The next week goes by in a blur. Fuyutsuki's test, which fazes even Yui to the point of worry, is forgotten in the rush of projects assigned in what Kyoko calls typical end-of-semester fashion. Mari's seniors take everything in stride, as they always do- but Mari herself falters for the first time, the growing circles beneath her eyes a testament to hours of work. She sees Kyoko and Yui only once outside of classes, on the bench where the usually sit and talk, and even though she wants to answer Yui's wave, she can't- there's somewhere she has to be.
The next day, Mari completes her homework early, and despite her fatigue she pelts down the stairs of her dorm and runs straight for their meeting place. Only Kyoko is there, smoking a cigarette and reading a book, and so Mari turns away, shambling off to her next assignment.
Fuyutsuki passes their exams back that Thursday. His face is etched with disappointment, and he says nothing as he advances up the aisles: the low marks on the papers do all the talking necessary. He places his hand approvingly on Yui's shoulder as he hands her test back, and even though she's drained, Mari musters the energy to look up at her professor and glare. When both Fuyutsuki and Kyoko give her looks of pity, she turns away, accepting her paper without a word.
The girl in the window hardly looks like her, with her unbrushed hair and circles beneath her eyes so dark, they could pass for bruises. From across the table she hears Yui say, I got a ninety-three. You?"
"Eighty-seven," sighs Kyoko. "It looks like we both missed the same thing."
"Yeah. Mari, what about you?"
Mari jumps, nearly falling off her seat. She catches herself against the table, looking rapidly between Yui and her paper. "What?"
"Question seven. Did you get it wrong?"
"Yes," Mari replies flatly. Sounding disappointed would take too much effort. As she flips back to the first page, her eyes catch the red ink marking the top of her exam. The tired quaking of her hands becomes a violent trembling as she asks, "Yui, what did you get again?"
"93. Why?"
"Just wondering." Mari shoves her paper away as Kyoko shrugs, leaning over towards Yui to compare their answers. Their garbled discussion echoes quietly in the back of her mind, nonsensical filtered noise that fails to distract her from her focus. The tip of one finger traces the numbers mindlessly on the table top. 94. She's done it.
She's finally beaten Yui.
Fuyutsuki assumes his position at the front of the classroom; his voice is a low, droning buzz. Only when Yui taps her shoulder does Mari realize the others are out of their seats, grabbing for Petri dishes and mice. She rises, only to tangle her legs among the chair's. She pitches forward, straight into Yui, and the two topple to the floor. The chair lands on them a second later, and before anyone can react, Kyoko walks over and peers down at the pair. "Why does everything in this lab happen to you?"
Yui laughs, a full throaty laugh that Mari feels rather than hears, and even she manages a weary smile. Rolling over, she accepts Kyoko's offered hand, then joins her in helping Yui to her feet. "At least we didn't fall on the mice," Yui says.
"I think that's just you," Kyoko replies. "Now if you two can keep your balance for a minute, I'll go get our mouse."
"Don't fall!" calls Yui. Kyoko waves back at her in reply, and Yui snickers before pulling out their equipment from a nearby cabinet. Mari joins her in arranging them, putting test tubes in their racks.
"Yui?" Mari asks after a while. "Are you- do you think you're free today?"
"Oh, after class? I should be. Kyoko is, too. Usual spot?"
Mari wishes she had the courage to shake her head, to say no, she wants to talk to Yui by herself. Still, Yui and Kyoko are better than no Yui at all, and if Kyoko can make Yui laugh like she usually does, it's a fair trade. "Sure," she says with a shrug. "Let's get this over with so we can go."
Yui relays the plan to Kyoko when she returns, and the trio leaps into a frenzy of work so concentrated, they don't notice when another group's mouse escapes and runs beneath their feet. They finish within an hour, clean up their workspace, and sweep out the door with the triumphant feeling of freedom. Even Mari, who desperately needs a nice, long nap, joins Yui and Kyoko in giggling all the way down the stairs.
"It's been what, two weeks since we got to do this?" Kyoko asks, leading the others over to the bench. "Haven't you two ever heard of relaxing?"
"It's Mari's first year. She has time," says Yui. "You want anything to drink? Coffee, tea?"
"Just coffee," answers Mari.
"Make that two."
"Three coffees, got it."
"You know, you should put in less time at the lab, Yui," Kyoko mutters as Yui busies herself with the vending machine. "I think Fuyutsuki's starting to come on to you."
"What?" No, that's silly, Kyoko."
"He totally is. You saw him today, right, Mari?"
"Kyoko, you're being ridiculous. Mari, stop nodding so much. You look like a bobblehead."
"Kyoko has a point," says Mari, accepting her drink from Yui. "That's the kind of thing creepy teachers do in stories."
"Well, even if you're right, I'm not interested. I've got someone else already."
"Oh?" Both Kyoko and Mari sit up, their heads turning toward Yui. "And who might this be?" asks Kyoko.
"You'll have to guess."
"Okay, well, give us a hint!"
"He's..." Yui pauses, tapping at her lips with her fingers. "Well, he's in our year."
"That's specific," Mari deadpans.
"He has dark hair..."
"Beard or no beard?" Kyoko demands.
"No beard."
"Ugh! Come on, Yui. You have to give us more than that!"
"Well, he's... I think he's some sort of science major, so-"
Mari drowns out the conversation next to her with a clenching of the metal can in her hands. The crumpling tin is a magnet to the ears; both Yui and Kyoko pause and glance at her. "Mari?"
"Sorry, you two. I forgot I have something to take care of." Mari digs into her pocket, then shoves a few coins at Yui. "For the drink."
"Mari, it's fine. Are you sure you're-"
"Well, I'll see you both next week. Bye." Mari leaves with a wave and nothing more, not even a backward glance. Yui stares after her, tapping her can worriedly.
"Kyoko, should I go after her?" she asks. "I don't think she's telling us something."
"I'm sure she's alright. She's probably just spread herself too thin." Kyoko sighs, glancing at the empty space next to her. "Being a genius only gets you so far in life."
"Maybe she's angry about the test. I didn't see what she got."
"Don't worry about it, Yui. Give her a week, and it'll be fine."
"If you say so." Yui takes another sip of her drink, the coffee bitter in her mouth despite the added sugar. She forces it down with a grimace, the can crinkling under her fingers. "It doesn't feel right without her here."
"Yeah. It doesn't."
The crumpled can, still half-full, goes flying into a trash bin with a noisy rattle. The sound is barely comforting, even if the loud clanging of metal is somewhat satisfying. Gone is the heady feeling from before, replaced by a heavy sinking in her gut. Mari knows the sensation of stress all too well; knows when her barriers are paper-thin and close to falling.
She ducks into a nearby building, seeking out the washroom with a precision unbefitting her exhaustion. The door swings open, accompanied by a flood of chattering voices, and Mari turns away immediately. She needs privacy, quiet, somewhere to wallow in her sadness until she can snap herself out of it. And she needs to find some quickly.
Her answer is staring at her from across the way. Kyoto University's library stands four stories high and spans a length of 100 meters. Mari knows it as a bastion of learning, its shelves like walls, dividing its inhabitants. She moves toward it thoughtlessly, letting her legs carry her up the steps and through the front doors.
The library is silent as always, even though every seat in sight is occupied. Mari darts past rows of students, their heads buried in textbooks, and she wishes she could be like them- studying, worried about finals; worried about anything except the matter that seizes her mind. Her shoulders shaking, Mari rounds another corner, heading for the back of the library. No doubt the seats there are also taken, but the books in that section are so rarely sought after that Mari knows she won't be disturbed there.
It takes a good minute for Mari to find a place to hide: the desks are arranged so students can see down each aisle, and though no one tends to look, Mari wants to take no chances. She settles down at the foot of a large shelf, just wide enough to accommodate the width of her shoulders. Dropping her bag next to her, Mari hunches over, exhaustion washing over her like a wave. If a lack of sleep wasn't affecting her, Yui's words certainly are. She grabs at her shirt, bunching her shoulders up, the last of her composure flaking away. Tears stream down her face in uncoordinated rivulets, turning the fabric in her hands a dark forest green. No sobs escape her mouth- it's much too quiet, and she could easily be heard- but her lips part in a noiseless cry, and the breaths passing between them grow increasingly ragged.
The bag at her side tips over, spilling textbooks into the aisle. Mari grabs at them, her wet hands trembling as they gather the books back behind her cover. One title catches her eye: Fuyutsuki's lab book, the lower-left corner stained with blood from her first day of class. It seems so long ago, and Mari so different- as if, back then, she knew what she was doing. Only now, surrounded by knowledge and its pursuers, does she realize she didn't had a clue to begin with. Mari hugs her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. If not for the occasional sniffle, one could easily mistake her for being asleep- and Mari wishes she was asleep, so that she could wake up and learn it was all a dream.
But it's not a dream, and she knows that. Her tears taper off as a soreness sets in her limbs, and she knows it's time to move on, even though she would be more than content to stay curled up on the floor. After ensuring her bag is shut, she rubs at her face- there's no evidence that she was crying, save from her swollen eyes, and that can be attributed to a week of sleepless nights. Satisfied, Mari marches forth from her hiding place, looking every bit the confident, if tired student.
The act lasts up until Mari reaches the front door. Luck is not kind to her. Yui walks in and spots her in a heartbeat, waving her over. "Mari!" she whispers. "I didn't expect to find you here. You finished your project already?"
"I only had to check on a few things. It was a short meeting."
"I was going to review some things for the lab quiz, since I won't really have time next week. Care to join me?"
Mari frowns, on the verge of saying no. Her heart instructs her to do otherwise. She manages to shrug despite the aching of her shoulders, where all her pent-up tension seems to have gathered. "Sure."
Yui grabs Mari by the hand and leads her into the library, managing to find a pair of open seats in a secluded part of the library, just a short distance from the main hall. Laying her bag on the table, she pulls her notes out, only to stop when she realizes Mari hasn't moved since she sat down. "Mari? Is everything alright?"
"Hm? Yes. Why do you ask?"
"You've seemed off today. Sad."
"I'm fine. It's just been a busy week, and I need to rest."
"Am I keeping you here?" asks Yui. "You don't have to stay, you know."
"But I want to." Mari smiles, a weak fluttering of her lips, and the look Yui gives her chases away all traces of her fatigue. "What subject, Yui?"
"Just what we did today. Kyoko didn't even take notes on half the procedures, if you can believe that."
"Sadly, I can," laughs Mari, placing her book on the table. A pang shoots through her, and she brushes it aside, pulling out her lab papers. "Here's what I have."
"Oh, you have more than me. Let me see!"
Yui pulls the notes away to copy them, and Mari realizes that for the second time, she's proven she can do something better than Yui. The knowledge is glorious. She leans back in her seat, basking in her own satisfaction, and heaves a long, relaxed sigh.
A moment later, Yui shatters it all with a single observation. "You know, the way you write reminds me of that guy I was telling you about earlier."
"The... one from the cafeteria," Mari says, realization replacing her prior enthusiasm. "You said he was a science major?"
"That's right, you weren't there when Kyoko guessed who it was. You want to try?"
Mari fixes Yui with a blank stare, propping her head up with one hand. Once again, her physical state proves to be her ally. "Just tell me, Yui," she sighs. "I'm tired."
"Okay, okay. It's Gendo."
It takes Mari several seconds to process what Yui has just said. "Gendo... Rokubungi?" she almost shouts, remembering at the last second to keep her voice down. Her hand slides off her cheek, hitting the table with a smack. "Him?!"
"Kyoko had almost the same exact reaction," Yui laughs, hiding her smile behind her hands.
"That's because- never mind." Mari's gaze drops to the papers covering the table, a week's worth of observations that, in the face of this revelation, hold no meaning. The labors of months have paid off- she's beaten Yui not once, but twice- and yet there is nothing in that accomplishment. Not when someone like Gendo Rokubungi has outdone her. Mari wants to take the pages in front of her and rip them to shreds, to curse them for leading her to believe she could succeed when in reality, she didn't have a chance to begin with.
"And I'm done!" Yui says cheerfully, holding the notes out for Mari to take. When Mari continues staring stonily at the table, Yui touches her hand. She lurches back like she's been burned, eyes blazing, her lips pressed together in a thin line, and in that moment Yui can barely recognize the freshman she's grown to know.
Then Mari reaches out, taking the paper and stacking it neatly with the others. "Thanks," she mumbles. The notes vanish into her book with a crinkling of paper. She makes no effort to straighten them out. As she shoves the book into her bag, Yui finally speaks up.
"Mari, what's wrong? Please, tell me."
Mari can't even look up. She shakes her head, clenching her fists around the straps of her bag. If she speaks, she'll break, but she can't just leave Yui hanging like that. "I need to go," she gasps out.
A hand grabs her before she can turn to leave. Yui stares across the table at her, her green eyes gentle, and Mari looks away. She can't lie to Yui's face.
"Is it because of Gendo?" Yui asks.
Mari summons a shaky smile, which holds, much to her surprise. "No. Like I said, I'm just... I'm tired, Yui."
When Mari looks up again, she can see in those eyes that Yui doesn't believe her for a second. Yui steps out of her seat, crossing the small distance between them, her arms enveloping Mari. "Hey," she says, whispering the words like a mother to her child. "It'll be okay."
But it won't, Mari thinks. Everything is wrong; everything feels empty. There is no warmth to their contact like before, and even if Yui doesn't notice the change, Mari does.
As they part, Yui pulls Mari's chair over by hers. "Come on. I'll help you."
Mari takes one look at the chairs, standing side by side, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says, backing away from Yui, who extends a hand. It's open, inviting, waiting- and in that moment she hates Yui for offering it; she hates herself for wanting to take it. Oh, how she hates herself. "I'm sorry," she repeats.
And then, she leaves, keeping her eyes looking ahead, not allowing herself to deviate from the mental line drawn from herself to the door. She feels Yui's eyes on her up until she vanishes behind a bookshelf- but if anything, it makes the pressure on her chest grow tighter.
As she stumbles out into the cool evening air, Mari finally allows herself to glance back. Yui hasn't followed her out, or at least, not yet. She needs to put some distance between them, so she keeps moving, her steps hammering out a triple beat on the sidewalk. I hate you, I hate you, they say.
She doesn't know whether they're meant for herself, or for Yui.