Epilogue
Suguru had been informed of Yumi’s presence, but also of the way in which she was present. The hands, but more, that slightly crimson, entirely joyful, color on her face. He was in his office at the time, working on a proposal to expand several manufacturing operations to China; in truth, he had a whole drawer full of these proposals. Some would probably never see the light of day, like an author’s ubiquitous drawer of unused ideas, but more, he was confident, would. When the man informed him, he nodded and pretended to take notes—notes, for the love of god, on what? On Sachiko finding a good woman? What a joke, but he was expected to take notes on everything. He was learning, after all, and observing; he actually drew a rough sketch of a cat—and then dismissed the man. After the man left, he examined the sketch of the cat, made a few quick corrections, and thought he might frame it. Was this a happy event? Certainly for Sachiko. And hell, maybe for him too.
It was the end of something easy, was what it was. And the beginning of something fun. And there was a certain sense of relief about it, as well: He, he knew, would have been just fine marrying Sachiko, but Satoru wouldn’t have been okay with it, not for long, and Satoru would have left before long. And Satoru deserved more than that anyway. Than being his eternal dirty little secret. He had his own damn life, and his own goals, and a man had to be settled, have peace in his life, before he could pursue his goals.
He thought about it for a while, and then called Satoru.
Satoru was very happy about it. He was fine being told that it would be rough times ahead. That Suguru would be a very busy man for a while, because he would come out on top. Had to. That, Satoru said, was fine. He could handle busy. He was busy himself. Being a teacher was not an easy thing, after all.
In truth, Suguru was happy too.
After all, one of the greatest disadvantages to being rich, to be simply handed wealth, was that you never got to look back on how you got it, because really, that was the fun part. That was why the very rich never stopped making money; not because they felt they needed it, but because they wanted to see how much they could make. Because it was fun, because it was a challenge. (But after a while, the challenge grew weak—after all, vast amounts of money practically grew themselves.)
They chatted for a while after that. Suguru hung up eventually, telling him he had a picture of a cat to frame. Satoru asked him what the hell he was talking about, and Suguru said it would be his anniversary present. Satoru sputtered, and Suguru told him he loved him and hung up laughing.
The challenging part would be telling the parents, he knew. Not his own; they knew and they didn’t give a flying fuck. They had been relegated to the edge of the family long ago, getting a generous monthly stipend and basically just living their lives in more comfort than a manga artist and a journalist could have expected otherwise. His father had always told him he loved his brother, but that lifestyle wasn’t really for him, anyway.
That was fine. To each their own. That was what he believed, and that was what had killed him about having to fetch Sachiko; but if he was to get in by marriage, he had to appear to be a strong candidate. Now that he didn’t have to worry about marriage, he could do things his way.
A while later, he called Sachiko, and congratulated her. Sachiko was very even with him; if she had any surprise about him knowing so quickly, she suppressed it. But, there was something … awkward about the whole thing.
Right. The whole rejected lover bit.
“We’ll need to tell your parents,” Suguru said. “It’s not going to be pretty.”
“What’s there to tell them?”
Suguru frowned. “I mean, about…”
“Is it really their business? We’re not getting married, I’m going to college, and—” And if they don’t like it, they can sit on it and shove it up their ass. Suguru grinned. “If they don’t like it, it’s their problem. I’m still my own person, and legally, they cannot take that away from me.”
This was not the careful, restrained Sachiko he had known at all.
He liked this Sachiko much better.
“Even the wedding will cause trouble. Weddings are an expensive business even before they’re put on.”
“I think that even with this financial setback the Ogasawara family will find itself safely in the black this year,” Sachiko said dryly, and Suguru thought, that if he were capable of being interested in women, he would very much like this one.
“And…they may well cut you off.”
Sachiko said nothing for a moment, and then, “You know, I want to be an author. I decided that. I’m going to study literature in college, graduate, and start writing.”
“That’s…not always a very lucrative profession.” Not usually, actually, especially with most of the contracts that young authors and artists were made to sign. Ogasawara, after all, had its fingers in the publishing pie as well.
“I once read, I don’t remember where, that if somebody writes something and sells it, and they receive a check, cash the check, which does not bounce, and use the money to go home and pay the lighting bill, they can be considered a good author.” Suguru heard this and he saw all the lessons Sachiko had learned, with none of the directives they had come with. Smart, coy, articulate; capable of gently redirecting a conversation into a lucrative direction without the added directive of but never do it except for social gain.
He laughed. Honestly and heartily. That was beautiful. Wonderful. He loved it. They were silent for a while, and then he said, “If you do ever need help, though…not now, but maybe five years down the road…”
“Then I’m sure I’ll have other friends to turn to,” Sachiko said sharply, then after a moment, her tone softened. “I’m sorry. That was harsh.” A bit of the old Sachiko.
“I’m a tough boy,” Suguru said. “And there’s no need to be a lady around me.”
“If I am really in trouble, I will call you, Suguru.”
“Fair deal. I’m sure I’ll see you again before you go off to university.”
“You may just.”
They hung up. No goodbyes. No tearful thank-yous. Why bother? They were a tough lot.
--
Sachiko’s parents did not take it well at all, or at least, not publically. Her mother went into something which resembled hysterics, and her father actually stormed out, slammed the door. Sachiko was, indeed, cut off.
However, after the door was slammed, Sachiko’s mother’s hysterics stopped immediately. She smiled at the two of them, and said, “You know, you two would have made a good couple.”
“No, mother,” Sachiko said. “We really wouldn’t have.”
“I suppose,” the older woman shrugged. “You really have made it hard on yourselves, though. Both of you. Suguru, you are not going to have an easy time if you still plan on advancing through the company.”
Suguru shrugged. “I’ll be going to university in the fall. If I apply myself I’m pretty sure I can graduate in three years, have my masters in four. I would hazard a guess that none of the other candidates for this job get a degree that fast.”
“Taro is close to his Master’s right now, in America.”
“How’s his GPA looking?”
Sachiko’s mother grinned then, and Sachiko saw a glimpse of the fiery woman who had birthed her. “Not great, I’ll tell you. He seems to have met a very pretty lady who enjoys drinking and cavorting about a great deal.”
A man must have peace in his life before he can pursue his goals.
“I’ll make it, then. I’m the best, and you know it and so do I.”
Sachiko’s mother smiled. “I do indeed.”
“So then…what?” Sachiko asked. “Shall I just…pack my things? The semester starts in little over a month, and I’m sure I can stay with Yumi until then. Or Sei, or someone.”
“I’ll not have you imposing on them like that,” her mother snapped, and then frowned a second. “I’m sorry. The point is, I’ll make sure you have a place to live. And frankly, I’ll make sure you have a little extra.”
“Mother, you—”
“A mother is supposed to put her child through college. It’s one of our duties, and one I’ll not miss out on. Your father is not furious either, you know, but he does have to cut you off.” Her mother had a shaky note in her voice but she said what she needed to say clearly, and Sachiko understood.
In truth, it was hardly his money anyway. It was tied up in stocks and investments, half of which had dubious ownership rights to begin with. If the board decided it, they could make him…not a poor man, but a man with much less to his name. And that was fine. Appearances, after all.
People at heart were not bad, not really, not usually. But there were expectations which hit them from every angle, and the more public, the more influential they became, the more expectations they had to deal with. Some of them could do it; some couldn’t. Sachiko’s mother had been one that couldn’t, and it had done terrible things to her, but she was still a mother at heart, first and foremost. The Ogasawara group was a fucking huge conglomerate and a lot of people depended on it for their livelihood, and a sudden ousting of such skilled leadership would benefit none of them. Her father knew that, and he did what he had to. Another woman might have resented him for it—after all, it was a lot of money she was going to lose, but not Sachiko. Sachiko had grown up with that money, and nobody had asked her if she wanted it or not, so she had decided without anybody asking, and probably he understood that. She wanted to give it a run without the money. If she was truly talented as an author, she would make enough to live comfortably with. If not, well…she was smart. There were other things she could do, more lucrative ones.
But whatever they were, they were hers, and hers alone.
She moved out two days later into a nice apartment in urban Tokyo. Her father gave her a hug and a wad of 10,000 yen notes, and told her he loved her and he’d be in touch. Her mother did more or less the same. Nobody was around to see it. Now that the pressure of marriage and succession had vanished from their lives, Sachiko’s parents behaved very much like real people. She wished she’d gotten to know those people better.
She had a housewarming party, and invited the entire Rose Council, past and present. Sei and Shimako seemed closer than they had been, but she might have been just been jumping to conclusions based on the way they entered holding hands and were caught at one point tossing each other gazes. Youko brought her boyfriend, a handsome man with an effeminate, easy smile who fit in with a large group of girls more easily than might have made Youko comfortable. Rei and Yoshino looked a little dejected, because apparently Yoshino had gotten it into her head to study abroad in America, which meant a year apart. Sachiko, however, knew they would be more than fine. They were closer than anybody she had ever met. A lot of laughs traded hands, as did a bit of alcohol, and Sachiko found that she could laugh more freely. That night she shared her bed with Yumi, and didn’t have to be sneaky about it in the least; she simply called cabs for everyone but Yumi, and then invited her to bed afterwards. Her mother had nothing to say about it whatsoever; in fact, she hadn’t heard internally from her mother in a long time.
Maybe it was because, as hard as it was, she was a big girl now. A woman. And a woman loved her mother, but a woman was not her mother, and as long as a mother still had a hand in controlling a woman’s life there would always be that pull, to be who her mother was. It wasn’t malicious. It was natural. It was just the way things went.
Two weeks later, Sachiko moved into her dorm at Tokyo University. Yumi didn’t live with her, it was too late to change her living arrangements (and frankly, not a great idea anyway—Sachiko felt as though it would have been okay, but wanted to do this properly) but lived only a few blocks away. They had one class together, and they walked there holding hands every day.
They made a lot of memories there, ones that made more imprints in Sachiko than any other time up until that point. She developed laugh lines. She put on a little weight, lost it, put it back on again. She learned to cook for herself, and learned to hold her liquor. She got a part-time job, quit it, got a better one. She pulled a few all nighters, cursed a few deadlines as sons of bitches, and got her first short story into the campus literary review her sophomore year. She and Yumi fought, made up, and made love many times.
And after that?
That is for nobody but the two themselves.
The end.
I’d like to thank my editor, Sumiregawa_Nenene, for faithfully sticking with me for these past two plus years, editing this mess into something mildly fit for human consumption, and I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for sticking with me too, till the end. It’s been a long haul, and I feel sad to see it go, because it was my baby, but there will be others, too. Probably.
I couldn’t have done it, though, without all of you. Thank you, and have a wonderful day.
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