I see…yes, it might not be mature, but it is human, to react like this. Even you are human, Olesa, though you’re a little robotic at times. You like to pretend that you’re beyond mere human feelings. But that’s all a lie, now isn’t it, Olesa? You hate me and envy me and fear me, mostly because of my father. My blasted father. He never stops troubling me, one way or the other. He should have died a long time ago, but life isn’t that convenient.
“Ever since I was a child, I’ve grown used to it,” Olesa continued, eyes dull. “She said it several times, because she wanted to explain, she wanted me to understand, she wanted to excuse herself. And she did more than say it. She could talk for hours about him, on and on, because she loved him and she has loved him ever since she had met him. But as a child I knew with the conviction of a child that he did not love her and I was right, he never did and he never will do. For him, she was willing to sacrifice herself, and she lost everything, she even lost the future she wanted to give to her child. But he never gave her anything. He just took like a parasite. He played with her feelings because it amused him and he gratified himself with her body because he enjoyed that and he cast her aside, he left my mother to discover the real world that is consequences while he carried on regardless. But she loved him.”
“That’s not love,” Momomi said. “It’s just a sickly, unnatural obsession, an ego-crushing self-destructiveness, something that debases the one who loves. It’s a freakish thing.”
“It is all those things. That emotion is called love.”
“What do you know about love? To use that word so freely to make your mother a victim, that’s pathetic. Love in that sense is just a convenient excuse for humans to act irrationally, just words, as if it makes everything better and makes her less of a damn fool.” Momomi gazed steadily at her rival. “Perhaps I’m coming across as excessively harsh, but it needs to be said. Your mother destroyed herself and if you want to call that love, you can. But it’s just idle words.”
“And you would know about love?” Olesa retaliated. “Your family. I know your family; I made it my business to know your family. Everything began because of love, but it ended as far from love as possible. I agree that it’s only been a destructive force for both our families. But if you think it’s just empty words, a hand-waving justification for those actions that you take for granted, you are hopelessly naïve.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But you can’t call anything our parents did love.” Momomi was relaxed, her shoulders loose. After all, I’ve been my father’s child all this time. It’s not like I haven’t thought about these things. Olesa’s the same. We’re saying the things we’ve kept bottled up in our chests, because there’s never been anyone who would understand. “Love implies a measure of equality.”
“So you would not call my mother’s feelings love, because your father did not return them,” Olesa said. Her voice was controlled now. She looked like she was attending a debate on some topical issue, global warming or vivisection or something of the sort. It was a ludicrous expression under the circumstances. “How is that logical? Anger is anger, whether the other person is angry or not. Hate is hate, whether the other person hates or not. Shame is shame, whether the person who shames you intends that in you. All these things are components of another one-sided relationship we could both name. They are not false feelings just because they will never be returned.”
“That’s right, but we can take that case,” Momomi said. “I’ve never been sure that’s ever been real anger, real hate. The shame is there, and she’s hostile enough, but sometimes I think it’s just a smokescreen for something else. Just because there’s an emotion, that wouldn’t make it love. That’s what I think.”
“Well, if that isn’t love, what is?” Olesa folded her arms and leaned against the table. “Show me what you think is love, Phareli-san. What is love?”
Momomi frowned, trying to think. “Well, it’s an equal thing, between equals. It’s not any weird mutual dependence, or anything, it’s not gratifying yourself by exploiting the other person, or allowing yourself to be exploited because you enjoy that. That’s all I know.”
“You’re just applying your arbitrary rules to a concept, though,” Olesa said. “Those loves can be very strong and sincere, real emotion. Whether you like it or not, whether you can accept it or not. My mother loved your father. Your mother loves your father. Your father doesn’t appear to have anyone left to love.”
“Now that’s just your arbitrary definitions, and your arbitrary judgements.”
“Of course. But mine is more open-minded than your own. I don’t dismiss things I’m uncomfortable with.”
“You’re just being inclusive to dignify your mother. It’s nothing more than that.”
“You who never knew, you who never cared, you-” Olesa closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. “You have no right to pass judgement on my mother, Phareli-san. It’s extremely ill mannered, and I will not tolerate it, from you or anyone else. I can judge her, and she loved your father.”
Momomi fell silent, as much from Amiki’s angry gaze as from Olesa’s words.
“But people do that,” Olesa said, reigning in her emotions again. “They only accept the loves that are convenient for them and society. My mother entered a loveless marriage based on a convenience of business and family, but she is expected to be faithful. Love with justifies almost any action before that point is dismissed as nonsense now. A society which, by and large, applauds a romantic who throws off an arranged marriage for love- a society which applauds the shirking of responsibility there- a society which applauds your father- has no time for the breach of social law that is adultery, even for love. It’s pathetically schizophrenic.”
Momomi considered that. “Well, you’re right. People get overworked about a mere contract, certainly. Shorn of the religious dimension… something we both seem to scorn, despite or perhaps because of our upbringings… you’re right, it’s a nonsense. But you understand we are required to play the game to its rules, and play the hand we are dealt with. More fool your mother, because she knew about those social laws. And it still has nothing to do with me.”
“But she never had a fair hand to begin with,” Olesa said. “She was a woman, and he was a man. You may have noticed how your father is still unhappily married, but my mother has been, to all intends and purposes, ruined. That is the fairness and equality of our society. That is, apparently, justice. A world which transcends mere national boundaries, a world in which everything is connected, a very narrow world, a narrow-minded world, determined that for her. It’s a world open to you and shut to me. And when I look at you who can’t even bear the moderate price you have to pay to be in that world, I can’t help but hate you.”
“You’re welcome to it, my title, my status, my limited means. At least you’re not in chains.”
“Oh, but I am.” Olesa tapped her fingers on the desk. “My mother is weak, useless, without any strong personality or discipline, ornamental, a victim of anyone with will and lost in this world. Everything she was taught as a child is useless to her now. She has little enough and what she has she gives to me, and it is more than most people would ever have but to her it is shockingly inadequate. She is hopeless.”
“Join the club.”
“But I will protect her.” Olesa gave Momomi a challenging look, as if daring her to laugh. “Unlike you, I will have to have useful talents. I will have to do what will earn me money, not what I want to do. I will have to marry who is best suited for my status; not who is best suited for me. But I chose that for myself.”
“Why? Is living like a normal person too hard?” Momomi sneered. “Hell, you even keep your servant around.”
“Merely paying the school fees leaves us greatly inconvenienced,” Olesa said. “As for pay, I have nothing to give her. I tell you this because there’s no time for useless pride any more. But I do these things because it is not sufficient for my mother to live as a normal person. She will be an aristocrat. The rest of the world may have abandoned her, but I have not.”
You and your stupid martyr complex… are you listening to yourself? Now, Kaname I’d feel sorry for, except she doesn’t want my sympathy. That’s just patronising. For you, it’s just a bizarre resolve and a lot of buried resentment. But Momomi felt uneasy, all the same, though she kept her face impassive and her eyes steady. So this is how Olesa treats her mother? It’s a stupidly indulgent attitude… what kind of warped world is it where a child talks about their mother as if they’re the senior in the relationship? And did she actually ask whether this was what her mother wants? I’m sure she’d be told otherwise, but Olesa’s the type who think it’s cool to bear a burden despite what other people want. Well, that’s fine. I wouldn’t want to live like that.
“But that’s merely why I should hate all the Phareli,” Olesa said conversationally. “Why I hate you is intrinsically more personal. My father was at least comforted by the fact that I was his child, but my mother, on some level, was disappointed. She still is. I am not the child of the man she loves. You are. I can’t claim to be very rational in this, but I do hate you for that.”
“Well, that makes sense, for someone as insecure as you. You really do have to please your mother in everything, don’t you?”
“Well, I didn’t have a father. Or a sister. Amiki and mother, that’s all I have. But I think it’s very natural for a child to want to please its parent. You may be different, Phareli-san, you tend to be.”
“You can drop the san,” Momomi said, smiling in a slightly twisted way. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“As for the rest, it really is a story you should be familiar with, Phareli-san,” Olesa continued. “We have always been rivals, ever since you came to this school, and you have always had a slight edge, despite that fact that you are lazy, easily distracted and with a terrible work ethic. You represent the entitlement and money I do not have, but you have no appreciation. You accept it as a fact of life. More than that, you seek to throw it off, in childish rebellion. You are beautiful and intelligent but you squander that in inactivity. I saw you for what you were, and when I discovered who you were I hated you even more, and ever since then I have conspired against you.”
“That’s pretty pathetic.”
“Perhaps, but I’m glad. You have acknowledged me, Phareli-san. Standing here, you acknowledge me. That makes everything worthwhile, and it does blunt my resentment just a little bit. You respect me as an enemy, if nothing else.” Olesa sat on the table, relaxing her posture. “Kenjou-san has never been so fortunate, concerning Ohtori-san. That will continue to devour her, and nothing you have done- nothing you can do- will change that.”
“So? Is that all?”
“That’s all that’s between us, Phareli-san, from beginning to end. I’ve said my piece, and I expect you to understand. But don’t think anything has changed. I will continue to oppose you.”
“Well, right now I have you over a barrel. Once my parents are here, you’ll be kept busy. You may even have to deal with the man you hate so much.”
Olesa said nothing, her gaze steady.
“One more thing,” Momomi said. “How about you, Amiki?”
“What about me?” the girl asked. She was leaning against the bookshelf, feigning a casual attitude. But there was a lot of tension in her face.
“What do you think of all this? And are you really fine being a pawn?”
“I hate you, your family and your friend,” Amiki said. “I don’t have very complex reasons for that. And I am not entirely a pawn. I choose to stay by Olesa, and I will continue to do so. I’m not sure whether you ever gave Kaname that choice.”
“Kaname can walk away whenever she likes,” Momomi said. But wheels started to turn…
“You know, it’s probably time that we headed to the Church,” Amiki continued. “Kaname might even be there before us, after all.”
Momomi tried to keep her expression neutral, but she was worrying now, and it showed. Damn, how much time has passed? I lost track, talking about our parents and arguing and playing mind games…irresponsible of me. And she didn’t come here. I wonder whether she went back to our room…
“Phareli-san?” Olesa asked with mock concern.
“I’m going on ahead,” Momomi said, as casually as she could manage. She turned and walked away, a walk that became a run a few moments before she was truly out of hearing.
“What an idiot,” Amiki murmured. “I’m amazed that you acknowledged her at all, Olesa…” She turned to find that her mistress was busy with her phone. “What are you doing now?”
“Tell me, Alicia,” Olesa said quietly, not looking up. “Have you ever heard of the expression hoisted on your own petard?”
Before her servant could reply, she pressed send.
Momomi ducked and looked down the aisles of the library, wondering if Kaname had got lost or bored, but there was no sign of her. So she turned around and walked out the door instead. The rain had only got worse since Momomi had last been outside. It hit her brown hair in great lumps, moistening and cooling it uncomfortably. She hastily put up her umbrella, cursing all sudden storms, and ran towards the Church. The whole wide panorama of the forest past was devoid of activity, everyone already in the cover of one building or the other. Kaname. Why didn’t you come to the library? Have I upset you? Or maybe you just decided that you aren’t at my beck and call. Yeah, that makes sense. I shouldn’t have forgotten that. But I’m out of breath now, I hope you’re happy. She pushed open the doors of the Church and stepped through, eyes sweeping the expanse. There were dozens of people there, taking shelter from the rain, huddling informally on the benches and chatting away. Kaname won’t be part of that. She’ll be aloof and away from everyone else, perhaps leaning against a wall with her head bowed. That’s her way. Momomi looked around, her heart leaping when she spotted a splash of blue hair. But that was just Amane, leaning against the wall in that exact pose she’d envisioned in her mind. Perhaps they’re more alike than I thought.
She walked forwards, finding Shion from amidst the crowd. “Hey!”
“Oh, hi,” Shion replied, looking up. “Ready to begin? Even in this weather?”
“Where’s Kaname?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. Isn’t she with you?”
“Well, obviously not, I’m looking for her,” Momomi snapped by way of reply. She turned and walked back the way she came.
“Isn’t she going to be here in a few minutes?” Shion shouted.
“I don’t know,” Momomi replied. So why do I say that? “She might slack off again, you know. She’s hardly above that.”
“Is something wrong?” Shion asked sharply, standing and following her.
“Not really,” Momomi said defensively. She broke into a run before Shion could say anything else. It’s just a waste of time, anyway. Shion can think what she likes.
She stepped into the rain again, clumsily putting up her umbrella while she jogged and heading for the dorms. God, I’m tired already. Am I really this unfit? I guess that’s what happens when you mope in a small room all day, every day, but it’s not encouraging. Kaname… now Kaname does the same thing, but she still ends up doing so well at sports. It must be an innate talent, or something weird. Very annoying. Her bag almost slipped from her shoulders. She dragged it back into place without looking, still running on. Because Kaname’s like that. She’s just really good at everything she does. It’s nothing to do with manners or personality, because she scores terribly on both counts. But she’s talented and proud. I like that about her. Water splashed up where she trod, wetting her leggings, but she didn’t slow down, even if that would be more graceful. A foreboding had gripped her and it wasn’t letting go. Her personality suits her, though. It’s not elegant or friendly or open or even particularly pleasant, but it’s rugged and strong, independent, and she never says die, even when she really should. I like that about her. She almost tripped over Amiki and Olesa, walking the other way, but she slid aside and ignoring whatever it was they said. It wasn’t important. But there’s still that vulnerable side, though, the sensitivity that more than one person plays on, but still, I like to think I see it more than anyone else. I know how to smile, the things to say, to get through her cool and aloof mask. I guess, because I can do that, she makes me feel special in some way. She staggered up the steps and stepped into the Strawberry Dorms, heading for their room. She kept her umbrella at arm’s length, acutely aware of how wet it was, and ignored the clusters of students crowding the corridors. She couldn’t deal with that. Sighing in exhaustion, she opened the door and stepped into their room.
Kaname wasn’t there, either. Momomi dumped her bag on the floor and stuck her head in the bathroom, just to make sure. She couldn’t see Kaname’s bag, either, which suggested she hadn’t been back. So just leaves one more obvious… not even she could be that stupid, right? Momomi searched through Kaname’s belongings, finding her umbrella, then hesitated. She put back in the draw where she’d found it, turning and closing the door quietly. There’s no way she’s there. There’ s no way. Not even Kaname would stay outside in this weather, even under a tree… heck, at this rate, being under a tree in this weather will be bloody dangerous. She’d managed to catch her breath a little, which was just as well, because now she needed to run again. She almost bumped into someone, muttered an apology, and moved on before she’d noticed who it was. Clattering down the stairs, she felt her breath come even faster. Goddamnit. Maybe I should use my phone…no, I don’t think that would help right now. When Kaname gets like this, it’s all up to me. She really can’t look after herself at all. It makes me worry. For the umpteenth time, she jumped out into the rain. Her arms were already aching, so she held her umbrella at arm’s length without opening it. This way was more aerodynamic, too. Of course, now the rain stained her blazer, pinning it uncomfortably close. I should have taken it up while I was in the room. Or put a coat on. I haven’t been thinking properly. Now, where could she be? She might be moping around the paddock again, after all, and I’d feel bloody stupid if that’s the case. Or the alternative… either way, she’ll need me to get her to come in out of the rain. The lake’s closer, so I’ll head there.
Her breath rasped in her throat, making her feel a little stupid. To run everywhere in weather like this… isn’t it foolish? And going this far is a little needless, or it should be, but if she had something important to say she might be upset. Very upset, depending on how she takes it. So it’s important I don’t make things worse than they are. And if I’m tired when I arrive, it’ll look I made the effort. Did I just think that? That’s pretty low, to think of something like that, but it is true. Even a little thing like that. If it will make a difference, I’m fine with being tired and aching from all the unexpected activity, and I’m fine with embarrassing myself in front of people too. But what will she say? Is she still going to go through with it? I still don’t know what’s going to happen myself, let alone how to respond to it. Hopefully everything will be alright when I turn up, I’ll think of the right reply on the spot and it will be fine, but that sounds hopelessly naïve. Nothing is that simple in life. I should probably apologise first, though…no, I should definitely apologise first. That will take her off guard, hopefully, because it damn well isn’t something I do often. Then I take her out of the rain. Whatever it is, it can be said in the dry. After that, I’ll put her in the shower again, and get yet another spare uniform for her. No, we need to be at the Church. Does that matter? Maybe we should skip and suffer from Kariya’s wrath later. It depends on the situation. She might welcome the distraction. Did she get my message, I wonder? Perhaps her phone was off… if it was I’ll have to say where I was. Maybe I should mention what I learned, it’d give her a great chance to rag on my father and Olesa and aristocrats in general. But that might offend her, too, to make it seem like what Olesa had said was more important, so-
Before she knew where she was, she was at the lake. And Kaname was there, soaked to the skin. All Momomi could see was the back of her head, blue hair plastered to her scalp, but somehow it threw her completely off. “Hi…” she mumbled, panting for breath. “Sorry I’m late, something came up. Well, I guess I’m really late by now, aren’t I? Did you get my message?”
Kaname said nothing, shoulders stiff as she looked over the surface of the lake.
Momomi walked nervously forwards, opening her umbrella. “Here, come on,” she said. “We should come out of the rain. You’re definitely going to catch a cold like that…”
This time, Kaname looked at her, and her red eyes were like flint, hard and unmoving. Like flint, too, there was a potential there, the sense of a smooth surface that could catch and throw up sparks, burning points of light that could consume an entire forest if given time. She tossed her phone.
The throw was deliberately weak, landing somewhere between them and making Momomi stoop instinctively to pick it up. “You’ve got this wet as well,” she said irrelevantly. “You’ll break it.” Then she saw what was on there, and knew what it was even before she’d clicked play for confirmation.
“I want you to picture someone. She’s your age, your height, shares many of your characteristics. But she is a more perfect being. She has all the privileges and wealth and comfort you lack, but she is complacent, diffuse, arrogant, never-”
She’d never been particularly fond of Olesa, but in that moment the mere sound of her voice filled Momomi with a sickening wave of anger and resentment, enough to make her want to scream. But as her head slumped forwards she knew there was self-hate too. She remembered where that conversation had gone. I said stupid things, I allowed myself to be led, I allowed myself to be fooled. And now all Kaname knows is a Momomi who’s contemptuous of her behind her back. “Kaname, I-”
“So,” the blue-haired girl said in a dangerous voice. “So… well, there’s nothing to say, really, now is there?”
“Kaname, listen to me!”
“Why the fuck should I?” Kaname exploded.
Momomi felt her eyes widen in shock at the outburst. It cut her to the core. Almost involuntarily, she took a step backwards, trying to find something, anything to say.
“I’ve been waiting here for over half an hour in the bloody rain because I told you to come here and you promised and it was important!” Kaname advanced on her, eyes wild. “So much for your promises! You have no idea, do you? How much I’ve suffered over these past few days, thinking about you and thinking about you? Even when I’d come to a decision, I spent all day working up the courage to ask you something very important. A very important thing. Do you know what I was going to ask you, Momomi?”
“I don’t know,” Momomi whispered. She was being led, she knew, but she couldn’t find the force or the will to do anything but be battered wherever Kaname wanted her to go.
“I was going to ask you exactly what I am to you,” Kaname said, gritting her teeth. “Because I dared wonder whether I might actually be your friend, not just another chess piece! I thought that maybe, just maybe, when you smiled and when you said friendly things, you might actually be sincere, and not just using me another way to make me your slave!”
“I was sincere!” Momomi shouted back, as loudly as she could.
“On your terms,” Kaname said. “Always on your terms. I didn’t want your terms, I wanted our terms! Can you understand that? That’s why I called you here! But it’s fine, I’ve had confirmation. Even at a moment like this, Momomi has more important things to do, listening to bloody Olesa of all people, because plainly she’s a lot more important than I ever was. Is it because she’s clever? Is it because she can lie like you can? What is it? Why is she the important one?”
“Now you’re just being immature!” Momomi screamed back. “It’s nothing like that, I just-”
“Just wanted to spend some time patronising me behind my back, like all the rest,” Kaname said. “Don’t speak like you know everything. Don’t pretend you’re a saint. And don’t bother to say that you’re different, any more, different from all the other bloody immature brats who look down on me because I’m poor and different. You’re just the same as them!”
“That’s got nothing to do with it,” Momomi replied raggedly, fists balling. “You know, Kariya’s right, you’re the one with a bloody persecution complex. Not everything revolved around your poverty! It doesn’t make you special! Stop giving yourself bloody airs about the fact that you got here on your own merit! That doesn’t mean we’ll pay more attention to you!”
“Why, then?” Kaname demanded, stepping forwards again. Rain splashing across her cheek. “You tell me why the fuck everyone in this sodding dump hates me! You’re all so bloody graceful and polite and pleasant to my face, but that doesn’t stop you from whispering about me when you think I can’t here. Even you! What the fuck do you know about me and Amane? Who the fuck are you to call me pathetic?”
“Well, it is pathetic!” Momomi screamed back. “Look at yourself! Every bloody chance you get you’re up there, mooning over her, and when it’s not that you’re screeching about how you’re going to beat her! You say you hate her but she’s your life, left, right and centre! You’re not the only one who gets ignored! Don’t make yourself out to be any different from me!”
“I’m different!” Kaname snarled. “I’m honest! I say what I think to all of you, especially about Amane, and my god I hate Amane. But you know, I hate you even more. And do you know why? At least Amane has the dignity to talk straight! She doesn’t lead you on with a pretty face and a smile and spit venom at you beneath the mask!”
“At least I validate your existence!” Momomi was crying now, tears of anger and pain and frustration, but she kept on shouting through it all, voice shaking slightly. “At least I give a damn! Perhaps you’ve noticed, but Amane doesn’t care if you live or die. She’s a rival who’s so far above you she doesn’t even notice your existence!”
“She doesn’t pretend to be my friend!”
Momomi’s shoulders shook. “No,” she managed. “She never did, did she? But I swear, I never pretended either, I-”
“Don’t talk crap!” Kaname shouted. “You lead me on! You lead me on and then you betrayed me!”
“I lead you on?” Momomi returned. “All I ever did was show some civil decency, which is more than you’ve ever done! Day and night, whenever asked, I’m your enemy! That’s all you ever said! No matter how close I got to you, I was always your enemy! Don’t come crying to me about your own dishonesty, if I take your own words.”
“Do you know why I chose to meet here, of all places? Because this is where Momomi told me about Momomi. At the time, I was flattered that you let me into your world. But now I don’t know. I don’t know a fucking thing!” Kaname threw her right arm out in frustration, embracing the whole panorama in one sweep. “Everything you said here, everything you said everywhere, I can’t trust any of it!”
“That’s not my fault! It’s not my fault you’re a bloody paranoid schizophrenic! At least be consistent!” Momomi threw the phone back at her, hitting Kaname’s shoulder. “Olesa! Why the hell do you trust her words? You tell me what’s so special about her! If I knew you were this easy to lead I wouldn’t have bothered!”
“That’s right,” Kaname said more quietly, her voice locked in a cold anger. “I was easy to lead. That was my mistake, because you just walked all over me! You, of all people, you, after what you said, you have no right to tell me who to trust!”
“I’ll tell you anyway, to trust one more time,” Momomi said, managing to meet Kaname’s eyes. The tears were still flowing but she still felt a desperate strength. “Listen to me! Just listen, and don’t just shout and live in your own comfortable world without explanations!”
“Comfortable? Do you think I’m enjoying this? Another betrayal the moment I came to trust?” Kaname laughed, a sour, ugly sound. “The story of my fucking life. So I don’t give a shit how you’re going to sweet-talk your way out of this one! I’m not listening any more!”
“So if you don’t like it you don’t hear it? That’s just immature!”
“Immature?” Kaname scowled, her face twisted by fury. “You’re a one to talk! I’ve bent at the waist to accommodate you, your every childish whim, your tantrums, your stupid bloody games! And every time you’ve done something stupid, it’s up to me to save your ass!”
“Oh, really?” Momomi stepped forwards, almost bumping into the blue-haired girl and raising her head furiously. “That’s bloody rich from the brat who can’t clean her clothes, brush her hair, take a shower, stay out of the rain, without me holding her hand! I’m sick and tired of mothering you, already, it’s not a bloody game any more. You just do what you like, whatever gratifies your infantile feelings, and I have to take responsibility, I have to pull your tail out of the fire! Sweet-talking teachers, cleaning you up, its all my job!”
“No one asked you to do that,” Kaname said. “I can look after myself, far more than you can! I’ve looked after myself on streets so rough you can’t even begin to imagine them, never quite sure where the next meal was coming from, always a step from being mugged, raped, shot! You’re just wrapped up in your prissy little fantasy world, but you’d never stand a fucking chance in reality! You’re pathetic!”
“What the hell does that matter? Why the hell are you proud of that? You came here, didn’t you, so it can’t be that bloody wonderful. Getting off on your family history is pathetic enough at the best of times, but it’s worse from you!”
“Likewise!”
“But I don’t, so just listen!”
“I’ve done nothing but listen for six months, Kiyashiki, and I’m through! I’m not going to be one of your fucking pawns any more! Do what you like, I’m through!” She turned away, face furious.
“Go ahead!” Momomi yelled helplessly. “If I’d known you were this bad, I’ve have… I’d have…”
Kaname had already disappeared into the trees. Momomi sank to her knees, feeling fury and rationality war in her. I should… I should follow her, right? It’s the right thing to do, right? But…but…I can’t. I’m too angry. I’m too ashamed. I’m too saddened. I can’t do anything at all. “Kaname!” She shouted that to an angry sky, but her voice wavered and broke, fresh tears washing down her sodden face, sobs wracking her chest. “Just… listen, already.” She fell forwards, tears splattering on the grass. “Kaname…”
The rain slackened, and by degrees, stopped, clouds blown away by the wisps of wind that trembled the trees and shook her hair gently. But still a girl cried under a clear sky.
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