This was an interesting chapter to write, as unlike early chapters in this vein little is made explicit. On that note, Amane's family is styled on and has slight references to a major character of a far different anime. So anyone who notices can feel very smug and self-satisfied.
Amane looked up, surprised, and then pushed herself off the ground, standing and frowning at the other girl. “Good evening.”
“I can’t believe I actually found you. Do you live here?” Momomi gave her a teasing grin, sauntering forwards and stopping with a casual hand on her hip.
Amane shook her head. “I just like it here.”
“Oh, well. Considering I spent so long up my room, I don’t suppose I can talk.” Momomi leaned against the fence. “So you aren’t riding right now? That’s what you’re normally doing at this time of the evening.”
“I felt like a change,” Amane replied blandly.
Momomi nodded. “Makes sense. It must get boring after a while…”
“Not really.”
Momomi closed her eyes and pinched herself on the nose. “I see. In any case, have you seen Olesa?”
“Olesa?”
“She’s been absent without leave.” Momomi folded her eyes and sighed theatrically. “She disappeared the moment we were finished in the Church, but she wasn’t at the library where we’re supposed to meet. I waited fifteen minutes and she still didn’t show.”
“Ah.” Amane frowned. “That’s unusual.”
“I know. As much as I enjoy bashing Olesa, she’s punctual, at the very least. This is the first time she’s been late on me.” Momomi frowned. “Well, do you know anything?”
Amane shook her head. “When she does visit me, it’s generally later than this. In that, too, she is reliable.”
“I see.” Momomi rubbed her eyes irritably. “Well, this is a bother. I don’t suppose you know where she is? I haven’t tried her room yet, as I came here first. I guess that’s the first place to start.”
“No point.”
Momomi raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
Amane shrugged. “If she’s doing this, the situation is unusual. It isn’t likely.”
“Well, I don’t have any better ideas.”
“Is it important?”
“Well, kind of. We have to finish up the script for the auditions pretty soon, so it’d bad if we just skipped a day.” Momomi shrugged. “On the other hand, I think I have more than half an idea of why she’s skipping in the first place. Perhaps I’ll forgive her, just this once.”
“I see.” Amane looked away, smiling thinly. “But I, for once, I’m surprised. I thought that you’d come to see me.”
Momomi smirked. “So you’ve been missing me?”
Amane shook her head. “It was the most obvious reason for you to come.”
“I see…” Momomi stretched, folding her arms behind her head. “Well, in any case, I don’t have anywhere else to be right now. I might as well stick around.”
Amane nodded, joining her by the fence without a word.
“It’s still a huge bother, though, having to go to the Church every day… annoying.” Momomi glanced at the blue-haired girl. “Well? How about you? Have you ever been punished like that?”
Amane shook head.
“I thought so. Well, it’s not like you have done anything that deserves punishment, by all accounts.” Momomi shrugged. “Well, I don’t recommend it, either.”
Amane nodded. “I see.”
“But for us it’s more like a bizarre social club. Complete with hissy Kariya and playful Serané.” Momomi shrugged. “Which sounds more fun than it actually is.”
“Ah.”
“But yeah,” Momomi said vaguely. “We manage, somehow. I can’t wait until we’re finally through with our punishment.”
Amane nodded, her eyes absent.
Momomi sighed loudly. “Hey, you! You could at least listen, you know?”
“I’m listening.”
“Then show that, make some reply, anything.” Momomi snorted. “It’s tiring if you just sit there and listen without saying a word.”
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
Momomi rolled her eyes. “Looks like some things don’t change.”
Amane glanced at her, crimson eyes focusing curiously. “Could I ask you some questions?”
“Whatever. If you like. It’s better than silence, after all.”
“What are you interested in?”
Momomi blinked. “Sorry?”
Amane stuck her hands in her pockets casually, looking away. “It’s a simple question.”
For a moment, in posture and tone, she looked so much like Kaname that Momomi couldn’t help but smile. “Fine. Romance novels, languages, art, creative writing, poetry, flowers… that’s about it, I suppose.”
“Ah.” Amane closed her eyes. “Why those, in particular?”
“Hey, don’t I get a question? What are your interests?”
“Riding, reading, and a few other things,” Amane replied vaguely. “Well?”
Momomi sighed. “Well, I didn’t think about it too much, you know. There aren’t any deep meanings involved.”
“You must have some idea.”
“Not really… but let’s see. The books are something I picked up at this school’s library. The rest are pretty much things I was instructed in at home, but I took them beyond that and developed my own interest in them. I don’t really have the time for that stuff any more.” Momomi frowned. “Except for the flowers. That was really my mother’s hobby.”
Amane frowned. “Really?”
“Pretty much. She found it was a good way to kill time. She’s a big fan of gardens and things. She taught me some things.” Momomi grinned. “How about you? Does your mother ride a lot?”
Amane looked at her uneasily, then shrugged. “More or less.”
“Some things don’t change.”
“But it’s strange, isn’t it?” Amane frowned. “The Phareli heir-but-one, aren’t you?”
“By blood, yes. In fact, I’m probably heir-but-two going on disowned.” Momomi laughed. “To be honest, I never really took too much interest in that kind of thing. It would benefit my sister, but not me.”
“How about your sister?”
“My sister?”
“Did she learn the same things as you, or differently?”
“I don’t know.” Momomi shrugged. “We were both taught by the same kind of tutors. But I suppose they could have changed them.”
Amane looked puzzled. “I see…”
Momomi smirked. “And you’re a cousin, aren’t you? Fifth in line, after the main family’s three brothers and your older sister. All the same, you’ll do very well for yourself. Your family is simply that big.”
“Who told you about that?”
“Oh, no one in particular. But my mother made me aware of these things, you know.” Momomi shook her hair out idly, turning a lock of brown hair between her fingers. “The families of Japan, and polite society in general, and everything to do with it. I’m surprisingly knowledgeable. Especially in comparison to the kind of narrow-minded provincial who forgets the international stage.”
“Hence the languages, as well?”
Momomi nodded. “More or less. Like flowers, this was her hobby. It’s been passed on to me.”
Amane nodded. “I see… tell me.”
“Hmm?”
“What does she say about my family? What does she know about my family?”
Momomi chuckled. “That’s quite a question, you know.”
“I’m curious. That’s all.”
“Well, it’s fine. But what answer do you want? The polite one, or the genuine one?”
“The genuine one.”
Momomi nodded. “Well, what can I remember… the Ohtori are among the rich elite, with historical roots. But they’ve gone through what my mother calls a break from tradition, which is to say you’ve changed with the times. Now the family is essentially an empire combining private medical and pharmaceutical concerns with production of hospital machinery as well. Right?”
Amane nodded.
“You’re respectable, filthy rich and business orientated.” Momomi frowned. “But that’s about it, really. I never met any of you. Prior to coming here, I had little contact with Japan, as a matter of my father’s principle.”
“Ah.” Amane nodded briefly.
“So?” Momomi teased. “How did I do? Did I get all the important points?”
“Who will be the heir of the Phareli?”
Momomi frowned at the non sequitur. “Let’s see… probably my sister.”
“Probably?”
“Well, there was some prospect of Araldo representing a challenger. My father’s a chauvinistic bastard, for a start. But between his personality and the Serané debacle, I think it’s most likely that my sister will get the title of head.”
“So it’s not just the hereditary principle?”
“Of course not. That would be stupid.” Momomi smiled sweetly. “What would we do if my hypothetical older brother was an idiot, for example? The whole family would be stuck as a result of a few primitive traditions.”
Amane nodded. “That much makes sense. But how about you?”
Momomi laughed. “Now that isn’t going to happen. I burned my boats with my father a few weeks ago, and that is that. Unless Luigia becomes a gay stripper and Araldo runs off the join the circus, or such like… it’s a settled matter, I suspect.”
“So the judgement is just the Head’s arbitrary ruling?”
“Nope. As I understand it, it’s whoever impresses him the most. Luigia is probably the most competent of us, and she isn't exactly too controversial either. So it’s still no surprise that she should be ahead.”
Amane frowned. “That still appears arbitrary. Who is your father to judge?”
“Well, he’s my father.” Momomi sighed. “You know how it is, don’t you?”
“Ah.”
“And how does your family work? Something similar? Are you still in the running?”
“Still in the running, but without very good odds. My cousins are older and extremely gifted.” Amane folded her arms and closed her eyes. “Compared to them, I am a feeble personality. It’s a matter that will be decided between those three.”
Momomi snorted. “That kind of talk is a little depressive, isn’t it? You should have a more positive attitude, already.”
“You said something very similar just now. You, too, consider yourself defeated.”
Momomi frowned. “Well, that’s true, I guess. So I’m not in any position to talk.”
Amane shrugged. “People like us know our limits. It’s only intelligent.”
Momomi stretched, looking up at a darkening sky. “But still, if you have relatives who humble you, they must be amazing.”
“They are.” Amane looked down at the floor, eyes far away. “For my family, the arts aren’t of interest… we’re all raised to turn money into more money. That’s the theory, anyway, and all my cousins follow that template.”
Momomi groaned. “I hate stuff like that. Whatever you say about my family, at least they gave me a good, broad education… well, admittedly it’s partly guided by my father’s sexism. He considers the arts good for women as they should stay at home, but now that it’s clear there’ll be no son he’s had to change that position.”
“So you aren’t so different from us after all. The edict was different, that’s all.” Amane frowned. “As you say, some things don’t change. This is consistent.”
Momomi nodded. “That much makes sense. You were homeschooled, I take it?”
“Initially.”
“Initially? Well, obviously you’re here…”
“My uncle said we should all go to high school. Homeschooled children don’t have the proper social skills and experience required to lead. That’s what he said.” Amane rubbed her leg thoughtfully. “He was very clear on that.”
Momomi snorted. “That would sound more impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that they sent you here, one of the cosiest and most genteel schools imaginable.”
“Why were you sent here? To receive a good education?”
“Like hell. Tutors at home are still teaching my sister… and she has plenty of friends, thank you very much. But that’s not the point. This was basically a punishment for bad behaviour.” Momomi shrugged. “It’s sometimes hard to believe that your life can turn on such points, but it’s true.”
Amane chuckled. “I see…”
Momomi bridled. “What’s so funny? Now I’m here because I like it, you know. It isn’t that bad-”
“No.” Amane shook her head. “I was just thinking. If an Ohtori was to attend anything but the most prestigious school in the country, you’d know that they’d made a mistake somewhere down the line. For an Phareli, it’s the opposite.”
“If you put it that way, it does sound a little stupid. We’re punishing you by sending you to a private school most people can’t even dream of attending…” Momomi sighed. “Well, I’ve only ever had a loose sense of perspective.”
“No. It’s fine.” Amane shook her head. “More importantly, what is your sister like?”
“She’s a great person,” Momomi replied enthusiastically. “Clever and kind, and she’s always looked after me. She backs me up in arguments with my father, as well.”
Amane frowned. “I see…”
“Plus she really cares for me. Even though we differ on so many things, starting with the whole religious issue, we still get by. She’s willing to make an effort to accept me.” Momomi smiled wanly. “That’s something important for me.”
“Ah.”
“How about your sister, then? Or your cousins?”
Amane just shrugged.
Momomi smirked. “So, you don’t get on well? That’s too bad.”
“We’re not expected to get on well with each other.” Amane shrugged. “And your cousin?”
“He’s a weak-willed idiot, but I kinda like him.” Momomi waved her hands. “I don’t know, it’s like we’re barely related at all. There’s me, who argues all the damn time and gets into trouble for the hell of it and is generally the most impudent little wart under the sun. Araldo is my opposite, who likes peaceful solutions to everyone’s problems and tends to take cover behind the sofa when I kick into high gear. And then Luigia prays all the damn time and tries to protect us both without ever intending to be argumentative. But somehow, she’s often the worst of us for it. We hardly make sense as a family.”
Amane chuckled. “Honestly, that is very peculiar, you know.”
“They’re both complete idiots in their own ways, but I do miss them.” Momomi sighed, scratching her cheek. “It’s not something I can talk to Kaname about, as a result of her own circumstances. But when I’m here and they are at home, we’ll grow apart. I knew that was the true when I met them again recently.”
“In a way, isn’t it good? You have a chance to grow independently and outshine them both, don’t you?” Amane shook her head. “It is probably good for you.”
“Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I like it, though.” Momomi laughed. “You know, I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this, but what the hell. I never really had any friends. I suppose you could call Kaname my first friend. So when I was here for the first few weeks, without Luigia, it was very hard. Everyone was already sorted into their own cliques, and in any case I thought it’d be too painful if I exposed myself like I had before.”
“Before?” Amane queried.
“Don’t worry about it,” Momomi replied hurriedly. “In any case, it was hard. I felt very isolated with no one to listen to me or even care that I existed. I’d gone from being Luigia’s important little sister to a no one, overnight. Perhaps that was my father’s idea. Either way, it made me very sad.”
“But Kenjou befriended you?”
Momomi giggled. “That Kenjou? Do you think it was that easy? No, it didn’t matter how much I wanted to cry, I never did, just in case she’d catch me. I was determined not to drop my guard and lose to someone like her. Ironically, it was that thought and those feelings that gave me something, anything to hold onto, besides my own aching loneliness. That’s strange, I know, but it was important to me.”
Amane frowned. “I see…”
“If you want to beat someone, you can justify being so alone. You can smother the pain more easily and rely on pride more readily. As a coping device, my arguments with Kaname were wonderful.” Momomi rubbed her forehead. “Of course, they caused me stress and exhaustion and misery in their own right. But nothing in this life is free, after all.”
Amane nodded. “But that’s unusual, I think. Your relationship with your sister.”
Momomi’s brow wrinkled. “You think? Under the circumstances, I should think it’d be pretty normal.”
“Then perhaps I’m the abnormal one.”
“So, you didn’t get on with your sister?”
“Not particularly. It was discouraged.”
“Discouraged?” Momomi sighed, leaning back. “I see. Your parents?”
“And my uncle.”
“Of course. The big shot himself. And I’d dared hope that only my father was like that, too. So all aristocratic parents are like that?”
Amane just shrugged.
“Or all parents, even?” Momomi chuckled. “No, I’m not miserable enough to believe that. Olesa really loves her mother, for a start.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly? What’s there to doubt? Have you heard her go on about her precious mother?”
“Ah. But I’ve never been sure whether she loves her mother in actualised or abstract terms.”
“What or what?” Momomi pouted. “Using big words to make yourself sound cool… but I guess I know what you mean. It’s hard to tell whether that’s genuine love or a love for a cause, right?”
Amane nodded. “It’s difficult to know, but Olesa does not act as a child, regardless of what she thinks of her mother. She frames herself in adult terms. She also came here for that, and I don’t know whether or not her mother approved of that… but it’s not my decision to make, or my place to judge. I’m just thinking.”
Momomi nodded. “She makes everything so damn complicated, though, doesn’t she? I don’t think she could ever be happy merely spending time with her mother, she just has to struggle, doesn’t she?”
Amane frowned. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”
“You’re fairly cautious, aren’t you?” Momomi leaned forwards slightly. “How about you and your mother?”
“We get on… well,” Amane replied. “Well enough.”
“Really? I wish I did. Yukaho… how should I put it? She’s weak. So very weak, that I almost hate it. No, I do think I hate her. He always just walked over her, it wasn’t funny at all.” Momomi frowned, shaking her head slightly. “Err, forget that. But what I mean is that I can’t quite tell whether I hate her or love her or both.”
Amane nodded. “I see.”
“What I do know, is that I can’t think like Olesa. I can’t see her as someone I should please or protect at all, whatever happens.” Momomi sighed. “That’s always worried me, ever since I met Olesa. Am I worse daughter, a worse person, because of that?”
Amane just shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter, though. Provided I’m happy with myself, worrying about things like that is pointless.” Momomi shook her head carelessly. “And she hasn’t received anything she didn’t sign up for. It’s not important.”
Amane glanced at her for a moment, looking dubious. “Ah.”
Momomi ran a hand through her hair, frowning gently at the sky. “It’s cold out, isn’t it? It’s under these conditions that I really remember it’s winter…”
“Ah.” Amane glanced at her. “How does it make you feel?”
“Pretty gloomy, I guess. Winter’s such a miserable season.”
“No.” Amane shook her head. “I meant, well… everything. About your family?”
Momomi chuckled. “If you mean that, you should say that. Otherwise I won’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah.”
“But how I feel about my family?” Momomi’s lips moved silently as she considered a few thoughts. “That’s a pretty general question. Do you mean anything in particular, or just overall?”
“Ah, well… to be the second daughter, say. Does that bother you?”
“Not really.” Momomi shrugged. “That’s just the way it is, and in any case, I don’t want to be indebted to my parents and my station. That’s why I fought to stay here. I want my own life.”
“Isn’t that reckless?”
“A little. But I’ll manage. I’m myself, and I know less gifted people get by decently. If I have inherited talent, who needs the Phareli estate?”
Amane smiled thinly. “So you’re very arrogant, too.”
“It’s not really arrogant if that’s just the way it is,” Momomi replied easily. “It’s the same for you, too. You more than me, in fact. You don’t need to be the first heir, because you’re yourself. Don’t you think?”
“Even so, I might as well be both,” Amane said. “Hypothetically.”
“Wouldn’t that bother you, though? You’re seen as nothing but an Ohtori, and isn’t that what you hate about your life right now?”
“I suppose so,” Amane noted. She glanced at her hand. “But, for me, for all my words, it’s an unnecessary risk. Why not accept it?”
“It’s different for you, though. You aren’t revolted by your family the way I am by my father. So much so, and him for me, that it’s better for everyone if we don’t really interact any more.”
“Not my father, no. But it’s also different for you.”
“Oh?”
Amane looked away, her eyes absent, and remained silent for a few moments. “For an Ohtori… the heir earns everything. We’re not idle beneficiaries.”
“Really? That’s somewhat better, but still, you’re hardly earning it in true proportion to your efforts, now are you?”
“No. But an upper-class guilt complex won’t feed anyone.”
Momomi giggled. “Of course. I get told that a lot. But your family sounds very interesting, that’s for sure.”
“Ah.”
“But that reminds me, you wanted to see me for something important, didn’t you?” Momomi smiled. “I’d forgotten about that. What did you want to talk about?”
“No.” Amane glanced at her. “This is it, for the most part.”
“I see. No, wait, I don’t. But never mind. If this is what makes you happy, it’s fine.”
“Family is important, for people like us. Or perhaps just people like me.” Amane sat, leaning against the fence and pulling up her knees. In that position, she looked surprisingly vulnerable.
Momomi smiled, sitting by her. “No, you’re right. Family is important.” She placed her hands on the grass to either side of her, looking thoughtful. “Even if I don’t like a lot of my family, I think about them a lot. Kaname, who barely has a family in any sense of the word, is dominated by who they were and are, and the things they said to her. Olesa is obsessed with her mother. And you-”
“Amane Ohtori. The sum total of my being is the surname.” Amane shrugged. “That’s all.”
“Still gloomy? I never thought I’d say this, but you have real self-esteem issues.”
“Not really.”
“Well, whatever. For the four of us, but for different reasons, family is central to ourselves. Don’t you think?”
Amane nodded.
“Of course, Shion’s main concern with family is quoting her father, and Amiki… does she even have family? Probably, but it isn’t important. Olesa is her family.” Momomi rubbed her nose. “So not everyone worries about it. The Etoiles do as well, though.”
“Family is probably important to many people, but only a few worry about it. If this was a kind world, in any case, that would be true.”
Momomi nodded. “You’re enthusiastic about this stuff, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you speak this eloquently in quite a while.”
“Ah.” Amane shrugged. “This, too, is something I think about a lot.”
“Fair enough.”
“But if you were the owner of the Phareli head, what would you do?”
“It’d sell it all and give the money to charity-” Momomi chuckled “is what I’d like to say. But if I think about that situation, I wouldn’t. I’d live a good life, and probably try to make enough money to cover my overheads.”
Amane quirked her eyebrows. “Why?”
“For my children.” Momomi frowned. “Adopted. Presumably. But wasting all that money on the good life just feels even more irresponsible.”
Amane nodded. “Of course.”
“I guess I might even try to make some,” Momomi mused. “It’d be something to do. And the traditions, by and large, I’d probably keep them. For old time’s sake.” She touched her cheek and smiled slightly, glancing at Amane. “A little hypocritical of me, I know, but I’m not an idealist. Every rebel becomes a conservative the day after the revolution, right?”
Amane frowned. “I suppose so. But that’s natural, not something to be ashamed of.”
“Some things would be different, though. I wouldn’t teach any bullshit homophobia, for a start…” Momomi coughed. “Though I guess I’m a bit biased on that one. But still, I won’t apologise for it.”
Amane nodded. “And your children?”
“I wouldn’t let them loaf around and get used to being rich and idle,” Momomi noted. “That’d just be stupid. I’d expect them to work very hard.”
“How would you do that?”
“Well, I’d probably send them to a normal school. It’s a better social experience, and it’d give them some damn perspective on life.”
“Wouldn’t their education suffer for that?”
“Hopefully not. But I could always hire tutors to supplement their learning.”
“Like your parents?”
“Well, we were exclusively taught by tutors, remember.” Momomi smiled. “But if there’s one thing I’m glad to receive from my parents, it’s my language education. It was agonising when I was young, but there’s a lot to be said for it. I enjoy it now, on top of that.”
“And you wouldn’t send them here?”
“Well… probably not. Though this school is pretty good for teaching a kind of independence.” Momomi scowled. “But that’s not a given reason. I’m not going to teach them in exactly the same ways my parents taught me, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Not at all. I’m just curious. But don’t you think the social contacts we make here are important? Don’t under-estimate the old school contacts we receive here.”
“Even if you say that, you don’t exactly make much use of that yourself.”
“Nonetheless, I’ll have contacts. I’ll expect great things of one Kiyashiki-san, for example.”
Momomi flushed. “Is that a compliment? From you?”
“Nonetheless. Privilege shouldn’t just be measured in terms of education and material wealth. Contacts are just as important.”
“Once again, your surprising thoughtfulness.”
“Hardly.” Amane shredded a piece of grass idly. “This was something taught me by my family. That’s why my cousins go to the biggest private school in the country.”
“Well, I do take your point.” Momomi frowned. “Perhaps state primary school education would be best, then? I’m not sure.”
“Isn’t it better for you to stick to your guns?”
“What can I say? I’m not an idealist.” Momomi smirked. “I want what’s best for my children. Everyone will say that, they just differ on what they think the best is. But if someone shoves their child one way or the other for pure ideology, I wouldn’t consider them a very good parent.”
“I wonder whether Kenjou would agree.”
“I wonder… it’s hard to imagine Kaname and children, at all. She didn’t exactly have the best life experiences herself.” Momomi grinned. “But I guess she’d be very tribal and over-protective, if she ever had children. Doesn’t seem her style, though.”
“No. Not really. People can change, though.”
“Yeah, but that much?”
“Perhaps not. And, how would you incentivise their work, then?”
Momomi shrugged. “Let’s see. I suppose I’d follow the lead of your family. Divide my estate in accordance with the efforts and merits of my children.”
“That’s not my family’s way, though.” Amane closed her eyes. “Winner takes all.”
“Well, I’d want to leave something for all my children. That’s only fair.”
“That would cripple the Phareli family as an entity, though.”
“It’d destroy the Phareli family in that respect, yes.” Momomi smiled. “Who cares? Did I ever say I was doing this for my ancestors of the family name? I want my children to be happy, or at least deservedly miserable. I could care less about how big we are compared to you guys, say. So there’s no need for a single inheritance.”
Amane frowned. “I see… so that’s the difference. For the Ohtori, the primacy of the family is everything.”
“Case in point, you can call them the Ohtori like that.” Momomi laughed. “Well, I know it’s a bad thing to do on rice farms or whatever, but this isn’t a rice farm. My children don’t need extraordinary privilege in the first place.”
Amane chuckled. “I see. You’re an independent-minded one, after all.”
“And what would you do?”
“I… don’t know.” Amane folded her arms, looking moodily at the trees. “It doesn’t matter, though. The second cousin of the main family is a possession to be auctioned off. I realised that eventually.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, though. It’s hypothetical, as I’ll never be the Phareli heir either.” Momomi smiled. “What do you think?”
Amane shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it. To be honest, though, I think I’d preserve the single inheritance. I can see the reason for it. But-”
“No arranged marriages?” Momomi teased.
“Yes. But that wasn’t it. I wouldn’t encourage… such a competitive attitude. Not as they do.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing important. It hardly applies to me.”
“You say that, but it’s in your head, I can tell. You drop enough hints for me to know, after all.”
“No, I-”
“I’m not deaf, you know.” Momomi sat up, rubbing the back of her head. “Ow. My neck hurts. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
“I’ve stopped taking interest, as it doesn’t apply to me,” Amane replied testily. “It’s irrelevant.”
“I wonder. I guess that is one way to react, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you always do? If you look away and pretend you don’t care, it’s a good way to protect your feelings, isn’t it?”
Amane looked away, saying nothing, then blinked and caught herself. “Not really. Like I said, it’s worthless for me to worry about it. No more than that.”
“I’ve done that myself. But it’s never quite true. However hard someone tries, they can’t stop themselves from worrying about other people, and how they are seen to be. In my experience, the more someone feigns disinterest the more vulnerable they are.” Momomi smiled gently. “And I have a lot of experience. I know Kaname, after all, and she spent a year doing that. Olesa’s another good example, and I myself used the same methods… I can’t speak for the others, but for me it was a sad thing. However much I walled myself up, I was still lonely and melancholy. I wondered why no one cared, even if I swore blind I didn’t care myself. That’s one of the reasons why Kaname’s become important to me.”
“Ah.” Amane sounded uncomfortable. “I can understand that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Ohtori inheritance, though.”
“I see.” Momomi looked away, still smiling lightly. “You should tell me, you know. I can keep a secret, and it’ll make you feel better.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I wonder. But everyone has something to tell. For me, I was kidnapped by someone I considered a friend.”
“What?”
“Sounds unreal, doesn’t it? Well, the circumstances were very unusual.” Momomi sighed. “That used to be the terror of my life. Before, there’s no way I’d be able to talk so casually about that. It was something that warped my thinking for months. But I’m better now. Compared to Kaname, that was nothing. And still, she didn’t mind listening, even if it was my own foolishness that caused it in the end. She didn’t mock me. And so I was able to move on. It’s fine.”
“Is that so?” Amane smiled. “You’re very forgiving.”
“I know. Quite the saint, aren’t I?” Momomi grinned. “Of course, I won’t forgive some people, starting with Kaname’s parents.”
“But it’s interesting, that you’re so calm about betrayal.” Amane scowled, face twisting. “If I was in that situation, I wouldn’t forgive that person. Never.”
“It doesn’t make me happy. I’m still angry in my heart. But he suffered a lot for it, too, so that’s something that relieves me, even if it’s terrible to say that. If he wasn’t punished, I’d feel a lot worse about it.”
“Ah.”
Momomi glanced at the blue-haired girl, who was studiously studying the clouds. “Either way, what’s done is done. I’m glad, now, that I don’t let it control my life.”
“Speaking hypothetically-” Amane began. Then she stopped.
“Speaking hypothetically?” Momomi queried.
“How about if it’s family that betrays you?”
“If that’s the case, it really is unforgivable.”
“For Kenjou, it’s something like that, isn’t it?” Amane muttered. “You mentioned her parents, didn’t you? That must be really bad…”
Momomi smiled slightly. “Yeah. It is.”
Amane was silent for a while. Then she stood and brushed herself off, looking away. “I told you about dreams, didn’t I?”
“At some length.” Momomi stood as well, studying her face. “You said you didn’t have any.”
“That’s right.” Amane shrugged. “It’s another defence mechanism. Dreams, like feelings, are vulnerabilities people can exploit. If you have dreams or are given them someone can lead you on, play on your ambitions or feelings, then crush you totally. That’s why I admire people like you, who have ambitions and feelings both. You live an exciting life while remaining exquisitely vulnerable to the people around you. In the end, you might either fly or fall. I can’t know for sure.”
“And you? What clipped your wings?”
“It’s not important. Thank you for listening until now, though.”
Momomi nodded, frowning slightly. “Think nothing of it. But even if you’re pained or scared, you should trust me. You can’t afford to pretend you feel nothing when that’s such an obvious lie.”
Amane made an amused noise, turning away. “You’re very presumptuous, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I’m myself. But that has nothing to do with it.”
Amane stopped after a few steps. “I thought that, perhaps, I could tell you. But I was wrong.”
“I see…” Momomi frowned. “I understand. But even if you say that, there are plenty of other people who care for you. So many. You shouldn’t be-”
“Don’t pity me, Kiyashiki. I won’t forgive you for that.” Amane chuckled. “Don’t confuse me with Kenjou or yourself. I just enjoy listening to you talk. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m flattered,” Momomi replied casually. “For you, that’s an unusual admission.”
“I’m going to see the horses. You should go back. Kenjou will be waiting for you.”
Momomi nodded. “Goodnight.”
“Look after her.”
“Huh?”
Amane waved vaguely over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Kiyashiki-san.”
Momomi frowned, watching her go. So that’s how it is…it can’t be helped, though. Sometimes, there’s nothing to do but watch.
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