Author’s Notes:
The kamikaze was originally the name given to the storm which swept away both of the Mongolian Kublai Kahn’s invasion fleets, first in 1274, and then in 1281. (In truth, this was largely due to the poor quality of the seafaring craft they rode—flatbottomed boats meant for river travel and the like).
Sorrow is what I hate / but it’s grown my sensations
I’m scared to death
Slip Out
“And?” Kiyomi asked as they dried themselves off as best they could while standing in a public lobby and shivering. “How was it? Was it worth the cold?”
She received only a flurry of bright smiles in response, amidst the furious motion of towels and the sound of water hitting Satoi’s immaculately clean floor. Satoi winced but took no action for the moment, though Kiyomi thought privately that she would probably be at the tile with a rag the instant these lovely young ladies returned to their rooms.
Kiyomi was watching something else. Even through the act of drying her hair, an act which really ought to occupy one’s full attention, the tall one, Sachiko, seemed to be sneaking glances at the short one with the pigtails, whose name Kiyomi could not remember for the life of her. It wasn’t something inconspicuous, either—Kiyomi was observant, but not nosy. (Or, at least, she didn’t think she was.) It was almost like…
It’s almost like the two of you, huh.
Huh. I wonder.
She didn’t wonder too
(what the hell are the two of you doing in)
much, though.
Shaking her head sharply, she plastered a grin back on her face and watched the rest of them towel off.
After heads and been dried and towels wrapped around chests, the group bowed with a unison that was almost creepy and thanked Kiyomi and Satoi again, their voices and language ever-so-polite. Sachiko excused them, and they began to make their way towards the elevator.
Huh.
At first, they talked lightly amongst themselves. Easy, noncommittal opinions on topics like the weather, how Shimako's petite soeur was faring, and local politics, the most inconsequential of all, danced back and forth between them and faded as quickly as they’d appeared. Sometimes they talked in pairs, sometimes as a whole group. Their voices never became loud enough to be heard in the hallway—this was, after all, a gathering of Lillian student council members.
After a while, Yoshino leaned towards Sei and started to whisper something into her ear. Sei cut her off when she grabbed her about the belly and flung her towards the bed. Yoshino shrieked then as Sei began to tickle her.
Sachiko didn’t look at them.
She looked at Shimako, who looked at the two with eyes that dropped something heavy and remorseful into Sachiko’s belly.
After a second or two, the tickling abruptly stopped. If Sachiko had been looking at Sei closely, she might have seen her lock eyes with Shimako for just a moment, and then look away.
Yumi saw that.
She touched Sachiko’s hand, and Sachiko took it instinctively. Yumi’s grip was momentarily painful, but relaxed significantly when Sachiko returned the pressure.
Apparently, somewhere in that tussle, Yoshino had gotten her message to Sei across, because when they sat up, Sei looked around the room for a second, looked at the door, and then at Yumi and Sachiko, spotted their hands clenched tightly together.
She grinned. There was something in her grin that Sachiko didn’t like. Something hard.
“Sachiko, would you be a dear and grab the cooler from the back of the van for me?”
Sachiko blinked. She supposed it would be unbelievably arrogant to be surprised at being asked to do something as simple as that, but she was.
“Why Onee-sama?” Yumi asked.
“She’s closest to the door, of course,” Sei said. “And if we were to go with the next-nearest, it would be a toss-up between you and Rei, and three people can’t even fit around that tiny little cooler.”
That was very obviously a lie. Sachiko didn’t like it. Yumi seemed to like it even less, but she said nothing.
“I’ll go too,” Rei said. “Sachiko just got out of the hospital, Sei, so there’s no excuse not to send somebody with her.”
“I can go,” Yumi said quickly, but Rei shook her head.
“It’s all right,” Rei said. “You stick around here and try and keep that one from taking her pants off before we get back, all right?”
After that, something happened which should not have happened, and something did not happen which desperately needed to.
“I object to that on the grounds that I was not wearing pants in the lake and none of you complained,” was what Sei should have said.
“That’s because when you took off your pants to go swimming you were wearing something underneath them, Onee-sama,” is how Shimako ought to have replied.
Everybody needed to laugh just then.
Instead, Sei and Shimako looked away from each other, both having found (again) that spot between the floor and the chest which is so utterly engrossing to those who want to look anywhere but at you.
And then, something nice happened: Yoshino intervened, and what might have rapidly degenerated into a very awkward good night became something agreeable again. For it, all were grateful in their own ways, for doing what they could not do themselves. And for it, much later, after the rest of them went to sleep, Rei would hug Yoshino tightly underneath the covers and whisper to her, you did a good job.
“Can I count on you two to take your pants off when you return, then?” Yoshino asked, looking first at Rei, then at Sachiko. “If you do, Yumi might, and then I can show everybody the teddy bear I was telling you about before.”
Yumi jumped and reddened. “Teddy bear?” she said, her voice terse. “Yoshino, you shouldn’t make things like that—”
“It’s true!” Yoshino continued, sitting up and grinning infectiously. “There’s even lace!”
“You’re making this up!” Yumi insisted. “How would you even know about something like that?”
“I know a lot of things about you, Yumi,” Yoshino said impishly.
Rei gestured to Sachiko, and the two of them left the room together.
In her house? They must have a house. They own a hotel; this much alone is enough to tell me that they are not poor.
It still seemed a little absurd to Sachiko.
Is that because Kiyomi is still here?
I think so.
“I think so,” Sachiko said. “In truth, we’re retrieving a cooler whose contents are a mystery to us.”
Kiyomi raised an eyebrow and a grin both. “That sounds very exciting.”
“It’s dangerous is what it is,” Rei said. The two of them stopped in front of the desk. “When Sei Satou is involved, everything seems to be either dangerous or unsavory.” She sounded honestly exasperated.
“That’s not true, Rei,” Sachiko said, sounding like she only half-believed it.
Kiyomi smiled. “She sounds like a woman I used to know during my high school days.”
Rei raised a skeptical eyebrow and Kiyomi added with an impish grin, “You know, just before the Mongolian fleet was swept away by the kamikaze. Somewhere around then.”
Sachiko laughed politely, and Rei shook her head and sighed. Kiyomi laughed a bit. “Apparently, my comedy routine has become outdated sometime between then and now, as well,” she said with a smile that was more infectious than it first seemed.
“What did you end up doing with this friend?” Sachiko asked.
“Did you wind up stringing her up?” Rei added helpfully.
“Heavens, no. She’d never have permitted that,” Kiyomi said. “We just…sort of went our separate ways after a while. Honestly, I think most of the things she said were too honest for…” Kiyomi trailed off. “Whoops. I said too much.”
“Too much for a lady?” Sachiko said of a sudden, and as she did, a preternatural silence seemed to drop over the lobby, though it was, in truth, not a bit quieter than it had been.
Maybe it was because Kiyomi stopped breathing for a second.
“We have a friend like that, too,” Sachiko said. “Sometimes I wonder what we would do if she was ever too honest for a lady. I think it might be something as awful as going our separate ways.”
Kiyomi smiled a little. “It isn’t awful.”
“No,” Rei said. “I think it might be.”
As they walked out, Rei held Sachiko’s hand. Sachiko looked upset, but only to the trained eye. It was the second time Kiyomi had seen her in such a state that day, even if she had to look very closely to notice it.
Such a well-trained lady, Kiyomi thought.
Poor girl.
Sei isn’t honest. She’s rude, she thought as she exited. She takes delight in making others uncomfortable. Whether or not she’s honest has nothing to do with it. Look at her choice of petite soeur.
You promised yourself you would never think bitterly of Sei for that.
They slid past the glass doors and into the cold rain, which stung Sachiko’s skin. She barely felt it. She had barely felt Rei take her hand.
I’m not being bitter. It’s the truth. Look at her. She chose Shimako, who obviously has no interest in being anybody’s anything. She keeps herself at such a distance, I’m amazed even Yumi was able to get close to her.
You are being bitter. If you had said that out loud, Yumi would have been well in her rights to slap you. Who are you, anyway, to know what Shimako has interest in?
After all, think about how she has looked. Something has happened, and you know it, and you are an awful person for thinking poorly of her.
But Sei is still not honest. She can’t be.
“Am I going to have to let you run into the car to make you tell me what’s on your mind?” Rei’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sachiko stopped more out of instinct than anything else, and found that she was, in fact, only a few steps away from slamming into their van. “Or will you get in and have a talk with me?”
Sachiko looked at Rei. “Is there something to talk about?”
Rei gave a little impish grin. “I should have let you hit the van.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the driver’s side using the key. She pulled the door open, and used the electric lock to open the driver’s side. “Hop in.”
“Are we driving somewhere?”
“Yeah. We’re going to get some food. The gift shop is closed, and I imagine the coffee shop doesn’t sell a great deal of snacks.”
“Snacks?” Sachiko blinked. They had eaten dinner on the road—packaged food from a convenience store they had raided on the way out of Tokyo—and she didn’t feel particularly hungry. “Isn’t that what’s in the cooler?”
Rei smiled again, a little more like an adult this time, and less like a smart-ass imp, a title which she had soundly passed to Yoshino a long time ago. “Sei is a clever girl, but she sometimes forgets the little things.”
“Like snacks.”
“You’ll see.”
“Did you say that to make a point, Rei?” Sachiko surprised herself in her directness, but she supposed that she was surprising herself enough on this trip already that that alone should seem almost normal to her.
“No. But from that, I think I’ve made a point.”
“What’s that?”
“You want to hear something about Sei that will tell you…something. I don’t know why, but it seems like her tiff with Shimako is having quite an effect on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Me either.” Rei started the car. “Buckle your seatbelt. I don’t drive as stupidly as Sei does, but I’m in kind of a hurry, and it is pouring rain out.”
“Why?” Sachiko nonetheless did as Rei had asked, and a moment later, they had pulled out into the parking lot.
“We’re delivering vital goods to Sei and Shimako. Sei’s sometimes not entirely honest with herself, and when she’s like that, she does things that people around her regret.”
“…You think that as well?” It took Sachiko a couple of seconds to get it out. A lesser woman might have stuttered.
Rei glanced in Sachiko’s direction. “You decided you weren’t going to be troubled by that anymore.” Her voice was wary but concerned, that of an old friend who knew of old troubles.
“I’m not.”
“Then what is this?”
“I’m…not sure.”
“Then, you shouldn’t let it trouble you, should you? If it’s not about that, then it’s about matters which are none of your, or anybody else’s, business. Sei will handle them on her own. She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Isn’t that what makes her dishonest?”
“No. If it was you, it would make you dishonest.”
How can she not…want…Shimako? If she’s honest with herself?
Maybe she does. But maybe it’s something she has to take care of without anybody else. Even Shimako.
This seemed to Sachiko an incredibly sad thought.
“The two of you were different people, last time I checked, you and Sei. I don’t think you should worry about it. She has things that she wants, and she has her own way of dealing with them. And you…” she smiled a little. “I think you do, too. Ah, we’re here.”
Ahead of them, a small gas station and convenience store seemed to grow off of the highway like a fungus. They pulled in, and Rei turned the car off. "Please stay in here. I’ll get soaked enough for the both of us,” she said.
And then, Sachiko was alone with herself.
It’s really none of our business.
That seems like such a strange idea. It seemed like half of what we did on the student council was get involved in each other’s lives; the Lord knows that Rei did her fair share of that herself. And yet, here she is, telling me that we should let it be, because it’s their business.
A few seconds later, the door opened again, and Rei popped in again, dripping wet, holding several bags full of peanuts and dried seaweed. She looked down, trying to find a decent place to stash them so that she didn’t step on them when she drove, and as she did, Sachiko looked her. Looked at the long, graceful line of her neck. Looked at the focus on her face—not plastered on and held only by the utmost force and determination, but natural. Calm. Confident. Looked at the calm brilliance in her dark eyes, which in spite of their light no longer shimmered with youth and energy as they once had—even though Rei had always been a contained woman, there had been something there which was no longer so…blatant. Sachiko looked at the way Rei adeptly nudged her hair—short enough not to be able to tie back, but long enough to get in her face when it was wet—out of her eyes, and tuck it behind her ear. “Would you hold this for me, please?” she finally asked. “I don’t think I can put it anywhere else.” She met Sachiko’s eyes and smiled gently.
And then, Sachiko felt something hit her full-on in her stomach, and a thought occurred to her which she would not have expected from herself in a million years:
Did Rei…grow up?
Rei was more mature now, that was certain—that was natural. She was older. But there was more to it than that: She seemed utterly…comfortable. As though she knew where the boundaries of ladyship and friendship lay, and how to easily tread them, and that holding one’s spot rigidly was simply the quickest path to the mental ward.
You say these things, and yet you do not believe them. It is as though somebody has said them to you and then followed up with, you’ll understand when you’re older.
But I am older. I’m in college now.
Then you’re old enough to know that anybody who needs to assert that still has growing to do.
It scared her. But more than that, it saddened her.
“Sachiko?” Rei’s hand was on Sachiko’s cheek, her voice concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“You’re crying.”
Sachiko felt her mind begin to sink into the blind haze which sometimes accompanied this strange sort of grief, and in the midst of that said, for once, exactly what was on her mind. “You’re growing. You…left me behind.”
Rei tensed for a minute, and then relaxed and smiled. “I’m not an adult yet,” she said. “None of us are. I think I’m mature enough to admit that, but that’s all I can really hold to.” She removed her hand and instead took Sachiko’s in her own. Sachiko found that Rei’s hand was wet, and for some reason, this seemed strange to her. “Nobody’s leaving anybody behind, but we all change, Sachiko. We all grow. We only leave people behind if we grow into carelessness.”
“You haven’t.” Sachiko sniffled a little, doing her best to make it as unnoticeable as possible.
Rei handed her a tissue which she took from a little niche in her door. “You either. The hardest thing is not to leave your petite soeur behind, I think. Eriko told me that, and she was certainly right.”
“I hardly ever see Eriko anymore,” Sachiko said.
Rei smiled. “I see her plenty. She calls me so often that I wonder if she actually has schoolwork.”
This made Sachiko almost unbearably happy, all at once.
“I’m glad,” she said.
“That’s why we brought food,” Rei said, reading her mind. “You’ll be eating before you touch a drop. I got this while I was in there, too.” From her jacket pocket, Rei pulled a pair of packages of bread. “Eat well and you’ll be fine.”
Sachiko only blinked. “How…what is all of this?”
“It’s alcohol, and a lot of it. I think Sei and Yoshino both had their minds set on something like this. It’s mostly for you, but it’s also for Sei.”
“For…me?”
“Sei would say that you need to relax some. I agree with that, but I'm not certain I agree with her methods. I am, however, pretty sure that it wouldn’t be a good time to argue with her about it.”
“Is this safe?”
Rei smiled, and for a spare moment, Sachiko saw a heart-achingly nostalgic impishness in it. (funny, it didn’t make your chest wrench fifteen minutes ago) “I’ll make sure none of you do anything stupid. I might have one or two, but I don’t like beer that much." Rei shook her head, sending water everywhere. "I think Sei would tell you to relax, and that wouldn’t be too bad of an idea right now. I think we're probably going to wind up drinking most everything in here, and you don’t slip out of your shell a little bit, you’ll wind up on the floor sobbing about your cat or something.”
“That sounds like something Sei would say.”
“It’s the truth. Have you ever seen an uptight drunk?”
Sachiko had, and now that she thought about it, Rei was absolutely right.
Even so, it seemed wrong to her. The idea of drinking to get drunk.
Wrong, but familiar. What else did the rich and bored do with their time?
I’m not bored.
But you are rich.
I won’t be like them.
Then relax. Oddly enough, not Sei’s voice. Yumi’s. Part of growing up is learning how to relax and be on your guard at once. It’s called being “careful.”
“Okay,” Sachiko said. “I’ll be careful.”
“And if you can’t, I’ll be careful for you.”
Sachiko smiled.
“Excuse me,” Kiyomi said, practically before she had thought about it. “Miss Ogasawara.”
Satoi stared at her. She and Rei stopped, and Sachiko said, “Yes?”
“Could I ask for a few minutes of your time?”
You’re being absurd, Kiyomi thought.
Even so. I want to know.
Because it feels lonely sometimes?
Because it feels lonely sometimes.
“Of course,” Sachiko said with an agreeable smile.
And so easily approachable. Even when a stranger asks for a minute of her time, she doesn’t seem perturbed in the least; only happy to oblige. So well-trained.
Poor girl.
Kiyomi caught the girl’s eye, and a moment later, Sachiko said to Rei, “You can go on ahead of me. I’ll only be a minute.”
Rei met Sachiko’s eye, and then nodded. She privately marveled at how Sachiko could go from being so open and
(human)
very nearly unguarded to being so ladylike in the blink of an eye.
A half minute later, the elevator doors closed and it was just Sachiko, Kiyomi, and Satoi in the lobby. Sachiko, who had looked at Rei until she could no longer see her, turned back to the two owners.
“So,” she said pleasantly. “What can I do for you, Miss Tanaka, Miss Yoshida?” Though her voice was light, her face was ambivalent; she looked to Kiyomi very much like a girl who knew her way around other people, and who was prepared in equal parts for confrontation and conversation.
Is that being careful? Kiyomi thought.
“Indeed,” Satoi said, also facing Kiyomi, “What can I do for you, Miss Yoshida?” Her voice was not annoyed, but it was a near thing.
“Satoi,” Kiyomi said, “Miss Ogasawara, would you join me for a cup of coffee?”
Satoi narrowed her eyes. “You can say what you’re going to say here, or you can wait for the night staff to arrive. It’s not as if there’s anybody around to listen in.”
Satoi, please don’t be so suspicious.
Kiyomi sighed. “All right, then,” she said, and then, completely to the surprise (though not shock) of both of the other women, she took Satoi’s hand and pulled her close, gently. Satoi allowed herself to be led, and her face went from near-annoyance to concern in half a second.
“What is it, Kiyomi?” she asked, immediately putting her hand on Kiyomi’s cheek and moving the woman’s face to look at her. Kiyomi pulled away gently, and Sachiko thought that it might be a lover’s kind of pull—the kind of pull that you had to take great care with, so that you neither appeared to jerk out of the other’s grasp nor to ask to be let go.
“Just let me talk, Satoi,” Kiyomi said, and looked back at Sachiko. “Miss Ogasawara—”
Sachiko held up a hand. (never interrupt) “Sachiko is fine,” she said, her own face creasing with a concern that made Kiyomi’s throat want to constrict. How else could she react to such immediate kindness from a near stranger?
It reminded Kiyomi of something she had been told long ago.
Just because you are troubled, does not mean anybody has to give a damn.
A real lady or gentleman will, though; indeed, that is the true mark of such a person. That’s what they’ll never teach you there, ever, because they know you can’t teach kindness or true character.
“You said you were from Tokyo,” Kiyomi said.
“That’s correct. I did.”
“Are you going towards Kyoto?”
“We are.”
“Most people don’t come here bound for anywhere save Kyoto or this very lake, and you only took out a room for the night, so I thought so. But you’re traveling with a cadre of girls. At your age.”
“Kiyomi,” Satoi said sharply, “if you’re upset, then by all means, please tell us, but don’t be rude.”
“No,” Sachiko said. “It’s all right. May I ask what you are insinuating, Miss Yoshida?”
“Nothing,” Kiyomi said. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I’m just…” She shook her head hard. “Sachiko, are you a student of the Lillian School for Girls?”
Satoi blinked. Sachiko did not. “I was, but I have since graduated. How did you know?”
“You stopped to pray at the Virgin Mary statue like it was a part of your routine. You are very close with a girl who looks younger than you, rather than the girls who are your age, which suggests to me that she’s your petite soeur.”
“You mean Yumi,” Sachiko said, and something about the way she said it gave Kiyomi the courage to keep going, even though she knew without even looking that Satoi was ten seconds away from simply taking her out back, strangling her, and dumping her body in the lake at high tide. Kiyomi was being rude to a customer, of all people. Kiyomi that she taught to be polite, always. “That’s right.” Always always always be unfalteringly polite.
Except when it’s only the two of you, isn’t that right?
Yes.
“Kiyomi,” Satoi said with a hint of warning in her voice. “What are you getting at?”
Kiyomi looked at Satoi. “How did you feel when we left, Satoi?”
Satoi’s eyes widened a little, but she covered it well. “That was in the seventies, Kiyomi,” she said. “I can’t remember something that far back.”
“You can,” Kiyomi said. “And you do.”
Sachiko said, “Is there something amiss here that I should be aware of? If the two of you are having some sort of difficulty, I would be happy to act as—”
“Please,” Kiyomi interrupted, holding up a hand. “I apologize for interrupting you, but please let me take this at my own pace.”
Sachiko nodded.
“Answer my question, please, Satoi.”
“I think this is a discussion best left for—”
“Please.” There was something in Kiyomi’s eyes that resembled a plea, though Kiyomi never pled.
Satoi looked at Sachiko, who only looked back, her eyes saying nothing, and Satoi thought, That girl has been well-trained. Not a hint of curiosity, morbid or otherwise, shows in her eyes, even though by all rights it should, since she knows by now that this will pertain to her.
Poor girl.
Satoi sighed. “I felt awful,” she said. “And I felt relieved.”
“Why?”
Satoi narrowed her eyes. “Is it necessary to say—”
“I think it is.”
“Do not interrupt people, Kiyomi.”
“I’m sorry, Onee-sama.”
Sachiko’s eyes widened, as did Satoi’s. Satoi’s, however, then turned regretful.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Kiyomi.” She put her hand on Kiyomi’s head.
Kiyomi smiled back as best she could.
“Because I felt that there was nobody left in that school who we could trust. I felt that after the…events occurred at the Yamayurikai, that if anybody had caught the two of us so much as holding hands, we would have been driven out, and violently. It was not a good time to be Catholic and…what we were.” After a moment, “Are.”
“It is a good enough time now that you can say it outright, Onee-sama.” Kiyomi’s voice had an edge to it.
After a pause which was half angry and half something which Sachiko could not place, Satoi said, “Homosexual.”
Sachiko blinked this time. The idea certainly was not anything new nor stunning to her—especially not after today. It simply seemed like too strong of a coincidence to her to be anything short of a divine plan.
Kiyomi turned back to Sachiko. “When we left, I was honestly ready to be rid of that place. I was disgusted with the way they treated us, and with the way it was so easily overlooked by the administration and by the other members of the Yamayurikai. The way that hatred and disgust was so tied up with a place which I loved and cherished for eleven years is…” she shook her head. “Hard to take sometimes. Sometimes I feel as though the only good thing to come out of it was meeting Satoi, but when I do, the memories of the fun I had there, and of the friends I made, force me to regret, and badly.” Kiyomi was crying—rather, tears were running down her face, which was utterly impassive as she spoke.
Sachiko thought, She has been well-trained. This must be incredibly painful for her, and yet she won’t allow herself to break her expression around somebody she is not intimate with, even as she tries to cast off Lillian.
Poor girl.
Sachiko said, gently, “What did you need from me, Kiyomi?”
Kiyomi looked her straight in the eye.
“Do they treat you and Miss Fukuzawa well?”
Sachiko’s breath froze in her chest.
Relax.
Just be careful. Be Rei.
No, don’t. Be you.
“I’m still…working on that particular issue,” she said slowly. “With myself. There is, though, somebody else in my group who I think could share a few insights with you. If you like, I can ask her to speak with you tomorrow.”
Kiyomi looked at Satoi, and then at Sachiko, breathless, and then said, “I would like that very much.”
Sachiko smiled and bowed slightly. “I’ll do that, then. But…I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Sachiko felt nervous for some reason.
No, not nervous. Anxious. Scared. This was important, so it was a little scary, even if she'd never admit it.
“We are the Yamayurikai from the past three years, in bits and pieces,” she said as warmly as she could. “And Sei is a very important woman to us.”
Though they hadn’t memorized all of the names of the group yet, Kiyomi knew exactly what Sachiko was saying, and this time, both she and Satoi smiled, looking near to tears.
“I’m glad,” Kiyomi said. “Thank you very much, Miss Ogasawara.”
“Sachiko is fine,” Sachiko said, and then she bowed excused herself.
“Don’t drink too much,” Satoi called after her, surprising her. Though her face didn’t show it, Satoi could tell anyway. “Nothing sounds quite like beer bottles clanking together. It was almost like the cooler was toasting itself.”
This seemed halfway philosophical, but Sachiko got the feeling that if she were to present it to a class, she might be laughed out.
On the elevator, she caught her breath. Though it had left her exhausted, it had left her happy, too, to be part of somebody else’s life and troubles, not because she was trying to look out for them, but because she was invited.
It felt nice to help, and not simply to interfere, for a change.
Maybe you’ll grow up, too. Maybe you already have a little—maybe that’s why Rei can still talk to you like she does.
In any event, maybe you’ll slip out a little bit.
Sachiko found herself looking forward to the night.
Back to Fake Index - Back to Maria-sama ga Miteru Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction