Notes: sorry for delay, laptop hinge is broken! and kotori is hard to write! Also I was sad lol

English was a strange language, Kotori thought. At times it was a soft slurry of words; the trickling of a steam after a fresh rain. Sometimes it was a striking drum. The rhythmic ups and downs of the words that poured out of her mouth when she exchanged words with strangers. But today, today was all harsh words she could not translate, doctors speaking in code to her unfamiliar ears. Fracture? Dislocation? Suture? Those words meant nothing to her. She did not want to find out, hoped she could let those words remain meaningless-

Umi's phone had gone off continuously for hours now. Kotori hadn't picked up. Numbers she didn't recognize. Didn't want to know who kept calling after the first abrupt hang-up. Didn't want to know why the doctors rushed in and out, why they hushed their conversations when they noticed Kotori sitting in the waiting room.

A tourist had found Umi in an alley a few days ago. The doctors called Kotori, who came rushing to one of the many too-busy hospitals of New York City. They'd had the llama farm in Pennsylvania. Kotori would have to call their only neighbor Jennifer- three miles away- to watch the llamas if Umi remained like this. Umi made frequent trips out of the city, Kotori had thought nothing of it when she left last week. She'd come back with trophies in hand, new furs for Kotori to work with, and always weary eyes. Weren't they supposed to have a new beginning here, Kotori wondered. A fresh start at the American Dream? Away from whatever it was that happened?

The tour in the States had been a dream, for the first few months. They played everywhere: from outdoor concerts to cons to neon-lit bars that made Umi blush at the scantily dressed women. Kotori had not been prepared for the overwhelming response from the American fans. People from the depths of the southern swamps to the farthest reaches of the frozen tundra (How did anyone live in this country, Kotori wondered); all had come to the large cities to see them play. Honoka had learned a little composing and guitar on the side, Umi's lyrics took on a new energy, Kotori couldn't stop drawing outfits. The world was open before them. There was still an awe to it, a magic, even after Love Live! and the first visit to the States.

They didn't go as u's anymore, of course, but people still knew them. There was no official name for their trio; Honoka wanted, "Umi and the Salts", Kotori wanted "Three Birds" and Umi's reluctant contribution was "Color Wheel"- Orange Green Blue- Mostly, they went as "Orange Salty Birds." (Nico made fun of them whenever possible.)

Days seemed unending. Kotori never wanted it to stop. New outfits to make, new songs to perform, what more could she want? Nights were cheap hotels and campsites; their orange van carrying the musical equipment. Sometimes when they only had one bed they'd all jumble together, Honoka somehow dominating the bed despite being one small girl. Before she wasn't allowed to mention Honoka, she'd tease Umi about the night in Philadelphia- Umi still got flustered every time she took a train through the city. Philadelphia was… Kotori still wasn't sure how it happened, but the cheap sake Umi had bought had something to do with it.

It was the usual night at a hotel: soft lighting, hazy paintings of lilies, song writing, air conditioning that kept them all under one blanket. Well, usual unless you counted the way Umi was downing those cups of sake. Honoka and Kotori had tried to keep up, but… the buzz welled inside her, intertwined legs on the king-sized bed felt electric; a zap of sensation each time skin touched. Umi would crawl over her to shove new lyrics in her face; Honoka nestling up to Kotori to hum new melodies that didn't quite match Umi's words- American songs that Kotori had never heard of- Kotori herself, she remembered, had kept a notebook with her, trying to draw the outfits for the next show. The slender fingers of Umi were distracting. Thin tapered fingers that strung bows or grasped pens, the flowing fountain pen of Umi's glided across the page as she whispered songs to herself. Umi's handwriting was beautiful, of course. Rigid but elegant.

It should have been suspect, looking back a year later, when Umi had been drinking as much as she did. That Honoka and Umi kept exchanging glances from one another to Kotori and back. When Honoka's arms wrapped behind her, Kotori paid little attention. When Umi pushed the notebooks to the floor, slid under the covers, Kotori thought they were all going to bed. It was only when she realized Umi and Honoka were holding hands, making a Kotori sandwich when she thought something was off. "You guys look close…" Why did that hurt?

"We've all always been close, Kotori. We love you." Honoka rubbed her head on Kotori's shoulders with a happy Honoka sound. "Umi perhaps… a little differently"- she stuck her tongue out at Umi- "But we love you. You two are my best friends and you mean the world to me."

Kotori's heart was beating fast. What did she mean by that? "H-Honoka…"

"Kotori, I…." Umi's face was bright red, from the alcohol or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. "I… you know, I see a lot of girls holding hands around here and I…"

"Spit it outtttt."

"Honoka!"

"What is it, Umi?" I… I want to know. I'm right here."

Umi's amber eyes flickered. "I've always… ever since we were kids… the two of you… yes, even you, Honoka… I know a lot of girls just have friends, but… Kotori, I…." Her voice wavered. "I love you, Kotori. I've never stopped wishing for you."

Kotori's heart was going to burst. "Umi, I've always… always…. I love you too…."

It was an embrace, at first. Was Umi always so soft? Were girls really this gentle, this… her head spun. Umi's lips on her check. Her hair. Her lips. A kiss, the flavor of sake and home. As if Kotori had finally found a harbor to drop her anchor. Deep and still. Honoka pulled away as Kotori drowned in feeling, but Umi told her to stay. "You too, Honoka."

"Umi… Kotori… are you sure…?"

"Don't make me say it again. I… I love you too, Honoka."

"We always have."

When did it go wrong? Kotori didn't know much about the incident last year. Love was a funny thing, it had a way of consuming your mental processes. Was it when Honoka started going on those weird websites? Was it when Umi started to disappear for elongated conversations with her parents, pacing the unused hotel pool sides? Was it when Tsubasa showed up in the States, after their concert in New Jersey? Hindsight made all of these incidents obvious, glaring signs of OFF. At the time, Kotori was thinking about what kind of cheesecake to bring home for dinner.

The first thing she could think of was when Honoka herself disappeared in New York. After all, it was the last time she saw Honoka before everything became irrevocably broken. Honoka had spent the trip with her nose in a book. She'd been gazing off into windows, humming to herself, asking odd questions. As soon as the show was over, she'd gone missing for several hours.

When they'd found her, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"Miss Minami?"

Kotori had not noticed the stranger sitting next to her. A woman in black business wear. Long red hair. Looking grave.

"Um, yes…"

The woman stared at her with cold dead eyes. "Are you aware of the weapons found in your partner's custody?"

"Umi.. Umi's always used a bow… was she using it in New York or something?"

"We're afraid we're going to have to take Miss Sonoda in for questioning as soon as she recovers."