The Price of Silence, a MB fan/fic by DarkPluto4Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They are being borrowed for permission for pure entertainment purposes and for fandom purposes, not for profit. Author’s Note: Angst warning. Definitely angsty and melodramatic. Not exactly a sunshine-y piece. Very occasional spoof scenes are placed in for a bit of enlightening when the mood really gets overly heavy (mostly just on whim, though). ^_^ Other than that, enjoy! (Cursing is generally in Japanese when it is spoken or thought of by a character unless I don’t know the translation). I can't thank Setsuna enough for all the great editing and great advice she gave to make this fan/fic possible. All that help on Japanese culture in a certain area (can't mention; might spoil fan/fic) was more valuable than words can express. Without her, this fan/fic just wouldn't be. Please send all comments to DarkPluto4@aol.com. Thank you. Prelude (not in terms of time, though) The day is a windy day. Sometimes, it is difficult walking in such weather in a skirt, for the fingers of the gusts wrap my skirt around me so tightly my legs barely find the room to move. Nevertheless, I trudge onward. Only a few more steps…I must move on…just a bit more… Its dusty gray sides loom before me, the darkening clouds rumbling ominously above it, giving it a sense of gloom and hopelessness I associate so well with it. The hospital For the mentally unstable. An asylum, in other words. I don’t like to call it so. Asylum is an ugly word – dreadfully ugly. The linoleum squeaks clamorously as my feet step upon it. A receptionist looks up with a bored expression as I sign in, requesting to meet… To meet a friend…one who was my friend…one I…one I wish I could still call my friend… "Room four eighteen. Elevator’s down there. Go up to the fourth flour. Turn left," the woman recites in a monotone, resting her head lazily upon her left hand. "Arigato gozaimasu," I bow respectfully. Hastily glancing down at my watch, I’m relieved to find that my husband won’t be home for another few hours. The elevator is musty, its odor not unlike that of an ancient basement lingering under someone’s house, wasting away as time passes by. The layer of fine dust coats every inch of it, the once scarlet walls barely visible. I pause before the door, the three letters growling back at me. Four eighteen. My hand rests against the gilded doorknob, its surface cool, obviously untouched by the heat of a human’s hand. It squeaks slightly as I turn it, the door groaning unhappily as a crack opens. And I am inside. She sits near the window, staring out into the bleak expanse of the outside parking lot. Her head never turns, her hair streaming from behind her in knotted tangles. It must have been years since she’d cut it. I wouldn’t know. Last I saw her was years ago, too. Some scenes…they’re too painful to see…some scenes, one can only watch so many times without emotionally scarring oneself too deeply. I don’t need more emotional scars. "Miki-san?" I call hesitantly. I don’t know how she’ll react…I…I… She turns around and glances up and down, as if appraising me. Her eyebrows furrow as I hold my breath. What will she say of me? What will she…? Or will she…? "How do you know my name?" She hasn’t gotten better after all… "Ano…" I have no idea what to say… "Do I know you?" she rests a hand lightly on her head, rubbing it as if to seek out a crevice into which all her memories have slipped. "Ano…" She’s picked up a jar, methodically scooping some of its contents on a knife and spread it contently across a toast. Somehow, it’s shade seems horribly familiar to me. Reaching over, despite her surprised expression, I pick it up and examine its pale blue label. "Marmalade?" I read. So she does still remember… She says nothing, glancing at me with glassy eyes. "Do I know you?" she says at last again. "Ano…I…I’m just a relative of someone who was once your teacher." It is partially the truth after all. "He wishes you well." "Oh, how nice," she smiles. Her smile is very naïve…heartbreakingly like that of when she was younger… "Which teacher?" "One you won’t remember," I smile faintly. "Oh, well," she looks down at her hands, not protesting my reply. She looks at me again. "So I don’t know you?" I guess not…I wonder now if I even know you… "Iie, I guess not." I stare at her tousled hair once more, blank eyes so vacant…as vacant as her mind and soul. Her clothes hang loosely from her thin body. She’d used to always struggle to lose weight so long ago… Warm wetness stings at the corners of my eyes as I blink them back. Turning, I walk toward the door. "Matte!" she hollers behind me. I face her in mild surprise. Her eyes flash, still empty, but irate. She stands, her stance intimidating and determined. "Give me back my marmalade!" I’m torn between bursting out in laughter at this somewhat ridiculous request made in a tone of deadly seriousness and dropping the jar in stupefaction. "Dozo," I hand it to her calmly, lifting one eyebrow questioningly. She does not even make eye contact with me, snatching the glass container and clutching it to her bosom with all the tenderness a mother bestows on a child. She does remember… Somewhere inside her mind… Somewhere… But she does not want to remember. The doctors even said so. None of her memories are damaged – all are stored intact inside the recesses of her brain. Yet, the strength of the human will is powerful. And she wills that they be dormant, that they be suppressed, that they haunt her not. She won’t remember…ever…not me, not my husband…not even her own parents… Perhaps only him… After all, she’s tried to forget his existence many times. Each time, she’s failed miserably. This occasion is no exception. "Sayonara," I tell her quietly. She doesn’t even hear me, the jar still cradled in her arms. As I leave behind the room, the doorknob sliding from my palm as it clicks shut, a crash erupts behind me. I turn, startled, and glance inside the room. The jar lies, shattered into shards, the fragments strewn randomly, mingled with the splatters of the orange-colored jam. She lies, hunched over the mess, clutching at the pieces and the splashes of the marmalade, not minding the jagged scraps of glass biting into her hand. Her blood trickles down onto the floor. "MIKI!" I push my way in, rushing by her side. One bloody hand shoves me away. "Leave me!" "Miki…" "Leave me, I said!" "Miki…!" "LEAVE ME!" I…I… She’s never pushed me away… I’ve said those words to her before…demo…not Miki… She’s always poured out her worries and troubles to me…she’s always *talked* to me during the rough times, when heavy sorrow weighed down her otherwise cheerful heart. I’d been the one to keep silent, never revealing what grievances gripped *my* heart. Times pass…hearts change…minds change… Bonds are forged…bonds are broken… It seems in the end, more bonds are broken than forged…it seems in the end all childish optimism is drained from us, that whatever sunny view of the world we are born with dies under the rainy storms through which Life takes us. Some of us accept the tempests that is the real face of Life more easily than others. Some of us are more willing to release that rose-tinted illusion. Those that aren’t… She’s picked up a particularly sharp fragment of glass. I know what she’s going to do – I’ve contemplated taking the same action before. "Iie!" I grab her wrist, bony and scrawny though I’m hardly the picture of strength myself. She collapses side ways, hands blindly groping at the mess scattered across the floor, hands sticky with jelly and cut, bleeding profusely, from the crystal splinters. "I wanna die…! I wanna die…! IIE! IIE! Doushite…? Doushite…?! I should’ve died…when…when…" I half-wonder if that jar of marmalade held all her emotions, all her memories…that now that it has fractured apart that all her recollections have poured out in a torrent, drowning her in the pain of all the years… Though I have no right to comment on the anguish she’s endured. I’ve never lived it, after all… It’s sadistic – cruel – to make Miki undergo what she did. She was never one for handling such deep agony – she wasn’t *built* for it. Why not strike me? I…I could shoulder it. I’ve more experience with anguish. But such is Life. She’s closed her eyes – no doubt to sleep. Her one sanctuary. Or is it? I wonder what her dreams are of…him, perhaps? Or those memories secured and locked away? I should go now, before my own husband returns. I’ll leave her to dream…dream of a more pleasant past…dream of what her life once was…dream of a past long gone… So many were happier back then… Life is cruel. Truly cruel. To ruin her life when…! To ruin her life when she’d achieved all dreams…! To lay such a trap – such a *nightmare* for her… Too cruel…too cruel… ----------------------------------- The Price of Silence A Marmalade Boy fan/fic By DarkPluto4 ----------------------------------- It is set years after the manga ended. It was a good day for shopping, she decided. Warm enough to be comfortable, but not the blazing heat of the dog days of summer that scorched all in sight. It was humid enough for her skin not to suffer, yet dry enough so her clothes need not be drenched with her perspiration. Humming quietly, she browsed the length of the aisle, plucking random items here and there. Occasionally, Yuu would make a crack at home, staring at her bags of shopping, at how she never used half the items she bought. Or how she managed to lug it all home. "I’m not exactly and experienced housewife or anything!" she told herself huffily. Her eyes landed on a bunny-shaped salt and pepper shaker set. "Kawaii!" She snatched it, squealing happily. "Yuu…!" Her head darted around before realization hit her. "Oh, right. He’s at work." Somehow, shopping didn’t have the same spark without him at her side. Somehow, it drained her, drained the novelty out of all the cute items she found. Half-heartedly, she perused the remainder of the stores, hurling only the bare essentials the into the cart. Her eyes rested on a few couples, fingers intertwined. One brunette rested her head against her partners shoulder, her brown tresses falling against his soft plaid shirt in caressing waves. She quickly averted her gaze, ignoring the tightening of her heart. Her entire side ached terribly – unreasonably – as she stared at the vacant air about her. Fleeting images passed before her, sandy locks of hair falling loosely before piercing turquoise eyes… Yuu… She blinked. I’ll go home soon, and he’ll be home too… She tugged sharply at the cart, narrowly avoiding ramming it into a pile of boxed crackers. I better pay more attention to what’s in front of me. Methodically, she wove a path between the clusters of bodies toward the check out line. I remember when Yuu was the cashier for Junk Jungle… She glanced at the unattractive cashier scowling as he snatched a customer’s credit card in a bored manner. Yuu was always smiling…always friendly…charming, helpful, and sweet… Except when he teased me mercilessly. The cashier’s face rippled and faded into an image of Yuu’s gentle face smiling amiably as he murmured polite thank you’s and bade the customer a most pleasant day. "C’mon, lady. Pay up. We don’t got all day here," the crude voice cut into her reveries. "Gomen," she thrust out a card jammed between her fingers as it was swiped and shoved back into her face within matters of moments. The man punched each button of the machine with a ferocious air as if they’d done him personal injury. A bag was unceremoniously tossed before her along with a curt farewell. I won’t be checking out with that rude man again, she thought with distaste. The bag swung against her leg as she moved onto the crowded sidewalks, various colored fabrics brushing past her as high heels clicked against the cement. Voices rose and fell as they neared and distanced from her, pagers beeping while faint voices leaked from cellphones. "I’ll go shopping again this weekend," she smiled dreamily. "Then, Yuu can come with me…" She weighed the scantily-filled bag in her hand. "How light!" A wide grin. "And it won’t matter how heavy the bags are on the weekend – Yuu will carry them!" Halting at the intersection, she tapped her foot rather impatiently as she glanced around the few others distractedly. I remember when Yuu and I were here long ago…I teased him for complaining about the weight of those shopping bags…I called him a weakling…and then…and then he picked me up with one arm… Her face still warmed, a blush creeping across steadily. I’m glad for the nice memories. Fondly, she stepped before a brick wall, running her hands over the grainy texture. Yuu designed the house himself with our love. She smiled softly. We’ll continue to make nice memories. She passed through the arched doorway, eyes lingering upon the oriental rug positioned in the center of the living room. The elaborate weaving and embroidery stitched meticulously in a labyrinthine pattern never failed to mesmerize her. She stooped, scooping up a thin pile of letters. Leafing through the stack, she carelessly pitched a few letters in the trash can. I’m so sick and tired of those preapproved credit card letters, she frowned. No word from Meiko or Ginta. I do hope they are doing all right. She cast the remaining on the glass table where a heaping mound lay. Yuu had promised he would plough through them and finish them off by the weekend. Her eyes fixated on a magazine as she reached for it, scanning a few pages. Seating herself upon the cool teal leather sofa, her right hand absentmindedly ran along its enticing surface whose touch vaguely reminded her of resilient pewter. The springs under the cushion creaked, the scraping of metal lacerating the silence startlingly. Miki found herself jumping, almost frightened by the noise. She wrapped her arms around herself, though it was hardly cold. I miss the warmth of Yuu’s body…I miss resting myself against his arms or his supportive chest… Her gaze turned itself onto the scarlet clock poised upon one wall, its curvaceous hands stretching toward two distinct numbers. Two forty-five. Yuu’ll be home in… Her heart sank fitfully. In four hours or so. She stared at her hands idly. The second hand swooped clockwise steadily, happily oblivious to anything. It lingered over the minute hand and then the hour hand momentarily as she focused her full attention on its habitual journey. So slllooowww…she pouted to herself. She forced herself onto her feet, absentmindedly clutching at the battered magazine. She found her eyes wandering on their own accord toward a door frame decked with a beaded curtain whose vivid colors scorched themselves into her mind, the darkness of the ironwood seductively whispering for her to pass under them. The kitchen… She hesitated, pausing before the streaming strands of multi-colored spherules, each shimmering as their many facets reflected the sunlight filtering through large sheets of windows. The light was tinged with a faint verdant hue as it fought its way through translucent drapery slung over the glass plates, their thin fringes wavering every so slightly. Her fingers itched as she contemplated her choices. I want him to come home to a hot dinner after a long day of work…demo… Her hand fingered one strand of the beads, a single round jewel resting in her palm as she enclosed her palm around the varnished, flawless surface. Her other hand twitched beside her as she raised it and with one quick, decisive swipe, pushed the other strands aside. A rain of plastic pelted her gently, slipping from her body as they swung rhythmically, disturbed from their quiet slumber. She faced the aluminum pots stacked ominously beside the ebony stovetop defiantly daring her to touch them. The whole animosity present in the knifes, ruthless blades glinting as if warning her away, and the plates threatening to teeter from their delicate balance atop their respective shelves rather frightened her. Maybe I should leave here… The kitchen doesn’t like me after all. Her hand timidly reached for the handle of a pot, black and glaring at her obstinately. Please help me make Yuu a beautiful dinner. Clumsily, she fumbled with the crinkly bag of salt. As her hand grasped the earthy skin of the potato, it dropped to the floor. She gritted her teeth. There’s like some sort of conspiracy against me in the kitchen! The murderous edge of the short knife barely evaded her quivering fingers as she cut thick, uneven slices of tomato. Hesitatingly, she dumped the bits into the pot along with scraps of celery and carrots. Cautiously, she picked up the diminutive salt shaker, wrapping a clammy hand around it. "A dash of salt," she read from the recipe, more to reassure herself than anything else. Her hand turned the shaker upside down. "Kyah!!!" A rain of white poured from the miniscule holes. Grabbing a nearby glass of water she had conveniently set out for herself, she dumped it in hurriedly. Wearily, she poked at the steaming concoction. She ladled a small bit onto her spoon, smelling it, hope bubbling up irrepressibly. A pungent and acrid odor assaulted her nose as she let the spoon clatter to the floor, the oil coated liquid pooling into a small tawny puddle. "Kyah!" she wailed in dismay. "Doushite?! I was sure I had it right this time!" Despairingly, she reached for the mop as she blinked back stinging moisture wavering at the corners of her eyes. I’d planned such a beautiful dinner, too. She poked at the misshapen potatoes and scorched pasta. Even the rice was caked together in hard, undoubtedly inedible lumps. Her stomach turned, nausea sweeping across her. I seem to become worse and worse with each try… A small drip wound its way down her cheek. "Tada ima," footsteps trailed into the kitchen. "Daijobu, Miki?" a concerned voice echoed behind her. "It – it’s nothing," she gestured at the chaotic state of the kitchen. "Ano…I think I’ll go order some take out." "You’re hopeless," Yuu chuckled. "You might as well give up and stick with takeout. Even *I*’m losing hope in you. But I guess there’s no combating genes, ne?" "Yuu-uu-uu…!" she whined. "Eh?" "You’re so cruel!" she thrust her lower lip out, pouting. "It’s the truth, isn’t it?" he smiled gleefully, brushing a few strands of her matted hair from her forehead. "Hmm…maybe you should still cook. You’re especially cute when preoccupied and your cheeks are flushed." It’s times like these that I lose any anger I feel towards him…the moments he drops his teasing mask and says those words that brighten any day no matter how story or dark…it was these moments that made me fall hopelessly in love with him, those moments that shine the most beautifully out of all my memories… No one told me these beautiful memories would become my worst nightmare… Warmth flitted flighty fingers across her face in an unending dance. A little longer…a little longer… "Wake up, sleepyhead." Strong fingers nudged her shoulder. Vaguely, she could hear the blaring beeps emitted from the alarm clock. Resigning herself to defeat, she flung the comforter upward. "Why do I have to wake up? I’m don’t work…why should I have to get up with you every morning?" she complained groggily. Her headed pounded, dull droning of pain subsiding and washing in with steady beats. She clutched at her stomach. "Miki?" "I – I don’t feel so good," she listened to her own breathing, ragged and decidedly uneven. Itai…I feel like I’m going to vomit… "You didn’t eat anything you cooked yourself, did you?" a slight grin played across Yuu’s face. "Don’t tease me!" her voice took a sharp tone she’d rarely used. Her hand clapped across her mouth, the bitter sourness stinging in her mouth. There’s a sulky unrest in me I can’t get out… "Gomen," Yuu’s eyes widened fleetingly, instantaneously hardening. She couldn’t bring herself to say a word. "I’ll go down and get breakfast started. Want me to set up a doctor’s appointment or something?" he offered, a chilly distance seeping into his voice. As always, never mentioning awkward moments…never saying how he feels…acting as if the disagreement never happened. It’s not *that* time of the month yet…what *is* wrong with me? "Iie," she bit her lower lip. "I’ll schedule an appointment myself." "Suit yourself." Her head fell back. I hate fights… "Yuu?" Silence. "Yuu?" No answer. She crept outside the door, plodding downstairs, her hair falling in tangled locks before her eyes. The roughness of the carpet abraded the soles of her feet, unaccustomed to walking without socks or slippers. The dining room was vacant, the tablecloth untouched and smooth, free of wrinkles or any sign of usage. The kitchen was no different. He left without eating. He’s upset. Or worried. Her hands tightened around a lace trimming dangling from her nightgown, crampling it into a wrinkled ball. "Gomen ne, Yuu…I don’t know what came over me," she whispered hoarsely. Like it’s any use. He can’t hear you. She reached for the phone. Maybe the doctor will provide answers… Her fingers flew over the rubbery pads, mechanically dialing numbers. "Asukikaga-sensei, konnichiwa. Kore wa…" "How was work?" she tried to keep her voice casual, jabbing at her untouched salad. The tongs of her fork repeatedly pushed at the crisp lettuce, but not once did she lift any portion into her mouth. "Fine, I guess," Yuu shrugged, helping himself to more tomatoes. He sighed, somewhat comically – the air of tragedy he utilized did not suit him. "My partner’s really getting on my nerves. Everything *I* say, he disagrees with then comes with the worst designs. At this rate, that mall’s never going to be designed." He set his jaw, looking decidedly unpleasant. His mouth twitched, as if struggling between opening with a torrent of frustrated words and exercising self-control and keeping quiet. "You can say what you want," Miki said with a small smile. "It isn’t as if I’ve never heard you curse before." "What’s that supposed to mean?" "You don’t exactly have the cleanest mouth ever," she stuck her tongue out at him. "Immature," he retorted, promptly leaning forward and sticking his tongue out. "Look who’s talking," she countered, attempting an awkward grin as her tongue was wedged between her lips. Their faces had become so closed they were nearly touching. She started, promptly withdrawing so her back contacted the stiff support of the chair once more, her face set aflame again. Silence fell over them again, the discomfort of it all pounding down upon her. "Mm…" she stared at her plate with little appetite. The redness of the tomatoes returned her stare, its pinkish juice running into the light green and yellow of the lettuce. "Something you want to tell me?" he looked up at her questioningly. Somehow, he and Meiko both seem to always know when I am holding something back…demo…I can never tell when they are holding something inside… "Well? Something wrong, Miki?" his curious eyes probed her face methodically, sky blue and unperturbed orbs searching for clues on a visage they knew so well. I don’t want to destroy the peacefulness…demo… "Ano…" she hesitated. Her fingers toiled nervously with the cloth napkin. "C’mon," he prompted. "Just spit it out already." Her face burned from her ears to her neck. "First…gomen nasai…I didn’t meant to snap at you this morning." He nodded. "I didn’t feel well this morning…" "And?" "Well…I decided to see the doctor – I figured I had a virus or something," she twiddled her fingers. "And?" "It turns out it’s not quite a virus," her blush deepened. Desperately, she longed to plunge her burning face into a basin of cool water. "What is it? Morning sickness?" he queried nonchalantly. Her eyes bulged. "How did you know?" Grrrr…! Acting so cool as always – will *anything* ever shock him? "You had the symptoms. Anyhow, if you’re really pregnant, you better hurry up and eat," he pointed at her salad. Her face had cooled, but now, she glared at him. Acting as if it doesn’t matter! Soo annooooooying!! He flashed her a charming smile. "Don’t worry," he reached to stroke her cheek tenderly. "I’ll still think you’re beautiful, pregnant or not." I can never stay mad at him, however hard I try. My anger melts at his sweet words and gentle touch…he always seems to understand whatever ails my heart and be able to soothe it… She gave him a grateful smile. Sometimes, I look at him and realize how terribly dependent on him I am. Without him… She hurriedly dropped that train of thought. Reaching over, she grasped his hand in hers and entwined her fingers with his. He looked up, startled. Ai shiteru, Yuu. You won’t ever leave me, will you? Always stay by my side… She sat up, her head pounding. Nausea surged in relentless waves to her throat, strangling her. She gasped for air, attempting to breath deeply and evenly. It came out short and irregular. "Water?" A hand offered her a glass. "Yuu?" she stared in surprise. "Aren’t you supposed to have left for work?" She checked the red numbers plastered on the alarm clock. "You’ll be late!" "I called in and canceled," he explained. "Honto?" Somehow, she managed to ignore the insufferable discomfort that had so tormented her only a few moments ago. "Doushite?" "I can’t very well leave you alone under these conditions, can I?" he flashed her the lopsided smile she adored above any of this others. "Yuu…" she breathed. He patted the soft roundness of her stomach. "How much longer did they say we would have to wait?" "Seven months and a half," she fell back against the pillow. "Mmm…" he murmured indulgently. "I can’t believe I’ll be a mama," she laughed nervously. Yuu didn’t seem to hear her. "Yuu?" There he goes again…his eyes lost and wandering, under a dazed stupor that comes over them…and I cannot see beyond that. That’s what frightens me at times, how he will fall into those pensive moods and be buried within his own thoughts. My voice reaches him not, nor does my touch. My pleas for him to talk to me are often fulfilled, but somehow, I know, he shares with me only the smallest percentage of what haunts his mind. Even marriage…even in marriage…I do not know all of Yuu’s secrets. Meiko once questioned whether being best friends meant we must tell all to each other and lay bare our very souls. I thought it did… I thought marriage meant so, too… Does it? "Gomen," he shook his head, almost as if hurling his train of thoughts into disarray and to emerge from them. "I was just thinking." "About?" she urged. "I’m glad I’ll be a father…I spent so long of my life unsure of who mine was…I will be a good father." Quiet determination. Quiet fires. Yuu’s never overt, never openly flaunting any feeling or and truth of himself. Always subtle, always hidden, always lingering behind facades and walls. Even I wonder sometimes if I can break through them. She stumbled over that thought. What am I thinking? Of course I will! Of course I am already! It’s why we were able to marry, to love. She reached for his hand, for the reassurance of his touch. Even Arimi insisted that Yuu opened his heart to me. Demo… His hand encased hers in a consoling grip. I always fear that one day, one day I’ll wake up from this dream of happiness… "I’ll go and fix you some breakfast." His hand dropped hers, her hand falling limply onto the bed, bouncing lightly against the springy mattress and satin bedspread. And everything will be gone. Involuntarily, her hand rose, as if clutching at the warmth and strength that had so recently supported them. And that I will never find his hold again… Don’t leave me… Yuu… She stared in dismay at her clothes. A whimper rose from her throat. "Miki?" "Ano…Yuu?" she voiced meekly. "Eh?" "I…don’t think I want to go out today," she pulled aside another dress, scanning the closet. "Why not? You asked to go out today yourself. The weather’s never this nice," he pointed at the windows displaying the steadfast azure of a tranquil sky, a few feathery wisps of clouds floating airily near the scathing light of the sun. She dropped her gaze, embarrassment scrawled all over her face. "I…don’t think anything quite fits me…even the new dresses we got…they don’t quite fit…" her voice trailed off. Yuu scratched his head, perplexed. "You gained *more* weight?" "Yuuu-uuuuu-uuuuuu-uuuuuuu," she whined. "This isn’t the time to tease me!" "What size do you think you are now?" he inquired. "Why do I have a feeling I won’t want to answer?" she muttered darkly. "No cracks. I promise," he grinned. Warily, she observed herself carefully in the mirror, unhappily gazing at her figure, rounded and bulky. I don’t even *have* a figure anymore. No one would’ve have guessed how thin I was before…the slender waist… Perhaps I’m exaggerating a little. Just a little. Morosely, she uttered a number. "Don’t fib now," Yuu warned. "I’ll be buying that size, and if you said a number too low and it doesn’t fit, that’s that." "Do you think I *could* be fibbing with a number like that?" she snapped. "Maa, maa," he slid an arm around her shoulder, dropping a light kiss upon her head. "Don’t worry about it. Just less than two more months, and all your clothes will fit again. I’ll take you shopping as soon as that happens, ‘k?" "Okay." My heart’s at peace again. And now, as I stare in the mirror, somehow…I don’t seem so repulsive to myself. Somehow, I can smile again, even in the face of my pregnant form, so ungraceful and…and *bloated*. "Come back soon, Yuu!" she called after his retreating form. The door slammed. I’m alone again. I hate being alone. Come back soon, Yuu… Metallic clings rang as the door creaked sulkily. "Tada ima!" Crinkles of cellophane ensued. Her head snapped upward – nearly an automatic reaction. The world shifted back into focus as she shook her head, forcing herself out of the fazed stupor she had fallen into, torn between the waking world and the oblivion of slumber. Her hand tiredly slipped from the burgundy pillow cover and planted itself firmly on the bedspread, an arm wearily undertaking the weight of the body as she propelled herself up. "Yuu?" she called. "I’m making dinner," he informed her. Bangs and clinging of metal and porcelain resounded from the floor below, machinery groaning while a food processor’s knives sliced into the unfortunate vegetables. I wanted to see him…I wanted to hold onto his arm again… Just the sound of his voice alone pulled me back into alert existence… I…I feel so alone these days…whenever I don’t see him, this heavy feeling of utter emptiness overcomes me…this vacancy…the world seems so devoid of colors… And when he stands before me, when I am by his side…it lightens and brightens…and my sense return, a surge of joy I don’t understand fills me… I’m so dependent on him…it frightens me… She hugged her pillow tightly against her bosom. I love him so much…I don’t think it could be possible for me to love him anymore without it killing me… Her stomach stirred as she placed her hands over it. She could feel the movements, the young child forming within her shifting its weight about, moving restlessly. "Do you want to see Yuu-papa, too?" she asked it teasingly. She glanced at the cabinet. Maybe I’ll look at pictures until he comes back… Oh, right. The photo albums were taken downstairs. "Yuu?" "Eh?" "Could you get me the photo albums from downstairs?" "Ano…" he sounded hesitant. "Could it wait a sec? I’ll do it as soon as I finish putting some stuff in the soup." Asukikaga-sensei said to stay in bed. Her fingers flitted indecisively along the edge of the mattress. I’m sure taking one short trip wouldn’t matter. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, unsteadily shifting her weight to her feet. Her knees wobbled slightly, unaccustomed to the feel of supporting the body weight after months of bedrest. One foot shakily plunged forward as she balanced herself. I feel like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. One foot slipped before the other as she moved in halting steps. Her hands clamped down upon the silken mahogany wood of the railing, her right foot venturing to secure itself on the first step. Her left foot dragged slightly, following faithfully. And another step. And another. I’m getting the hang of this! Her pace quickened slightly, despite the hindrance to balance her swollen stomach caused. Her legs shook slightly, still unfamiliar with the change in body weight. One foot confidently headed for the step below, anticipating the loose fibers teasingly tickling the sensitive skin of her sole followed by the densely packed threads of the beige-toned carpet. Her heel brushed against the roughness, her toes surging forward as she found herself clawing the air. Her heart froze, her stomach surging upward as she prayed to feel solidity from the vacant nothingness her hands grasped now. The wind smashed into her face as she found herself plunging downward. A scream hurtling from her throat scorched her neck, the wind whipping it into her ears. Her eyesight failed, leaving her in a darkness that took no shape or form. Streaks of image dashed by her. She could catch but a few faces. Okaa-san…otou-san…Youji-san…Chiyako-san…Na-chan…Arimi-san…Ginta-kun… Meiko! Iie! I can’t die yet… One particular image etched itself into her eyes, the burning glow of the yllow scathing her mind. Yuu…! Iie! I can’t leave…I can’t leave you…onegai…don’t make me… The images dissolved, blackening…the flashes and bolts of pain deepened in the background. Yuu’s face faded, the rich hues dimming into apparition-like colors. Gomen nasai, Yuu… Her hand reached out for the rapidly disappearing mirage. I wish I could touch you one last time… Sayonara… *Chop* *Chop* *Chop* The knife obediently found the right knicks in the seemingly impeccable skin of the tomato, probing the soft peel and penetrating into the crimson insides. The pale seeds embedded within the sheer gel trickled from the chine within, running onto the cedar board. It’s embarrassing that she still can’t cook after all this time. But I’ll pamper her while she’s pregnant. His hand secured itself around a small orange, fingering the barely perceptible dents on its dry surface. His finger dug into the sponginess, ripping it open, searching for the tangy flesh of its fruit encased within. He couldn’t help but allows his lips to curve slightly. We didn’t bother to test to find out if it’s a girl or a boy. I wonder which the child is. What hair color…? Eye color…? What the baby will be like… If it’s a boy, Kanja sounds like a good name. If it’s a girl, perhaps we can name her Yumeko. The child will be everything I couldn’t be, everything I lost in my foolishness and mistrust. The child will be raised with what I pushed away from myself – love, support, and trust. My child will be like Miki, innocent child blessed to me from the heavens. An aghast cry invade his train of thoughts, scattering them as a hurricane’s merciless gusts might toss grains of sand. Miki! "MIKI…!" He darted for the door, the orange falling from his stiffened fingers as it splattered dully against the dark cutting board. No attention was offered to the unfortunate slice of tomato squashed under the spherical fruit. He fairly ran from the kitchen, wind blaring in his ears. Surroundings blurred, senses dulled. It was the stride of a man in panic, one of despair, for the man knows he is already too late…the run of a man who must see the tragedy with his own eyes yet fears of being attacked with its inevitable agony. A torn man paused before his beloved. Her body twisted in a most unnatural position, a face of such a tone of white it might rival porcelain, and lips parted in a silent scream… He memorized each detail of her accident, the soft "o"-shape her lips were contorted in, the entanglement of the disarray of her tresses, her nightgown, wrinkled and crumpled unrecognizably. He blinked, wondering if it was but his imagination that a small scarlet stain was emerging upon it. Clarity is difficult to find in the face of a disaster to those who are emotionally dependent on another. The jaunty clock guided its curvaceous second-hand in circles a few times before Yuu mustered his composure. His feet flew as a quivering hand grabbed a nearby telephone; rigid fingers clamped around the black plastic. Knuckles gleamed white. Beeps rang so speedily each shrill cry seemed to mingle with the next. "There’s been an accident at…" Moments immediately following accidents – our first sight of a mishap – tends to be impressed irrevocably into our minds with a vivid accuracy almost frightening. The simplicity with which we can recall every moment of it…the detailed imagery…the odor…the feel…the rapid beatings of our hearts…the state of our frenzied mind… And then there is the subsequent period in which our memory fizzes into a hapless muddle, indistinct, murky, hazy. The mind is numb, half-conscious as we sleepwalk blindly, barely aware of our own existence. The mind has shut out all outside activities as it mulls over the catastrophe. Yuu sat hunched, the inflexible edge of the ill-designed hospital benches biting into his thighs. He barely noticed it, or the poorly constructed walls and hallways. His eyes fixated upon a random point of the wall, glazed and half-drooping from consistently being open for at least half a day. His body ached from the effort of maintaining an unchanging position far from comfortable, a bruise enlarging upon his legs where his elbows dug in. His chin rested heavily upon two hands. Nevertheless, no pain reached his insensate mind. Miki…Miki…Miki…Miki… Miki can’t be dead…only this morning, her eyes sparkled with the vivacity and glow of celestial stars… //We’ll always be together, Yuu… She had grabbed his arm cutely, linking her slender one through his. Her head had leaned against his shoulder as she closed her eyes contently. The sweet gratification she so naively revealed to the world had convinced him this was the countenance of angels. Don’t take her away…I need an angel by my side…I need purity and innocence to make up what I lost… //I’ll always love you, Yuu…you’ll always love me, too, unconditionally, ne? He’d never thought if he would have to love her without her by him…to love her in death… Light footsteps, airy and of quiet, easy grace plodded from a room only a few feet away. They stopped before him. "Matsuura-san desu ka?" With difficulty, he compelled his cramped neck muscles to lift his head. "Hai, sou desu." "Please follow me." He admired the apathy of her face and voice, not the slightest of hints dropping of the condition of his wife. "My wife, is she – " "Gomen nasai, Matsuura-san. I know nothing of her condition. The doctor will inform you of everything," she softened the hard words with a sympathetic tone. He didn’t need sympathy. He wanted answers. She gestured at a door, cool and imposing. The painted surface, chipped in so many places, glared back at him, daring him to open it and seek for the desperately needed answers sheltered behind it. His hand fell around the chilly doorknob, the head and sweat of his palm fogging the previously shiny surface. It pushed open, a grating groan resounding. The door fell against a figure, bumping into his back. "Gomen," he began. "Matsuura-san," the doctor looked up from his manila folder, its corners frayed and tattered as if it had been thumbed through many times. He leafed through several more pages. "Is she…?" The doctor’s face sobered, and Yuu could see the dark rims under his eyes, the wrinkles of a man stressed and worried from years of hour long surgeries and rescue attempts. He wondered how many of those folds in the man’s face came from those who he failed to save…those whose demise the doctor must in some way feel responsible for. "Follow me," the doctor said at last. The two words fell heavily from his lips. I…I… Somehow…I wonder if I will want to find the answer… The doctor shoved aside a pale blue curtain, indicating with his hand a bed. Tubes and straps adorned the reclining body, still and unmoving as a corpse. "Miki…" he whispered hoarsely. Her complexion gave her the look of an ethereal specter, one who would vanish from existence any moment. Her hair tumbled about the pillow matted and snarled. Her disheveled features prompted him to half-wonder if the various pipes running in and from her body had sucked away that vitality that usually burned so strongly with her. "She…she…" "She’s not dead," the doctor reassured him. "Nani? She’s not…?" he widened his eyes in astonishment. "Demo…I thought…" The doctor exhaled loudly. "I’m afraid there’s other bad news…" He paused, as if to purposely increase the melodrama of the moment. His head pounded. As long as Miki’s not dead, then…then…everything should be fine… "Matsuura-san, I’m afraid that though your wife survived the accident someone else has not." "Eeh?" he furrowed eyebrows. "Demo she was the only one –" "The child she was carrying did not survive the fall," a soft voice, one of compassion and commiseration, trying to console and make more gentle a blow too harsh for anyone to alleviate. //The child she was carrying did not survive the fall… //The child she was carrying did not survive the fall… //did not survive the fall… //did not survive the fall… //did not survive… //did not survive… The child would have been born within a month and a half. He could not cry. He could not scream. He could not cry out upon the divinities above. Not for a child who had no name…for a nameless soul never to receive his or her physical form. He had no words to give, only tears to shed. Bitter tears wrenched from a soul to weary to be beaten so brutally again. Darkness…a nameless, massless expansion of obscurity smothering her, trying to asphyxiate her with its impalpable void…mist and smog as unlit as the murkiness itself swept around her. Yuuu-uuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuuuuu…!!! No sound echoed, no sound came. Yuu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuu-uuuuuuuuuu…! Help me! The darkness came upon her with intensified fury. Onegai…someone…help me…onegai… She sank to her knees, gasping for breath. Is this death…? This darkness…this loneliness…this total seclusion in this nothingness where no one comes no matter how loudly you call…? She rested her head on her arms slung despairingly upon her knees. Yuu…you said we’d always be together…you said you’d always be there for me…why have you forsaken me…? Yuu… She gazed up. Sou desu…I can’t give up! Not until I see Yuu again…! He wouldn’t break his word…he wouldn’t… YUUUUU-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-UUUUUUUUUUU-UUUUU!!! Whiteness blinded her as she scratched at the darkness. Her eyes blinked incomprehensibly. "Nani…?" She gazed for a head-splitting moment at the tubes. "You’re awake," a woman smiled pleasantly. "Ano…" she looked around. "Don’t you remember?" the woman frowned. "I’m not dead!" Remember…I remember the darkness…I remember looking for Yuu… "Hai," the nurse smiled again. "Of course you’re not dead. But don’t you remember the accident?" The accident…the feel of hovering mid-air…my heart feeling as if it would burst on me…my eyesight abandoning me… "Where’s Yuu?" she bit her lip. I’d hoped he would have been the face I could have awakened to. Perhaps it took too long...? The nurse hesitated for a moment, her eyes unsure as she pondered what to say. "The doctor shared some information with him. He didn’t take it too well." She bolted up. "How long have I been here?" she demanded. "Maa, maa," the nurse patted her back soothingly. "You’ve only been here a day or two." "So what did the doctor tell him?" she cried frantically. "I need to see him…I need to see Yuu…" "I don’t think Matsuura-san is quite ready to face you yet," the nurse breathed out painfully. "Nani?" Masaka…masaka…masaka… The nurse turned away. "The child died in the fall." Each word was accompanied with a slight shudder, caressed by futile condolence. Miki’s hand immediately fell upon her stomach, deceptively still rounded. They lingered there a moment. "Masaka…onegai…tell me…the child…really died…?" "Gomen nasai," the nurse hung her head. All these months, the baby I felt stirring in me…the baby I felt growing, life being offered to it bit by bit…the baby that kept me company at all times, wriggling and kicking, twisting and turning, seeking that day it could poke its head out and greet the world…eight months, almost, it resided in me… I feel so empty…so empty… Iie…Iie…IIE… "It’s not FAIR!" she screamed. The nurse scurried over, placing two comforting hands upon her quaking shoulders. "It’s NOT FAIR!" she repeated, the pitch of her voice escalating, shrugging off the palms offering solace. "Gomen nasai," the nurse said helplessly. "Demo, at least you lived." "There was only one month and a half left to go!" she shrieked. "It’s NOT FAIR!" Pain ripped throughout her, anguish…throbbing agony…paroxysm and throe conquered her mind, red blurred her vision…the aching of her head traveled to her heart, threatening to shred it… Through the curtain of tears and grief, her mind managed only to offer her one solution. "YUU!" The darkness regained her. "We called, but he was neither at work or home," a nurse apologized. "Gomen nasai. Shall we – " "Iie," she waved her hands dismissively. "I’ll manage on my own." Forcing a fake smile, she clutched her handbag with every ounce of her strength as she left the horrors of the hospital behind her. Her eyes determinedly avoided the curves of her stomach, one that would vanish within anywhere from a week to a month, according to the doctor. And it would be gone, leaving no trace…all evidence of the child she once had erased, as if it never had been…the baby she bore for more than seven months, without a link to the world, one sign that it had ever existed… Even now, she could feel the stillness of her abdomen, the shifting and small kicks made from the life springing within her gone, deserted her…all was quiet, silent…dead… She delved through her bag, fingers searching through the piles of plastic wrappings which contained napkins, cylindrical tubes of make-up, a cold flawless surface – her mirror – and rough metallic teeth, her keys, for a bus pass. Yuu never came to see me again…Yuu never called… He’s avoiding me, isn’t he? She paused before a yellow bus sign, wind whipping through her tresses. She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. I wish Yuu were here…he was always so warm… Ano…I don’t know how to face him. Her fingers stiffened. What will I say to him…? What will he say to me…? How do I talk to him…? A bus screeched to a halt before her, a crowd jamming around her, each person pushing and shoving to make their way to the bus. I can’t run away now…no matter how much it hurts, I have to face Yuu. She planted a foot firmly on the first step, one arm clinging to the iron rail, pulling her body weight onto the bus. Heavier and lighter at the same time…heavier with the guilt of a dead child rattling within her – a child never allowed so much as a moment’s worth of a glimpse of the world – and lighter, for no more life flourished within her. Oh, Yuu…onegai, forgive me… Her only fear was that he would not. I…I… No matter how I look at it, I feel as though it’s my fault. If only I had listened…if only I had stayed in bed…if only I hadn’t tried walking down the stairs so quickly… She blew a few ticklish strands of her hair out of her eyes. Her warm breath blanketed her frozen nose, meekly attempting to defrost it. Backs and shuffling fabrics rudely slammed themselves before her eyes, the overcrowded bus overflowing with life. The low humming of conversation drifted and blended, loudly winding its way into her mind. The blur of human voices blared in her ears, yet she failed to understand anything they said. Idle chatter…vitality…life… It seemed the emptiness in her absorbed it all, yet the void would not fill. It just *would not*. It drained her of vivacity…of any spirit…the colors it stripped from her world and left it gray and bleak… I need to see Yuu. She placed a few fingers against the icy coldness of the window, her hot exhalation misting the chilled glass pane. She rubbed against it, the dampness staining her fingers. Yuu holds all the colors of my world…permanent colors no void can ever yank away. The bus lurched, throwing her forward. She forced herself to her feet reluctantly. Bodies moved and feet scurried, seats made vacant, seats battled for and conquered. The air outside bit into her, the trail of warmth vanished with the fleeing bus. A barren atmosphere fell over her, the feel of desertion hovering faithfully about her. Her feet found themselves before a familiar doormat, "Irasshaise" scrawled cheerily in bright red against a dark blue background. "Red," she murmured. Like blood. The child lost. Nothing had been told of the loss of her child. Did it’s blood drip from her womb, its broken tissue and flesh plopping out before it could be pieced together and sewn into a whole child…? Did its… She shut off her train of thoughts hurriedly. Yuu…I need to see Yuu…I need to see him… One hand clutched at her stomach as the other lay on her shaking chest, frazzled gasps of air causing it to rise and fall like the ebbing of tides, each pant wrenching itself from her lungs with exhausting ferocity. Itai…it hurts…I’m so nauseous… "Yuu…Yuu…Yuu…" Keys clinked as she vied to concentrate her mind in finding the right one, fumbling as the sharp metallic teeths scraped against the palm of her hands. Platinum glints pierced her sight, its luster blinding her. Fingers shoved one into the keyhole of the door clumsily, turning urgently. Yuu! Yuu! The door parted open thankfully as she stumbled inside. She barely noticed the stillness of the room, the untouched magazines sprawled across the coffee table, just as had been before she’d gone. A stack of letters sat on one end of the table, undisturbed for God knows how long. Dust collected upon the glass faces of various china adorning the mantle, neglected shamefully. Nothing had moved, as if they had all been suspended into a single moment, languishing, wasting away in an unnatural time. This was how it was that day I fell…I wonder if the stairs still bear my footprints…if my blood is on the carpet…if my child’s blood is… Iie!! Nausea choked her, its clammy fingers pressing tightly against her neck, shutting off the passage of air. I can’t breath… "Yuu!" her strangled voice echoed in the room, rippling through the hollowness of the air. Walls bounced the sound between them playfully, the silent objects of the room absorbing her cries into the deathly quiet. "Yuu!" She crept through the room, familiar yet frightening, reeking of his scent yet bearing no visible traces of his presence. "Yuu…!" Futile pleas resounded then faded, dimming into the noiselessness suffocating the whole house. She sank to her knees at the foot of the stairs, staring unseeingly up the incline of steps stretched before her. "How tall it is," she murmured. How much I fell. The blackness…the darkness…the shadowy fingers grasping for me… Her head drooped. They snatched my child away instead. Her eyes blinked. The pale peach tones of the fuzzy carpet beneath her seemed to liquefy, spots of red oozing forth. She leapt to her feet. Iie! "YUU!" she shrieked. Some unknown force slashed the floor below her, shredding it into a vacuum. She was immersed in the nothingness without a bottom, without an end. Her hair flew up, the wind stung and pierced her ears and eyes, and still she fell. Her heart threatened to burst open, exploding its contents into this void, and still she fell. Her screams were rent into inaudible hushes scarcely before they settled on her tongue, and still she fell. The vacuity stabbed through her, impaling her, invading her vacant stomach. Her womb readily accepted the nihility, the nullity expanding. She tore at her abdomen. "Get it out! Get it out!" she screamed. How dare it invade the space reserved for my child? How dare it? My child… Is gone… It died… Her fists pounded the ground, the roughness of the carpet scraping against her hands. The vacancy expanded, its frigid breath flooding her body. The darkness is calling me again. The darkness that took my child… Give it back! She lifted her hands, reaching for it, losing herself in the immense expanse of blackness once more… The sun hung low in the sky, red and orange scorching it. The entire firmament was set aflame with auburn and amber splashes. She twisted her head about nervously, momentarily dazed. "Ano…" Her head pulsated in steady beats, pain emerging and retreating. What’s happening to me…? I feel like I’m losing it…I’m losing my mind…I need Yuu…I can’t let one incident eat me up like this…I need to be stronger…Demo…I never was strong. I never was. I need Yuu…my pillar of strength… Slight thuds rained against the floor softly. They died down. She could feel the presence before her. The caliginous hallway seemed to brighten. "Yuu?" she looked up, hope radiating her oppressive mood within. "You’re home," his voice was broken, none of its usual hearty timbre present. "Hai. They said they couldn’t contact you at home or work." "Gomen. I was out." He offered no further explanation. "Sou ka. How has it been recently?" she kept her voice light, hoping for an equally airy answer. He shrugged, feet scuffling. She smiled, his awkwardness reminding her of a characteristic tactic of a child. Her face sobered instinctively. Her hands dangled limply beside her as she willed herself to ignore the swell of her stomach. She wondered if it was merely a figment of her imagination that it had flattened over so slightly. "Get up," Yuu said at last, stooping to offer her a hardened hand roughened by the cutting gales of winter. "We need to have some dinner." He walked with a stiff stride, mechanical, grating movements, a startling contrast from his old, smooth, flowing steps. His hands picked up kitchen utensils with indifferent, sluggish motions, carelessly and disinterestedly slicing and chopping, eyes spiritless and dull, the flicker of life nonexistent. More than once, she screeched internally when the malicious edge of the knife swished by the tips of his fingers. She had sworn they would have been shorn off. "Dozo." Tiredness swamped his tone, his very demeanor. His shoulder sagged, his arms moved wearily. His clothes billowed, far too loose for a body so lean. She remembered distinctly that they had fitted him perfectly. His hair drooped before his eyes, limp and shaggy. The stringy disarray of his locks ill-suited him. "Daijobu?" she quickly took the plate, fearing his thin arms would find it too heavy a burden to bear. He nodded silently. "Ara, we’re quiet today," she attempted a feeble joke. He merely looked at her for a moment briefly and stared elsewhere. Ignoring the darts of agony shocking her, she tried one last time. "How about going out today? The sunset’s so beautiful and – " "I’m busy," he cut her off. "Demo – " she protested. "Iie. Not today." Nothing more. Not so much as the utterance of her name…not so much a look…he stood, a barely filled plate without a single bite missing. Shoving his hands into his pocket, his grim face was impassive as he stalked off in the direction of his office. Yuu…! His head never turned. Her chopsticks clattered to the table, one rolling and clanging to the floor. "YUU!!" He halted but failed to turn around. "Eeh?" She stared at the back of his head, his neck rigid and unyielding. "Yuu…" He couldn’t miss the desperation in her voice…he couldn’t ignore the frenetic longing and need she poured out…he couldn’t… "Nani?" Cold, devoid of any drop of emotion. Light touches of impatience imprinted themselves into his voice. Tears splattered to the floor, their inaudible dripping chiming in the soundlessness cloaking her house. He heard them, for she could see the imperceptible twitching of his ears. "Go and rest or something," he said at last and continued forth to his study. A moment later, the hinges of a door moaned, followed by a heartless slam. A lock clicked ostentatiously with every manner of it boasting the message, "Leave me alone!" Through the wall of cascading teardrops, she, nearly deprived of vision, grabbled for the familiar, slightly grainy texture of the phone, its coarse surface strangely soothing against her wet fingertips coated in her saline tears. The damp stains smeared across the back of her hand itched as her mind spewed forth from the depth of her anguish, the chaotic agony of her state of mind numbers she clung to with the last strand of her hope in life. For as long as she remembered, when her life lay crumbled in vestiges around her and she could stand and observe the ruins, there had always been an angel…his warm eyes, soothing voice, touch of heaven would wave across her - and like magic, the pieces would reassemble, and somehow, everything was all right again. And there would be the times even he forsook her. There was always one last angel left, a beautiful woman with flowing hair wavering in the wind, standing alone in her devastation, her eyes of infinite wisdom and words of knowledge driven from her own torment never failing to reconstruct her life, never failing to charge in hope. *bring!* *bring!* *bring!* "Moshi moshi," she spat out hoarsely, clutching the phone so forcefully the recharching terminals at the bottom had impressed themselves onto her palm. "Moshi moshi! Namura desu ga…" a voice cheerfully. Shimatta…she doesn’t even recognize my voice?! "MEIKO!" she burst out, seering heat gushing from her eyes. A small steady stream trickled rather itchingly downward, splashing onto her hands and the phone. The moisture wedged its way between her hand and smudged itself all over the phone. Meiko… Her soul had been released in that word, giving it in offering to this smiling personage on the other line, to save it or to shatter it forever. [Spoof scene: "Ano…" the voice hesitated on the other line. "There’s no Meiko here! Wrong number! Gomen nasai!"] "Ano…" she could hear her friend on the other line running through the lists of acquaintances. "Meiko," she murmured again, her voice cracking under the weight of anxiety, under the tiredness of clinging to life by one last thread of hope. "It-it couldn’t be Miki," the incredulous voice said softly. "What’s wrong?" "Meiko," she repeated again. It seemed she had become incapable of saying anything but the voice of one she regarded as a savior. Meiko…please come…save me…Meiko…save me… "Miki…what happened…?" concern traveled through the line, placing her under its sheltering wings softly. "Onegai…" she blubbered through her tears. "I need to see you…I need to…" "Ano…" Meiko murmured hesitantly. "Isn’t it rather late? You’d arrive at midnight or around there!" "I don’t care!" she cried vehemently. "I just need to come…" her voice trailed off. The despondency resonating in it did not. "H-hai! I’ll discuss it with Sensei, but I’m sure he won’t mind," Meiko had a bewildered air in her tone. "Sensei…" she hadn’t even the nerve to made any half-hearted jokes on how her friend never broke out of the habit of calling her own husband Sensei in front of his former students. "Meiko…" she could feel her friend ready to end the conversation, the sanctuary of her savior’s care being wrested from her. IIE!!! Don’t leave me…onegai…don’t…What will I do alone? "Eeh?" "Just us, ne? I need to talk alone…I need to talk to someone…I…I…" tears spilled harder. She could feel all her insides melting into a pool of tears surging from her, sapping her strength. She collapsed to her knees, her legs quivering, as weak as jelly. "I NEED YOU!" "Miki," helplessness pervaded the word. "Come here, Miki! Come here! Stay as long as you want…I promise…I promise I’ll help!" //I promise… //I promise I’ll help… Sun broke out the raging tempest within her. "Meiko…" she managed a first watery smile in a week. "Arigato." For saving me… "I’ll be waiting," she could hear her friend’s soft smile. *beep* A clatter as she released the phone from her hand. With the beep, the red recharging light lit faithfully. She ran blindly into her room, flinging the closet door open. I need to get out of here…before having to face Yuu… Silence leaked in from outside. He’s still locked himself in his study. He did that once before. When he had been faced with a lawsuit from his partner for embezzlement. He had been framed. But it was resolved so quickly. And he had still talked at that time. He let me hold him and comfort him and love him…and he held me and wept…and we were connected…he was so warm… Her skin prickled, the frosty air stabbing whatever she exposed. It’s always so wintry and cold when he leaves me… Yuu… Shimmering driblets packed themselves within folds of dresses as she perfunctorily stuffed her clothes and traveling bags in a single suitcase. The screech of zipper sang to her, calming her as she braved the hushed, unlit hallway. The door loomed before her. Looking behind her, she half-expected him to stand them, confusion written across his face as he demanded where she was going. No one. She glanced down the hallway of his study. It was far too dim for much to be visible, but vaguely, she entertained the thought that she could make out a thin line of light peeping through the bottom crack of the door. Ja ne… she waved at the door, painfully bidding it to somehow tell him her farewell. She slipped a bright yellow note onto the table where he couldn’t miss it, the cheery color and happy script blaring joy she felt nowhere. I’ll be back, Yuu…onegai… wait for me… She quietly closed the door, waiting for the click of the lock. Stealthily trotting as she picked up pace, she flew toward the direction of the bullet train station. Torridity burned her frozen nose, and only then did she realize her tears had not yet ceased. Her feet, though numb from the cold, rapidly slammed against the cement, forcing their way to a bus stop. "Meiko," she barely recognized her own gruff voice, choked by grief. "I’m coming!" It was a pale green door, unlike the midnight blue one her house held. Paint chipped at the corners, obviously age-old and in need of a new coat. She pushed a plain, yellowed button, once white, pressing her ears against the door as a *bring* echoed faintly within. Slippers clicked on the floor as chains rattled, the door opening. "Miki!" A graceful woman threw her arms around her, enclosing her in an amiable embrace. "It’s been so long." She stood unspeaking, soaking in the love and affection so lost to her in the past few weeks. The affability filled her where the nullity of her womb had previously rooted itself in. "Meiko," she said at last. "You look great." Of course, Meiko always had. The beauty, sophisticated, graceful, and elegant no matter what situation she found herself in. Always able to hold up her head, proud and regal. So strong… "Sensei says it’s fine and agrees that you should stay as long as you wish," with supreme hospitality and tenderness, Meiko removed her coat and set her bag down, now offering her a crisp new towel dampened in soothing, tepid water to wipe her face. She could feel the raw skin of her cheeks, the redness of the tearstains whipped by gusts of wind. "Arigato," she murmured. "Iie," Meiko grinned, linking her arm gently through her friends. "Come." She tugged her in the direction of a living room. "Tell me everything." I’ve always looked to those words when I lost everything…she’s always been where I could relieve myself of all unhappiness…I’d always confide in her – or Yuu – when my life collapsed on me. They’re so strong…I wish I were like them. She sank onto the rich forest-green cushion of a sofa, burying her hands in her face. Meiko sat down beside her, face attentive. She opened her mouth, words dropping from it heavily, each syllable costing her torturous effort volumes of books could not begin to describe. "I-I-I-I’m so lost…" she concluded, spluttering, blowing her nose into the tissue sympathetically offered to her. "I-I-I thought Yuu…" "Oh, Miki," Meiko took her wetted hand in her own firm hand, offering her what unspoken solace she could offer. "I’m…I’m so sorry…" Words were too inefficient at times, even for a writer who had wrestled with them her whole life. "Thanks for listening," Miki sighed out, enjoying her somewhat lightened load. "And I’m sorry for always dumping everything like this onto you." "Iie," Meiko said absentmindedly, eyes wandering as she pondered the brutally painful story. "Don’t you think Yuu-san’s taking this awfully hard?" "Hai!" Miki declared emphatically, almost petulantly. "Too hard, in fact," Meiko analyzed. "I think he hates me," Miki moaned. "Eeh?!" "It’s my fault the child died," she gathered her knees against her chest. "I was told to stay in bed…the doctor said I had some back issues and ordered me to bedrest for the remainder of the preganancy…I…I just wanted to see some photo albums…and I figured a short walk wouldn’t be any harm…" She buried her face in her knees. "I sacrificed my child because of my stupid whim to see photos." "Don’t say that!" Meiko was horrified. "You couldn’t predict the future. You didn’t know this would happen. It’s *no one’s* fault." "Easy for you to say," her voice shook. "You’re not the one who has an empty stomach now…you’re not the one who feels such an aching nothingness were my child used to keep me company…" she focused her attention on the bulge of her abdomen. "It still swells…so deceitfully…even after the child is gone…after no life resides in it…" "Do you think Yuu-san’s taking this harder than you are?" Meiko wondered thoughtfully. "Why would he?" she practically shouted. "He’s not the one responsible! He’s not the one who bore the child all these months!" "You’re not technically responsible either," Meiko insisted gently. "But seeing how you’re so convinced of your own guilt, I wonder if Yuu-san somehow takes this to be his responsibility, too. I know Yuu-san is the type to easily blame himself for mishaps that have nothing to do with him." I feel so ashamed…that time long ago when Meiko and I had our first fight after the incident with Na-chan broke out in school and she confessed her relationship with me, it felt like Yuu understood her better than I when he explained how painful it was to let dark secrets be entrusted to others…after all, *I* was her best friend…and he, someone who couldn’t have known her nearly as well as I did, seemed to understand her so much better. Now…now…I feel so ashamed that Meiko speaks of Yuu’s feelings with more conviction and understanding than me…and I’m his wife… She nodded. "Family is very important to him," Meiko continued. "Knowing his insecurity from childhood, never certain of his parentage, he clings to family with a fervor impossible to imagine. Now that he’s lost his child…" she paused. "He grew up never certain of his father…he must have seen this as an opportunity to end that chapter of his life forever – to be the *best* father to this child. And the child died, never knowing his or her parents…never even knowing life…" Miscarriages…my miscarriage isn’t the only one…somehow…the word strikes a different familiarity in me… "Kami-sama…" "Eh?" "Meiko…" she gasped. "Nan desuka?" "Yuu…Yuu’s half brother…" "Yuu-san has a half-brother?" Meiko widened her eyes. "The child he read about in his grandmother’s letter that he thought was himself…Chiyako-san’s child by another man – my otou-san…the child turned out to be a miscarriage…" she gulped. "Sou ka…" Meiko murmured. "Miscarriages must recall back terrible messages for Yuu-san." "This is all my fault," Miki blubbered through her weeping. "Yamero, onegai!" Meiko said sharply. "It’s *not* *your* *fault*," she reiterated. "That is the one thing I demand you understand!" She said nothing. "If I hadn’t wanted to see the photo albums…if I…" "Yamete!" Meiko clamped her hand down on her friend’s arm urgently. "Another thing: don’t hindsight. I’ve done it many times and I know very well that hindsighting gets you nowhere. What’s happened has happened. All the wishing in the world can’t change the past." "I know that," Miki said forlornly. "Knowing something and persuading your mind two accept it can be two different things." She lifted her head slightly. "I…I…" Her head fell against Meiko’s shoulder, sobs breaking from her with renewed vigor. "Gomen ne…I cry…I cry…I keep crying, and more tears come…this pain…it’s killing me…my mind is so dizzy…I can’t think straight…so tired of hurting…so tired of aching…when? When will it all end…? Yuu…can’t bear to see him like this…can’t bear to be without him…" Meiko held her as more words spilled from her friend with a heartbreaking weariness. She sat up at last. "Gomen…I’m afraid I ruined your sweater." Meiko looked down at her knitted shirt, a dark splotch on they sky blue yarn, only just realizing it. [spoof scene: Meiko: DAMNIT! It was expensive too! Miki, you’re paying! Miki: NANI? Don’t blame me! Blame Yuu for making me cry! Meiko: OH THAT MATSUURA! I’ll get him yet!] She shrugged. "I think it might take a while for Yuu-san to get over this. He’s been beaten too many times by Life…" "So what am I to do?" Miki wailed. "The only thing you can do," Meiko suggested tenderly. "Keep loving him. Never lose faith in him. Stand by his side and support him." "How can I do that when he’s so cold? He won’t look at me…won’t even say my name! He locks himself up in his room…" Miki muttered. "Will you give up then?" Meiko challenged. "Will just let him put the miscarriage first even over you? Will you let your love and marriage and *everything* die with the lost baby?" "Iie…demo…" "Then you’ll have to reach out to him, be with him even when he pushes you away. Persevere, Miki. Persevere, or else the love won’t survive. You must trust and believe that he loves you more than this child," Meiko urged. "Hai…" Miki bowed her head. "I’ll be here for you throughout this battle," Meiko smiled. "I can’t thank you enough…" Miki began. "Always there for me…always helping me…always pulling me through everything…doushite? You’re too good, too nice…" "You helped me, too," Meiko insisted. "Always cheerful and honest, always open and truthful when I suppressed everything. You were my friend and my only escape throughout my childhood…" She yawned, stretching her arms and legs, weary from being cramped and huddled against her for hours. "Where’s Na-chan?" she glanced around. "He went to stay with friends so we could be alone," Meiko told her. "Gomen…I didn’t mean to make all this trouble…" she widened her eyes. "Iie. Sensei would do anything to make an old student happy," Meiko’s eyes crinkled cheerfully. She yawned again, eyes suddenly terribly droopy as if weights of iron hung from them. "It’s three," Meiko informed her. "We should sleep." "Do you have work tomorrow?" "Iie," Meiko chuckled. "I’m a writer, remember? My work office is here." Miki breathed out in relief. "I was terrified I deprived you of sleep hours and was going to make you late for work." Meiko stood up, shaking her tangle of hair slightly. "Oyasumi," she called, heading toward her room. "Oyasumi," she replied. "Arigato. For everything." Her hand rested heavily in her lap as she sat for a few minutes in the serenity of the living room, unmoving. Thoughts raced through her mind, but her brain had long felt the strain of sleepless nights and muddled them incomprehensibly. Her eyelids pushed downward obstinately, despite her attempts to keep them open. I wonder what Yuu is doing… She stood up dizzily, the world twisting and turning blurrily. I’ll return tomorrow…Meiko’s right…I can’t let one miscarriage ruin the rest of my life…I’ll fight with all I have to make certain that our marriage survives. The feathery softness of the mattress had never been so welcomed to her body, exhausted physically and emotionally. She dreamed of Yuu’s blonde hair, warm smile, and placating hugs, ones she could almost believe were created for the sole purpose of easing her soul of all troubles and worries. The darkness was overwhelmingly oppressive that night. I wonder if I was too cold to her. Iie, can’t think those thoughts now. He leaned back, almost as if to hear the noises beyond the haven of his office. There were none. She’s being awfully quiet. He mentally smacked himself. Gee, I wonder why. He sighed inwardly. I…I…I just… Che! I can’t do anything for her…I can’t even do anything for myself…not that I deserve it… But at least I should get up and check to see what she’s doing. He crept quietly on the floor, though occasionally, a few creaks startled him where the floor groaned unhappily under his feet. There wasn’t a single light lit throughout the room. Not in their room where the door lay part open and the sheets of the bed were rumpled, and not in the basement or attic. Slight panic setting in, he ran into the living room, flicking the lights on. "Kuso, Miki, if you’re hiding, come out. This isn’t the time to play around." Yellow caught his eyes. Hurrying over, he held the thin slip between his fingers, eyes scanning over the note quickly. Dear Yuu, I’ll be with Meiko in Hiroshima for a while. I hope I’ll be back soon. -Your Miki-chan. Nothing more. "Miki…" his fingers dropped the note as if they burned him, yet they tingled where they had brushed against her handwriting, as if it were a thing too sacred for them. Kuso, I really hurt her. I meant to…almost… How can I face her? How can she live with me…? A vision of a featureless child seemed to run upon him. It’s specter-like limbs shone with ghostly light…blank face only a sea of the moonlight-toned skin…its thin tresses, length undeterminable, fluttered behind it, the wind moaning forlornly around it… IIE!!! He fell to his knees against the wall, folding his arms disconsolately. I can’t help but wonder…was it a girl or a boy? What would he have been like? What would she have been like? It’s so damn hard to look at Miki…it’s so damn hard to see her stomach still swollen…it’s so damn hard to know that in a month, I could have been holding my own child… Miki wants me to comfort her…to support her. Chikuso, I can barely support myself. I can barely hold on myself. Gomen, Miki, get Meiko. Stay with Meiko…onegai…I…I can’t help anyone right now. He could taste brackishness on his lips. I’d always wanted a child. Always. To hold…to love…an innocent face…smiles without the faintest trace of pain…to hear the silvery peals of laughter…to see the uncorrupted eyes sparkling at novelties, giggling in the sun, enjoying the petals of flowers…absolute mirth and joy… I’ve killed that. CHIKUSO! *I* killed that… I could have saved that child… I’m the cause of everyone’s pain…of Miki… I always make her unhappy. Now I’ve killed her child. And my own. He gulped. I feel like I can’t take it anymore. I… He stood up, heading for the restroom. A sharp edge dug into his hips as he paused for a moment, doubling over slightly. The corner of a cabinet met his gaze. His eyes could see the whiteness radiating in the dimness. Chikuso…the photo albums. He drew in a sharp breath. If only I had taken them to her when she asked me to…she would’ve never gone downstairs…she never would’ve fallen…the child would still be alive… His fist smashed against the wood of the shelf, jarring his bones. "CHIKUSO!" Stay with Meiko, Miki, stay with Meiko. I’ve lost the right to be your husband…I’ve lost the right to you. I never seem to be able to make you happy…stay away from me…everyone I meet, I hurt… Maybe I’m not meant to ever be happy. "Tada ima!" To her, the house seemed much more cheerful. Perhaps it was only the lightness and inner serenity after Meiko’s counseling. No response was offered to her. Slightly disappointed, she steeled herself and entered. The house seemed reasonably tidy…too tidy, in fact. Meticulously tidy. It gave it a distant air. She had preferred the usual slightly chaotic touch to it, making it more homey. The bedroom, however, had been left in the same manner she had left it, the very look of someone escaping, running away. Crumpled sheets, open closet door with dresses lying half in and out. Don’t tell me he’s still locked himself inside the study room. She checked the alarm clock once again. He should be home. Summoning her mettle, she marched to the study room, an alabaster door greeting her. Rapping sharply against it, she called out, "Yuu?" "I know you’re home. I heard you." She frowned. And you didn’t respond? "Feel like eating out today?" she asked. "Iie." So you’re still not over it. She sighed exasperatedly. "Open up!" "Doushite?" She growled. "JUST OPEN UP!" I’m sick and TIRED of putting up with this! If you’re going to be like this, you’re at least going to hear me out and tell me why you’re tormenting yourself! She didn’t think he’d ignore the ferocity and fury of her demand. The door parted, albeit slowly and with obvious reluctance. "What do you want?" "We are *having* a talk," her voice offered no negotiations. "So talk." Che, Yuu, you really have to make this difficult. His eyes glared at her, coldly and with definitely unyielding hardness, challenging her to speak. "Forgive me, won’t you?" she pleaded. "Gomen! Gomen nasai! I know I was wrong…I know this is all my fault…I know I should’ve stayed in bed…I know I’m entirely responsible for the child’s death…onegai…you have to forgive me, Yuu! I – I don’t know what I would do if you hate me forever!" She clutched at his arms, tugging as his shirt as if trying to pull a response from him. He look at her impassively, reserved and tacit. "Yuu…" she begged. He never opened his mouth, not a drop of emotion. A silent rejection…somehow, that stung worse than a spoken one. Tears ran freely from her. His hands had always fell to her face, brushing them away drop by drop. Now he made no movement, his palms glued stiffly to his side. "Doushite? Why do you hate me so…?" I said I would be strong…demo…I can’t stand it! I can’t stand his harsh features…his emotionless eyes…I can’t stand his icy temperament…I can’t read his mind! I can’t read it at all! I can’t stand him hating me… He gazed at her, perfunctory. "Speak! Why won’t you speak?!" "Have you finished talking? I still have work to do," he replied at last, coolly. "I give up! I give up!" she shrieked. "How many times will I need to apologize before you’ll forgive me? Do you want me to go on my feet and grovel?!" A door slammed in her face was her answer. Her head swirling, wracked with throe, she placed to hands on the door, dropping to the floor. Yuu hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me…he hates me… Rhythmically, the taunt ripped through her mind, adamantly refusing to cease. Cautiously, he peeped through the miniscule crack he allowed. No one stood outside. He had half feared, half expected her to still stand there, keeping guard, waiting to pounce on him the moment he let it open. Not that he blamed her. Her frustration at his elusiveness and the passion she had placed in those words he had so successfully dodged until now had been proof of how tormented she had been, keeping those words suppressed within her. She wasn’t one used to suppressing feelings. He hadn’t wanted to hear them. He hadn’t wanted to hear her pleas and begging and see her tears caused by him. He hadn’t wanted that at all, and he had been so afraid…so desperately afraid he would break down at her words…that they would kill him. He had been right. She may have seen a statue, void of feeling, but then again, he had made certain nothing would show on his apathetic face. That was all it was. A face. A façade. He had far too much experience in setting those up. Internally, it would have been much more satisfying to him to kiss away each of those crystal droplets forming the swift rivers of salty tears trickling from her eyes…it had taken all the precious self control he stored not to grasp her into his hold, bury his hair in her silken tresses and murmur softly to her how much he loved her…how much he did not hate her… Most of all, he did not want to hear her blame herself. How could she blame herself? It was his fault, damnit! His fault… If he had been there for her like he should have…if he had brought her those photo albums when he asked her… All my fault… None of this would’ve happened. The path to the door lay clear as he strode across to it. The atmosphere of the house had darkened. What the hell am I doing to Miki? Driving her away of course… I don’t deserve her…not after what I’ve done to her…if I can drive her away…She’ll be happy again…without me…if I was never born…she would be so happy… Never born… A sharp intake of breath. A murderer… Of my own child. The sun lazily dawdled in the sky, sinking sleepily below the inky line of the horizon. Brilliant oranges tainted the sky, marred by streaks of crimson. Violets smashed their way in between. "Mama!" a giggling voice sang. "Kirei, ne?" "Hai," brown mixed with blonde as a middle-aged woman scooped up a squirming body into her hands. The small, dainty fingers grasped the felt coat, pressing her satin skin flushed a delicate rose against the older, more weathered skin. "Otou-san!" a chubby-cheeked boy, brown eyes sparkling, panted, cheeks burning a fiery red. A man jogged after him, face downward. The boy touched a firepost. "I beat you! I beat you!", roaring with laughter. He threw a fist mid-air, pointing gleefully at a man whose shaggy hair now hung all over his eyes, perspiration glinting across his matted hair. The arrogant laughter of the young alto blended with the deep baritone as the older man slung his arm across the shoulder of the youth, trotting steadily in unison as they disappeared into a door. A violet ponytail pounded jauntily upward and downward as the bags bounced spiritedly around a young girl, not quite into her teens. Quietly, she conversed in hushed tones to her mother, those language of women he doubted he could understand had he heard them. "Onee-san! Okaa-san!" A younger boy, by a year or so, sped along, nearly crashing into the two. "Hiroshi!" a man called reprovingly from behind. "Gomen," he gulped nervously. Rough fingers fell over his hair, ruffling them placatingly. Yuu turned away, walking swiftly in a new direction. Robes of night had been cast across the sky, blackness lit only by a thin strip of a crescent moon. Lights swept on across the street, burning cozily within the homes. Chipper chatter leaked from within. He paused staring into one window. Pale blue bangs dangled from the side of her face as an ivory hand set various dishes onto the table, painstakingly arranging them pleasantly. Wiping her grimy face with a lavendar apron, she cast it aside, clapping her hands. A teenage girl, fresh faced, studiously holding a textbook of some sort bowed as she kneeled before the table. A boy dashed there, hand half reaching for a plate, halted as his sister slapped his hand. He shrunk back, sitting obediently as his sister glared at him, devoting one eye to him. A younger girl toddled in, clutching to balloon shrouded in a blaze of the colors of the rainbow. A man followed her, taking his place gravely at the end of the table as the woman sat down at the other. He could read their lips. "Itadakimasu!" Smiles played across theirs, mouths opening excitedly. Each cheerfully speaking, attention absorbed in the joyful faces of others. The lights shimmered, mirth imprinted across them…the house was bright…and warm…complete… He turned sharply into a park, slouching against a wooden bench, frozen, as if never touched by the heat of a human body. Papa… "Who the hell is there?" his head jerked up. He could see the pale, satiny skin, a breezy flower-print dress billowing. Miniscule hands clasped cutely together against her chest, fluffs of hair springing from her in two coiling pigtails. Kawaii… Large jewels of eyes blinked back at him. Her face… Like Miki… Like a chibi-Miki… Pink lips moist and tender stretched upwards in a ghostly smile. Papa… He cowered back. "Who are you…?" Cerise oozed from her head, dripping downwards. The gaudy green and yellow flowers vanished under the onslaught of scarlet. The white socks soaked in red…tiny black leather shoes stained beyond recognition… Pity, isn’t it, papa? Uh oh! Kami-sama’s calling me again. I really shouldn’t be on Earth you know. After all, you didn’t want me, did you? Iie, that’s why you killed me! Well, ja ne, papa! "Chotto matte!" he screamed after her frantically. Yo, otou-san. "Who’s there now?" fear gripped his throat, his voice grating out in a strangled, hoarse gasp. The blonde of the boy eerily reminded him of his own hair as did his eyes mirroring the shade of a placid sea under the summer sun. A baseball hat pertly sat backwards upon his head, his arms crossed with a confidence in the manner he had utilized. In his younger days. "You…you…" The child’s head cracked, ripping, blood streaming as bones crunched sickeningly. His mouth still moved, both halves. Yuu scrambled off the seat, horror paralyzing him as he stumbled. What’s the matter, otou-san? Afraid of me? Afraid to face the child you killed? Do you really hate me that much…? You didn’t want me in life, and you don’t want to see me dead either? He laughed. Decidedly the most terrible laughter Yuu had ever heard. A shrieking laughter, piercing, accusing…vengeful…cackling… Nothing like the peal of silvery bells, the ringing chimes he had heard so many children emit as they threw their faces and arms toward an turquoise sky. "Gomen," he began. No one stood before him. Nothing. Where those two phantoms had been, no trace of any presence remained. Neither drops of red nor scatter pebbles. He turned around heavily. Chikuso…chikuso…chikuso… Moisture stung his eyes, creeping downward. He didn’t care. The whole damn world could see him cry. It didn’t matter. Chikuso… I wanted to be a good father. Shimatta…they hate me…the children…they hate me… He halted before a tree, pounding his fist into it. The ragged bark dug into his skin, scraping against his knuckles. How could I…? How could I? I killed them! Miki’s tears…my own…the tears of the children…Miki’s blood…theirs… He could smell the coppery stench of carnage pervading his surroundings. Sometimes, I just feel as if an ocean of red will swallow me…as if blood will baptize me and drown me… Warm stickiness splashed onto his hand, seeping into his clothes as they stuck to him. The wetness traveled upward steadily. He made no movements to escape. He knew he wouldn’t anyhow. His nose fell under, the slightly metallic taste forcing itself into his mouth. His eyes shut as it ran over them. Maybe I will die…add my blood to this…and atone…yes…my blood must spill for theirs…my blood to cleanse my hand from theirs… The windows were black, dim, not a single one bearing a shining light like those surrounding it, an aura of gloom shrouding it. He thought of others with their brilliant, blithe dwellings and steaming plates of hot dinners awaiting them. Although he did bring it upon himself. I used to be like that, too. I lost the right. I don’t deserve better then this. Soon…soon Miki will leave me…and this truly shall be a dismal shelter awaiting me…nothing but old ghosts to haunt me… The soles of his feet clicked against the winding path of flagstone, passing under the arched doorway as he twisted the key in and turned it tiredly. It screeched open, blackness greeting him inside. Flicking on the lights, he threw of his shoes, allowing them to thud some feet away, chaotically scattered. Footsteps hurried over. "You’re home!" Miki grinned, stooping to take his feet in her two hands, placing them neatly upon the white shoe rack. She’s still up? And waiting for me? Che…this can’t be good. "I made some dinner," she took a hold of his hand, dragging him unceremoniously after herself. He feign would have made a crack, yet he dared not crack his imperturbable countenance. She pushed him down on a kitchen table before a plate of food. "Gomen, but I already ate," she apologized, sitting beside him, staring as he carefully evaded her eyes. Accepting the chopsticks offered to him, he grasped it around the meat, chewing it cautiously. "How is it?" The juice swept around his mouth, slightly bitter. She’s improving. He made no answer, only proceeding to eat steadily, as he always had. "So it’s good?" No response. "Yuuuuu-uuuuu-uuuuuu…" she whined, nudging him. His skin burned where her soft hands were placed, each tip of the finger slightly contacting his shirt. Then the palms pressed downward, harder, her long fingers clamped around his, shaking him lightly. His head throbbed where he fancied her eyes bore into him, watching him steadily, as a hawk would observe its prey. Straining, he allowed nothing to reflect in his face. Arms fell around him, locks of hair shuffling against the nape of his neck, tickling him. He could feel the curves of her body against his stiff spine, her hands clasped loosely as they hung before him, her arms secured around his neck. Her face buried into his back, her mouth moving, each movement burning into his back, chills speeding upward and downward. "I know you hate me Yuu…I don’t blame you…but I won’t give up. I deserve this…I deserve you hating me, ignoring me…but I won’t give up! Not when we’ve gone through so much. One day…one day I’ll earn you forgiveness. I’ll wait," he could almost see her smile…he could almost see her eyes glittering with the determination, perseverance. Why I fell in love with her. Why it’s killing me now. He wrenched his head downward. I will not look at her. I will not look at her. I will not look at her. Self-control. Self-control. Self-control. Self-control. Self-control. Self-control had truly been his angel, his mask, his wall that braved the harsh world attempting so valiantly to crush him. Self-control had made it possible to survive when his world shattered with a single letter that left him without a father, a child adopted into a family without true parentage, without identity. Self-control had saved him when he was convinced Miki was lost to him forever, that the bond of sister and brother between them would drive them apart always. He needed self-control more than ever now. Miki *was* lost to him forever. Never again. Never. Atonement for his crimes, atonement for killing the child he should have raised with all the tenderness and love within him, a child of him and Miki…a child with parents, with identity…a child with all the securities he never had…a child who could easily throw up his head to face the turquoise firmament adorned with the piercing golden medallion whose searing rays would caress the child’s face as he…she emitted peals of mirthful laughter…and the wind would sweep around him or her, its gentle breezy breath cooling his…her simmering skin…and… His head ached from thinking in two genders. His own fault again. His own fault he never would hold a child…never know whether it was the girl who was killed or the little boy… Pain-wracked sobs drilled into his ears, streaming from their bedroom, as he raised his head, startled. They invaded, again and again, their attacks never ceasing, droning forth in an unending onslaught. "Miki…" he said in a hushed tone. My fault again. I…I… Kuso. I should tell her…I should tell her… How the hell does she think it’s her fault? Doesn’t she remember…? Doesn’t she remember it was my fault? *I*’m the one who deserves everything…not her… Chikuso…she has to make this so damn difficult. He would have dealt with pounding fists against his checks, shrieking words pumped with hatred, irate tears slamming against the floor so much better. It would have all been justified, all easy burdens to bear, pain absolutely due to him. A look at his hands, bloodied and sullied, would have reminded him why he must be punished so. This was impossible. Here he was, trying to atone for his crimes and drive her away from someone so undeserving of her, and she was clinging to him, convinced *she* was the one at fault. Perhaps this is a trial of how serious I am in my search for atonement…perhaps is a true test of whether I ever deserve to reach it… His fists crashed against the glossy glass of the table, various plates and shakers bouncing with the impact, clattering back. I must succeed… I’m staking all I ever had on it… The muffled sobs shrieked out in escalating volumes. Whatever comforter or blanket she had been using to deaden the voice was no match for the pitch of her voice, permeated with scathing agony. He closed his eyes painstakingly. It was only then he had realized tears had been streaming from his eyes since the moment she left. I can’t handle this. I can’t handle this much more. Her hands rigidly grabbed the fluffy agora sweater from the basket, the heat of the dryer snuggling into her palm comfortingly. She lifted it, pressing it against her face, undisturbed by the tears that still rested freshly upon her cheek. The fibers, soft as they were, still stung her face, so raw from the daily rain of tears. She no longer ever needed blush, for the splotchy pink had become her perpetual facial color. She reached for yet another shirt, folding it with swift, mechanical movements. Damn Yuu. Damn him, damn him, damn him. This made one month exactly of not speaking to her. Or saying an average of little more than a word a day. He always slid in quietly hours after work was over, stealthily attempting to conceal his entrance, unruffled when she demanded to know why he never announced himself and where he had been. His cool gaze was all she ever received in return. Dinner was always the same affair. Sometimes, she sat by his side, carrying on the pathetic one-way conversations. Sometimes, they ate together. Again, either one-way conversations, or one-way staring contests. He never looked at her. He never looked into her face if he could help it. "Why does he hate me so much?" she demanded of a pair of her own slacks, the tightly woven linen slouching lazily on her arm. As could be expected, it provided no answer. Baka, she chided herself. He wants a child… She stared outside, her eyes wandering over the low hedge separating her house from their neighbors. Enviously, she observed a dog rolling through the stringy grass of the lawn in need of mowing, entangled by each other’s limbs his face aglow with rapture aflame in his soul reflected in the eyes of the dog. He wants a child…and I killed his… Her stomach only contained a gentle roundness now, nearly as flat as it had been before her pregnancy. Shimatta…it’s almost gone…as if I never had a child…the dull ache throbs in me daily…I can’t forget… She shut her eyes tightly. I wish I had another chance…chikuso… She stumbled over her thought, her eyes bursting open. Another chance… The unfortunate pair of pants found itself clutched tightly in her hands, becoming crumpled far beyond recognition. Of course…another chance…if only I try once more – I’m sure I’ll do it right this time…and I…and I can get Yuu to forgive me… Perhaps that was the worst reason to have a child, but she didn’t think of it a the time – that a child should not be born to force two to remain together but as the loving consent of both parties. Furthermore, she didn’t care at that point. She held the linen to her, almost as if it were her own child, cradling it in her arms, keeled over slightly. Soon…soon the seed of life shall embrace me once more…this time, I shall dutifully serve it until it is ready to bloom with a child…and with that child I shall present it to Yuu, and perhaps…and perhaps he can finally forgive me. She hung the last of the clothes into the closet, slamming the door as it banged against the wall. Striding over to the window, her clammy hands slapped onto them. The misty imprints came and rotted away quickly as she observed them amusedly. Her eyes fell upon the dog again. The young child was gone. In her eyes, she could almost see a phantom child, a boy with lustrous blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes, hand extended as the flew out of a black void. Hai…give me back my child, darkness…give him back! Reluctantly, his feet plodded through the narrow path, his eyes wandering miserably along every crack and chipped stone of the irregularly shaped pieces of flagstone along the path, the dark maroon shade hissing at him, the dismal-gray blue that he recognized as the tune his soul sang now… He marched through the door, kicking his shoes off. Unfailingly, she appeared like an apparition from nowhere and cordially greeted him. "Irasshaise!" she sang, taking hold of his shoes and stacking them onto the shoe rack as always. Predictably, she grabbed his arm to pull him for dinner. If he wasn’t mistaken, her grip seemed slightly more excitable than usual. Just last night, he had felt the faintest despair hidden in her mirthless hold, setting him afire with the hope she would desert him soon. Two plates were set side by side near the larger dining table, steaming food properly adorned with various garnish accompanied by ivory chopsticks with intricate woven patterns in royal blue imprinted upon them. Those are our best chopsticks. What’s the occasion? "The food’s safe to eat. It’s ordered," she reassured him with a small smile and a quick squeeze of the hand. Her touch was silken, the faint fragrant aroma leaking from her. She’s using perfume, too… He decided to remain silent, squatting as he took his chopsticks. "Itadakimasu." The only word he said on a regular basis to her. "How do you like it? Isn’t the food great?" He gave her the standard reply – none at all – not even gracing her with a look. Her chopstick moved rhythmically, and from her action he could easily deduce that she hadn’t even been fazed in the slightest. Which was rather odd. She usually quivered slightly either from frustration or disappointment. "I just might order from them again," she continued happily. He was becoming frightened. Che…what’s going on…? He ate faster, wishing desperately to finish and resume to the sanctuary of his study. Something terribly foreboding lurked behind that blissful smile of hers. He paused momentarily Unless she wants a divorce…or separation…perhaps she talked it over with someone and took their advice… "Yuu?" her voice had softened, a serious note hidden in it. "Nani?" He could see the startled look in her eyes. She had become used to his silence and continue speaking though he gave her no encouragement to do so. The surprise quickly was replaced by a flicker of feeble hope. Che…my heart’s all aflutter…onegai…let her ask for separation – for divorce – to leave me – anything… "Yuu," she repeated, standing up. Lovingly, she draped her two arms over his shoulders, lightly drawing him in an awkward embrace as he sat and she stood. Chikuso, this doesn’t seem to be a request for separation. She pressed her face, skin slightly hardened, no doubt from the constant bathing of tears, against his ear, lips brushing against it. Self-control…self-control…self-control… Every muscle in his face stiffened, hardening into an immovable mass, as if a statue. Her lips scorched him where they fell against his ear, moving excruciatingly slow. "Yuu," she breathed again. A slightly seductive note was present. Kuso! I don’t like where this is heading. He steeled himself appropriately, a man seeing the inevitable turmoil raging ahead and preparing to withstand its fury. "Yuu…I’ve thought it out…and perhaps…perhaps you should give me another chance," she blurted out. "I won’t disappoint." He turned to face her with suspicion. Another chance…? "I know how much you want a child, Yuu…what if we try again? A second time? I won’t fail you! Not this time! I promise!" A second time… A second child… A replacement for the one I murdered. Their shapes stood before him, the two children. To replace the one us you killed, otou-san? We knew you never wanted us… Do you truly think you can cover your crimes by bearing another child? Do you? We’ll see, otou-san…we’ll see… Perhaps you would to. You would like to see what we can do to your pathetic attempt to forget us! You’ve already erased all traces of our existence on this earth, and now you wish to blot all memories of your own crime…?! Yurusenai! The bloodied dress…hair pouring blood…the cracked head, hat immersed in blood…their red-robed skin and hands reaching for him…scarlet smearing across his skin and hands…their shrieking lips, cracked and parched…their eyes searing into his, hatred and terror planted eternally in theirs now burning a hole into his…their sullied clothes plastered against his face, asphyxiating him. "Yuu…" her voiced distantly chimed into his thoughts. He stood up. "Iie. I refuse." A slight tremor cracked his voice. "Yuu!" she gasped. "You can’t be serious…" He hung his head, pushing her from him, flinging her arms off from his shoulders. "Do you really think you’d make me happy by another child?" "Demo…" she faltered. "Chikuso!" he bellowed, facing her. His blood boiled, the self-control vanishing under raging emotions weary from suppression. "I don’t want another child!" // To replace us, otou-san? // To replace us, otou-san? // We knew you never wanted us… //We knew you never wanted us… The accusation of their voices rang in his mind, each pair of voices pulsating and melding, the cackle of their laughter taking relishing delight in his horror, his desperate denials. "Demo…demo…" tears stung in her eyes, streaming onto her now permanently stained face. "What DO you want, then, Yuu?!" She threw herself at him, her fists pounding against his chest. "Just forgive me, for Kami-sama’s sake, that’s all I want!" "I don’t want another child!" he shouted. "You just want to replace the one that died, don’t you? Che, do you think you can? Do you think you can just make the child’s existence vanish like that? I don’t want a replacement child…it would never work…" //Do you truly think you can cover your crimes by bearing another child? Do you? We’ll see, otou-san…we’ll see… //Perhaps you would to. You would like to see what we can do to your pathetic attempt to forget us! "I don’t care about the child!" she shrieked. "Why don’t you see it, Yuu? Why don’t you? I’ve always only wanted your forgiveness! Why the hell won’t you?!" The impact of their voices slammed throughout the house, slashing into his mind. Her tears splattered forcefully, angrily against the floor, each sizzling drop imprinting a hole, if not in the ground, at least in his mind. "Impossible to forgive you." It was true at least. She was never the one to blame. It was him. //Yurusenai! //Yurusenai! //Yurusenai! Even the unborne babe knew who the real murderer was. "YUU!" she screamed. "Stop wasting your time," his voice had swallowed itself into ice again. "A second child will never hide the blood of the first…all I can do is wait for the atonement of its death as its ghost haunts me forever…" "Yuu! Don’t say th-" she began, panic overtaking her. "Leave me!" he cut her off. "Nani?" she choked. "Leave me! Divorce me! Don’t throw away the rest of your life with me!" the frost of his voice gave away slightly to pleading. "I couldn’t!" she wrapped her hands around his. "I couldn’t…I couldn’t leave you, Yuu! How could I go on without you? Who would I…" "Why do you want to stay with me so much?" he demanded. Her head fell against his chest, ironically content even in the present atmosphere. "Ai shiteru, Yuu…when we married, we became one…until death do us apart, remember?" He shoved her away. "Baka," he spat. "I always knew you were one." "Yuu…" she screamed. "You…you…" "Do I still love you?" he muttered coolly. "Isn’t that your question?" "Yuu…" the word was accompanied by resounding sobs, ones that most likely rent her heart. More crimes to burden him. His back nearly shattered from the weight of his sins. "Iie. Not at all," straining ferociously, he managed a smirk. "You’re lying!" she screeched accusingly. "Am I?" he taunted. "You’re lying!" she cried again. Her knees wobbled as she fell onto the floor, hunched, her hands smashing the bewildered carpet that had drunk her teardrops. "Baka," he slapped her with his chilled tone. "I told you not to waste your time with me." He sauntered off carelessly, leaving her prostrate, fists slamming the floor, no doubt envisioning his face instead. Once concealed in the obscurity of the blackened hallway, he sank backwards, sliding downward, supported by the wall. The hardness of the floor bit into him as he stared into the nothingness. Tears again. My tears to pay for hers. Together they run…we truly are one…inseparable…my tears fall in time with hers… Until death do us apart, eh? So be it then. My blood to pay for the child’s. And so do let death undo us… "MEIKO! MEIKO! MEIKO!" senselessly, the word was all her mind knew to say. "Miki?! Daijobu?" her friend’s tone of terror managed to slice into her numbed mind. "I need to come…I need to see you…now…immediately…can’t wait…" she croaked. The soaked plastic adhered to her chin. "Come! You know you’re always welcome," Meiko urged. The phone slipped and fell from her head, clattering into place, her jumbled thoughts even burying the rules of phone etiquette. Meiko would forgive her, anyhow. Snatching her thin wallet and cramming a fistful of bills into her pocket, she slammed the door behind her, her never-ceasing tears her only company. That and the scarring words his cutting words had forged. She saw the world, the train, the blur of trees…buildings…people through her curtain – no, wall – of tears. Mindlessly, her feet guided her through the maze of streets and bodies by instinct what her mind had become incapable of doing, jumbles of incoherent thoughts strung together, tumbling about in her brain. Someone hand had removed her shaggy jacket and gently was washing her cheeks itchy with dried tears, the warmth of the damp towel shaking her slightly back into the real world. "Meiko?" she murmured. "Na-chan?" "Sensei’s away again. He knows we need to be alone," Meiko explained. "Sou ka," she plodded clumsily into the living room, supported by Meiko’s arm as she collapsed upon the couch. The renewed assault of tears told her story far sooner than her painful words, words cut deep into her mind, more so into her heart. Each that she let fall from her lips re-opened an anguished wound, bleeding profusely. "Miki," Meiko handed her yet another tissue. "Don’t you think you should take his advice?" "N-nani?" she stammered. "Ano," Meiko said hesitantly. "I’m inclined to agree with Yuu-san here. Maybe it is time for divorce, or separation at least." "IIE!" she shook her head vehemently, squaring her shoulders in an adamant stance. "I refuse! Absolutely not!" "You’ve tried your best for weeks now," Meiko pointed out gently. "It doesn’t seem to be having any effect. Yuu-san doesn’t seem to want to let it go…" "Demo," she turned on Meiko accusingly. "YOU were the one who said that I had to persevere and prove to him that he meant more to me than even the child!" "Hai," Meiko hung her head, shamed. "Demo, I didn’t anticipate that Yuu-san would feel so deeply for the child. I should have known that Yuu-san wouldn’t let it go. Miki, if you don’t divorce him, you’ll only hurt yourself more." "I don’t care! I’m staying with Yuu!" "I don’t think it’ll be any help, Miki. Yuu-san’s never going to let this go…Yuu-san will never forget. He will never open up again," Meiko insisted. "How would you know?!" "Yuu-san and I are very alike. I can understand him quite easily. I only need think of what I might have done had I never met Sensei…or you…or had something similar happened to me…" Meiko’s voice trailed off. "Maybe then you should be the one married to him," Miki muttered darkly, almost bitterly. "Jealous, ne?" Meiko giggled, despite the tenseness of the atmosphere. "Maa, maa, Miki. We’d make a terrible couple." "Oh?" she snapped skeptically. "You certainly seem to understand him well enough." "Understanding’s not enough," Meiko sobered. "Aside from the fact that we bear no love for each other, it’d be terrible if we married. We’re both silent by nature, Miki, and our growing up enhanced that taciturn quality of ours. Neither of us are inclined to talk of our troubles, as you know from experience with the both of us. Should we be married, that silence would repress us from any deep discussion of our sorrows, and that is a sorrow would rip apart any marriage…it’d be a terrible match…Na-chan is someone I believe in, that earned my trust. He isn’t afraid to discuss problems and talk about them frankly and openly…that is why our marriage is succeeding." //That is a sorrow that would rip apart any marriage… It’s the sorrow that is ripping apart my marriage… "So what is wrong with us?" she demanded. "Gomen nasai, Miki," tears shimmered in her friend’s eyes. "I thought your marriage would be great…that Yuu-san needed someone as honest as you…that Yuu-san would be able to learn from your cheeriness, your trust…and he did open up to you." "It isn’t fair!" she screamed. "It isn’t," Meiko’s voice was as broken as she. "Divorce, Miki…perhaps you can still save yourself…somehow, I almost feel as if Yuu-san doesn’t want to be saved…or perhaps he can’t be." "Then I can’t either," Miki said simply. "Miki!" "My fate is entwined with Yuu. I can never leave him, whether it destroys me or not. When I said I’d be with him until death did us apart, I meant it," she stared ahead. "I’m staying with Yuu, no matter what. If he never looks at me again…if he continues like this until we both die, it’s all right by me. All I ask is that I can live with him. That’s all." Her fingernails dug into her knees. "Miki…" Meiko said softly. "You’re sure of this?" "Hai," she nodded. "I’ll pray for you," her friend smiled. "Kami-sama and Tenshi-sama watch over you." The telephone’s whining cry interrupted them as Meiko picked up. "Moshi Moshi, Namura desu ga…" Her face froze as she listened, eyes widening, terror creeping into them. "Miki…" she managed to say. Stiffly, she relinquished the phone. Miki’s heart danced wildly as she held the phone, gazing it as she would a bomb on the brink of detonation. "Moshi moshi?" "Matsuura Miki-san desu ka?" some unknown voice addressed her. "Hai. Sou desu." "This is the police. There has been an accident involving a man named Matsuura Yuu-san…" The phone slid and impacted the floor. "Miki…!" Meiko rushed to her side. "Daijobu?!" // Until death do us apart, remember? //death do us apart… //death do us apart… //death…apart… //death…apart… She chuckled slightly, tears slashing at her cheeks as they shrieked, splattering on the moist carpet below her. "Miki!" "So he did remember," she laughed. "He did remember!" "Miki, daijobu?" "I’m going home," she lowered her head, her shaggy mane of hair snarled from the wind, unbrushed and unruly, hanging before her eyes droopily. "I’ll come with you," Meiko offered. "Iie," sharp and terse. A finality allowing no compromises. "I’ll go alone." "Miki…" her feeble protest went unheeded. "Yuu," the back of her head faced Meiko as she strode out the door, her despair seeping through despite her casual façade. "I’m coming…" White silk…white silk veil, everything had been tinged in its purity as the sheer cloth shielded her eyes. Her gloved hands had eagerly clutched at the filmy fabric of her ivory dress as she plodded upon the petals strewn all over the scarlet carpet, thick and cushiony as her heeled shoes sank into it with each anxious step…and she had arrived at the top, enduring through the whole lengthy drone of the priest and Yuu had slipped a thin gold band around her finger with his own firm hands holding her quaking ones…his "I do" head echoed hers… //Until death do us apart… //Ai shiteru, Miki… One lingering kiss, amidst cheering…the showers of pink petals raining into her hair and the storms of rice sprinkling through the air… The flagstone glowered at her as she dug her shoes onto its face. Scarlet stones…the hue of blood… Her feet wavered over one before contacting its surface. She felt as though it had fell into a puddle, warm liquid splashing about it. Salty smell…metallic…coppery…like the odor of carnage… She gagged, clutching her stomach. Staring down, she searched for the cerise stains splashed across her socks and shoes. The white of her socks and shoes smiled back at her, untainted. Chikuso…I keep seeing things. The whole house…it regards me with such gloom…such melancholy and desolation…the house Yuu built with our love… She cast her eyes downward. It’s dying…like our love… Warm wetness scoured her cheeks. I lost…I lost…chikuso… Her hands angrily turned the key, kicking the door open. Blue clothes met her eyes first. "Eh?" she looked up in shock. "Gomen ne," a uniformed man bowed before her. "Matsuura Miki-san desu ka?" "Hai. Sou desu," she croaked through her tears. Coughing, she attempted to gain composure as she vainly struggled to dry her eyes and face. "This letter was found in the house addressed to you," he handed her a thin envelope, her name scrawled in Yuu’s tidy handwriting. "Yuu," she whispered. "His accident," the man coughed for her attention. "appears to be intentional. Gomen. You have all of our sympathy." He bowed again and disappeared behind the door. "They leave," she growled. "They all leave! Liars! All of them!" The paper seared her fingers. Irresolute, she tore at the envelope as it shred, a pale blue sheet falling out, landing lightly before her feet. With tremorous knees, she bent to retrieve it, paper creaking as she let it open, the words branding themselves in her eyes. Dearest Miki, Gomen. Honto ni. Gomen. Don’t say it was your fault. Don’t ever say anything was your fault. It was always mine. Remember that before you stood up to violate the doctor’s orders, it was I who refused to get you the photo album. It was I who caused your fall…it was I who killed our child…I caused your tears, all of them. I’m always causing your tears. I never could make you happy… I wanted you to leave me, to find happiness. You don’t deserve to stay with someone like me, someone who only brings you tears… I’m not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you. I don’t know why you cling to me so…there must be others out there who could make you so much happier than I ever could and wipe away those tears I cause. So be it, then. So let death part us. Do not weep for me. My blood will pay for the death of the child I caused, and its ghost shall go to heaven and quit its mission of haunting and tormenting me. Be happy, Miki. Be happy without me. Take these final words, onegai…from someone who so little deserves to say them to you. Everything I said about not loving you isn’t true, Miki. I love you too much to be selfish and force you to stay with me when you shouldn’t have to…I love you more than I can express…but then again, I never was good at expressing anything. Ai shiteru, Miki…Ai shiteru. -Yuu //Ai shiteru, Miki… He said those words before… The vision of white rose in her mind…the sea of red and pink roses…the cheers and gusts filled with the fragrant aroma of the flower petals and perfume saturated with the grains of sand… It darkened…and darkened…and then splintered, broken into fragments, thousands of pieces fading into the murkiness of the nullity within her. "TEMEE!" she shrieked, grasping at the darkness. "It’s you again! Always you! First my child…then Yuu…then their memories! Give them back!" It roared in her ears, tauntingly. "YAMETE!" she grasped at it desperately. "Give me Yuu back…onegai…give him back…even if nothing else…you already took my child…you can’t take Yuu, too…" She could see his fading form, swirling away…spirited away after the child… "YUU!!" The darkness fell over her head, blanketing it, forcing its way into her mind, battling all resistance mercilessly. It drank at her memories, wrenching them from her…spiraling them away…draining them all… She dug her nails into the shapeless dimness’ side, ripping at it, clawing futilely for her recollections… "GIVE THEM BACK!" It cackled crazily, sucking them further into its center, daring her follow. She slipped against the smoking side, screaming as her grasp was loosened and she was tossed after her memories into its deadly center…as she fell…deeper, and deeper… Yuu…wait for me… A good day for the funeral. Happy, cheerful…the weather uplifted the dreary mood scattered over all guests attending the miserable ceremony to lay Yuu to rest eternally. The heaviness of the atmosphere at the dim cremation house had nearly crushed her. Meiko little liked to image what the funeral would have been like had the weather poured and rained. The look on the Suou family’s face…most particularly the look on Miwa’s face had broken her already pained heart, though Yuu and her hadn’t been nearly as close as Miwa and Yuu. I wonder if I can even bear to see Miki’s face… She hadn’t been present at the wake. She had locked herself in her room, and nothing short of taking hammers and smashing down the door would have drawn the distraught widow out…perhaps not even that… It was no surprise Miki had not shown up at the funeral. The scandal and terror of such an act ran high through the other guests present, and she had been charged with by both the parents of Miki and Yuu as well as Ginta, Arimi, Miwa, and her own husband to convince Miki to come. She needed not to be asked twice. Her hands brushed against the textured fabric of her skirt. It was a fresh new dress, completely black. Though she liked the color, she had rarely worn any attire composed of solely that color. This would be her first funeral. She prayed, too, that it would be her last. She had been to the house before, the charming abode Yuu had designed. The lovely shade of the bricks…the large sheets of glass and the intricate lacey curtains…the meticulously trimmed hedges bordering the garden spotted with rainbow-kissed clusters of blossoms…the adorable flagstone path… It had lost its charisma…all attraction. Everything dulled, sulkily stared at her, daring her enter in its grim state. She braced herself, meekly entering as she knocked pertly upon the door with energy she didn’t know she had. "Miki!" she called. No answer. She tugged at the doorknob anxiously. To her surprise, it gave way, the door creaking open. She stepped inside, thankful for the light filtering through the translucent curtains. Otherwise, not a light shone through the house, the drapery all fully pulled so not a centimeter of the plates of glass could be seen. A disheveled figure lay outstretched upon the carpet floor of the house, a crumpled paper ball sitting innocently a few centimeters from her fingers. "Miki!" Miki sat up, staring blankly at her. "Oh, you look terrible! Let me help you get ready," she offered, blinking tears back. The prospect of entirely re-doing her make-up did not appeal to her. "Huh?" Miki stared at her blankly. "The funeral," she hissed. "Ginta-san, Arimi-san, and Miwa-san…they’re all there, waiting for you!" "Ginta-san? Arimi-san? Miwa-san?" Miki blinked in confusion. "And who are you?" "Miki, it’s not time for joking," she warned. "Where am I?" she screeched. "Miki…" she gulped. Somehow, this doesn’t seem to be a joke. Her friend’s eyes flashed, darkening considerably. "CHIKUSO! You again!" Meiko started, eyes widening. Odd…she doesn’t seem to be directing her words at me. "GIVE ME YUU BACK! YAMETE!" her fingernails clawed at empty air wildly. "You damn darkness! You were always the one! Always taking everything from me! Damn you…damn you…DAMN YOU!" She threw her arms around her frantic friend, immersed in a frenzy. Miki struggled viciously, digging her fingers into her captor’s arms. Meiko winced as the nails pierced her skin but never ceased to hold her. Their tears mingled as both wept. "Miki…maa...maa…" she patted her friends back soothingly as Miki calmed gradually. Releasing her, she stroked her friends hair. "Let me fix you up for the funeral." "Eh?" Miki stared at her. "Miki…" She furrowed her eyebrows. "Who are you?" "Miki…" Meiko gulped, terror lapping within her. "You…you…" Meiko stared into the blankness of Miki’s eyes…the vacuity blared within her…conquering her mind…sucking her soul in as she had embarked on the mission of recovering what it had taken from her… "Miki…" her words fell, too, into that void, bouncing back. Her words would never reach her friend’s ears again. Miki continued gazing at her vacantly, eyes swallowed in the oblivion she had become entrapped in. That emptiness… That is the price of silence… Owari Epilogue Matsuura Miki was admitted to mental care shortly after. Tests were run on her and therapy was offered, to no avail. They labeled her with a plethora of terms and diagnosed her with a mass of mental illnesses to compensate for their incompetence at healing her, to justify their own incapability of helping her. Though I do admit it was unlikely she wanted to be helped. Perhaps a fault she learned from Yuu-san… She hasn’t recognized anyone since then. No one. Except him, perhaps. She lingers in her cell, never complaining, living as a robot, though truly, she must be lost within that darkness of hers, chasing hopelessly…despairingly after what she lost and can never regain. I fall onto my couch…a couch her teary self had sat on as she sobbed with me, pouring out the sorrow that would eventually destroy her. Sometimes, I mull over and over my words…it is difficult to think perhaps that I *could* have done something to save her…that perhaps if only I had… I stop myself and remember my own words to her. That hindsight gets no one anywhere. My husband rushes out from his room. "Meiko?" though he says nothing, I can read the questions faltering on his tongue as easily as if they had been spoken. "She’s fine. As she always is," I murmured. "I know she’ll never recover…she’ll never remember me again…or anyone…besides him…when he left, he took her, too…" "Perhaps we should visit him," my husband suggests. I widen my eyes. "Why not?" The wind outside has died down little as my husband and I saunter the streets, paying a visit to a quaint flower shop. The heavy fragrance in the air chokes my husband and me slightly as we quickly decide on a bouquet of white, yellow, and red flowers so delightfully arranged. Miki would have approved the choice. Miki…she’s never visited his grave…she never attended the funeral… A tear winds its way from my eyes as my husband takes hold of my hand gently. The train rumbles, but I see and hear nothing. I can only thing of the dull vacuum reflected in her eyes…eyes that once shone so brilliantly, sparking hope into my own darkness, my own silence. I shudder to think that I could have been like that had she not saved me. And yet, why could *I* not save her…she trusted me so much to help her…and in the end, I was so useless…I was so helpless to do anything for her… "I hate myself," I mumble. "Meiko?" my husband calls, holding my hands more tightly. "She’s done so much for me…and in the end, I did nothing for her…I…I…" I sputter in frustration. My husband strokes my locks. "Iie, I think you did as much as you could have done. Onegai…don’t dwell on it. Sometimes…some people are beyond saving…there will be those who are saved, there will be those who aren’t. There will be those help touches and heals, and there will be those who no amount of healing can reach. We can’t choose who they are…" He has a way of always comforting me. The way she had. Long ago. But I will not dwell on that…my husband’s words do ring true. The birds chirp despite the windy weather, but thankfully, the sun has lacerated through the film of clouds. From indoors, it might even seem a brilliant day. Together, hand-in-hand, we walk into the stretch of gravestones, the headers all lazily standing, crammed in jammed rows and columns. Some are toppled to the side, others broken and chipped…others with softly rounded edges worn by the teeth of time…some with the kanji bared so smooth it was barely visible. Eerie shivers slither across my skin, the air saturated with the smother air, as if phantoms and apparitions of the dead truly do run amuck…restless ghosts of those who carry unfinished businesses with them to death prance about… I wonder how many of the tiny plots – so crowded, like masses of miniscule dwellings sprawling in a city reminding me vaguely of downtown Tokyo – have been visited by sobbing members of the living, weeping and entreating the gods…hopelessly demanding why their loved one has been snatched away. How many of them hold the ashes of one whose death traumatized the loved one they left behind and shattered his or her sanity and mind? Like Miki… A few others are present, mostly paying respect to their deceased loved ones. I see a few families, however, playing and observing the beauty of the serenity present at the cemetery. I find this distasteful, seeing the children jumping and stomping across the sacred plot. To me, this place ought be taken gravely, that it is sacrilegious to prance about disturbing the rest of the dead. This is a place to honor those in the past life and to remember them, not a place to play. Perhaps it is newfound feelings, now that I, too, had one to visit here. My husband and I pause before Yuu’s grave, in much better condition than others. Of course, his had withstood much less years than theirs. His marker is very simplistic and undecorated. It suits him well. Nothing is upon it…no flowers, nothing. I pity him…so deserted. Tears sting, more so because I know he from the skies above must see this and resign himself to it with the thought that he deserves no better than this…My husband gently places the colorful flowers upon his grave, kowtowing. I follow suit, pulling out a purse as I slip a wallet-size photo of Miki on it. Tears cracking my voice, I managed to blurt out, "I have many other pictures of her. Please take this one. I know she would want you to have it…" Though she’ll never come to see his grave in person…the one person who loved him the most…the one person he loved the most… He had died with the wish she would be happy, believing himself to be the cause of unhappiness…! What must he be thinking now, realizing that she could never be happy without him…that his very being was her only source of happiness… I turn to my husband, spitting out vehemently, "It isn’t fair! They loved each other so much…doushite? Why’d it have to come down to this?" "I don’t know," he replies with difficulty. "But there’s nothing we can do…we can only love each other like they would have done…" Miki…Yuu… Despite all that’s happened, they still love each other. I’ll let their love flourish…through my husband and I. I won’t pay the price of silence. Author's Notes (end ones): This fan/fic strikes a very personal note for me, since one of my uncles is in a way like Yuu. He's very closed mouthed and doesn't like to talk about his troubles or anything. His wife tries to put up with it, but it is hard for her to do so. She