Talk to Me

Disclaimer: Should I even bother with this?

You have forty-eight new messages. Message one: Yukiko why aren't you an message two: pick up. Pickupickupickup message three: goddamnit Yukiko you can't just tell me you're getting message four message fi message six: Yuki mess message ei message nine: Rise here. Sempai, those missed calls from last night? That wasn't me, it was Chie-sempai – so don't misunderstand. I'm not stalking you or something. Also, we're worried about you, and Chie-sempai is probably gonna kill herself. Stop being so

Delete all messages?

Yes, she pressed. Then all forty-eight messages were gone. Chie's voice. Rise's voice. Her friends' voices. There were moments of doubt, moments like now, when Yukiko wondered if it was worth it. If everything was worth it for the sake of a smile, a pat on the back, a congratulatory praise. There were times, too, that she would have answered yes in a heartbeat. In less than a heartbeat. Of course, she also spent those days with a mind constantly packing up, constantly taking the train to the city and never, ever-

And never, ever not coming back.

That was the reality. Too many variables; too many obstacles. People, when she was little. Nosy adults with their oh how adorable, aren't you the prettiest little thing ever? And then invariable the defining questions: where are you going who are you with where's your mom and dad?

When she became older the problems were no longer people, but herself. Money. Shelter. What to do. How to live. What would mother think. Who would inherit the inn.

And older still: the men; how to avoid those men and their stares. The dangers of a young woman alone in the city. Money money money money. What would the town think. What would become of the inn's reputation. Who would inherit the inn. How could she support herself. What skills did she have. How could she survive?

But always, always, she knew that those questions didn't matter. If she set her mind in it, if things became unbearable enough, it was just a matter of pulling out the large backpack she always kept ready and go. It was just a matter of surviving day-to-day. She could do that. Afterall, she had the advantages. She knew she was smart, the class rankings were evident enough. People told her she was pretty, and she knew pretty were an advantage, even if she didn't think of herself as attractive. It was what people thought that mattered, and she conceded readily enough.

She had the advantages. She had the will. She had the strength and was probably fit enough from the TV sessions to one-hit an average person with her fan.

But what she didn't have was a heart she could break in half.

"May I come in?"

Yukiko turned towards the door, and, upon seeing Kasai, nodded. "Please."

As Kasai balanced the tray with one hand and arranged the plate and cup with the other, Yukiko stared at the mirror propped up at the table, picked up her hairbrush and started brushing her hair. One. Two. Three. Pause. Four. And stopped.

"Four is not a good place to stop," Kasai said. She tilted the pot and poured the content into the cup, expertly tilting it backwards as the cup had been filled up to a predetermined level. "One more stroke, perhaps?"

Yukiko eyed the plate. Five mochi filled with red-bean paste. Five is a good number. Mother's favourite number. "No," she said, placing the brush neatly besides the mirror. "What does it matter."

"Odd," said Kasai just as she had finished arranging everything, "Yesterday Chie-chan said exactly the same thing."

"Chie! She- she came here?"

"She did. Brought Pochi, too. All wrapped up like a christmas present – very cute."

Yukiko frowned. "Wrapped up?"

"Chie-chan tied a huge ribbon on his head. The plan was to hide Pochi in your closet, I think. She wanted to surprise you. "

"Surprise. I see. That's... very like Chie." She couldn't help but smile at the image of Pochi as a literal present. Very like Chie, to think of cheering her up with suchunorthodox methods. Last time was... when Souji left. A promise of vacation together when summer came, just the two of them.

"Yuki-chan?"

"It's nothing," Yukiko said, averting her gaze. "Did Chie... did she say anything?"

"Oh, I think you already know what she said, Yuki-chan."

"She wanted to know why."

"Yes."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. It is simply not my place to discuss matters pertaining my employer."

Surprised at the sudden stiffness in Kasai's voice, Yukiko angled her body towards the older woman. Noticed the familiar lines of her person, the wrinkles on her careworn face – a face she had known ever since she was aware of her own existence. "Please don't say it that way. You're not just an employee, Kasai-san. You're family."

Kasai smiled sadly. "Always so kind, Yuki-chan. But perhaps now you're the only one who thinks of me in such a way."

Yukiko didn't know what to say to that. But she knew the reason behind Kasai's unease. Of course she knew. "I'm sure mother-" Didn't meant to. Isn't her usual self. Missed father too much. Should see a doctor. Is still grieving. Needed more sleeping pills. But Yukiko couldn't find the rest of the words to fill in the gap, and so she said instead: "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Yuki-chan. It never is. But!" Kasai clapped her hands. "No use to dwell on such trivialities. I am also telling you to rest easy at night."

"Rest easy?"

Again. Kasai and her tendency to change subjects whenever the atmosphere became oppressive. Of course, she was usually also the one to introduce subjects which created the said oppressive atmosphere. Yukiko was used to it, and welcomed the change.

"Yes. I sent the list to Chie-chan house this morning."

She also thought that it would be nice if Kasai could be less confusing. "What list?"

"The list of your caught admirers."

"Ad...mirers." Yukiko furrowed her brows as she tried to connect the word with a memory. She recalled a... pattern rustling of leaves. The sound of breathing? A flash from a camera, sometimes. Then a startled scream and then the smell of fabric on fire. "Oh, that. I remember. Perhaps you shouldn't have."

"It's only a list," Kasai said with mirth, "what can Chie-chan alone accomplish?"

Indeed; Chie alone would probably accomplish nothing. But knowing Chie, she would forward it to Naoto, and what Naoto knew Kanji also knew. And Kanji was very, very protective of the people close to him. Being his childhood friend (and having renewed their friendship after Souji left), Yukiko was pretty high on that list, and she knew for a fact that she was on the very top of Chie's list. Kanji and Chie. She wondered if blood would be on her hands.

She decided that she couldn't care less.

Yukiko smiled. "Nothing, she can probably do nothing." Or everything. Because Chie would do anything, anything for her. She knew that because she, too, would do absolutely anything for Chie.

Chie.

"How is she?" she asked. She kept her face smooth.

Kasai regarded Yukiko for a moment. Then shifted the tray and held it against her chest. "She looked like how someone who just had the most important person wrenched away from them would look."

Yukiko didn't say anything.

"Also," Kasai said when the window for a response had come and gone, "your mother is requesting you to be prepared by five o'clock."

"Prepared."

"Yes. The meeting with Yoshikane-san, remember."

It seemed like this was what her life would be rendered into: an obliging wife to this skinny, bespectacled man barely taller than herself. Chie was worth ten thousand of this sniveling man, Yukiko thought when he took another blow into his handkerchief.

"Ah," the man said after he had wiped his nose thoroughly. "Pardon me. But I'd never have thought that my wife would be so beautiful. The half an hour trip on my Mercedes seems to have paid off splendidly." He turned towards one of the servants. "Say, is this a 1975 Château La Mission Haut-Brion? Splendid, simply splendid. Though I would prefer the... "

She wanted to shout that he was pronouncing it all wrong, and who ordered French wine in a traditional Japanese inn, for goodness' sake? Chie was so much better than this man. She would have a laughing fit at the face of his snobbery. Chie would race him in his shiny car with Hanamura-kun's beat-up bicycle and win. Chie would rather have a good Junes steak than a hundred thousand yen wine. Chie would- But Chie wasn't here. She left her, remember? Dropped the bomb and walked away.

"Isn't he such a fine man?" Her mother said. Yukiko looked down to see her mother's hand on her own, squeezing it gently as if to reassure her that everything will be alright. That marrying her daughter off had been the right decision, that Yukiko will live happily ever after with a thriving inn run by her husband and cute little babies bouncing on her lap.

"Of course, mother," she said after a while.

If her mother had noticed the hesitant pause, she chose to ignore it. "Now, Yukiko," her mother said, giving another affectionate squeeze on her hand. "Introduce yourself to Jiro-san."

Introduce herself. Why bother, she thought, when everything was already written down, free for him to peruse as he liked. She wondered if her mother had included her measurements.

"Yes, mother," she said. Then, after maintaining a level eye contact (or was she supposed to stare demurely downwards? It didn't matter – that man and his mispronounced wine) bowed as deep as her seated position would allow and held it for a few moments. She rose and said, "my name is Amagi Yukiko. It is a pleasure to be of your acquaintance."

"Likewise;Yoshikane Jiro," the man said so informally and with a bow so shallow Yukiko wondered if she should be offended. If her mother would be offended.

She glanced sideways and saw only a happy, contented smile. Her mother probably wouldn't even care if he turned out to be a wife beater, come to think of it. She married off her daughter to an able young man with a good social standing. There. Job done, nothing else to look at. Odd, that the thought didn't so much as faze Yukiko. Maybe she had became used to the idea.

Yukiko wanted to ask him if he had brothers, and were they named numerically as he was. Because that would be funny. Hello Taro-san; hello Saburo-san. I'm here to marry your brother, Jiro. Giggle. Perhaps she should. But before she could so much as open her mouth, the woman sitting across her mother intervened.

"There, there," the woman said with the faux, over the top laugh Yukiko had attributed to rich, middle-aged housewives, "perhaps we should leave the youngsters alone to get to know each other more comfortably. Don't you agree, Amagi-san?"

"Of course, of course. Why, I should have suggested this before." Her mother pretended to appear flustered. "Well then, Jiro-san, Yukiko. Shall we, Yoshikane-san?" She nodded towards the parties, then rose from the seat, and when Yoshikane had joined her, departed from the room and slid the door close behind her.

Yukiko was left alone with the man and his overpriced wine.

"Thank god they went away; it was getting stifling being constantly chaperoned by those two old women," the man (because Yukiko couldn't bring herself to use such a ridiculous name, like a dog's) said, taking off his suit and loosening his tie. Then leaned forward and stared (leered, Yukiko thought, leered) at her intently. "Very pretty."

I am. So what does it have to do with you?

"Thank you."

"Lotsa boyfriends, Yuki?"

"Please refrain from such informality, Yoshikane-san."

The man chuckled. "Oh sorry, sorry. Amagi, right. Amagi. Say," he clinked the glass against the bottle, "aren't you gonna?"

Yukiko frowned at the absurd gesture. Gonna what? Gonna pour me a glass of wine like the subservient wife you're gonna be? I'm the almighty husband and the sole breadwinner, so watch, Yu-ki, cuz you're gonna stay in your room with the babies while I run the inn yeah?

What Yukiko wanted to do was smash his face with his beloved vintage bottle.

"Of course," she said instead, curving both ends of her lips into a smile. Leaning forward, she took the bottle and poured it with both hands. All part of the protocol. She watched as he went through the customary gestures: swirl, sniff, sip.

"Very good," he said, apparently satisfied. A few more tentative sips and the glass was set down. His hand, of course, crept on top of her own. "I think I'll be pleased."

She started mentally rearranging the room's décor.

"Isn't he such a fine man?" her mother repeated, unclasping the last of her earrings and dropped it into a jewelry box.

"Is he," Yukiko said. She watched as her mother watched herself on the mirror. She gave no indication if she heard the question, the disbelief in Yukiko's words.

Sometimes Yukiko wondered if her mother knew she existed at all. Not Amagi Yukiko, the heiress, but Yukiko, the high school student, the daughter, Satonaka Chie's best friend. She wondered if her mother would recognise her, if she stopped wearing red, if she cut her hair, if they see each other across the crowd years later.

Jewelry box safely closed, her mother re-positioned herself to face Yukiko and smiled. "It's going to be grand, your wedding," she said, "you'll be happy with a husband."

No. You'll be happy.

"Mother..."

"Yes?"

"Can I not..."

"Not?"

"Marry."

The change in her mother's expression was absolute. "No," she said without preamble. "You will." She turned back to face the mirror, and just like that, the conversation had finished before it begun.

This is what it must be like, Yukiko thought, to suffocate.

"Chie?"

"Holy crap it's really you Yukiko why the hell did-"

"Come to me. Please."

Continued.

Next:

In which the author goes back and edit edit edit (someday in the future) because dang Yukiko you just totally messed up a fic that was supposed to be concluded in three chapters and is about a happy-go-lucky lighthearted cheerful best friends bonding ala Sisterhood of the Pants only without jeans 'cuz Yukiko is yamato nadeshiko and totally do not wear jeans and kinda like The Wedding Crashers see only it's about engagement with some snotty dude o hai Mitsuru! and Chie is supposed to like crash the party with Rise and Kanji's going on HOLY CRAP A YAKUZA and shit but nao look wat hapened u geting emo Yuki. Also known as: Yukiko and Chie move an inch forward with their lives.

And oh, review?