Your façade can’t disguise the fact that you’re in misery.
--
Façade
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Ryuusuke asked Sei as she dried her hair with a towel, her skin glowing, wrapped in a robe, from the hot shower, but her eyes lacking their usual vigor. She wore only a towel as she did this, but neither she nor Ryuusuke seemed to be terribly aware of it, each for their own reason—Ryuusuke, because he had returned from “visiting” Chiharu not half an hour ago. (They had, in fact, “visited” several times that day, and Ryuusuke didn’t think he had it in him to ogle Sei’s cleavage, no matter how appetizing, or how long he and Chiharu had napped after.) “I can close up the restaurant for a few days without too much trouble.”
“Thanks, Ryuusuke,” Sei replied, her voice flat. “But I don’t think so.”
Ryuusuke frowned. He knew he was being a bit of a pest, but damn it, she had agreed to see him.
But really, she was right. What the hell could he do? He had known Sachiko for all of two hours. It wasn’t like he could talk that guy—Suguru, apparently—out of doing what he had to do.
Even so.
It feels wrong.
He knew it was going to bother him. He hated that feeling. Chiharu had given him that feeling for many years. The feeling that there was shit he could do, no matter what he wanted.
But why isn’t there anything I can do? Who the hell says?
Well, you. Sei isn’t helping, either, but I think the first one to admit it was you.
That’s shit.
“So then, what are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. I told you that, twice.”
And she believed it. It was strange—in the half day since Sachiko had ‘left,’ the two who had fought her departure, Yoshino and Sei, the two with the most hot sauce in them, had kind of…deflated. Yumi had been openly depressed, crying till her eyes were red and puffy several times, and Shimako had seemed sullen, at best, but Sei and Yoshino seemed...
Defeated.
That was a good word for it. Like they had fought the law, and the law had won, big time.
So where the hell did their hot sauce go? They just spit it out the second it starts to burn?
Chiba, Beck’s rapper, would not have approved.
Ryuusuke didn’t, either.
So then, where’s your own hot sauce?
Ryuusuke didn’t think of himself as a naïve person. Not at all. He had seen wa-ay too much to hold onto childish hope where there was none.
But damn it, this wasn’t a matter of foolish belief in the impossible. This was a person’s free will. Sachiko got into the car on her own power; it had been her own two legs that propelled her, but not her will. Even he had seen that, and he had been blocks away.
So what the fuck were they doing? He saw girls here who were loyal to their friend, and yet, now, when one of them needed their help the most, what the fuck were they doing?
When you’re fucked, you’re fucked. That’s the way of the world.
“You said it, anyway. When you’re fucked, you’re fucked.”
Like a god damn mind reader.
Ryuusuke met Sei’s gaze, and something sparked in both of their eyes. Sei looked away. She looked so god damn tired, and he didn’t understand, but he had the feeling that if he’d been along with them the entire way through, he might.
Fuck it.
He grinned. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Sei nodded and looked away.
“So then, why do you look so tired?”
Sei looked back at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” he sighed. “Okay. I’m going to be honest with you, and you’re going to be honest with me back, okay?”
She frowned. “You know, I’m only wearing a towel. I feel a little strange about making that deal only wearing a towel. I think it’s the lady in me.”She grinned a little.
He blinked for a moment, and understood, and had to stop himself from laughing.
“Okay, then. Tell you what. You gather the troops.” She eyed him for a moment, and blinked. “No, scratch that. I’ll gather the troops, and we’ll all go out for coffee. And maybe you just tell me again what I said to you, or maybe not.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You got some hot sauce in you, Sei, and it kills me to see you spit it out like this,” he said with a grin.
Sei paused for a minute, and then burst into laughter. “Hot sauce? What the hell does that even mean? That’s awful.”
He shrugged. “And even so. Get some clothes on, and I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
She nodded, and he stood to leave. As he did, he noticed. And while he didn’t intend to make a show of it, Sei was a very pretty girl.
She laughed again. “Keep dreaming, barkeep.”
He smiled and left.
Sei shook her head. What in the hell. She took off her robe, paused a moment, and then locked the door. She liked him, but she didn’t know him, after all. And she didn’t like him that much.
This is silly, Sei, her reasonable side told her. You should just go home. You lost, and you know it.
That’s true, her unreasonable side agreed. Plus, what the hell are you going to do? Burst into her house and kidnap her? Try and reason with Suguru, of all people? Even if you beat his head in, it wouldn’t do any good. He’d just grow another one.
Even so. She felt like she couldn’t just sit and do nothing.
That would only create more trouble for Sachiko.
Trouble. Who needs more of that in their lives?
Maybe Sachiko did. And in a flash, it came to Sei.
That was it.
That was the rub.
Sachiko was a girl who abhorred trouble, and sometimes, to see what needed to be seen, you had to get pissed off. Or annoyed. Or something. Anything. What the hell kind of strong emotion could you possibly feel sitting around in your house all day, waiting to be married off or go to university or whatever it was the Ogasawaras had in store for her? Hell, that was why Sei kept a summer job—not because she needed the money (it helped, but her mother paid for her schooling) but because if she didn’t, she’d go out of her fucking mind.
And really, how much growing could somebody do in that kind of state?
Maybe it was time for Sachiko to do some growing. Two days and she’d already shot up like a fucking beanstalk. Imagine what a couple of years would do.
She pulled her clothes on quickly, her mind racing.
It was only on her way out the door that she realized that that son of a bitch Ryuusuke had been right.
It really was hot sauce that they needed. Just a little was enough.
Sei threw her head back and laughed aloud. “That’s so awful,” she said to nobody in particular. “Hot sauce. What in the hell does that even mean?”
She knew.
She’d probably die before she admitted it to Ryuusuke, though.
--
“Sa-chan,” Suguru said gently, “If you are hungry, you should tell me before we leave the city. I doubt there will be much of a chance to eat between here and Tokyo, and it is several hours away.”
Sachiko said nothing. She was staring out the window, almost intently, as though she was half-expecting to see Yumi tearing down the road after her on a motorcycle, perhaps with Sei on her back, wielding a machine gun. While dangerous, Sachiko thought that probably nothing would make her happier. The driver looked back for a moment, feeling perhaps a pang of concern for the girl, but saying nothing. All he knew was that he wouldn’t want what Sachiko had for his little girl. Not ever.
After a minute or two, Suguru said, “I’ll not trouble you, then, but I’d like to ask you something.”
“Yes?” Even now, Sachiko could not help it: You will respond promptly when addressed. She hoped he didn’t mistake her prompt reaction for anything but what it was—training—but at the same time, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter, anyway. He would do what he wished—what the family wished. What the company wished. What is necessary for the future prosperity of our family and our company is what I will do.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
He was not berating her. His tone was not condescending.
He was honestly curious. And there was something more…a sort of hope in his voice.
It was almost too much for Sachiko to bear. She had been able to clear her mind and hold herself in check as she got into the car and drove off, but now she felt that it was simply too much.
Did I enjoy myself, he asks.
I felt like I was really…living. There were good and bad things, but I was living them both. I was doing things. I was feeling things. I was out in the world, with my friends and no financial backing. What troubles there were I would have had to deal with on my own, or with only the help of my friends, none of whom have connections.
Her lip began to quiver, and she pressed her forehead against the window, as if to force what she felt back down. It didn’t work, and a moment later, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
She took about five minutes to steady herself, doing her best to simultaneously empty her mind and think of a good way to answer his question. It wasn’t easy, and she didn’t wind up doing a very good job, because after those five minutes, she spoke and found that her voice was still trembling.
“We would have probably come home tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, at the latest,” she said. “And while I was very much looking forward to seeing a live, I’m sure I’ll survive without the experience. So you haven’t truly cut that much off of our trip. In addition, I understand that being the heir to the Ogasawara group’s presidency puts a great deal of pressure on you to appear strong and decisive in front of the old men who comprise our board of directors and think the phrase housewife is redundant.”
Suguru nodded, and Sachiko took a deep breath, and decided she would prove to herself that she had grown, if only a little bit.
“But even so,” she said, her voice veritably tremoring, “I cannot, at this moment, stop myself from hating you, Suguru.”
That was really why they would kill the messengers. Not because they blamed the messengers for the news they brought, but because the news they brought was so unbearable that they would simply hate whoever was nearby.
“I will be married to you shortly anyway. Please don’t…” she swallowed. “Please don’t try and come near me until then.”
Trying on dresses.
That was what it was. Something so stupid and inane. Mother and I were to begin shopping for a wedding gown tomorrow.
I think I might die.
“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” Suguru asked, his voice hardening slightly, and his words took Sachiko like a right hook to the jaw.
And then she laughed, bitterly. And for the first time in many, many years, pondered if it would be so bad to simply fling herself out the door and into traffic.
“Yes. I suppose it should,” she said quietly. “It was me, after all, who visited your room, so late at night. Then, I will make a note to also stay away from you until we’re married.”
(Not thinking about that.)
Who the hell cares anymore. Who the fucking hell cares about what I’m not thinking about.
I was the one who gave in first, after all. Who didn’t put up a fight. He gave in to those awful old men, and I gave in to my baser desires, into feelings I haven’t really had for years. Since shortly after I met Yumi.
Since I no longer had a need for such feelings.
But it was just so damn lonely in that house. I don’t know how my mother survives. I suppose mother also receives attention from father sometimes. I receive none. None. With Yumi there, it wasn’t so bad—even if we didn’t touch, we connected. And I couldn’t connect with Suguru, not like that. So…
(Sa-chan? What do you want, so late at night?)
(Please, Suguru. Please.)
(Please wha--)
His lips, too, had been warm, inviting. He was truly a beautiful, handsome man. That was what she had noticed first, but his quiet kindness was what had truly won her over. The way he, too, had had to deny who he was, and the pain it had brought him, because painful experiences often served to make one kinder, more aware of the emotions of others. The skin of his chest had been soft and warm under her fingers. And for a moment, a spare moment, she had thought that he might give in to her. To it. To that thing which all the men at the parties, with their wandering eyes and their wandering hands, seemed to desire.
But he hadn’t. He had very nearly thrown her off of him. And he had not asked her what she was thinking, because she could tell that he knew. And she could tell he was sorry that he could not give it to her.
How is he possibly going to survive on our wedding night? He’ll be expected to impregnate me within only a few weeks. That’s my job, after all. To be his wife, and to produce his children. That’s why my parents scoffed at the idea of university. How can I go to university if I’m pregnant? I’m supposed to take care of the children. That’s my job.
That was the level on which they truly connected.
But such a connection could not form the basis of a relationship. Not really.
Certainly not the kind of relationship that she wanted. Thatshe needed.
She closed her eyes and forced her tears to stop. It wasn’t a hard thing, not really. She just had to empty her mind, force a smile, and wait.
But what am I waiting for?
(For it to go away. There’s no need to inform others that you are suffering. Suffering alone is enough.)
Yes.
Suffering alone was enough.
Another moment of silence. She found she was not quite comfortable with it, but at the same time, she was grateful, because it meant she didn’t have to speak with Suguru. Suguru, however, did not feel the same, as after another minute he said, with an almost hesitant voice, “Sa-chan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“No,” she said quietly, “you did. And I deserved it. It was a terrible thing I did.”
“It wasn’t,” Suguru said. “It was probably the right thing to do.”
“To you?”
“We’ll have to at some point.”
Sachiko laughed bitterly. “When you put it like that, I can hardly wait.”
Suguru shook his head. “It’s no easier for me than it is for you, Sa-chan. Maybe harder.”
Sachiko had a hard time believing this, but the reasonable part of her also recognized that she was not in Suguru’s shoes, and in fact, had never tried to put herself there. She supposed she probably couldn’t start just now, but at the same time, that little thought popped into her head, and she couldn’t quite ignore it.
Maybe it’s just as hard for him.
Maybe he has a
(just say it.)
Yumi.
“If I may, sir,” one of the men said from up front, giving Sachiko a start. She was very much used to having anonymous people around serving her, but was not used to them listening to her conversations. Maybe she should learn to be more careful.
“Yes?” Suguru replied. He didn’t sound annoyed. Perhaps these were more than just drivers to him, or perhaps he was simply a patient man. It was surprising that somebody in his employ would speak up at all, so perhaps it was just that.
“Perhaps you should use a turkey baster.”
Suguru paused for about half a second, and then, completely unexpectedly, burst out laughing.
Sachiko had to consider for about two seconds, and then she too giggled, completely in spite of herself.
I can’t remember the last time I thought I could say something like that freely.
Suguru laughed longer and harder, but they were both merry for perhaps two more minutes. The man up front, from his reflection in the rearview mirror, had a small grin on his face.
When they had settled down, Suguru said, “Sachiko, what happened to the days when we could say something like that?”
“Could we ever?”
“I could, at some point. Before I was melded into the Ogasawaras.”
And for some reason, Sachiko felt that she might speak openly, if only once, with Suguru. Maybe it was the way the atmosphere in the car had suddenly become just a bit lighter. Maybe it was simply the way Suguru had seemed…almost guilty about coming to get her.
And so…
She admitted.
“I agree,” she said quietly.
It was not lost on Suguru. He raised an eyebrow but was silent.
“I think…I think this is terrible. This whole thing. We have enough money to be comfortable but apparently not enough status, or maybe we can just never have too much. It’s…” she was taught never to say it, but she said it anyway. “not fair.” Nothing is fair, Sachiko, and you will not complain. Ladies do not complain. They bear with.
“There are many people who would kill for what we have, Sa-chan,” Suguru said quietly, as though it was a requisite response.
“I’d give it to them if they asked. I’d trade. I was never given a choice in this.”
“We cannot help our birth,” Suguru said.
“Even so. I feel like I’m being punished for it.”
Suguru smiled. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “The last thing I wanted to do was come and get you. To wrench you away from what was quite possibly your last chance to let go.”
“Can’t we at least have our separate lives when we’re married?”
Suguru sighed. “To some end. But at the same time, the men of the board are…suspicious over certain aspects of my…” he appeared to struggle. “Personality. They don’t wish to see me turn out like my uncle.”
“So we’d have to be discreet.”
“Which is only bearable for so long before it too becomes simply one more formality to observe.”
Sachiko nodded.
When you’re screwed, you’re screwed.
At least she’d be able to see Yumi. If only discreetly.
But how long could she ask Yumi to do that? Certainly not their whole lives.
Those old men have to die eventually.
So I what? Live my life waiting for them to die or retire? That’s horrible.
Sachiko leaned back in her seat. She felt a little less like crying, if only from finally coming to acknowledge that there was somebody else who shared what seemed a lot like her fate.
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