(Second part: A ragged teddy bear)

Two
I've got a feeling I think that everybody knows

Though it was hard to tell by looking at her, speaking to her, or, perhaps, doing things with her that might make a nun blush, Sei Satou was somebody for whom an ideal relationship was both loving and committed. Her roommate at Lillian University had once asked her why this was, when it was so much more convenient, and frankly, fun to steer clear of staunch commitment in favor of casual dating, and indeed, casual sex, and this is how she responded:

Your lover walks through the door of the home which one, or perhaps both, of you have paid for and maintained with your sweat, blood, and ass-kissing. There is something off in the person's step, in the way they open the door and let it close behind them rather than shutting it quietly like a Lady ought, but you're not somebody who likes long-term relationships, so the two of you have only been dating for about two weeks. Why she's coming to your house after a long, hard day at work is maybe beyond you, or maybe it's not, because you called her over. But whatever the case, you don't notice that extra thump when she slides off her shoes, forgetting to tap them clean. You only notice the way her hips sway as she walks in, how nice her thighs look in her high-cut skirt. Your mind follows the sway of her hips and the line of her thighs and before long, it's in the gutter, where you're hoping to be in about half an hour, and so you rise to greet her, move to give her a kiss that would make God take a second look, and she pecks you on the lips and goes to sit down on the couch. Her face looks normal, maybe a little more drawn than usual, but you don't see anything wrong.

No sex for you that day, then, is there? In life, we find ourselves coming home in just that state more often than not, I think, and I don't think many girls would want to have sex with somebody who doesn't catch the little look that says, my day sucked dirt, and yours?

As the door to Yumi's room closed behind her, Sei heard the distinct sound of the shower running and frowned. She watched Yumi as the girl let the door shut behind her, rather than shutting it herself. She noticed that Yumi wasn't wearing shoes, or even socks.

And she saw the look on Yumi's face. Not sad, not quite. Just…wrong. Neutral, overly so for somebody whose feelings were usually on her face, clearer than day.

Pensive. That's it.

She saw this, and knew it was wrong. And that, somehow, seemed to justify her entire viewpoint on love and relationships in a single instant.

She had been standing in the hall when Yumi exited her room—waiting outside her own for Shimako, who had kicked her out while she changed, something which baffled and bothered Sei at once, but which she accepted with a sigh and a shrug nonetheless (though she had since been idly pondering sneaking a glimpse under an inevitably shaky pretense)—and decided in an instant that she could wait to see just what her petite soeur had to be shy about.

"Hey, Yumi," she said, starting to walk towards the girl.

"Oh." Yumi said, and then blinked, and shook her head, as though in a double-take (though Sei could see that it was most plainly not). "Oh!" With more feeling this time. "Hi, Sei."

"I got you out of bed, did I?"

"I guess you did." Yumi wrinkled her nose, and Sei grinned.

"Hangover?"

Yumi paused for a minute, and then let her voice slump like her shoulders undoubtedly wanted to. "You can tell?" She sounded relieved to be able to relax.

"Sort of. You had a lot to drink—I'd have been surprised if you hadn't had one. You seem remarkably well, though."

Yumi attempted a smile. "Well, I'm doing my best."

"But your head feels like a packed soccer stadium."

She let her attempt drop. Again, relief. "Yeah."

Sei spotted it. That's what's wrong. She's trying to fake a perky attitude, which she's not suited for, and usually doesn't bother to attempt; that sounds more like Sachiko's field. Why is she doing that?

"It's all right to let yourself look like you feel," Sei said with a grin, and Yumi laughed openly, which made Sei grin wider.

"I can't quite go that far. I think that might make onee-samascream in terror."

Sei couldn't think of what to say to that, so she laughed with Yumi. When they stopped, they shared a brief silence which Yumi seemed to savor—probably the noise still hurt her head.

Why is she doing that?

Why don't you ask her? The prospect was, in a way that Sei could not quite comprehend, frightening. Even thinking about how she might phrase such a question made her stomach twist just slightly. Not enough to really make her feel ill, nor enough to stop her were she honestly determined, but she wasn't, and that was the problem: Part of her honestly didn't want to ask. She felt as though the answer might be something so final that…

That what?

Just… final.

Coward.

We all are. In our own ways, we all are.

"Sei?"

"Hmm?"

Yumi hesitated. "I…if I tell you something, can you not tell anybody? Especially Rei or Yoshino?"

"Why not them?"

"Just…don't."

Sei frowned. "Sure." Her stomach twisted again. That little, tingling fear. Fear of the final. Maybe that's one of the ways I'm a hypocrite. I don't profess to be afraid of the final, of the committed, of the permanent, but that's only when it goes myway.

She didn't even notice that she was holding her breath, just a little.

"Onee-samathrew up again this morning."

She exhaled and the knot in her stomach untwisted instantly. She wanted to laugh and say, that's it? but knew that Yumi might never speak to her again if she did. The worry was plain on the girl's face, in such a real and fundamental way that Sei couldn't help but empathize.

"I understand why that worries you, but it's okay. Sometimes hangovers cause nausea, and for a person with as weak a stomach as Sachiko, nausea can lead to vomiting. I'll bet you she felt a whole hell of a lot better after she did it."

Yumi rubbed her hand as though washing it, her face a little unsettled. "I hope so."

"You get some on your hand?"

Yumi jumped slightly and her eyes widened in surprise. It made her look a little less like a zombie and a little more like Yumi. Sei approved of the effect. "How could you tell?"

"Your face, same way I know everything else you're thinking. Also, I'd have to be an idiot not to think that if Sachiko was throwing up, you'd be yanking her hair back so fast you probably took a few hairs with you as souvenirs." As she said this, Yumi's face brightened.

As it fell to silence again, Sei knew there was precisely one more topic for them to discuss before they fell into idle banter—which, in Yumi's condition, would not last long at all. A topic she had to broach, because it, too, was on Yumi's face, which meant it was on Yumi's mind.

And even so, Sei rebelled against it. Fought it internally, considered whether or not choking herself to stave off the inevitable for a few more minutes, or even seconds, would be considered brave or stupid, wondered, briefly, what Shimako was doing in their room.

And finally, gave in.

"And what else is there?"

Yumi looked away. "I always tell myself that you can't read my expressions like you say you can, but I guess I'm just kidding myself."

"It's the burden of being honest. I kind of envy you."

"Hm."

"So?"

Yumi's face looked pained, and she looked up at Sei, who bent down slightly so that she didn't need to.

Silence. After a minute, Sei said, "You might want to speak up soon. Another five minutes like this and I'll probably never stand up straight again."

"It looks kind of creepy," Yumi said sheepishly. Sei grinned, but did not move.

Another few seconds passed. Sei's back was beginning to ache, but her stubbornness did not budge an inch.

"I…" Yumi said at last. "What do you do with a feeling that you've held onto for so long, long enough that it feels almost the same as a teddy bear—something like a wish, only so high up in the sky that even when you're holding it you get this little feeling, like you're fooling yourself, because nobody can hold onto something as high as the moon, even if it looks like you can squeeze it between your fingers…what do you do when that just falls into your lap all of a sudden, without any warning at all?"

And there it was. Finality, so quick and sudden that it was like ripping a off band-aid.

And like ripping off a band-aid, it stung at first, but afterwards, it wasn't too bad. It left a dull ache where it tore some hairs, a little sting to her pride, but it was nowhere near as agonizing as she had been, at some level, hoping for.

Sei stood up straight. Her back gave a little crack as she did.

She took a deep breath. What did somebody do when something like that just fell into their lap, instead of...

Instead of what? Working hard for it? Ambiguity aside, Sei thought that perhaps nobody had worked harder for that sort of feeling in all their lives. And really, people might grow to love one another, but there was still one specific moment when it just fellon the other person: A moment of revelation, perhaps; or perhaps just a drunken something (for what, precisely, Sei did not know, and might never know) after a night of fun and beer.

Sei thought that maybe that feeling falling into Yumi's lap was the last thing that had happened last night.

"I think that you should thank God for finally rewarding your hard work," Sei said. "Or maybe thank yourself for working so damn hard."

"But what do I do with it?"

Sei shrugged. "I think people spend most of their lives trying to figure that out. Take it slow is all I can say. Or if that's too frustrating, take it fast. But…"

"But accept it."

"With open arms and a word of gratitude."

Yumi looked at Sei for a moment longer than was polite at a social function, but a minute or two less than was rude the day after getting drunk in a hotel room.

"That's very scary."

"Tell me about it, sister," Sei said. "My petite soeur actually kicked me out of the room to change this morning, which is why I was out here in the first place. She's been in there so long, though, that I think she might be dead."

"Does that scare you?"

"It scared me that she felt the need to kick me out to do it."

"Why?"

Because I feel like Shimako wouldn't be shy around me without a reason, and that reason is just as scary as your feeling. All of our abstract concepts are biting us in the ass today, I guess.

Sei thought this, but instead of saying it, she said, "A feeling."

Whether or not this made sense to Yumi, she did not question Sei further.

A few seconds later, Sei's door opened. A voice drifted out like a light breeze: Onee-sama? Sei reacted to it like a dog picking up a new scent: Her head jerked towards her door, and her face screwed up with concentration. A second later, she said, "I think I should go." Yumi nodded, projecting sage as best she could, and Sei turned and walked quickly into her room.

And then, the hall was empty, and for a while, Yumi felt that the only things she had were the vague scent of carpet freshener and the dim sound of a vacuum somewhere on the floor below them.

And maybe, for a while, that was true.

After all, what did one do when something that they had held onto like a teddy bear for so long, holding it tight for solace and for fantasy alike, suddenly fell from the sky, and all it was was a drunken kiss and an erotic scene in the dark?

It was nice, and it was sexy in a way that I never thought it would be—how could I have imagined the way the moonlight would hit her skin, or just how closely I felt my clothes drop off— but it didn't feel…special at all. It might have meant something, but it seems just as likely that it meant nothing at all to her. I can barely pick out two minutes of solid memories from last night.

Is this…disappointment? Was I expecting something more out of kissing her; out of realizing that maybe there was something more to the two of us? A heart-shaped firework, or a bolt of lightning, maybe?

Maybe I was.

If she had asked this of Sei, Sei might have told her, at the end of every fantasy is disappointment, because compared to the rich, dreamlike fantasies that a single mind can create, real life is bland and colorless.

As it was, there was one other person in their group who knew that, as little as Yumi wanted to worry them.

Two, if one were to count that ragged teddy bear that Yumi now knew the true shape of for the first time in her life.

Three
Everybody had a good year.

Yoshino Shimazu was doing surprisingly well, considering that her body was still not quite as strong as it should be, and also considering that she was fairly certain that the previous night, she had had enough beer to kill a horse. A small horse, perhaps, but still a horse.

Rei still didn't want her out of bed, but she was about ninety percent certain that this was more because of the fact that Yoshino didn't particularly want herself out of bed, either. She had woken up about an hour and a half earlier, and about halfway through groggily, irritably brushing her teeth, had said something to the effect of I need to lie down before I fall down, and then proceeded to flop onto the bed and drop off into sleep within seconds.

The fact was, though, that Yoshino would need to get out of bed soon. They had to check out in another hour or so, and frankly, Rei had a nagging feeling that if they didn't make it to Kyoto soon, they might never make it at all.

And so, after making all of her own preparations—which basically consisted of combing her hair, brushing her teeth, and applying a light base of makeup, and took a grand sum total of twenty minutes, including time spent rummaging around the room aimlessly—Rei set to the Herculean task of rousing Yoshino.

She began cautiously, knowing that Yoshino, when angered by being roused too quickly or roughly, was a formidable opponent. She touched the girl's shoulder lightly, murmuring, "Okay, Yoshino. It's time to wake up."

She received a grunt in response.

Trouble, it sounded like. Rei backed off and tried a different ploy, more passive-aggressive: She opened the curtains, and for good measure, the window.

"Rei," Yoshino mumbled from underneath the covers, "bright."

"It isalmost half past ten, Yoshino," Rei said.

"Feels like five jackhammers past six in the morning."

"I believe that's your own fault. Do you have any idea how much you had to drink last night?"

"No."

"Exactly."

Yoshino turned over, and Rei grinned when she was sure she wouldn't be seen. The grin was less mischievous than she felt, really, and was largely due to the fascinating way that Yoshino's already-wavy hair seemed to have developed a certain curl to it overnight. It was probably a kink, and she would probably hear grief over it later, but for now, it was really very cute. She sat down on the bed.

"Yoshino, you need to get up now."

"That sounds less like something I need to do than something you need to do," Yoshino grumbled, and Rei laughed, unable to help herself.

"You're very frightening," Rei said gently. "But if you don't get up, you're going to get left behind."

"You wouldn't." It wasn't even an accusation. It was simple fact, and they both knew it. "You're not old enough to be my mother."

"I'd rather not be by the time we get out of here, either."

"Hm."

It was time to bring in the big guns. "Yoshino, it's time. You can sleep in the car, but if you don't get up soon, we'll have to pay extra for the rooms."

"Still have a half hour."

"It's going to take you that long to get your hair straight."

"Don't believe you."

"You would if you looked in the mirror."

It was strange. What they were doing was certainly bickering—there was no more friendly way to describe it, really—but it didn't leave any sort of emotional mark on Rei, and probably didn't leave any on Yoshino, either.

And then, at last, Yoshino sat up and shook her head gently. Rei put a palm on Yoshino's forehead, which was warmer than it ought to have been but not hot enough to be dangerous to her—she would make sure her petite soeur got some aspirin in her before they went too far—and Yoshino put her hand over Rei's.

"Your hand is very cool."

Rei simply sat there for a minute, savoring the feeling of Yoshino's skin but not showing it as Yoshino did.

"Rei," Yoshino said finally.

"Yes?"

"Did we do the right thing last night?"

"You mean, did you do the right thing?"

Yoshino didn't seem happy with this, but she nodded her acquiesce anyway. "Yeah."

"I don't know. I think so, but I don't think so, too."

"What do you mean?"

Rei gave her a half-grin and sat down next to her. "I mean, I think you helped somebody last night, and whether you ask Jesus or your neighbor, that's always the right thing to do. If anybody needed a chance to stop thinking so hard all the time, it was Sachiko. At the same time…." Rei sighed, and shook her head in the way she often did when she wanted to say, you'll learn someday, Yoshino, but didn't want to be shouted at. "At the same time, you drank enough to kill yourself, I think, and if you had had anything more than a light fever this morning I would probably have strangled you."

"Out of worry." In spite of herself and in spite of being told off—in a way—by Rei, Yoshino could not help but smile.

"Out of worry," Rei agreed.

Yoshino leaned her head against Rei's shoulder. It was one of the places she liked best in the world. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's fine. I brought along plenty of aspirin."

"Wasn't this supposed to be a spontaneous trip?"

"It was. I always have plenty of aspirin."

Yoshino gave an obligatory sigh and then flopped back onto the bed. To Rei, the sigh may have sounded don't-mother-me frustrated.

In truth, Yoshino just didn't want Rei to see her grin about an aspirin collection.

Those were the sorts of things that she held onto by herself. Maybe because she didn't want anybody else to see the shape of them. Maybe because she thought they would not understand—after all, with a shape so ragged, how could they understand what it meant?

That was okay. She understood.

Four
…all that I was looking for was somebody who looked like you.

Half an hour later, all but one of them had gathered in the hallway—Shimako candidly reported to Yumi, upon questioning, that after Sei had come back in, they had "spoken" for about ten minutes, and then Sei had left to go to the front desk. She had not come back yet. Her tone of voice revealed nothing, as was normal for Shimako, but even so, something made Yumi worry. She shelved it in the back of her mind—something she hated doing—promising to return to it when she had the emotional energy to.

Since speaking with Sei, she certainly felt better, but, for the first time in a long time, she felt simply…drained. For somebody whose production of energy was typically in the range ofprodigious, this was a mildly unsettling feeling. She liked to think that by taking a small break from seeing anybody—as she had done after Sei left and she opted to hide out in the hall rather than return to her room and talk to Sachiko as she, presumably, made herself up for the day—she had done a lot of work towards recharging herself, but in truth, it had just made her lonely.

The first two to filter out into the hall were Rei and Yoshino. Yoshino was holding a small, moist handkerchief to her forehead, which didn't surprise Yumi in the least—not after she had been to Italy with Yoshino. If a flight had tired her out enough to make her a bit ill, Yumi didn't want to think about the effect a hangover would have on her.

Shimako had come next, and a minute or two later, Sachiko. She and Yumi had conversed politely, but it had felt a bit…dead. Maybe that was the hangover, but maybe it wasn't, too. Yumi had allowed herself a brief moment to become convinced that it was, indeed, the hangover, before she shoved that, too to the back of her mind. Trains of thought which were distinctly and uniquely negative belonged there. Bad roads, her mother had always told her, are marked clearly enough that anybody who pays attention can see them coming and avoid walking them.

I just need time, that's all. That's all. Time to get used to this ragged teddy bear, to understand it, she had thought.

And then, the worst thing of all: Doubt.

Should you really have to get used to somebody that you love?

Sei might have told her.

Sei didn't.

Sei, they found when they entered the lobby, was speaking with Kiyomi and Satoi at a table in the small coffee shop. Yumi couldn't see the proprietors' faces, but she saw one of them holding a handkerchief to her mouth. Sei looked more serious than Yumi had seen her in…maybe ever. More serious, and more gentle.

There was something in that gentleness that called to her. You won't need to get used to that, it said. You can just fall down into it and forget everything.

Yumi did her best to put that away, as well. It was harder.

"Let's wait by the exit," Rei said quietly, startling Yumi, making her jump. "We don't want to distract them."

"What are they talking about?" Yoshino asked, and Rei put her head on the girl's head.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Yoshino frowned.

"Call it laying old demons to rest," Sachiko said. Her voice was raspier than Yumi was used to, and raspier than it had been in the hallway—had something happened, so close under her nose, without her noticing? Instinctively, she moved slightly closer to Sachiko, worry niggling in the back of her head as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I think that would be appropriate."

Rei nodded her agreement. "In any case, it's a private matter, so let's let them be."

What could it be, though? It looks like they're…crying. It looks like Sei is having a hard time not doing the same, in fact. I don't think I've ever even seen Sei come close to crying.

Something heavy set gently on Yumi's head, and Sachiko murmured in her ear, "Privacy is something you need for the times when you have to let your guard down."

Yumi understood, and understood more than that, too. Because even though that hand of Sachiko's was heavy, it, too, was gentle.

Maybe that was what being with the people you truly loved was. Maybe that was friendship in a nutshell. Maybe it was none of the millions of convoluted metaphors that would-be philosophers had assigned it over the years; maybe it wasn't companionship or camaraderie, or the feeling of belonging.

Maybe it was just something gentle that knew when to leave you alone.

Maybe.

Sei came back to them five minutes later, smiling as wide as she dared without risking exposure of the gentle quiver of her lips. Her face was bright and perky and, to Yumi, obviously fake.

As they went to the front desk to wait for Kiyomi and Satoi to collect themselves, Shimako took Sei's hand, squeezed it once, and then released it. Sei responded by putting a hand on the girl's head for a moment, and then letting it drop again.

Maybe, Yumi thought, that was the form of Sei's teddy bear. A simple touch, and a simple response. I'm here, you know. Yes, and thank you.

It was in this manner that they checked out of the hotel, quiet and supportive of those who seemed to need it. After they began to move towards the door, Sachiko lingered for a moment at the desk, and spoke to Kiyomi and Satoi directly.

For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, and then Sachiko spoke, quietly, but without hesitation, as a lady ought to.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" is what she asked.

Kiyomi nodded. "We did. Did you?"

"I think so. I hope so."

She smiled, and then bowed and excused herself.

"Whatever it is, when you do find it," Satoi said, just loud enough to be heard by Sachiko, "don't duck it at the last minute. It becomes far too comfortable sitting on the floor instead of standing up."

Sachiko stopped, and turned her entire body, so that she did not appear to be speaking on an off-note, impolitely. "I know," she said with a smile.

And that was that. And for the first time in many months, the only feeling that Sachiko could find inside of her was optimistic.

Precisely the feeling that Yumi was struggling to find within herself, for the first time in years.

As they loaded into the car, Yoshino said, completely out of the blue, as though acting in Sei's place, "So, Yumi, did Sachiko talk in her sleep?"

Sachiko jerked to a halt, and both Rei and Sei burst into the kind of laughter one only finds in oneself when one cannot quite believe what is being heard.

Yumi blinked twice, floating to the surface of her mind again, where she belonged.

"Now that you mention it," Yumi said, and then a funny memory came to her. "She did." Yumi turned to face Sachiko. "Onee-sama,what exactly were you dreaming about, do you remember?"

"What…what was I saying?" Sachiko said hesitantly, almost afraid to hear.

"It was almost frightening," Yumi said. "You kept rolling around, and then you said, I can't hear you, talk to two by four. Do you know what that means?"

Sachiko blinked twice, memories of her dream drifting in and out of a place where she could see them—memories of blood and violence—and then her phone began to ring.

Sachiko froze. There was precisely one person that would be calling her at this point.

Sei spoke up, life returning to her in an instant. "Don't answer that," she said. "Give it to me."

Sachiko did as she asked. She was, honestly, terrified of answering it herself.

Sei opened the phone. "Hello?" A moment's pause. "Nope, she's sleeping." A pause. "In a ditch. In the car, where do you think?" Sei grinned while the person on the other end said something, and Yumi and Yoshino held in laughter. "About halfway to Kyoto…Three days, if I feel like it. Whups, sorry, looks like this thing's running out of batteries. Sorry, Kashiwagi, we'll have to chat it up later." With that, Sei shut the phone, and, for good measure, opened the battery case and pulled the battery out, stuffed it in her pocket, and handed the phone back to Sachiko. The verbal sparring with Suguru seemed to have brightened her spirits significantly. "You can have the battery back when we get past Tokyo's city limits." She considered for a second. "Or if we're attacked by highway bandits."

Sachiko had absolutely no idea what to say to this.

And so, even though it was Sei, and even though the idea was absolutely preposterous, she simply nodded. "Fair," she said.

Sei grinned, and the sight of this was refreshing in many ways, to many of the people in the group.

"Then, shall we get our pretty little selves down to Kyoto? I'm still driving, and this time you can't complain, since I'm probably the only one not hung over."

"I'm not hung over," Rei pointed out.

"You're a pansy behind the steering wheel," Sei countered. "I'd like to get to Kyoto this year, thanks."

"I am not!" Rei said. It was as close as Sachiko had ever heard to indignant out of Rei.

"Rei, you are the old lady that deliberately drives on one-lane highways just to see how long of a snake's tail she can pick up. You are seventy-five at the age of nineteen." And before Rei could come up with something to say to this, Sei was in the drivers' seat. She had apparently pilfered the keys from Rei at some point, though when, nobody could precisely say.

Maybe it was a testament to Sei's character, or maybe it was simply timing, that it was at precisely the time when everybody filed into the van and nobody was watching her that Sei whispered, thank you, her voice barely a whisper.

After all, even Sei couldn't help how she felt sometimes. Even Sei.

Everybody was like that sometimes.

They pulled out of the parking lot and tore off down the highway. One hundred and seventy miles to Kyoto, a sign informed them shortly thereafter.

Sachiko found herself wishing for a power of ten to multiply that by.

She was not the only one.