward, body language a curious mixture of defiance and timidity. Might as well get it over with.
Yoshino followed a few paces behind, tailed by Arisawa, carrying all of their luggage. He had remained curiously silent the whole trip back, and didn't seem about to change that policy anytime soon.
"It sure went by fast, huh?" Yoshino said, one hand grasping the railing.
Uchida nodded absently, mind clearly not on the conversation.
They stepped out into the high-ceilinged entranceway, passing a few late-arrivers going the other way, cursing their poor timing. The size of the room, contrasted with the few weekend passengers, combined to create an impression of great emptiness.
Still, it was proving surprisingly difficult to spot Uchida's parents. Maybe they weren't waiting inside after all.
"I don't see them," Arisawa said.
Heading for the exits near the ticket readers, Yoshino blinked at a small group of people heading for them. Then she realized why they hadn't spotted them.
Her expectations had been incorrect. Instead of two people, Uchida's parents were flanked by two others. Specifically, Touma and Chiaki.
She watched Uchida take another deep breath, and realized the presence of more people must only make it worse.
To her surprise, Chiaki and Touma pushed ahead of the other two.
"I'm surprised to see you here," Yoshino said. "Scratch that, I'm glad."
Truth be told, she wasn't really sure if she was glad, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.
"We have a present for Uchida here," Touma said, presenting the girl in question with a small white cardboard box, plastered with pictures and syllabary.
"A cell phone?" Uchida said, surprised, but still not surprised enough to take her eyes off her parents, who were now looming over the four of them. They had their arms crossed, waiting for them to finish.
The suspense only made it worse.
"We pooled our money and bought it," Touma said. "Of course, it's your responsibility to buy minutes for it."
"Sorry, but you triggered too much of Makoto's curiosity," Chiaki said, with a non-apologetic expression. "And he apologizes for breaching your secret, but he thought it was the right thing to do."
"I'm not really surprised," Uchida said fatalistically, turning the box over in her hands, but her eyes were unfocused. Clearly, she wasn't quite capable of focusing on a cell phone at that moment in time.
"Oh, and, uh, thank you," she added, seconds late.
"They were quite insistent, and it seemed reasonable," Uchida's mother said, stepping forward, her voice casting an instant chill on the conversation despite its perfectly pleasant tone.
"Someday we will pay you back," the woman added.
Yoshino clenched her fists, not out of anger, but only to steady herself. She took a breath.
"A lot has happened," Yoshino said without giving pointless context.
She needed to get it said fast. She was walking on extremely thin ice—assuming she wasn't already in the water.
She smiled nervously, kneading her hands behind her back.
"But it's not as bad as all that," she said, doing her best to ignore that she was probably the worst person to say what she was about to say. "Uchida here is back, we're all safe and sound, and really, all it meant was a few days of missed school. Not a huge deal, ultimately, and maybe you'll be willing to show some leniency, given her age, since fifteen is after all—"
"Save it," Uchida's father said bluntly.
She saved it.
Uchida looked down at her feet, silent.
"We've called off the matchmaking," Uchida's mother said. "We honestly didn't think it would be as earth-shattering as all this. It's not worth it."
"And that is all the leniency she'll get," her father followed, severely, without even the tiniest of gaps. "We're not in the habit of rewarding bad behavior, especially not of this magnitude. If you really hated it that much, Yuka, you should have said so."
"I did say so," Uchida said bitterly.
"More fervently, then."
"That's enough," her mother interrupting, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder.
She turned, making it clear that what she was about to say was intended for all of them.
"Yuka-chan will have to make good on what she said," the woman said. "She will spend now until high school examinations studying in her room, with nothing to distract her. Nothing. There will be no study sessions outside our home. If you want to study with her, you'll have to come to her. Cell phone time will be limited."
She gave them all a look, and they nodded to show they understood—well, except Arisawa, who put his skills to good use by continuing to blend into the background seamlessly.
"And," she continued, making a sentence out of the word. "Yoshino-san will not be invited."
Yoshino let out a breath. Well, she didn't really expect any better.
Switching away from her personal name, though. That hurt.
"What high schools will she be applying to?" Chiaki asked, and Yoshino realized, suddenly, that it was suddenly a very important question.
"Whatever matches her academics and is in the area," her mother said. "So something high-end. We don't intend to bias it away from the rest of you, if that's what you're wondering. I suspect Yoshino-chan will be applying to the same places, even though she could probably do even better."
The four of them shared a look, even Uchida, looking up from the corner of her eye. Her mother didn't know there were other problems involved.
"Tell them what's going on," she had advised Uchida on the train. "They don't know. If they do, perhaps the sympathy will help."
Looking at Uchida's resigned expression, though, she wondered if it would happen, and how long it would take for child and parents to rebuild proper lines of communication. Months, perhaps.
"Other issues, we'll discuss amongst ourselves over time," Uchida's father said, in a masterpiece of euphemism. "We may include you in the resolution. Perhaps"
He turned, heading for the door, without ending with a farewell.
"Well, we'll be going," her mother said, bowing politely.
"Be well," she said.
All else aside, at least it sounded sincere.
They moved to leave, but Uchida turned, giving Yoshino's hand a squeeze, a gesture the others watched: Touma and Chiaki with interest, Uchida's parents with guarded, unreadable faces.
Yoshino didn't know when during the past few minutes Uchida had managed to write a note, but she found a piece of paper clutched in her hand. It said simply:
"I believe in you."
They met her head maid in the station parking lot, next to Arisawa's usual car. Like all of them, she was wearing a jacket against the wind.
They exchanged pleasantries, and got in, Arisawa in the driver's seat, the other two in the back.
"I'm surprised you even know how to drive," Yoshino said. "No offense, but I don't think I've ever seen you do it."
"Don't underestimate me," the woman said defensively. "I have my license."
"She got it back when you first moved here," Arisawa commented, watching the road. "She was considering driving you to school herself, so she asked me to teach her. I think it's been gathering dust since then, though."
The woman grunted in annoyance.
"Don't get too cocky, Arisawa."
"It's better leave the driving to the professionals," he commented, keeping a straight face even though everyone knew he was enjoying it.
"It's not as if I was going to cut your salary," the woman said. "Though that's definitely starting to sound like a good idea."
"You were a terrible student," Arisawa said.
"Say any more and it's going to be minus twenty percent instead of ten."
The banter was soothing, in a way, but Yoshino needed to drive the conversation onward.
She cleared her throat, then explained what had happened to Uchida.
When it was clear she was done, the woman thought about it, then shrugged expressively.
"Not to be blasé, but I thought as much," she said, strangely detached. "It's about the best you can expect."
"What about me?" Yoshino asked.
The woman looked at her.
"Arisawa told me that you seemed authentically surprised when I called you," she said, "And I'm inclined to believe him. It wasn't your fault."
Yoshino stayed silent for a moment, digesting that.
"Will you be alright?" her mother asked, looking at her from the corner of her eye, a trace of concern in her voice. "You haven't been separated from her for more than a week since…well, more than a decade. I don't want to treat you like a porcelain doll, but will you need support?"
"I should be insulted," Yoshino, looking at paneling in front of her. "Everyone keeps treating me like a mental patient, like I'll go insane without her."
"I'm sorry," the woman said, rather insincerely. "I was just concerned. I won't say I approve of your relationship, but you and I both know—"
"No, I understand," Yoshino interrupted. "You didn't let me finish. I said I should be insulted. But you're absolutely right. It's a legitimate concern. In that sense, I really am like a mental patient."
"You don't have to put it quite like that."
Yoshino sighed.
"I think I'll be alright this time," she said, hoping the words were true. "We had a little talk."
She paused.
"For as long as she's gone, I think I'll try to ask less of myself. It's not healthy, and it's only for some months."
Her mother raised an eyebrow at that.
"Then perhaps you will be alright," she said.
She leaned over and grabbed Yoshino by the shoulder.
"I know I put a lot of expectations on you," she said. "And I'm sorry if it's too much. It's just—"
Yoshino made a gesture with her hand.
"I know," she said. "You don't have to explain."
She looked up at the ceiling, wondering if she should ask.
"Back when you were young, you wanted to go to university, didn't you?" she asked. "I'm sorry you never got the chance."
Her mother let out a gust of breath.
"So you asked my parents about that, did you?" she said.
"I'm serious."
Yoshino made eye contact.
"Of course I did," the woman said, clasping her hands, looking down. "I don't mean to brag, but my grades were quite high in middle school. My teachers were dropping hints about Todai and Kyodai, though I don't know if that was realistic. They even got to me to test for high school, you know that? Got into the best school in the area, except I couldn't go. Scholarships weren't enough; I needed to also make money. And I didn't even get that good a scholarship, for that matter."
Yoshino made a sympathetic grimace.
"You know," she said carefully. "It's not too late—"
Her mother shook her head decisively.
"What good would it do now?" she said, patting Yoshino on the head patronizingly. "I've made my choice."
Realizing what she had said, she leaned back in her seat.
"No pressure though," she added, pausing.
"Or that's what I want to say," she finished. "Except I can't really not pressure you. I'm not going to lie about that."
Yoshino smiled slightly.
"I'll try my best," she said, grabbing the woman's hand. "Even more than that, actually. You know that. And I'm good enough to succeed."
Her mother looked across at her and, though Yoshino couldn't see it, she was thinking to herself: It seems like just yesterday I had to look down to see her face.
"There are much easier ways, you know," she said. "Forgive me for saying this, but from a pure ambition standpoint, your parents have the right idea. Going to one of the elite prep schools would greatly oil your acceptance into the corporate circle, as would finding a suitable husband. Not the mention the various ownership issues you'd no longer have to navigate."
She looked down.
"I never wanted to say anything, but I had hoped you would choose an easier path. I didn't want you to struggle so much in life."
"You were worried I couldn't handle it," Yoshino said, not reproachfully.
"You gave me a lot to worry about," the woman said, voice airy. "The fits of rage, sealing yourself in, getting yourself suspended, and then that…incident with Uchida. Those were not the hallmarks of emotional stability. At the time, I didn't—I just didn't know how to approach you. I thought I was seeing the same movie play, all over again."
"Are you—" Yoshino began.
"Your father had the same problems," the woman said. "I told you. The Old Man told me. He didn't want to be a businessman. He wanted to be a scholar, a mathematician. Eventually, your father ran away. The Old Man regretted that his whole life."
"I won't do that," Yoshino said, not wanting to think about how tempting that exact route had been. "I won't take the easy way out. Nor will I do what my parents say just to make my life easier. Not at the price I would pay."
The woman nodded.
"I know. Why do you think I let Uchida stay with you?"
"You can't protect me forever," Yoshino said.
"That's a cliché psychological phrase and you know it," her mother said immediately. "But you're right."
The woman paused significantly, chewing over her next sentence.
"When you meet your parents," she said, finally. "You might find you have a surprising amount in common."
Yoshino gritted her teeth, surprised by the comment, though she shouldn't have been.
"Don't say that," she said, controlling herself. "Don't ever say that."
The woman, both her mother and not her mother, watched her.
"I won't lie," she said. "A part of me is glad you hate them. I probably couldn't stand the jealousy, otherwise. But please don't always respond like that. It's not healthy."
Yoshino nodded.
"I understand," she said. "And don't worry, I'll buy you a new lamp,"
"I already bought one," the woman dismissed. "Though I'll be glad to accept a gift. Anyway, all of that aside, you really should meet them. You know it's necessary."
"I know," Yoshino said.
She took a breath, thinking back to all that had happened, what she and Uchida had said to each other, the short handwritten note that she still had in her pocket.
"I think I'm finally ready."
One of the downsides of missing school to go on vacation, suspension-related or not, was having to trudge through the assignments you had missed.
It wasn't all that hard, but still, it took time.
Yoshino's computer was on, bathing her in faint radiation, but she was staying off the messaging service popular among her circle of friends, at least for now; she had a feeling she wouldn't be seeing Uchida there for a while, and she had no urge to field sympathy from the others at this point. Instead, the device was relegated to playing a particularly soothing piece by Brahms.
Well, okay, she wasn't even focusing all that hard. To be honest, she was alternating problem-solving and browsing electronics sites. She was deciding what kind of laptop she wanted—it was phenomenally silly at this point that she didn't own one, and it would have definitely come in handy during her recent "vacation". She really should have gotten one earlier.
Money was no object, of course, but there was a certain tradeoff between power and small size, and between power and battery life. It was not as if she did anything particularly strenuous with her computer, but it was a certain shameful pleasure of hers to be able to make Chiaki jealous on-demand, just by bringing up the topic.
Speaking of which, maybe she should just ask Chiaki.
There was no real need to do any of this. If she just asked her mother to buy whatever she thought appropriate, the woman would probably return in days with a custom model that had everything she needed. She was just procrastinating.
I'm not in any mood for this. Not today.
The damn homework was boringly simple.
She sighed, spinning her chair around one hundred-eighty degrees so she could brood at the setting sun. It was brilliantly descending over the city, a view her panoramic windows and hilltop perch offered an exceptional view of. It cheered her up, a little.
Her phone buzzed at her.
"This is my new number!"the message said. "Chiaki helped me set it up! Also, Kana is here."
Then another buzz.
"Don't worry. I'm fine."
That put a real smile on her face, and she leaned over to tap out a response and store the number.
From the corner of her she spotted two figures strolling the grounds.
She had to raise her eyebrow at that.
Her mother had taught her how impolite it was to eavesdrop,.
But her mother had also taught her that politeness could be readily dispensed with, depending on the importance of the topic.
Not it was important or anything.
She took a moment to finish the message, then jumped briskly out of her chair and headed out her door.
Through the expedient of routing herself through the garden and behind the trees at the edge of the main area, she was able to approach them undetected, even if she got her shoes muddy in the fresh snowmelt.
There was nothing to hear, however, at least not initially. As Yoshino listened from behind a nearby tree, they chatted on completely mundane topics such as the weather, how they could convince the chef to go on a diet and exercise regimen, and things like that.
Rubbing herself for warmth despite her jacket, Yoshino began to regret her impetuous action.
What's life without a little fun, I guess.
"Well, I can't say I'm exactly surprised they pressured you," her mother said, voice a little muffled by distance.
Yoshino tilted her head in confusion.
Hmm, did I miss something?
"Honestly, I can't really blame them," Arisawa said. "You're nearly thirty, and they're naturally feeling anxious."
"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to discuss a woman's age?" her mother responded, in the tone of one repeating a nostrum.
"Don't dodge the topic," Arisawa said.
From her perspective, Yoshino couldn't see their expressions, and it wasn't safe to try to watch; her face would be visible among the trees.
"Well to be honest," her mother said. "I do feel it a little, though I'd never admit it to them. Or to her."
"She'd be insulted if she heard that," Arisawa said.
None of them needed any context to know whom "her" referred to.
Yoshino was, in fact, a little insulted.
"Don't be like that, Arisawa," her mother said. "You know that's not what it is. I'm not feeling the urge for more children or my biological clock ticking or whatever other phrase you want to throw in here. It's just…"
The silence drew out, and Yoshino felt a little guilty for assuming the wrong thing.
"Well, how long do you expect to keep me waiting, then?" Arisawa asked. "It'd be one thing if I had some sort of definite promise, but I'm not even waiting for that. I'm just waiting for consideration."
Her mother sighed.
"We've been over this," she said. "You're a good person, and I've known you for a while, but I'm not sure you're the right person. Not without trying some things out first."
A brief pause.
"If it's any consolation, your age isn't a factor, not with me. And, as you may have noticed, my parents are now too desperate to care."
"Shaving the moustache seemed to be a good idea, as you said," Arisawa said. "But…"
He paused.
"Regardless, it's not something a man in love wants to hear," Arisawa continued, a trace bitter. "What more do you want? We're here walking alone near a sunset! Is it not enough? What exactly are you waiting for? Someone else?"
The woman sighed again.
"I don't know if love at first sight is still possible at my age, so I'm not waiting for something like that, if that's what you're worrying about. I don't think I'm even open to it. I—"
Another pause.
"She needs me. Now more than ever. I can't divide my time like this. You know that."
Yoshino looked down at her hands, a strange sickening sensation settling into her.
My life, her life, trading one for the other—
She clenched her eyes.
"I know," Arisawa said sadly. "I know. I'm just letting off frustration."
Yoshino shed her stealth abruptly, circling the tree trunk, treading over the broken branches deliberately loudly.
They stared at her, startled faces silhouetted by the descending sun, now nearly gone.
"How long have you been there?" her mother asked.
Yoshino stayed silent, and the three of them continued to stand stock-still, like a tableau.
"Why are you here?" Yoshino asked, finally. "Why do you love me? What have I ever done for you? I want to know! I'm not going to put off this time."
Her mother watched her for a moment, then turned away, hiding her expression. Arisawa looked at the two of them with wider eyes than Yoshino had ever seen on him.
"My standard answer is that I love you," the woman said. "And that doesn't need a reason. It's entirely true. But alright. You probably deserve a better answer at this point.
Her mother took a breath.
"I think I hated my life, back then," she said. "Working for household after household, scraping together some money to send home. My parents wanted me to find someone suitable to marry, someone who could support them, so that I could settle down, but what was that? A long senescence, I thought. It wasn't my dream."
She sighed.
"But then again, I didn't even know what my dream was. Not anymore. I had given up on education. I would never make it into the elites again, so what was the point?"
The woman turned to look at Yoshino, and the girl felt those eyes, hard as steel.
"Don't think you destroyed my life," the woman intoned. "I never had much of one to begin with."
She paused, thinking.
"It took me a long time to realize just why I accepted the Old Man's offer. It wasn't the money, though that helped, or that I'd fallen in love with you, though that became true. I had a new dream. I could finish what he started. You could do everything I wanted to do. You—"
She cut herself off, shaking her head ruefully.
"I'm going to cry so hard when you graduate high school," she said, half-joking. "It might be kind of funny. I realize it's a little strange to live vicariously like this, but that's what I've become. A bit of an obsessive robot."
Arisawa and Yoshino glanced at each other, wondering what to say.
"That's why I put so much pressure on you," the woman said. "Even though I say I don't. It's implied, isn't it?"
Yoshino nodded, once.
"I won't disappoint you," Yoshino asserted, putting on a determined expression. "I'll definitely fulfill your dream. But I—I think it might also be good to have some other dreams, perhaps."
It came out sounding much less eloquent than she had hoped.
"I'll take that under advisement," her mother said, sounding skeptical.
Far too late, Arisawa finally turned to leave and give them privacy, trying to perform his routine trick of disappearing into the mist.
"No, don't bother," the woman said, gesturing with her hand. "We're done here."
Yoshino could only agree.
To say that Yoshino was not look forward to this meeting would be quite the understatement.
Nonetheless, it had to be done.
Yoshino sat in a high back sofa chair, facing two similar ones on the other side of a small coffee table. To her right, her head servant stood impatiently.
Yoshino knew that the moment her parents arrived, the woman would stand at attention, body language a mixture of respect and defiance. At that moment, the two of them would appear the very image of master and servant, rather than mother and child.
For now though, it was unnecessary to put up any artificial pretenses.
Nakanawa shuffled over to the table, setting down a tray with three tea cups and two teapots of different styles, one modern with Earl Grey, the other porcelain with traditional green tea, an expensive Gyokuro.
They nodded at her, and the woman returned to standing by one of the doorways. Yoshino still had yet to break the news about her son's crush to her.
The far doorway opened, exactly on time, and Arisawa showed the newly arrived woman in with a gesture, then closed the door behind him and stood by the doorway.
Just a woman, and no one else.
The woman sat down in one of the two chairs, and Yoshino peered into her face, doing her best to avoid being caught doing so. She wasn't used to seeing members of her family, so the resemblance between what she saw here and what she saw in the mirror gave her a rather strange sensation.
"Would you prefer to speak in private?" the head maid said, managing to sneak threatening undertones into her otherwise pleasant voice. "I can dismiss the others, and I can also leave, if you prefer."
"It's unnecessary," Yoshino countermanded sharply, wondering why she would even offer.
"There won't be any need," the other woman agreed, in a cultured tone. "Nothing we say here need be private."
Again, the resemblance was eerie, the voice echoing Yoshino's own far too much.
Yoshino's mind abhorred the thought of that woman as her mother. Instead, her mind slithered and snuck around the topic, preferring to think of her as "That Woman".
That Woman sipped at her teacup, watching her as if she were merely a curiosity.
"So," Yoshino said, rather unpleasantly. "He couldn't even deign to visit. That seems typical."
The other woman tilted her head
"I thought I should give you the news myself," she said, levelly. "He's dead."
What?
Yoshino hoped she was concealing her slack-jawed expression well enough, though she knew better. In front of her, Arisawa coughed loudly, obviously concealing a reaction as well.
"They found him drowned in the Seine," the woman said, putting down her teacup. "The police investigation concluded it was an accident, and that he was drunk. Personally, I think it was suicide, though the alcohol may have helped."
"And you didn't tell us?" Yoshino said, leaning forward, exasperated. "You could have at least mentioned it earlier. And a suicide, of all things!"
"Like I said," the woman replied. "I wanted to tell you myself. I was sparing you the shock. And let us drop the pretense: you're not really sad."
"Of course not," Yoshino growled, reclining back in her chair. "I have no intention of pretending I care about either of you. But it's not information that is standard to withhold."
"Well I told you, didn't I?" the woman said, picking her tea back up.
Yoshino looked at the woman, with her aloof, uncaring calmness, and wondered if they really shared half their genes.
"Do you not care at all?" the servant next to her said, unable anymore to restrain herself. "This is your daughter here. If you don't care, why are you here?"
The woman looked up at the servant.
"People sometimes tell me that I'm too unemotional," she said, voice detached. "Perhaps it's true. But I really did learn to love him, eventually, despite everything."
Yoshino watched her in stony silence.
"He had so many problems, that man," That Woman said, looking to the side. "He wasn't ready for a daughter, not at all. Neither of us were. We probably never would have been."
"Well, I'm here, whether you like it or not," Yoshino asserted icily. "But if you don't want me, then leave me alone!"
"That's all I really cared about," the woman continued, as if she hadn't even spoken. "Whether or not he was happy, that is. It's the only thing I ever learned to care about."
"And he could be happy, knowing that he was leaving her here?" the woman standing next to Yoshino demanded.
"No, not really," the other woman said, still strangely bland. "It was quite a conundrum. He couldn't really be happy either way. Believe it or not, we read those reports the Old Man sent us every year. We almost came back, that year when she wouldn't talk. In the end, he decided he wouldn't be any help. I agreed."
"What on earth is wrong with you?" Yoshino's servant said. "Of course it would have helped! How selfish are you, anyway?"
"It was rather similar to my childhood, actually," the woman said, again as if no one had even spoken. "Only I never quite changed. But I still got where I am now."
"I don't give a shit," Yoshino snarled, feeling her self-control slipping. "All I wanted, back then, was to see my parents. It's funny, I finally get my wish and I couldn't hate it more. What could possibly make you think I'd want to live with you? I wouldn't go if all my wealth depended on it. And I know for a fact it doesn't."
The other woman looked down and Yoshino finally detected an expression on her face, one of faint sadness.
"I didn't really think otherwise," she said. "But now that he is dead, you are all that I have left of him. You turned out to be like him, in many ways. I don't think you notice."
"Don't you ever compare me with either of you," Yoshino said chillingly. "Like I said, I don't care."
"I won't force you," the woman said. "But there is nothing else really left for me."
"That kind of sympathy play won't work," Yoshino said, in no mood to relinquish her unexpected advantage in the conversation. "You say you won't use force—well, you won't get it any other way. And I'll fight you tooth and nail if you try."
The woman looked up, and Yoshino realized that her expression was still nearly unchanged. It was almost robotic.
"Well, I would still recommend you switch schools and find a marriage partner," the woman said. "It's good advice, I think. I was being quite sincere. It's your father's old high school, after all."
"No," Yoshino said. "I have no urge to."
"I see," the woman said, almost without hesitation.
For the first time in the conversation, there a brief lull.
"You have a boy here you love, right?" That Woman asked, finally. "I can tell. That at least I understand."
"You may believe what you wish," Yoshino said, barely managing to conceal her astonishment at the unexpected insight.
The woman nodded to herself.
"I do hope it is worth it, but I will allow you the opportunity to choose."
You came all this way, you turn my life upside-down, and in the end you don't even care that much? Yoshino thought, outraged.
But saying that wouldn't help her cause.
"Will there be anything else, then?" Yoshino said. "Or are we done wasting my time?"
"I do have one request," the woman said. "May I stay here, in one of the open rooms? Like I said, I don't really have anything else left for me. That way, I could at least have a place to stay."
"Why would I ever—no!" Yoshino spluttered. "Absolutely not! And if you try to stay, I'll have the servants throw you out, don't you think they won't!"
"It's alright," That Woman said, again strangely without affect. "I did not really think so."
Yoshino continued to glare at her, privately brooding over how strangely one-sided this conversation had been. It was unbelievable.
"I'm sorry for everything," the woman said, getting up abruptly, in what was surely the most monumentally useless apology ever given.
Turning briskly, she walked out the door, tailed by Arisawa.
Yoshino and her servant watched it close, unmoving.
"Well, that was interesting," Nakanawa said, striding over with wide steps, formality abandoned. "But it turned out much better than expected."
Yoshino stayed silent, thinking.
Her mother, the servant standing by her side, sighed.
"Another tragedy," she said, looking at the door where the woman had departed. "I wonder if there was a better way, in all of this."
Yoshino looked up at her, confused.
And that was really all there was to it. Thinking about it now, Yoshino realized she had overreacted immensely.
She couldn't really blamed, though. And without it, she never would have faced her demons. Yoshino just hoped that those demons, while not dead, were at least subdued for good.
Several months later, she found herself stepping out of her car in front of the Minami household, bag in hand.
She waved goodbye to Arisawa, then stared upward at the building.
She had arrived exactly on time.
This wasn't a celebration of anything particularly important. It was only a bit of a relaxation get-together, since they had finished the last of their entrance exams. Now there only remained to wait, and see.
They felt fairly confident though. No one could remember any particularly insoluble questions on the exam for the school they were all targeting, nor did anyone report struggling too much. With luck, it would all work out.
Yoshino let out a gust of breath.
Of course she had seen Uchida in the past few months—they still went to the same school, after all. But mid-school lunches had become basically the only time they could spend together, and it wasn't much. It had been a little lonely, in more ways than one.
Now, though, entrance exams were over, and the restrictions were off. She would be inside, waiting.
Why do I feel nervous? Yoshino thought.
"Hi there," a voice behind her said.
Yoshino almost jumped straight up, and as it was still spun around in a rather undignified manner.
"You—" she began.
"Surprised to see me?" Uchida said, wearing an annoyingly smug expression, emerging from the shade of a tree next to her. "I've been waiting for you."
Yoshino took a moment to gather herself.
"It's been a long time," Yoshino began.
"No it hasn't," Uchida pointed out. "We saw each other yesterday."
"You know what I mean," Yoshino said, annoyed.
Uchida smiled slightly, almost shyly, and something about it sent Yoshino's heart rate soaring.
"Feeling deprived, are you?" Uchida teased.
"No such thing," Yoshino said, turning away to hide her expression. "Anyway, let's go inside."
Uchida caught her by the hand.
"No," she said, catching Yoshino's surprised look. "They aren't expecting us."
"What do you mean?" Yoshino asked.
Smiling, Uchida held up two thin sheets of paper.
"We never did visit that Ferris wheel, you know."
Yoshino's eyes widened.
Now that it was really spring, amusement parks were almost in season and the one they visited was surprisingly well-packed.
Despite the tediousness of the multiple train and bus transfers it had taken to get there, Yoshino knew better than to even mention the possibility of calling for her chauffeur. Uchida wanted this furtive, so it would be.
Things were different now.
Previously, in the heat of constant contact, they had stayed rigidly within childhood rhythms and habits. Now, though, it was almost as if their relationship had received a reboot: casual conversations were occasionally awkward, paying for Uchida felt strange, and the two of them were hyperaware of the importance of not holding hands in public, despite what came automatically.
Strangely, Yoshino felt happy. They had lost their childhood innocence, but, truth be told, it had been missing for years. What had been there instead was almost a parody, one she had strained her utmost to prop up, until it had finally collapsed.
They had lost it, but in its place was…something else.
The central motor driving the Ferris wheel groaned, lifting them upward, so that the next two—and it was always two, even though each car could fit four—passengers could board.
"So how did Nakanawa-san take the news?" Uchida asked.
"News?" Yoshino repeated absently.
Uchida looked at her.
"Oh, right, no," Yoshino said. "I haven't told her yet."
"You haven't?" Uchida asked incredulously.
"Well," Yoshino said, cringing and looking away. "I feel bad just crushing a kid's dreams like that."
"You still feel bad for him," Uchida said, voice a little dangerous.
Yoshino made a noncommittal gesture.
"It's only crueler to let him delude himself," Uchida said.
"Yes, but is the best way to stop that really to tell his mother?" Yoshino pointed out.
Uchida stayed silent at that. Yoshino knew her point was good.
They were again jerked forward to make room for another two passengers.
"So how's your mother doing?" Uchida asked. "Your, uh, the biological one."
"Fine," Yoshino said bluntly. "Though she mostly just stays in her room nowadays. Honestly, that's how I prefer it."
It was not that Yoshino had wanted to invite her back to stay. It was that two weeks later, she had passed out drunk in the middle of an intersection, causing the police to check her ID and trace next-of-kin.
Watching Arisawa help another servant carry the woman in, her head servant apologizing to the police officers, Yoshino had sighed and issued the orders to have a room made ready for permanent occupancy.
Later, her chief maid had slapped the woman, berating her, yelling at her to pull herself back together, that her life wasn't over. It had all been rather surreal.
It was then that Yoshino had searched her heart for the soul-searing anger that she had always had, and came away empty.
Somewhere over those two weeks—weeks spent in careful introspection—it had vanished, replaced only by a slight sense of pity. In the end, she realized, they were tragic and pathetic figures, just as her maid had said.
She didn't know if that realization were really any better than the anger. At least the anger had been solid and comforting.
The ride began moving, slow and steady. The wheel was at full capacity.
"You know," Yoshino said, her mind drifting to the topic. "My maid, she finally let Arisawa take her out."
"Ooo," Uchida vocalized, head tilted. "That's new. Took long enough. How are they doing?"
"Okay, I suppose," Yoshino shrugged. "Honestly, I don't think she loves him. She's just going through the motions."
Uchida thought about that, bothered by the answer.
"Well, it could easily still work," she said optimistically "Probably she'll grow into it."
"Maybe," Yoshino demurred, looking at the horizon from their elevated vantage point. "Honestly, I don't know if it matters if she does. Settling may be okay."
There was a long pause, during which Yoshino did nothing but take in the sights around her.
"That is the worst thing I have ever heard you say," Uchida commented, flatly.
"I don't know if she's even capable of love anymore," Yoshino explained, looking at Uchida. "For anyone but me, anyway. She's been a little obsessed, all these years. If she can't love anyone else, then why not settle?"
"That is horrible," Uchida repeated.
Yoshino sighed, as the ride began to carry them back down.
"I feel rather bad about it, but I think it's true," she said. "She's a bit stunted in that regard. It's not my fault, but I wish I could do something."
Uchida thought about that for a long time.
"Well, not everyone needs to marry," she said, finally.
"True enough," Yoshino agreed, leaning back.
"Except I need to, somehow," she reflected. "Maybe I should go to one of those European countries. Or maybe I can find a guy willing to sign the most onerous prenuptial agreement ever, and then divorce a day after the marriage. All possibilities. I need to speak to my lawyers, though."
"Love, huh…" Uchida said, tasting the flavor of the novel word.
Yoshino watched the girl's face, thinking of the same thing.
"I was actually serious when I was talking about adopting," Yoshino said. "It's been a secret dream of mine. That way, at least one generation of my family can have a normal childhood."
Uchida gave her a surprised glance, then turned so she could give her a calculating look, using one eye.
"If you're implying what I think you're implying," she said. "That'd hardly be normal. Think about it."
Yoshino shook her head ruefully.
"Nevermind," she said. "We should just look at the view. What are we doing sitting here talking about serious topics?"
And for another revolution of the wheel they did just that, watching the view in silence, though in all honesty Yoshino got something much better from where she lived. She didn't get to see the tops of roofs at such a close distance, though, she had to admit.
On their third trip up, Uchida looked at her from the corner of her eye.
"I know you're thinking about it," Uchida said, making a strange pouting expression. "So just go ahead and do it. You were the one who wanted to do this, anyway."
"I didn't think it through fully," Yoshino said, not denying the accusation. "I question the privacy of these cars. I feel like the people behind us can see us."
To accentuate the point, she glanced over her shoulder nervously.
"They won't be paying attention," Uchida said reasonably.
"Have you considered how terribly cliché this is?" Yoshino asked, as their car approached the top of the circle. "I mean, I'm embarrassed I ever suggested—"
"You think too much, have I ever told you that?" Uchida said, leaning over and grabbing her chin.
"But I can make it not your fault," she finished, voice dropping a full two octaves.
They kissed.
Author's Note: I wish them happiness! They're so adorable…
That wraps this up. It's a bit open-ended, but not everything can be solved in one fell swoop.
One more chapter for an Omake, and then it's on to a Haruka story.
Also, parallel to that, I've taken on another project, which should hopefully be appearing rather soon. It's a radical departure from what else I have here; among other things, it's not Minami-ke. Shocking, I know.