I hate sticking Japanese in my fictions, but once again, I find it unavoidable, so here are your translations:
Onee-sama: Big sister. Used by petite soeurs at Lillian to address their grande soeurs. Very formal.
--
So tired / sleeping through the day / bloodshot eyes and / the sweat from my body / and I picked my head up yesterday / found no reason or hope left inside of me.
But I still believe in immortal love / and I know there’s someone who’s up above / and shine down / just give me a chance to feel it
--
Shine down
The bulk of the next day passed largely without incident, and although Sachiko was so overflowing with excitement that she came very close to walking quickly when the phone rang around seven in the evening, overall she did not act much differently than she usually did. In any case, neither the butlers nor Suguru noticed any change in her.
The phone was answered by the phone servant before she could possibly have reached it, even at an unthinkably fast mild trot. She managed to slow down before anybody noticed, and it turned out that the phone wasn’t for her anyway. It was for her mother, who was out for the week.
A few minutes later, Sachiko retreated to the patio, finding Suguru strangely absent; typically, they spent this part of the evening here. Had he, perhaps, gone out for the evening? Sachiko wondered briefly how he had managed to sneak past the servants who doubled as door guards, before finally concluding that he probably hadn’t gone out so much as locked himself in one of the house’s many rooms. He did that sometimes; he did it more when the house was as it was now, empty save for the servants and
is he hiding from
herself.
Sachiko shook her head, trying to remind herself of how unconcerned she was. He wasn’t here, and that was the important thing. She was unthreatened. She could do what she wanted to do, in the kind of peace and quiet that she privately believed every sane human should seek; the perfect, dead silence of the night. That, in fact, had been why her family had chosen to build their manor so far away from the main road; it was near-impossible to hear even the noisiest of cars passing by the front gate from where Sachiko was now.
After a moment’s consideration, Sachiko stood and switched the patio light off, bathing her in nearly perfect darkness. As she settled back into her chair, she felt the silence overwhelm her even further, and not unpleasantly—she felt her muscles relax, felt her mind untwist itself; as though the disruption of the patio’s protective light had allowed the night’s tranquility to extend just that much further into Sachiko.
A moment later, however, the night erupted into noise; a simple, electronic tone filled the air with its rigid, flat impression of Beethoven’s 8th Symphony, and it took Sachiko a moment to realize that it was coming from the pocket of her nightgown. She quickly reached in, wondering why in the world she had placed her cellular phone in her nightgown for a moment before remembering that it was because she had been waiting for Yumi to call. She flipped it open and glanced momentarily at the Caller-ID.
Youko Mizuno, it said; if she felt any immediate discontent, she forced it to the bottom of her throat as she accepted the call and placed the phone gently to her ear, brushing her hair out of the way with her unused hand. “Yes,” she said, Ogasawara residence…no. “Sachiko Ogasawara speaking.”
“Sachiko?” Youko’s voice was as flat and subtly interested as it had always been. “This is Youko Mizuno.” Ladyship for the new age: Even though they can read your name as plain as day off of their screen; even if they knew exactly who they were calling as they dialed, you must always introduce yourself as though you were meeting them for the first time in many years. “It’s been a while.” Youko doesn’t ask how people are doing.
“It has. I hope you’re well?” Even if you are as close as the petals on a rose, you will still speak to your onee-sama as though she were a priest. Even if it is your first meeting in years, you will not become overexcited. You will speak as calm and evenly as a lady always should.
“I am. My summer classes have just let out, and I’m quite enjoying my newfound freedom, though my fall classes will start soon.” That’s right. Youko is considering medical school, so she’s taking a lot of classes right now. She’s—
—even if you come upon your best friend, intimate with the man you love, you will not allow jealousy to touch your lips—
“That’s good.”
“And what about you?” Oddly enough, Youko’s voice seemed, to the well-trained ear, almost slightly miffed. “Have you made plans to attend a university?”
Sachiko was strangely grateful to her old friend and grande soeur for asking the question. “Yes, I have,” she said. “I’m planning on attending the University of Kyoto in the spring.”
“Oh?” Youko sounded genuinely interested. “To study what?”
“I’d like to study literature. And after that…” Sachiko hesitated, toying briefly with the idea of confessing to her grande soeur that she wanted to learn to write. Not that it wasn’t a desirable profession for a lady; only that it wasn’t a desirable profession for her. For Sachiko Ogasawara, heir to the Ogasawara Group and all of its fortune and wealth, trophy wife, and future recipient of the vaunted quiet life. Youko knew better than anybody that Sachiko wanted a quiet life, but not quite that quiet of a life. Youko knew better than anybody that Sachiko was not a trophy wife.
She knew it better, perhaps, than even Sachiko herself.
“What did you want to do after that?” Youko gently prompted, but did not demand.
Still, Sachiko hesitated. This felt to Sachiko strangely like she had felt when she had first realized that Suguru wasn’t interested in her not because he was interested in another woman, but because he was interested in another man.
It also feels strangely like…
“I’d like to pursue my Master’s in Japanese Language with an emphasis on creative writing. I think I’d like to write for a living.”
That’s not even remotely true, Sachiko thought as soon as she said it. The truth was, Sachiko had no idea what she wanted to do for a living; it was almost universally common in university pre-first years; very few of them ever really had a grasp on exactly what it was they wanted to do or be. Sachiko only knew what she’d be allowed to do, and she knew that out of all of those things, writing seemed the most enjoyable. To write your own definitions. She had previously tried her hand at it once or twice, and while the quality of her work had been praised by Suguru, who had
been in my room
found it laying around, thanks to a careless mistake by Sachiko, the experience had been so emotionally and mentally exhausting, and she was still not sure that she wanted to have to do something like that for the rest of her life. She only knew that she could, which had tipped the scales in her decision.
“Really,” Youko said without the slightest hint of enthusiasm; a clear sign of disbelief if ever there was one. “That’s wonderful. I must say, though, that I’m rather surprised that you were able to decide this all of a sudden.”
“All of a sudden?” Can a question be a lie?
“Yes,” Youko said. “It’s just that I seem to recall quite clearly how gracefully you managed to avoid the question every time somebody asked you about your plans for the future. What was it that you used to say?” She paused for a moment, and Sachiko sighed, waited for her to say it.
I’m really not sure where precisely I want to direct my life at this point, although I plan on going to the University of Kyoto, and I’m certain that I’ll decide soon, thank you for asking.
“Sa-chan?” To say that Suguru’s voice, coming from behind Sachiko, startled her would be an understatement. At his words, her eyes flew fully open, and her mind immediately reeled, unable to focus and tell her, it’s just Suguru, calm down as her free hand clenched itself into a fist.
It was Youko’s voice that undid the temporary knot of panic that formed in her head. “Oh my,” she said, “is that Kashiwagi I hear? What would he be doing there?”
“He lives here now,” Sachiko said quickly. “Please hold on for a moment.” She allowed herself to relax, and then covered the mouthpiece on the cellular phone as best she could, turned to Suguru, and said, “What is it?”
“Yumi Fukuzawa is on the phone for you,” he said with a small grin that was contradicted utterly by the small look of concern in his eyes. “Who is on the phone?”
“Youko Mizuno. Could you ask Yumi to hold for a moment? I’ll take the phone shortly.” Why did he come out to tell me himself? Did he kill the phone-servant? She mused, a bit humored.
“Very well,” he said, and then exited with a grace befitting of a lady’s stature.
This thought probably caused the mild note of amusement in Sachiko’s voice when she said, “Pardon me, Youko, but I have a call from Yumi on the other phone.”
Youko seemed disinterested in this, but rather focused on Sachiko’s voice. “You sound amused,” she pointed out. “What is it?”
Suddenly, Sachiko desperately wanted to tell Youko about her seemingly running joke about Suguru. She wanted Youko to laugh about it with her, and tell her…tell her something about something related yet inconsequential that would make Sachiko want to laugh as well. Sachiko would, of course, hold her own laugh in, but she would feel it nonetheless, building at the back of her throat, tickling her lungs pleasantly, but more important than that, comfortingly. Youko had an unacknowledged ability to turn a conversation in virtually whatever direction she wanted it to go in, and to provoke nearly whatever reaction she desired from her audience. It helped, of course, that she was an excellent public speaker.
None of this happened, of course. Rather, Sachiko said, quietly, “Nothing. It’s nothing. I simply felt the urge to cough; excuse me.”
“Of course.” It seemed as though statements which asserted nothing, yet were lies nonetheless were becoming increasingly common. “I suppose you shouldn’t keep your petite soeur waiting for too long, should you?”
Something about the way that Youko said petite soeur made Sachiko uncomfortable, but she couldn’t put her finger on what, precisely. “No, I shouldn’t. I’m very sorry to cut you short.” When an apology is as common as punctuation, as routine as formalities, does that make it any less sincere? Was it sincere in the first place? Sachiko felt that this would be a question that would haunt her for a long, long time to come, and therefore resolved not to think on it any longer; at least, not yet.
“Not at all,” Youko said. “I will call back again sometime.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. As little as they had done it during her time at school, speaking with her grande soeur was something Sachiko genuinely enjoyed. It was like talking with …with a close sibling.
Like talking with a big sister.
Not that Sachiko would know anything about that.
A click, and Youko was gone. A moment later, the phone servant, alive and apparently unhurt (though Sachiko still felt a small niggle in the back of her head tell her to check his wrists for cuff marks ) was behind her with a cordless phone in his hand, the mouthpiece covered. Sachiko nodded her thanks and put the receiver to her ear with a small burst of excitement that she mercilessly squashed.
“Yumi?” she said. “I’m sorry to have made you wait.” When an apology is as routine as formality…
It can still be sincere.
“It’s no problem,” Yumi said cheerfully. She was, by Sachiko’s observation, completely unfazed by her wait, something Sachiko could only marvel at. “I’m sorry to have called so late.”
“It’s not that late,” Sachiko said a bit too quickly. Yumi said nothing about the slip. “What was it that you called about?”
“I wanted to confirm our plans for the picnic tomorrow; is one in the afternoon still okay?”
“Of course,” Sachiko said gently. She desperately wanted to add, it’s not like I’m doing anything else, but couldn’t, left rather to hope against hope that Yumi would pick up on it without any sort of hinting from her. In short, she was praying for a sudden wave of ESP to strike her petite soeur.
And it did. “Are you alright, onee-sama?” Yumi’s concern was genuine, and because of that it was astoundingly refreshing. Yumi was typically refreshing in that way.
If being refreshing becomes as common as punctuation…
Another question that needed no answer. Sachiko couldn’t help but grin a little. “Of course I am, Yumi. Of course I am.”
“I’m glad.” And she very obviously was. “So, tomorrow at one, is that alright?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. Will you have any trouble with that?”
“None. It’s settled.”
“It is.”
A moment of silence formed between them, and the niggle started working at the back of Sachiko’s head again.
Say it, it said. Say it to her this time. You said something like it once before. Say it.
Sachiko didn’t argue, but she didn’t obey either. It was harder than it seemed, and she had no idea where Suguru was, and even though saying it wouldn’t present any sort of news to him, she was still loathe to admit anything around the man, much less something important.
You still act like Suguru is your enemy. He’s not. None of this is his fault. He’s as trapped and helpless as you are.
And even so…
Say it.
She couldn’t. She knew it. Not on the phone. Not in her home. She couldn’t.
She would have to make do. “I’m very glad that you called, Yumi,” she said. “And I’m glad that you invited me, too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner.” This could have meant many things, but Sachiko was content to assume it meant all of them. “I missed you, Sa--onee-sama.”
She was beginning to slip like that more frequently, and it made Sachiko secretly happy.
Very secretly.
--
“Where are you going tomorrow?” Suguru’s voice cut Sachiko like a length of piano wire. Sachiko had overcome the urge to be defensive long ago; more than a decade ago, in fact, so she was able to take this with the kind of grace and calm that had won her the admiration of a good portion of her old classmates. “I didn’t hear anything about this.”
“I’m surprised you heard about it at all,” Sachiko said evenly, “considering that I hadn’t told you anything of it.”
Suguru shrugged. “That’s why I’m asking where you’re going; because you didn’t tell me anything about it.”
“Just down to the river off the edge of our property. My petite soeur and I are going to have a picnic there, and then have tea with an old friend. Is that a problem?” Loosely translated: Do you think you can justify having a problem with that?
“Not at all. I’m simply surprised that you hid this from me.”
“I apologize for not informing you sooner, but I had no intent of hiding anything from you. I’m sorry.” When apologies are as routine as formalities…
“Of course,” Suguru said, with a note of spite in his voice that Sachiko didn’t understand in the least. “Enjoy yourself tomorrow.” And then he was gone, leaving Sachiko fairly well baffled. She had never seen him act like that before.
You did once.
We’re not thinking about that, though.
Unfortunately, Sachiko spent a large portion of the rest of the night thinking about that.
The worst part was, of course, that she could barely gather from the scattered fragments in her brain what that was.
--
Or cuts from piano wire –Takashi Miike speaking through this author.
A/Notes: Something I’m beginning to realize as I write this is how easy it is to fall into the trap that formality and politeness presents within conversation; it’s very easy to find something to say when you were brought up like Sachiko was, and yet at the same time, when you find this to say, you’re saying nothing at all. It’s a burden and a bane, to smack you with the old cliché.
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