Chapter 6: Confession

The narrow aisle of the sanctuary seemed to stretch and grow, spreading like the body of a snake that was slowly uncoiling. Sei could almost feel the floor moving underneath them, and Sachiko's startled face appeared to retreat further and further, even though she knew it was probably an optical illusion. This chapel always had a way of disorienting her.

She felt Alice trying to bury her face in the muscle of her shoulder, a pair of small hands gripping her by the wrist. How bold of her, Sei thought. The girl by her side nervously huffed, and it resonated through the chapel, so for a moment she thought that Alice was crying, but when she turned to her right and looked at her face, she saw only a rush of panic in her eyes.

Sei inclined her head towards Alice. It was a much too intimate gesture, the same dipping movement that she used when she would lean in for a kiss. Alice's mouth even seemed to open slightly in expectation, but Sei stopped short with a bit of space between them. They ended up with their eyes locked, their noses nearly touching, their breaths mingling.

"It seems we've bumped into the Red Queen," Sei whispered, so that only the younger girl could hear.

Alice didn't even crack a smile. She only gave her a helpless look, one that Sei couldn't begin to interpret. Does she know Sachiko personally? What's going on?

Regardless, it made no difference when it came to the task at hand. The universe had thrown her a wild card that night, and she needed to spend her mental energy on taking care of that.

"Alice," she said. "You can go wait for me outside." It wasn't a request.

She had half-expected Alice to protest, but it appeared that when it came to being stuck between facing Sachiko or standing outside and possibly being discovered by students, loitering unsupervised on Lillian property had won. Alice immediately began pulling away, averting her gaze from Sachiko's general direction.

"Yes, Sei…-san," Alice whispered before she practically sprinted back towards the front doors of the chapel. Ah, Sei thought, so she's not quite bold enough for that. True, though, that when Sei had dared Alice to address her by her given name only, she hadn't really expected the girl to do it. It was admirable that she had even tried, and Sei felt a little bad now that she had teased her—but only a little.

When the doors closed with a thud behind her, Sei met the questioning stare of Ogasawara Sachiko. The flames of a dozen candles seemed to be reflecting in her watery eyes, but Sei couldn't see a single tear on her face. She's good at hiding it, Sei thought. But I know that look and I know that place. I was there almost five years ago.

She padded down the walkway, looking right back at Sachiko with a neutral expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the monotonous rows of identical pews rolling past, and some part of her was struggling to remember which one she had napped in all those years ago. It made her feel a little depressed when she found that she couldn't remember.

Before long, the pews had ended. She stood motionlessly next to the only occupied row near the front of the altar. She was momentarily tempted to make the sign of the cross, but Sachiko's constant stare already looked a bit dangerous, and she didn't want to step on a land mine just yet.

"What the heck are you doing here, Sachiko?" she asked instead.

"With all due respect," Sachiko responded, after only a brief pause of what seemed like mildly offended surprise, "I could ask the same thing of Sei-sama."

Oh, so she was in a bad mood, too. Sei chuckled, which only earned her a stronger glare, and she plunked into the seat right next to Sachiko, draping her arms casually over the edge of the backrest.

"You can ask me," Sei said. "I don't mind. I'm on a date, if you really want to know." She wasn't sure why she had chosen this word to describe her and Alice's little get-together, but it seemed fitting enough. Yes, it probably was a date, now that she thought about it.

"Is this really the type of place to be embracing your lover in the dark? Don't tell me you've been seeing someone from the high school division," Sachiko rambled. "Isn't Sei-sama a touch too old for that by now?"

So she hadn't recognized Alice, it seemed. Maybe it had been too dark where they had been standing, or maybe Sachiko didn't know her after all. Sei merely shrugged. "Who're you calling old?" she replied. "And no, she's not in high school. She's a first-year university student and she never went to Lillian."

Sachiko's expression softened slightly. "Oh," she said, then she leaned back in the pew and sighed. "It's funny. For a split second when you first walked in, I thought she looked a bit like—"

"You thought she was Yumi-chan?" Sei asked. "For a fraction of a millisecond, I had that same impression when I first met her, too."

Sachiko threw her another annoyed glance. "I was going to say that I thought she looked a bit like her, yes." Her tight frown began to relax a little more, though, and she nearly smiled. "But I knew it wasn't her, of course. I could recognize Yumi even if she was wearing the most elaborate disguise in the world."

"You two always had such a sisterly connection. I have to admit that I'm a little jealous." Sei gazed out at the dancing flames in front of them, and noticed that two of the candles—standing side by side—were notably taller than the rest. "That sort of relationship isn't for me, but it's very beautiful."

From the edge of her perspective, she could see Sachiko clasping her hands roughly together and dropping them into her lap. "Maybe that sort of relationship isn't for me, either," she murmured.

Sei couldn't help but wonder if Sachiko had intended to say it out loud. Then again, much like her Onee-sama Youko, Sachiko rarely did things unintentionally.

"Are those your prayers over there?" Sei gestured towards the two freshest candles with a short nod.

Sachiko was silent at first. "That girl…," she said suddenly, her face tipping upwards as if she were making some kind of mental connection. She turned her head and looked at Sei. "That was Alice, wasn't it?"

Sei looked at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. So she did know her. Even more interestingly, she was familiar enough with her to call her by a nickname with no honorific, which was certainly rare coming from Sachiko. Maybe it was just that everybody was too embarrassed to call Alice by her chest-thumping given name.

"Arisugawa-san, I mean," Sachiko corrected herself a few seconds later, in a soft voice. She had the ghost of a smile on her face. "It took me a moment. It's not like she and I ever talked much or saw each other outside the school festival activities. I remember her face, though. Actually, I probably wouldn't have remembered at all if I hadn't seen her recently at the house. I think it was her who Suguru-san brought by, but I can't remember when. She's grown up a bit, but yes, that seems to have been Arisugawa-san. Was it?" She was directly questioning Sei with light curiosity.

Sei smirked. "Yes, it was."

"Well, I find that...rather surprising, to say the least. Indeed, it's very interesting. To see her here. With you."

There was a long moment when they both simply looked at each other, and the very, very obvious question lurked silently in the dark air around them. Sei wasn't sure if she needed to answer first, or if Sachiko wanted to be the one to ask.

"Sei-sama," Sachiko began slowly, "if that's the case, then I imagine that you know about her situation. She hasn't kept it from you, has she?"

The look of polite concern on Sachiko's face was the only thing keeping Sei from bursting into laughter. "Yes, don't worry, I definitely know," Sei said with amusement. "Though to be honest, it was kind of a shock when I first realized."

Sachiko actually giggled a little into a closed fist. "I can only imagine. With your tendency to be overly affectionate before you even get to know someone, things could get rather confusing, couldn't they? Ah, well I'm glad she told you, then."

"Actually, she didn't," Sei mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of her head. "She didn't want to tell me at first. It just kind of became obvious after a certain point."

"Oh?" Sachiko looked at her blankly at first, but before long a slight tint came over her cheeks. "Oh. I see. Well, I hadn't thought about...that. That would be something of a problem for you, wouldn't it?"

"Mmm," Sei said thoughtfully. "I don't know yet. Sometimes I think that I'm only creating the problem in my mind. At the end of the day, she's made of atoms and molecules just like any other girl, right?"

"You've always had a strange way of speaking, Sei-sama." Sachiko was smiling, though, so Sei didn't take it as an insult. "And you never cease to surprise me, somehow, even after all of this time."

Sei finally turned all the way to look at her. She studied the elegant lines of Sachiko's face, the smooth pale skin, and the conspicuous darker patches just under her eyes.

Upon casual inspection, most people wouldn't have noticed anything different about Sachiko's demeanor. She wore her masks excellently when needed, even if Yumi had worked hard for years to make that sort of disguise less and less necessary. Sei could tell that Sachiko was distraught, though, that a good chunk of her usual energy had been drained out, that she probably hadn't been sleeping or eating. They may have never been the closest of friends—they were both hard to get close to in their own respective ways—but they had spent enough time together that an inevitable bond had grown between them. The Yamayurikai had that effect on people.

"I never gave this much thought while we were in high school, but even now I consider you like family, Sei-sama," Sachiko told her, seemingly out of nowhere. It appeared that they had been thinking along the same lines. "I know that I can't hide anything from you very well. Maybe it's because you're that exhausting kind of person who can always see someone's true self, even when they're trying to desperately hide it, or maybe it's because you've known me for so long."

"You had a falling out with Yumi-chan," Sei said to her. There was no inflection in her voice to suggest that it was a question.

"Is it that obvious? Am I that pathetic when she and I aren't speaking?"

Yes and yes, Sei wanted to say, but she didn't. She debated whether or not to mention that Yumi had already told her about the incident. But maybe Yumi didn't really tell me, Sei thought. After all, the same situation could be colored in many vastly different ways, depending on who was viewing it. Maybe it had been completely different from Sachiko's perspective.

"I would understand it if you didn't want to tell me what happened," Sei finally said, "but if you need to talk about it, I'm here." It was the most that she could offer.

Sachiko inhaled deeply, and Sei realized that she was holding back a fresh wave of tears. A few breaths later, she appeared to have successfully suppressed them. "Actually, I think out of all the people I could have run into tonight, you may be the one who could understand the most," Sachiko said, turning her gaze to the floor in front of her. "Maybe it was divine intervention that you showed up here, even if you were the last person I would have wanted to see. When Maria-sama answers prayers, sometimes the delivery isn't what you expect."

Sei tilted her head in mild surprise. "Oh? Why do you say that?" Sure, there had always been playful animosity between them, but it was nothing serious, especially now that they were university students.

"Because of...whatever it is that is going on between you and Yumi," Sachiko replied. "I'm not blind, Sei-sama. I'm very much aware of it—and I don't like it. While I may have simply found it annoying before, I would be lying if I said that looking at your face right now wasn't testing my patience."

Sei gave her another surprised look. Slowly, though, she found herself nodding with understanding. "And now I show up with some other girl, and that makes it worse, doesn't it?"

Sachiko nodded in return. "Yumi loves you. It's very clear. It's a different kind of love from the kind I share with her, so I shouldn't be jealous."

"But you are," Sei said.

"Yes." The admission came out as little more than a whisper. "I'm her Onee-sama, and we will always be devoted to each other—or I would like to think that we will. But with you, she has no such bond. While this may create distance between you, it also creates freedom. With you, she's free to do what she likes and you have no expectations. You accept everything she does, and yet you're not particularly pleased with anything she does, either. This can be intoxicating for a girl like her who is used to always seeking approval," she said, her voice becoming increasingly ragged. "You are never one to give approval, just as you are never one to offer condemnation. It's like a loving indifference—that's the best way to describe it—you love her somehow without caring what she does at all. It's an unconditional love, an impersonal love, a love without standards or boundaries—and I can't stand it. It makes me sick to my stomach!"

Sei stared at her, completely stunned. Sachiko had balled her hands into a pair of tight fists and her eyes were screwed shut. Sei reach over and touched her arm, but Sachiko flinched away. She pressed her hands to her eyes and Sei could see small tears finally leaking out from the edges. It was like a dam that had finally broken.

"Don't you know what that does to a girl like her?" Sachiko cried. "Are you so unaware that you can't see it? Don't you know that you could very easily hurt her with that kind of love? It hurts because you give it away so freely! You give it away without question! You give it away to any girl who strikes your fancy in the middle of the street! How do you think it makes her feel to see you giving away what she should have earned from you? Isn't it unjust? Why does Sei-sama always—"

Then Sei grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her hand away from her face in one violent motion. "Stop it," Sei said.

Sachiko turned her head away immediately, so that Sei could not look at her. "I wish I could give her that," Sachiko whispered. "I wish I could give her exactly what you do, Sei-sama, but I can't. I'm not that kind of person. There will always be a part of her that cannot bare herself completely in my presence."

"This has nothing to do with the relationship between me and Yumi," Sei said gruffly. She leaned towards Sachiko, but did not try to touch her again.

Sachiko was quiet for a long moment. The brief convulsions that were her sobs were barely noticeable, but the wide open ceiling of the chapel seemed to pick up the faint echo nonetheless. "Have you slept with her?" Sachiko asked suddenly.

Again, Sei was shocked at Sachiko's audacity. She fought with herself to suppress the haze of anger that was beginning to grow in her chest and rise up to her face. "What difference does it make if I have?" she said, her voice sounding oddly detached as it reverberated back to her. She had thought of denying it, which would have been the truth, but she was suddenly not in the mood to cater to Sachiko's crazed ramblings. "Anyway, do you think I just run around sleeping with every girl I know? What do you take me for? I may be a little too flirtatious, I'll give you that, and I may be a bit indiscriminating and unprincipled like you suggest, but I actually haven't been with that many women before."

Sachiko's body heaved, but the sob didn't come. She still would not look at Sei. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're right. I really shouldn't have asked such a thing. It's none of my business." There was a pause. "Maybe I'm just projecting. Maybe it's my own guilt that I'm thrusting upon you unfairly, Sei-sama. I apologize."

Sei, who could never help but let things go almost instantly, felt her ire deflating. "Don't say that. There's nothing for you to feel guilty about, Sachiko."

"You don't understand," she said. Then, finally, she turned to face Sei, but her mouth was still partly covered by the tips of her fingers. A few locks of her messy hair had fallen over her eyes. "I…," she started to speak; her throat seemed to spasm momentarily and cut her off, and it took her a few seconds to try again. "I've done...things. Things that were wrong. With several people. Without Yumi knowing, without anyone knowing."

Sei looked at her in complete non-understanding. "Things?" she asked. "What are you talking about?" An idea slowly started to form in her mind, but she pushed it away. It was too ugly.

"I'm not what you think I am," she said, her eyes shifting again towards the rows of burning candles. "I'm not what anyone thinks I am. If you knew, then maybe even that silly, indiscriminating love of yours wouldn't be enough to keep you from looking upon me with judgment."

"Sachiko, what the hell are you talking about?" Sei repeated. An unpleasant sensation had begun to churn in her gut. It was a heavy feeling, yet paradoxically there was a sense of emptiness. She forced herself to put a hand on Sachiko's shoulder.

"Sei-sama, I've...been with other people, during times of loneliness. I know that it's no excuse, but during those times I felt that there was no one I could turn to, no one to feel close to in that way. I don't know why I craved it so much."

Sei was already shaking her head. "Look, Sachiko, I'm not really sure what you mean. I almost don't want to know what you mean. But you're a human being and you're not in any way obligated towards Yumi to remain celibate. It's only natural that you might have an interest in dating people. You're nearly twenty years old, for God's sake."

It was Sachiko's turn to shake her head. "I haven't been dating anyone, Sei-sama. I couldn't have dated these people. Moreover, I didn't want to."

Sei felt her whole body tighten. "I see," she said, very flatly. Again, she hoped that what she was thinking was wrong, totally off the mark.

Sachiko was quiet for a long while. She seemed to be struggling with what she would say next, the mild color on her otherwise pale cheeks giving away her embarrassment. Finally, she seemed to give in, and her body grew more slack. "It started with...the girl who was hired to work in our kitchen at home," she whispered, averting her eyes, refusing to even look in Sei's direction. Sei found that she was grateful for this, though, because she could only stare at Sachiko with a stupid look of pained shock.

"I was still in my third year of high school at the time," Sachiko continued. "She was young, too, barely older than I was, but a bit more knowledgeable about certain things. She was always respectful, but I saw the way she would look at me. I wasn't naive; I knew what that look meant. My mother thought it was a little strange that I seemed to get along with her so quickly. It was during a night when everyone else was out—a few months after we hired her—that I first invited her to my room." She covered her face with her hands. "I didn't want to tell anyone after it happened. I didn't know what to do, or even what to think about it. I don't even know if I can say I really liked her like that. The next day, for some reason, I could barely face Yumi. I felt like I had been transformed into a different person and that somehow everyone would be able to tell what I had done. But of course they couldn't. How could they?"

"Sachiko…." Sei murmured.

"We were together a few more times, and then she transferred to another city. She was a university student, you see, and she was working her way through school. I wondered sometimes if maybe I had unfairly pressured her without realizing. She could have been fired if she got on my bad side, after all, so did she just go along with it because I asked? Had I taken advantage of her?" Another sob escaped her throat. "The thought of that racked me with guilt, but everything else about it excited me—the sneaking around, the forbidden nature of what we were doing in the same house where my father lived. It was disgusting, but it almost felt like I was responding to him with what I was doing, like I was playing out some kind of ritual that exposed the true face of the kind of household I lived in."

"After that...there were others," Sachiko said, barely taking a breath. Now that the truth had come out, she seemed to be spilling every detail as if she couldn't control herself. It was like a runaway train. "There were maybe half a dozen people, over the past two years: a neighbor; a girl who always came to deliver food; some of the servants in my extended family's households; a girl from Lillian university who had transferred in without going to the high school, so she didn't know who I was. Basically, anyone who I felt comfortable with and who would be able to be discreet about it. It was addicting, in a way. For once in my life, I felt like I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I wasn't overt about it. I felt the kind of freedom that the men in my family must have felt, and to my disgust I found that I could suddenly relate to them."

Sei still had no idea what to say. She looked at Sachiko's slumped body with a bit of pity, a face that she knew the proud daughter of the Ogasawara family wouldn't have appreciated. She couldn't shake this feeling of complete bewilderment, though. It was not often that she was thrown for a loop, but this was the last thing she had ever expected from this girl. The bottom half of the iceberg that was Ogasawara Sachiko went much deeper than she could have imagined.

"Are you still…?" Sei mumbled, in a daze, not completely committed to the question, not sure at all how to approach this.

"No," Sachiko said immediately. "A few months ago, I stopped."

"Ah," Sei replied, grasping for something positive. "That's good, I suppose."

"It wasn't by choice. I got scared that someone would find out. I…." She dropped her hands from her face and turned away from Sei again. "I slept with one of my distant cousins, while I was staying at her summer home. A girl, a bit younger than me. I told her not to tell anyone. I told her that we would both have a hard time if anyone knew. Afterwards, I found it so ironic that it almost made me laugh, but instead I wanted to tear my own skin off so that I could become another person. It highlighted everything I had judged Surguru-san for—sneaking around with others, trying to keep up superficial appearances to hide the truth from family. Of course, the girl was overcome with anxiety after what we did. She confessed the deed to a servant, whom I had to threaten to keep it quiet. It had all just exploded beyond what I expected. I told myself that I would never do it again."

When Sachiko finally looked at Sei, Sei had to stop herself from physically recoiling. Sachiko's eyes had glazed over and she seemed to have aged ten years in the course of their conversation; the posture of her entire body looked so defeated and drained of energy, that Sei felt for a fraction of a second that she wasn't even staring at a living being.

For the first time since they had met, Sei thought that Ogasawara Sachiko looked extremely unattractive. Sachiko seemed to sense Sei's reaction and began to turn away again.

Sei reached out with both hands and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn back. "Look at me," Sei said. "You're right: you do look pathetic. That guilt is pathetic—and it helps no one. It undoes nothing."

"I can't help but miss that sense of freedom even now," Sachiko whispered, her face nakedly baring her frustrated desire. "I was always envious of people like you, of how you were able to completely be yourself without a care in the world, how you were able to dance through life without ever wondering if you had failed those around you. How could you fail? You had no duties in the first place. Satou Sei-sama is always extra, always a bonus, always someone you're glad to see—but never someone you'd be angry with if she didn't show up. That's just your nature. For a moment, I think I got a taste of that freedom, of a life with no expectations."

"Idiot," Sei said, her voice erupting from somewhere deep in her throat. It boomed through the small chapel. "What you felt wasn't freedom. That's not real freedom. How can you be free if you're hiding? How can you be free if you're still confining yourself to what others expect of you, even if it's just an appearance? Don't you see that you're still playing their game? People don't care if you behave; they only care that you don't flaunt it when you misbehave. You've become your parents."

Under most circumstances, these were the sorts of comments that would have earned Sei a slap, she was sure, but Sachiko was too defeated to fight for her own ego's sake. Sachiko's mouth tightened and she started to hang her head, but Sei didn't let her. Sei jerked Sachiko's shoulders roughly until their gazes met again.

"I was sick of it," Sachiko said. "I was so sick of having these short-lived relationships that were so devoid of meaning. I felt empty. I thought...maybe I could feel that same freedom, but have it mean something. I thought, maybe if Yumi…."

She trailed off again, but Sei understood nonetheless. So this was what it had come to. Sachiko, in a moment of desperation, had grasped for Yumi. She had decided that she wanted to be with someone who she actually loved, but had not a single notion of how to go about it. The only kinds of physical relationships she knew were obviously the kind that stayed hidden.

Sei knew people like Sachiko. She knew people who seemed to think that love was either pure and platonic, or else it was dirty and physical. It was the Madonna-Whore Complex at its finest, and the only reason Sei felt a sharp stab of empathetic pain just then was because she had been that way herself once. She briefly glanced at the Maria-sama statue that had been silently regarding them from the altar during their whole conversation.

"Sachiko," Sei whispered, her voice nonetheless stern. "You can't expect Yumi to cater to your cowardice and secrecy. If you wanted to be with her, you should have approached her openly."

Sachiko heaved a deep sigh. "I know that," she said. "But I wish I could have both those things. I wish I could satisfy the myriad of expectations that my family has of me, and still enjoy a life of my own. I wish I could have a devoted little sister, but also...something more."

"Sometimes those things are in conflict, Sachiko. Sometimes you can only have one or the other."

"I know that," she repeated. "I shouldn't have tried to force it. Now look at where I am. I pushed Yumi away, I made her feel…."

"If you would have approached her openly—if you would have approached her like a potential lover, not like a sister who is trying to make her into an accomplice in some forbidden romance—if you wouldn't have tried to make things so damned melodramatic," Sei told her, "she would have reciprocated."

Sachiko became very still when the words seemed to reach her. Her eyes grew unfocused. Her body became rigid with tension. There were no sobs, but fresh tears began to trickle. Sei let out a sigh and brought her face close to Sachiko's, so that their foreheads were almost touching. In that moment, Sachiko's eyes snapped back up to meet Sei's gaze.

"When you want something, you have to tell the world, Sachiko. Otherwise, how else can it come to you?"

Completely unexpectedly, Sachiko laughed. It came out rough at first, with a tired voice that had been stripped of all energy. Slowly, though, the laugh grew less dry, more natural. She laughed with her whole body, her chest and her belly vibrating with a strange kind of glee. It was like the laugh, Sei thought for some reason, of someone who had jerked awake from a bizarre nightmare and only now realized how silly their imaginary enemies had been.

Sei could remember laughing this way once. It had been the morning after she had first slept with a girl. She had realized rather abruptly that the whole time, she hadn't thought of Kubo Shiori even once—then she had laughed.

"You know, when we were outside," Sei said, "Alice asked me about Confession. I told her that no one had Confession in here, but now I realize how wrong I had been. But I'm just like you, Sachiko—I'm pathetic when it comes to love. I'm really not the person you should be going to for advice."

At this, Sachiko seemed to laugh even harder. She looked like a madman, giggling to herself in the dark sanctuary while tears streamed down her face.

"C'mon," Sei said to her, "let's get out of this place before Maria-sama's gaze drives us both crazy." She took Sachiko's arms and started to guide her to her feet, a bit surprised when she didn't resist.

As they walked down the center aisle, Sachiko grew notably quiet, a thoughtful look coming over her face. "Sei-sama, what do you think will happen to us?"

"Mm? What do you mean?"

"Until a minute ago," she said, "I was so sure of myself. Believe it or not, I thought I had it all figured out. There was a certain comfort in being trapped against the wall, having all choices taken from me, being faced with futility. But now...I have to face Yumi, don't I? Even if she rejects me?"

Sei knew that Sachiko was merely talking to herself, but she responded anyway: "There are two parts to a prayer, I think: the part where you ask, and then the part where you have to become what you asked for. If I had to guess, you were praying for courage, weren't you?"

Sachiko nodded.

"Then be courageous."

When they had removed most of the distance between them and the door, Sei almost stumbled over her own feet. She let out a cry of surprise and grabbed onto a pew for balance. "What the hell was that?"

"Ah," Sachiko said, her voice suddenly sounding very much like it usually did. "It looks like you've tripped over someone's book bag."

Sei let out a brief chuckle. "Alice must have dropped it in her panic to escape from you."

"Why on Earth would she do that, I wonder?" Then Sachiko picked it up.

When they pushed through the doors to the outside, the crisp air greeted them, and Sei felt like it was filling her with a new burst of energy. She looked at Sachiko, whose eyes had closed against the wind while she took deep lungfuls of the night air, and she decided that they were both feeling the same thing.

It took her a few seconds to spot Alice. She was hilariously crouching amongst some of the trees near the side of the chapel, looking to and fro with apparent paranoia.

"Why are you all the way over there?" Sei called out to her, making Alice start. "You look more conspicuous when you do that, you know."

Alice approached slowly, and she averted her gaze from Sachiko at first. Once she got a good look at her, though, she seemed to grow slightly more relaxed. What a weird kid, Sei thought.

"Nice to see you again, Arisugawa-san," Sachiko said politely. She held out the school bag. "Here you are. You left it in the sanctuary."

"Th-thank you very much, Sachiko-sama," she stammered. She bowed so deeply that Sei mischievously imagined that she'd fall forward with the slightest push.

As Sachiko started turning to leave, Sei gave her a brief wave. "You gonna be okay on your own?" she asked.

Sachiko looked at her for a moment. The silence lasted long enough that Sei could see Alice starting to fidget uncomfortably.

"I can't thank you properly," Sachiko said finally. "So, instead, I will be as little of a burden on you as I can. You came here for a reason, and I interrupted your night, obviously. Besides, I have many things to think about."

"You have nothing to thank me for," Sei told her. She was conscious of Alice's eyes moving back and forth between the two of them. "You can stay or leave, and either way it doesn't trouble me."

Sachiko shook her head. "If Sei-sama wishes to be generous, then she will allow me to take my leave and save some face."

Sei accepted this immediately. They split apart at a fork in the path not too far from the chapel. When Sachiko was out of earshot, Alice turned to Sei, a bewildered look on her face.

"What the heck was that all about?" she asked. Since Alice had fallen slightly behind, she skipped forward a bit to catch up with her.

Sei jammed her hands back into her pockets and shrugged. "Someone needed to be confessed, you could say."

Alice gave her a curious look, but Sei didn't explain further. "She must have needed quite a confession," Alice said. "Sachiko-sama looked rather scary in the chapel, to say the least." She slipped her arm underneath Sei's and took hold. They walked together like this in the bright moonlight, saying nothing, merely gliding along with the wind.

It was a short while later, when they had passed another little statue of some saint or other, that Alice broke the silence. "Hey, Sei-san," she said all of a sudden, "isn't the kanji for your first name the one that means 'holiness'?"

Sei stopped walking and looked down at Alice. "If only I lived up to that name."

"If you did, I wouldn't like you." Alice looked back at her with a completely straight face. "But in some ways, maybe you do live up to it."

Sei shook her head. There were so many unholy things that Alice had yet to learn about her—the absentminded self-centeredness with which she viewed the world, the way she was irresponsible with people's emotions and would hurt them without realizing, the pathetic wound that she had self-inflicted and still carried from a failed relationship. Sachiko had been right about her in a lot of ways; she didn't always take into account the effect that she had on others. She certainly was no saint.

Instead of explaining, though, she merely gazed down the path at a building that emerged in the distance. "With what I'm about to show you, you might change your mind real quick," she said.