“So, your story,” Kaname said.
“My story,” Momomi said. “Well, you got to use a pseudonym, indicating your insecurity of choice. Call it the story of a girl who was always everything people expected her to be and was never allowed to be herself. A girl trapped in the expectations of others. Made by the expectations of others. A mirror girl, pretty much. Glass and silver backing, and a world of illusion behind that. Just a trick of light, with all the soul of such a thing.”
“My, my,” Kaname said, looking up at the sky. “That’s an entire month’s worth of self-pity, contracted into a few sentences.”
“You were no different,” Momomi said. “Remember?”
“Granted,” Kaname admitted. “More fool you for listening, though.”
“Well, if you don’t want to hear, I won’t say it.”
Kaname shrugged. “I want to hear.”
“Alright. But it really begins with my or her parents, I suppose. Her father’s an aristocrat of the old school in Italy. A dying breed. Kept afloat by rent on land and smart investments, and fabulously rich as a result of a greedy person taking everything they could as soon as they could, long ago. They still have servants, they’re that rich. And they’re good, impeccable Catholics, and casual racists. So it was pretty unfortunate when my father married a Japanese woman.”
“How did that happen?”
“He want to Japan to oversee something or other. I forget. He was only second in line, with a married, perfect older brother. I remember my grandparents. They weren’t afraid of saying that my uncle had deserved to take all, and that my father was a failure, and my mother… well, it can’t be put politely, so forget it.”
“You’re rambling a bit,” Kaname said. “I say that by way of making conversation.”
“More digressions, more information for you?” Momomi asked.
“Something like that. I’m enamoured of understanding what makes you, because you’re very weird.”
“I just wish I knew where that eloquence goes when you’re talking to others,” Momomi said. “You only manage stuff along the lines of the final clause. But never mind.”
She raised her hand to eye level and inspected it thoughtfully. “In any case. Father, like all our family, had a lot of language education. More than enough to get by. So he chinwagged with some of the aristocrats here. I think some of their daughters go to this school, actually. The old Japanese families. All about business and diplomacy and the price of a decent horse nowadays. That reminds me. Amane’s family, too. The Otori are famous.”
“Not always in a good way,” Kaname noted.
“Well, darling Amane’s on the wrong family line,” Momomi said. “She won’t be poor, by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s inheriting a living, not an empire. I think she’s consciously chosen to be out of the muck, by her or her parents. Otherwise, she’d be at that other posh private school. The mixed one.”
“For once, this isn’t about Amane,” Kaname said. “You don’t have to bring everything back to her.”
“You don’t have to be eternally annoyed with me mentioning her,” Momomi said. “She’s a good point of reference. But I’m on a tangent again, I’ll admit. At some point, father met mother. A very beautiful, very weak woman who can’t do anything but be ornamental and useless and rely on father and defer to his every decision. I can only hope that he saw something other than the obvious in her, but as far as I can see she lacked, and lacks ambition, talent, drive or intelligence. I hate people like her.”
“That seems pointless,” Kaname said. “I’d congratulate her on using so well what she did have, in such a circumstance.”
“It’s how father walked over her afterwards that irks me,” Momomi said. “But that’s an aside. Mother wasn’t what I’d call poor- you’d call her rich- but she wasn’t what you’d call one of the elite. She did do well, apart from everything else that ever happened to her, ever. But their marriage was her one moment of triumph.”
“So the child of a moderately racist aristocratic family married a woman below him? Can we recap that?”
Momomi shrugged. “Well, he wanted to do that. His parents decided that as he was the second son they didn’t care enough to stop him. From anyone but my parents, it would almost be romantic. A tale of forbidden love and rebellious children. As it is, he’s the most unfaithful bastard you’ve ever met and he hates her. She doesn’t hate him, but only because she lacks the strength of character.” Momomi sighed. “It’s a pretty depressing lineage, really. I hate my mother, but my father more. Whatever she had, he killed it in her. I’m stronger than she is, so I’m never going to let anyone do that to me. Love and romance and fairy stories sound great, but life’s a lot less pleasant and messier. It’s a show of human optimism, or folly, that they’re still so idealised.” She sighed. “But I guess I’m not telling you anything.”
“That’s for sure,” Kaname said. “Be glad your mother isn’t a whiny Catholic.”
“Your mother sounds strong, in a stupid kind of way,” Momomi said. “I’d prefer her. I’m sure she’d hate my father beautifully. But love’s pretty ridiculous. We can accept that someone can love someone else, but not that they could love two people. And the idea that love is any weaker if someone’s married and they’ve fallen for someone else is stupid. It might even be stronger than the love before. I’m not defending my father, though. He’s just weak, and I suspect he’s not so fussed as to demand he’s in love with them all. That kind of action shows no determination on any long-term scale. But falling in love before marriage is the same damn thing. That romantic love is no guide at all as to whether anything can work long-term, but in the estimation of many it’s the only way marriage should be conducted. Arranged marriage makes just as much sense. That’s to say, none at all.”
“I’m amused that you, the aristocrat who resents the fact she’s destined for it, constructs a defence of arranged marriage,” Kaname said.
“Oh, arranged marriage is stupid,” Momomi said. “And I hate it. But only because it takes the choice away from the person, someone like me. That doesn’t mean the person is any better at making a decision. But at least that way they know it’s their own damn fault when it all goes wrong.”
“How about you? Can you decide better?”
“I told you,” Momomi said. “I’m not going to let anyone do to me what they did to mother. On the other hand, I’m not going to let my life be defined by father. So I guess I’ll just act on whatever whim pleases me, like everyone else. It can’t be helped. Whatever I choose, I doubt it’ll please my parents. That’ll be the closest thing to confirmation that I’ve made a good choice I’ll ever have.”
“For all those books you read, you’ve got a dark attitude on all this,” Kaname said.
“Are you any different?”
“Not really,” Kaname admitted. “I don’t think I really care. It’s never been relevant.”
“You’ve been a kid,” Momomi said. “A tough one with more claim to independence than almost anyone else. But a kid. But the way people work, I’m sure someone will see that you’re pretty and miss that awkward personality of yours.”
“What kind of person do you see me with, then?”
“I guess, the helpless type, who likes abusive girls for as long as they protect them,” Momomi said. “You’re the kind that likes to thing you’re strong enough to protect more than just yourself.”
“I’d only protect someone worth protecting,” Kaname said. “I’m more likely to hate someone like that.”
“How about me?” Momomi asked. “You try and invent someone I could stand for more than five minutes. Or who can stand me for that duration.”
“In the latter case, much the same person, I suppose,” Kaname admitted “Perhaps someone who preferred being patronised in words than in deeds. As for someone you could stand… I’m sure even the finest specimen of humanity couldn’t satisfy your demands.”
“I couldn’t stand a perfect person, yes,” Momomi said. “But some kinds of imperfection can be interesting.”
“I’m not sure how long that could last,” Kaname said. “But you expect that. You’re so dreary about this, dear Momomi, I’m sure I’ll be forced to read some of your nauseating novels.”
“You agree with me. I just put it into words first.”
“Perhaps,” Kaname said. “I’d still love to proved wrong. If you agree with me, though, then I’m more afraid that I might be right.”
“Hmm,” Momomi said. “I guess we can both dream, and then see. More thoughtful than you normally are, though. I thought you’d damn love.”
“I’ve only ever read and heard about love, of any kind,” Kaname said. “So I’m just curious. Cynicism requires actual experience of the topic in hand, on some level. But my parents sure as hell are no example at all. That’s pretty irrelevant, though. You haven’t weaselled out of you finishing your story.”
“Sorry,” Momomi said. “I feel our random speculations are more interesting, though. My life story’s fairly boring. Compared to yours, anyway.”
“You say that too much.”
“It’s still true. I admire you for what you come from, to where you are, and I hope that’s not patronising. The end product I admire somewhat less, of course…”
“I wouldn’t let you patronise me, after all,” Kaname said. “But I don’t think my story’s inspiring. Only if the works of those random Russian authors are inspiring.”
“In any case, we learned a lot of languages,” Momomi said. “I think I can hold my own conversing in French, German, English and Chinese, since we were taught that often at the exclusion of other subjects. Our tutors also worked us harder than we would be in normal education. But our mother taught us Japanese as a second mother tongue, and we speak it as well as we do Italian. My sister and me. We never spoke it, though, until I came here. Now it feels more like my language than any other does. But only because my presence here is the first time I’ve felt freedom. So I use my mother’s name and speak her language, even though I hate her.”
“You’re still skipping a lot,” Kaname said. “We managed to get from some time after your unspoken birth to your sudden and singular presence here, while your sister remained behind.”
“Most of that time, you can guess,” Momomi said. “I was raised to be an aristocrat, eventually to marry. As second daughter to the head of the family, that’s it. My uncle died before I was born. Some kind of heart disease. It was pretty sudden. So the grandparents were left with two choices; make his widow the heir or else entitle my father, and his Japanese wife, instead. I suspect that was a very hard choice for them, and that they berated themselves for letting my father marry my mother. Regardless. They kept it in the bloodline. I should have said that sooner, but I’ve said it now. We’re now set to inherit from our parents, or more precisely my sister. Actually, my nephew is older than use and quite liked by our parents. But that’s my sister’s worry, not mine. The inheritance won’t go to me, and I don’t want it.”
“I’d guess that your sister would be rather kinder in providing for you, though,” Kaname said. “It sounds like you have something of a rapport, in the interests of survival if nothing else.”
“I’d rather not rely on that, though,” Momomi said. “You may not believe it, but I don’t want to be a privileged, useless aristocrat forever. I don’t want to end up like mother. So I’ll have to stand alone.”
“Have you any idea how?”
“I’m thirteen. Cut me some slack.”
“Ha. And I thought you were the long term planner.”
“You have any suggestions?” Momomi asked hotly.
“Not really,” Kaname said. “Come back to me in two years. And I’ve no ideas what I want to do with my life, either. I’d join the army, probably, but they patronise women. I’d never be treated like a man. Pisses me off.”
“You want to be treated like a man?” Momomi asked wryly. “You’re such a feminist.”
“It’s not a coherent ideological position,” Kaname said. “I’ll just break the face of anyone who says I can’t do something because I’m female.”
“Well, I can tell you that because you’re a woman the army will never let you be a frontline soldier,” Momomi said. “Besides, I think you’d be wasted on the army. I don’t know… I can’t see you easily fit into any career. But you’re too orientated on the physical. Sure, you’re strong. But you’re smart, real smart, do something with that instead. It pays more.”
“I come alive when I’m using my strength, not my mind,” Kaname said. “The latter’s just a means to an end.”
“I’ll change that. There’s so much more you can do with your mind. You’d enjoy it.”
“Off-topic,” Kaname murmured. “You’ve got a knack, I’ll grant you that.”
“I don’t mean to. But whenever I talk to you, I always come up with something more interesting than the actual point in hand,” Momomi said. “Beats awkward silences, I suppose.”
“We’re silent all the time,” Kaname said.
“But it’s not awkward. I can’t think of some stupid excuse for that, it just is. But whatever.” Momomi sighed. “In any case, where were we? Well, I flatter myself that I can almost pass for a Japanese native. Not quite, but close, and I’m getting better. That was all mother had to give us. She’s hopeless. Even so, father didn’t really approve, and he still doesn’t. But he was away so much he couldn’t stop it.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Kaname said. “Well, that you’re very Japanese. You pretty much had me fooled, though I’m not very observant.”
“If people can be as different as you and Amane, from the same country, I’m sure I pass,” Momomi said. “I’ve mentioned my loathing of my life before, though. Father is not a pleasant man. Mother’s not perfect. She used to snap at us, because she couldn’t snap at him. One day, when she attacked me, my sister stood up and… well, it’s kinda embarrassing. My father thrashed her. But mother never snapped at us again. Depressing. The point is that we had to be exactly what people expected us to be, to survive. When the mask cracked, we got hurt. My sister was always more herself. I relied on her, and my own ability to conceal my true self. At the same time, though, my sister liked her life, and continues to enjoy it. I hated everything, from the dancing to the manners to the pleasantries to the conventions and rules. I supposed you’d call her the stronger one.”
“Sounds to me like they just did a better job on her,” Kaname said. “I’m not sure whether you’re seeking assurance or not, though.”
“I don’t know,” Momomi said. “I should know better than seeking sympathy from you. But the point is that I hated that life.”
She pulled free a tuft of grass, and shredded it silently. “So, you also have to imagine my world. For twelve years, I’d lived in our house, pretty much. Occasionally we’d go on a trip, or on holiday. More when I was younger, less as I grew older. But my teaching was done in the house, with tutors, and I never saw much of the outside world. Oh, we had those balls and everything else. But that doesn’t make me anything more than a sheltered upper class aristocrat. That’s pretty much what I was. Am. I go to this school.”
“So do I,” Kaname said.
“Point taken. But I was sheltered, trapped, caged, and knew it. So perhaps one can characterise my actions as the desire to be free.”
“And your actions were?” Kaname asked patiently.
“Nothing too exiting,” Momomi said. “I have to say that over and over again. But you’ll just tell me to carry on, and I will. In any case, I took an increasing interest in the outside world. That would be a year ago, maybe. It’s not that we didn’t get to go outside. But I suppose I had a morbid interest in the bits that we never got to see, probably because it was forbidden. I made all the excuses I could and manipulated and smiled and did all the stuff I do best, and got to see something of that world. Your world, maybe. It seemed very bizarre and quite frightening to me, but I was really quite morbid. You’d call me patronising, but I was mostly just impressed. It’s pretty terrible to say, but seeing people living in poverty, whenever I could find them, only increased my understanding of father and how he acted. Of course, they weren’t exactly friendly to me either. Who would be?”
“You’re honest, anyway,” Kaname said.
“When did you realise that people could be as rich as me, anyway?” Momomi asked. “Just out of curiosity.”
“When I came to this school,” Kaname said briefly. “But I wasn’t too surprised. You all act in a very disgusting way, but that’s okay. I don’t mind inequality. I have and intend to continue to become the very best. Not an aristocrat. But look at this way. I’ve risen above my birth. If I was born rich, I wouldn’t be able to do that.” She closed her eyes. “I believe in having a superiority complex.”
“Then you’re very true to your beliefs,” Momomi said. “And I’m much the same. But, really, neither of us have very much to be proud of. When my father found out, he forbade it, because I enjoyed it. But it wasn’t very safe, anyway. Again, these two facts only encouraged me.”
“I’m amazed you survived.”
“Me too, actually. Especially when I took to sneaking off in the middle of the night,” Momomi said. “I got caught a lot. Suffice to say I wasn’t best pleased with my parents, and they me, at that time, for that reason and for others. More adultery, argument and the rest of the house’s tedious routine. So wandering outside when I shouldn’t be was both a rebellion and a relief. I had a couple of close escapes, but that didn’t stop me. Call it a deathwish. And then, there was that one time which was very nearly an actual death…” Momomi’s eyes went distant.
“Which was?”
“There was a guy called Garen,” Momomi said vaguely. “He wasn’t very nice, but seemed nice. At first he saved me, and I was very grateful. We talked, and agreed to meet up again. I saw him a few times. Told him some stuff. Then he… well, pretty much tried to kidnap me. Only I’d followed the advice he’d given me, and brought a dagger from back home. It was sharp. I’ll tell you something, Kaname. Anyone is in real pain, whoever stabs them, if they’re stabbed while their guard is down.”
“I know that,” Kaname said. “But slow down. Who was this guy? What did he save you from? How old was he? What was he like? Why did you trust him? What exactly happened?” She sighed. “The rest of your narrative is rambling, but detailed. You seem to have skipped that here.”
“I don’t like to talk about it,” Momomi said. “That’s enough, isn’t it? What do you want to know?”
“I’m also amused you call that a dull story,” Kaname said.
“Well, I doubt it was news to you, that kind of thing,” Momomi said. “Besides, it was really a stupid bratty kid being stupid. Not that exiting. The police dealt with the rest, and I had a pretty hellish few days. Mother was in tears pretty well continuously. Sis was initially critical, but quickly came round on my side when she realised how much everyone else was being critical. Father was… oh, do I even have to say the words? I hate him.”
“So you got sent here,” Kaname said. “In brief. As a punishment, or to protect you?”
“Punishment,” Momomi said. “I mean, if I really wanted to get myself killed all I have to do is pick a direction and walk, around here. Town’s not too far away, albeit smaller than Venice, but probably still with its poor areas. If they really just wanted to protect me, locking me up at home would work a lot better.”
“That figures.”
“But there was some politics to it, too, so to speak,” Momomi said. “You’ll have gathered that me and Sis were always covering for each other. We were both good liars, smart and strong. Well, we still are. I think father wanted to be rid of that, for now. Said I was a bad influence on my sister, which isn’t really true. I never really influenced her, as such, she was too strong for that…”
“You like your sister, don’t you?”
“I don’t like how she uses her energy,” Momomi said. “She’s like a less naïve Serané. It’s all about the title she’ll hold one day. But less family love. Even so, yes, I admire her. I guess it’s natural for the first child to act like she does, and the second to act as I do.”
“You’re lucky,” Kaname said. “I never had anyone to admire. Anyone from my family I in any way liked.”
“Well, I’ve been separated from her,” Momomi said. “At first, that was hard. But now I’m used to it. My mother begged and cried and… ugh… well, she made father send me here. That’s the only thing she’s ever done for me.”
“I’d like to meet your mother,” Kaname said. “It sounds to me like you’re unfair to her.”
“Oh, you say that, and I sound that,” Momomi said. “But she’s so annoying. You’d never stand her, not for five minutes. You don’t exactly tolerate weakness yourself.”
“I’ll grant that,” Kaname said. “But when I hear about you…” she folded her hands behind her head, closing her eyes, “I realise everything I missed out on. It sounds pretty dysfunctional and messed up, but you have a real family. All I have is a mother who wishes I was dead. At the same time, you’re not lucky.”
“Garen was the hardest thing,” Momomi said. “I’m not really going into that. But you understand now. There’s a reason why I’m so alone here. It was my choice. I could have lied my way into the social hierarchy, I have that potential. But, for a start, I’ve always known that I would have to leave, sooner than I’d like. And after that… well, I wasn’t very inclined to count on anyone. I’m still not.”
“Welcome to my world,” Kaname said.
“But I trust you,” Momomi said shyly. Kaname blinked. “That’s the weird thing. It makes me feel pretty stupid. So much for my resolutions, so much for me learning my lesson, and especially when you’re so- like- him, relative to everyone else here… it’s hard.”
“Is that so?” Kaname said. “You really shouldn’t trust me, of all people. But I suppose I’m in some small way glad. Or something. Whatever.”
Momomi placed a hand on her shoulder without meeting her eyes. “Right. I’m glad you’re glad, because it’s getting important for me, especially now… whatever happens. I want you to stay with me while you can. While I can, really.” She felt a shock run through Kaname, and closed her eyes. “I know I’m sounding stupid. I feel stupid. So forget it…”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kaname said.
Momomi glanced at her, and saw that she was still looking at the sky. “Are you blushing?”
“At least I’m still linguistically coherent,” Kaname said.
“You’re never linguistically coherent,” Momomi said. “But as long as its only us making fools out of each other, that sounds okay to me.”
“And here I was thinking that you’d invented our awkward silences,” Kaname said. “But you’ve found way to fill it.”
Momomi sighed. “Yep.” She hugged Kaname lightly. “How about now?”
“Did that when I told my story,” Kaname said. “I should be hugging you, but that’s not my style. Lying down makes it hard.”
“You probably prefer it when you can remind me that you’re taller than me,” Momomi said.
“Precisely,” Kaname said. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Probably just a thing,” Momomi said. “Even so, it’s very you. You identify in very masculine ways.”
“I identify in manners associated with power,” Kaname said. “It’s not my fault that the behaviour of dominance is classically associated with men.”
“I wouldn’t call you dominant, though,” Momomi said. “If that was the case, you’d be the one saying the awkwardly embarrassing things. If you want to do that, be my guest.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“See?”
This is how our worlds shift. Momomi smiled slightly in the momentary lull, glancing at Kaname’s composed face. Those strong aquiline features, framed with her mannish blue hair… she’s such a tomboy. So much so she’s almost a caricature of it, but it’s still cute. But this is our way of doing things. And it could be worse.
“In any case, that’s satisfied my curiosity for now,” Kaname said eventually. “We can’t afford to loaf around. We need to discuss our next move.”
“Right,” Momomi said. “Well, as I said, we need to get the Etoiles on our side, if at all possible. I’m not sure how to do that, though.”
“It pains me to admit it,” Kaname said. “But if we have a choice, we should approach Kariya-sama first. She’s a more natural rebel. I doubt I’ll do too much with her, but you’re the kind of twit who can provoke a reaction from her.”
“Like Serané, eh?”
“She’s far more graceful,” Kaname said. “And also rather older.”
“Well, quite. But they’re together a lot of the time, anyway,” Momomi said. “So I’ll just play it by the ear.”
“Yeah. The Sisters aren’t likely to be any help at all. But I suppose we could try with some other people, too, the student council for Spica and so on. But I wouldn’t be too hopeful.”
“You know, though, I was thinking…” Momomi said.
“Hmm?”
“The Etoiles really have a powerful position, don’t they?” Momomi said. “Even Serané was talking back to the Superior.”
“It’s not really the position,” Kaname said. “It’s more the power they gain from the students. A cult of personality. You’re all very suggestible, you aristocrats.”
“I guess it’s a romantic dream, really,” Momomi said. “They embody a story, a fantasy tale, and because we don’t have much freedom outside the world of Astraea Hill, we like to sit and watch that fantasy. The Etoiles embody our own wish fantasy, and so we love them.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just overanalysing. Certainly, our class should generate the most charismatic of individuals, and Serané and Kariya are both that.”
“Whatever,” Kaname said. “It’s never concerned me, except when Kariya takes an over-lively interest in me. I’ll admit it, Serané’s a dreamer, but you don’t want to mess with her knight.”
“Hmm,” Momomi said. “I’d like to know how it’s done, though. That’s what I call power. If only they thought to use it.”
“I’m not inclined to poetry, but maybe they have it because they won’t use it,” Kaname said.
“Well, that’s easy. You just pretend that you won’t use it, either,” Momomi said. “It’s interesting, though… hmm. I’ve had a thought. Remember that creepy stalker girl? And not you, either. The other one. The third year. Shion, right?”
“That’s right,” Kaname said. “She’s an odd one. What about her?”
“I think I might go to her for help,” Momomi said.
“What help’s she? She’s a nobody!”
“There’s several reasons,” Momomi said. “First, she knows this school a lot better than us, as she’s been here longer and takes more interest. Second, she’s somewhere between the Etoiles and us on the front of manipulative scheming, so I think she’ll go with us easier. Thirdly, we have some easy leverage over her. She wants us to help her.”
“You don’t suggest we go through with her games?” Kaname said.
“I suggest exactly that,” Momomi said sweetly. “I can’t be picky. And in any case… if I really can stay here indefinitely, if I win, half the reason for this perpetual isolation will be gone. I don’t see the harm in getting just a little involved.”
“I don’t like it,” Kaname said.
“Well, Amane can just attract attention without trying,” Momomi said slyly. “We’re not so lucky. A little work couldn’t harm us.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Perish the thought,” Momomi said. “But really, genuinely… this is all getting kind of tiring. I can understand for as long as I wasn’t sure how long I would be here. But you, and me too, perhaps, if we’re here for duration-”
“Or until we fail the scholarship exams,” Kaname said.
“Or until we fail the scholarship exams,” Momomi conceded, “I don’t think I’d be patient with the way we live now. People either look down on us or don’t think of us, and they’re far less bright than we are.”
“You’ve changed,” Kaname said. “Before, you’d be fine with that.”
“You’re probably right,” Momomi said. “Well, fine, I don’t have any plans yet. I guess I’ll concentrate on one thing at a time.”
“It’s alright for you, though, to say you can be popular,” Kaname said. “That’s not my area.”
“I know,” Momomi said. “Just listen to me, if it comes to that. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. But one thing…”
“Hmm?”
She grabbed Kaname’s hand. “I want you to promise me.”
“Promise you what?” Kaname asked slowly.
“That you won’t get into any more fights,” Momomi said. “If you do that, then I’m the one who’ll be screwed.”
“Ha. Fine.”
“Plus, you do have to look after yourself more.”
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