Well here is another chapter. From this chapter on, we will get to see Osaka in every chapter as the story winds down to an end at Chapter 17. I want to thank the reviewer "slow reader" for leaving a review. I greatly appreciate it. I know I kind of begged for reviews last chapter. That's mainly because this is a different type of story that I've never done before and I know some characters are more OOC than others and I'm curious about what people think. But I won't beg today. If you are able to review, then I would love to hear from you. Otherwise, just enjoy the story. Thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 13

"Dear Tomo," Tomo read aloud, her voice quivering, but firm. "I know you're angry. I know you'll hate me for this, but please understand. I couldn't go on living like this. In case you're wondering, yes it does have something to do with why I was at the hospital today. But there's so much more to tell that I don't think I can say it all." Tomo stopped for a moment to clear her voice. Sakaki wanted to tell Tomo that she didn't have to do this; that she and Chiyo could just read it. But she didn't think Tomo would listen. "But maybe if I tell you everything that's happened to me today, then maybe you can understand this a little more . . ."

4 AM stared me in the face. "God, how long have I been laying here like," I asked myself. I had stayed in the bathroom until late, probably at least midnight. Not that I was throwing up the whole time, but I couldn't face Tomo after what had happened. And when I finally made it to bed, no sleep. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I had to stifle a cry just to keep Tomo from waking. How could I do this to her? After everything Tomo's done for me. What's wrong with me? I hadn't even felt sick when it happened. Everything had just bubbled up and out it came. Even now, I was hungry. My stomach felt empty. Careful not to wake Tomo, I slipped out of bed and fumbled through the apartment and into the kitchen.

I pulled out some surviving leftovers from last night along with a few other items from the cupboards and juggled it all into the living room. Plopping down the couch, I flicked on the TV and started eating. This time at least, everything stayed down. I shoveled in more of the food as I flipped through the channels. Remembering Yuuko, I wondered if he was still with that secretary. It's not like I had anything to offer anyway. What with how fat I am. I couldn't help it as I stared down at my stomach, hating every inch of it. Why'd I have to turn out like this? What was it about me that was so disgusting?

I stuffed myself with more chips, and noodles, waiting for my thoughts to drift away; like they usually did when I'd eat. I hated myself for pigging out like this, but I couldn't stop. The food tasted so good, and I hadn't had anything all night. The more I ate, the less I thought about Yuuko. The more I ate, the less I worried about Tomo and what she had to see the previous night. Suddenly eating was all that mattered right now. I couldn't even remember what the TV show I had on was about. It just blended into nothingness as I scooped up more noodles and shoved them into my mouth. Chips and some old meatballs followed and I fell to euphoria.

I shoved my hand in the bag and caught nothing but bag. It was empty. For the first time, I actually looked down at all the open containers and bags to find them either empty or almost. The high I'd experienced during the binge leaving, guilt swept over me. "I've done it again." Catching the clock, I saw it was well after five. "Shit, she'll be getting up soon!" I rushed to put everything away so no signs of my pre-morning snack would be noticed. When I'd finished, I stopped to look down at my stomach. I'd eaten more than usual. It'd made me look fatter. "I'm never gonna lose weight this way," I said to myself, clutching my stomach. I gotta get rid of it. The bathroom called to me, and I instinctively took a step towards it. No, if Tomo hears . . . But the bathroom called again, louder. I have to get rid of it. My feet inched closer to the door. I'll make it quick.

I scampered into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. The toilet in the far corner, I hurried over and flipped open the lid. This was it. I'd made it. The white porcelain running smooth and cool in my hands, I gripped it firmly steadying myself. Remembering to take off my glasses, I set them on the counter and then propped my head over the sparkling bowl. Two fingers caressed my lips and I allowed them entry, feeling them wriggle to the back of my mouth. I shoved them back a little farther, reaching the spot. "Arrguhff," I gagged into my hand, but nothing. I shoved the fingers as far back as I could and my whole body shuddered as I gagged again, but nothing.

Breathing heavily, I said, "This isn't working. I can't get back far enough. I need something . . ." Snatching my toothbrush from the counter, I quickly returned to the toilet and brushed it past my lips and into my mouth. I gagged again, my body lurching towards the toilet. I was close this time and I could feel, just a little further and . . I removed the toothbrush as warm bile rushed up my throat and into the toilet. There it was. I shoved the toothbrush back in and more came swirling out into the bowl. It felt so wonderful; I could practically feel the pounds falling off. The toothbrush back in, I removed it quickly as more rushed out of me and into the toilet.

"Once more," I said between uneven breaths. I shoved the toothbrush back in and going a little farther back to finish it all off, my lungs shot forward and I painfully gagged. The force of the gag had been so great, that I lost my grip on the toothbrush. Reflexively, I tried to swallow but it caught, and I could feel it stuck in my throat. My eyes winced through tears as I gulped again, the toothbrush stuck far out my reach. "Tomo . . . help . . ." but my voice came out only as a whisper. And it hurt to talk. I could feel the toothbrush rubbing up against the walls of my throat with every word.

Flushing the toilet, I hurried to the mirror and opened my mouth. Nothing. I couldn't see it. What am I supposed to do? I can't tell Tomo what I've been doing. I can't . . . My thoughts were interrupted with a knocking on the door. "Yomi, are you okay in there?"

She's gonna know. The second I open my mouth . . . But knowing Tomo, she'd check in on me anyways. Not knowing what else to do I said, "T-Tomo," God it hurt to talk, "I . . . need some help."

Bursting through the door, she asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

She was worried. "I just . . ." What was I supposed to tell her? But I gulped again and a shot of pain blew through me. ". . . hospital," was all I could manage to say.

"You want me to take you there?" She looked scared. I must've been a mess. With the pain in my throat, I couldn't let go of it. I nodded. "Alright, let's go." Tomo grabbed my arm and rushed me to the car. I gulped in fear. Should I tell her? She'd want to know eventually. Dragging me into the car, she helped me in and soon we were speeding down the highway; running every red light we came across. But I can't tell her now. I can hardly talk. Tears dripped down my face, not so much from the pain but more from I wanted to cry. I'm sorry Tomo. I'm so sorry about this. I wanted to say it so bad, but couldn't.

We arrived at the hospital and Tomo pulled me out of the car as gently as she could. She led me in and a nurse spotted us. "What's wrong with her?"

"I-I don't know. When I checked her, she was like this."

Their conversation swirled in my head. I hardly paid attention to what they were saying. I just wanted this thing out of my throat. I couldn't stand to have it in there any longer. Then suddenly, I heard Tomo's footsteps and I realized the nurse had begun leading me to the back; and Tomo was following. I stopped. She couldn't know. Not like this. "Work," I mouthed. It'd become too painful to talk. I could only mouth the words, feeling the toothbrush rubbing against the walls of my throat. But Tomo didn't get the message, so I pointed at her and repeated, "Work."

"Me? No I'm not going to work. I'm staying with you."

Damnit Tomo why can't you understand? I shoved her with little force as the pain in my throat had drained much of my energy. Desperately, I mouthed, "I'm . . . okay . . . Work."

"But . . ."

"Go . . ."

"Yomi I . . ."

"It's okay," the nurse said, "We'll take good care of her. If it's anything serious, we'll call you."

Tomo painfully resigned. "I work at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Dep . . . I'll stop after work."

I nodded, thankful that Tomo finally listened. But at the same time, I wanted to cry. She was just trying to help and here I was rejecting her. I gulped in reflex and a shot of pain seared through me. I grabbed my throat and suddenly the nurse was dragging me to a doctor; away from Tomo. I wanted to look back and tell Tomo I'd be alright, but I couldn't. I felt so helpless being dragged through those double doors.

Next thing I knew, some doctor had his hands on my throat, checking for pain; and how far down it was. He began asking question after question and I realized I'd just have to tell him. What a way to say it? But he'd find out anyway. "tooth . . . brush," I mouthed. He didn't catch it so I had to repeat.

"So you've got a toothbrush stuck in your throat," he confirmed. I nodded. "Well, people have swallowed stranger things I guess." But his tone had a bit of an edge to it. I had a feeling he already suspected why the toothbrush was in there.

The doctor briefly explained what they'd be doing. The procedure sounded simple enough, and it was. They didn't even put me out. They injected some anesthetic along with some drugs to relax my throat and jaw. Feeling like I was at a dentist, the doctor grabbed a mirror on a stick and a strange looking tweezers. With the nurse's help, my mouth was filled with fingers, metal, and latex. And with some kind of special camera, they located the toothbrush and pulled it out.

"You were lucky," the doctor said as he pulled off his gloves. "The toothbrush hadn't slid down very far; otherwise the surgery would've been much more complicated." An awkward silence filled the room as he turned and began jotting things down on a clipboard. Then grabbing a small flashlight, he instructed, "open up." Which I did and he aimed the light inside. "Well your throat is irritated. When the anesthetic and drugs wear off, you'll want to treat it like a sore throat. Cough drops, lemon drops, whatever you use."

"Thank you," I managed. My voice sounded rough, but it didn't hurt as much to talk.

"Before you go Mizuhara-san, I want to talk to you about the help that's available out there."

I eyed him skeptically. As I'd thought, he figured out what I had been doing. And he listed off several places and organizations that could help me with my problem. "This isn't something you wanna mess around with," the doctor explained. "Now I know you're probably going to be tired today, so get some rest. But I want to hear from you in a week, telling me you're getting help. Can I count on that?"

As he was standing in front of the door, I knew he wasn't going to let me out until I'd agreed. "Okay. But don't say anything to Tomo. I'll tell her when I get home." I could tell the drugs were starting to wear off as my voice had sounded a bit scratchy and it did sort of feel like a sore throat.

"Of course. Now go on home. And remember our little talk."

I nodded at him and left the hospital, grabbing a taxi back to Tomo's apartment. Fortunately Tomo never had a chance to lock the door so I managed to get right in and pay the cab fare. Locking the door behind me, I fell to the floor. "Now what," I whispered.

I started to cry, but the soreness in my throat turned it to choking. I felt like a cat hacking up a hairball. Getting up and into the bathroom, I checked the medicine cabinet for cough drops. None. But a bottle of cough medicine that treated sore throats rested half full on the bottom shelf. Grabbing it, I downed a little more than two teaspoons worth. My throat instantly softened. Closing the door, I looked into the mirror. How filthy. Yomi, what have you done to yourself? Then remembering the toothbrush, I vainly grabbed a clean one and smothered it in toothpaste. With all the commotion, I hadn't the chance to clean up after my purge. Yet opening my mouth, a grimy smile mockingly stared back. I suddenly wanted to cry again as I commenced brushing. Why aren't they white? I always brush afterwards. For a while, my teeth had sparkled like ivory; but then, like everything else in my fucking life, they went to hell.

Rinsing and gargling several dozen times just to make sure, I tossed the toothbrush onto the counter. "I'm never doing that again." The memory of the morning replayed right in front of me as I glanced at the toilet.

"Isn't that what you said the last time?" A sudden voice echoed from behind me.

It wasn't Tomo. When I turned, I found the impossible staring directly at me. Osaka/Kasuga Ayumu right there, in front of me. She hadn't aged a day since we graduated from Kiyohiko. She stood there, blocking the door in our old high school uniform, the red one. She wore death on her face; like her whole spirit had been ripped out. For a minute, I was speechless. How many nights had I found Tomo asleep on the couch, or at the table, or at her desk, with papers and pictures all centered on the girl that stood before me? When I finally did manage to speak, all I could say was, "Osaka? Is it really you?"

She nodded. Pain hid deep behind her face. "Yomi. You said the same thing."

"What? What do mean?"

Then Osaka circled me, looking me over and then approached the toilet. "I'm never doing that again." She repeated my words. "The last time you stuck your fingers down your throat and coughed up your lunch, you said the same thing. 'I'm never doing that again.' And the time before that, you said it."

My chest heaved and my stomach turned. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stuttered, "O-Osaka? What do mean? H-How did you know?"

But she ignored me, almost enraged as she continued circling me, her unforgiving eyes judging my every pound. "And when Yuuko dumped you; it was ice cream wasn't it? Almost half a gallon you burped up into the toilet. And what did you say after that? 'I'm never doing that again.' Yomi," Osaka said, her hard voice barely softening, "How many times have you said those words? How many more times are you going to say them?"

"Osaka," I pleaded, barely keep my tears back, "I know what I've been doing is wrong. But look at me. Look at me! I'm nothing. I can't keep a job. I'm probably driving Tomo nuts. I've tried every diet out there and done everything I could to please Yuuko, but I can't compete with girls who hardly break the one hundred pound mark on the scale. If you could see the women he dates . . ."

And Osaka only turned her head away and looked into the mirror. The motion was so sudden I stopped and looked as well. I covered my mouth and gasped, tears finally watering my cheeks. For in the mirror stood neither Osaka nor me, but a twenty-something girl with long jet black hair, an hourglass figure, and breasts at least twice the size of mine. Her petite face mocked me as her lips split into a grin. "Her name is Ibaraki-san," I heard Osaka explain, "And Yuuko has been dating her for two months now."

The girl in the mirror vanished and only my reflection stared back. "Why," I'd finally found my voice back and asked, "Why are you doing this? What's happened to you Osaka? Tomo has . . ."

But Osaka looked at me as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Tomo's worried about you. At work, all she thinks about is you. You're nothing but trouble for her."

"Me? But . ."

"I want to help you Yomi. I don't want you to do this anymore." But her voice didn't sound sincere. It hadn't lost that edge which had sustained the whole conversation. And I when I looked at her, she was anxious. I'd remembered what Tomo had told me of Kagura, and the things Osaka had said and done.

But I know I worried Tomo. It killed me to know that I was such a bother to her. She was always waiting on me like a maid and continuously worked at cheering me up. And all I could do was scowl at her. From the knowing look in Osaka's eyes, I'm sure she knew that as well. "How could you possibly help me?"

Osaka directed my attention to the mirror. She walked over beside me and placed an arm around me. Waving her hand over the mirror, my reflection changed to that of a girl I didn't recognize. She had hair and glasses like me, but her body was different. Very different. She carried a flat stomach (no fat what-so-ever) that curved into some dangerous hips. Her thighs smoothed out into long sparkling legs. Filled out breasts and a confident head on her shoulders, she even sported a light tan with no lines. "Who is she," I asked in awe, but covered my mouth in shock as I instantly knew.

The girl in the mirror covered her mouth as well. She had even spoken the same words I had when I had spoken them. That girl in the mirror was me. I turned my head to look at Osaka but she directed my eyes back to the mirror. I watched Osaka through the mirror as she ran her hands up and down my sides. I could feel her cold, spidery fingers scraping over the smooth skin. She traced every curve to ensure that this was real and Osaka said, "This can be you. I can make you this. No diets. No tricks. No more weight gain. I can give you a body that even the richest woman in Japan can't afford."

I stared at my reflection in awe, afraid to look away that the illusion might vanish. Entranced, I dazedly smiled into the mirror and saw the most beautiful smile staring back at me. Surely it wasn't my own. "Really?"

Osaka nodded. "But that's not all." She sounded like a demented game show host when she spoke. Though I had little time to think about Osaka has another figure materialized out of thin air behind me. At first, the figure was hazy. And then I could make out a man. And then . . . "Yuuko," I gasped.

"Yomi, did you do this for me," he asked. Stifling a cry, I nodded. "Listen Yomi, about us; I think I was wrong. Things just haven't been the same without you. If you're still willing, I'd like to reconsider marriage." Again, I nodded. No words would come to my mouth as I watched him smile. It was a smile I hadn't seen in years; when he first met. It was the smile he used to save for me, only me.

And then he vanished. Everything vanished. The body I could have was replaced with the body I'd been stuck with all my life. All that remained were Osaka and myself. And with a small, yet terrible smile, Osaka asked, "So, what do you think?"

I wanted to scream, "Yes! Yes! I'll take it! Give it to me! It's mine!" My lips had the itch to do just that. I felt them quivering, wanting to open up and accept, but something held me back. As hard as my brain tried to push away memories of her, I thought of Kagura. She'd seen Osaka and had had a similar conversation. But she had said no. Something had felt wrong to her. So not wanting to refuse the offer, I instead asked, "What if I don't take it?"

Osaka said not a word, but again directed my attention to the mirror. I shivered with fear. Something told me this wouldn't be nice. Osaka grabbed my hands so that I could see them in my reflection. Then she turned them palm up and I saw blood trickling down from the wrists, onto the palms and running off the tips of my fingers. Violent gashes as the source, I stood lightheaded, feeling the warm liquid oozing down my hands. I felt it on the skin between my fingernails and I got dizzy. For a while, I couldn't bear to look down, but when I felt ready to pass out, I looked and found nothing. No gashes, no blood, my hands weren't even wet. I shuddered. I couldn't speak. It had all felt so real. Osaka's voice echoed through my head, as if she were everywhere at once. "Trade places with me. And you can have that body; and you can have Yuuko. Please."

I turned to Osaka. She was desperate, really desperate. I could see it in her eyes. But I could see something else. Even though she had the physique of her high school self, something even now was eating away at her. Maybe it's what caused her to act like this to me and to Kagura. Maybe she couldn't control it. But with the offer as tempting as it was, I had to force the words out of my mouth. "Something's wrong here. Osaka, I . . . I," and I stopped. Everything she'd shown me tugged at my chest, tore at my heart. Everything inside screamed at me to reconsider. "I can't," I whispered, looking away from her. "I just can't." When I finally did dare a glance, she was gone."

". . . . And that's when I knew Tomo, that I'd never see you again. I couldn't live with myself for passing up such a golden opportunity to fix everything that was wrong with me. I could've stopped you from worrying. And even now, as I write this, I'm can't stop looking at the razors on the table. I'm sorry Tomo. I love you so much. I never told you that enough. As a friend, you meant more to me than anything else. And I'm sorry I have to do this to you. I can only hope that this letter will help you find whatever it is you're looking for. Goodbye Tomo. I'll miss you. Love Yomi."