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Kaoruko walks through the Tokyo nightlife with Claudine beside her, the two of them dressed up in tiny cocktail dresses too light for the season - that is, early autumn. It’s nearly midnight, and they make their way languidly from one bar to the next, going through their notifications on their phones and they make the stroll a couple blocks over, swaying a bit on their heels after so many drinks.
“Who are we meeting?” Claudine asks, the sound of her nails on her phone screen indicating to Kaoruko that she’s not even brought her eyes up from the screen to ask. “I’m texting Yachiyo and she’s thinking of meeting up with us, but not if certain people are there.”
Kaoruko tries to remember the guest list for this next event. She wonders if there was a time in her life before now, or any time in her future, where she would have such an extensive social circle and such influence over it. It seemed unlikely. “It’s just Tamao’s group - probably Rui and Yuyuko and them,” she replies, knowing Claudine knows enough to extrapolate the people in attendance from there.
“Ok… so Fumi will likely turn up, I’ll warn Yachiyo.”
“Ugh, are they still not over that?” Kaoruko asks irritably. “It happened like three months ago.”
“Kaoruko, Fumi left her troupe, without any notice, in the middle of the season. That’s practically unheard of. And besides, even if Yachiyo doesn’t hold a grudge, her troupemates do - she’s close with Shiori, after all, so she has to keep up appearances.”
Of course Kaoruko knows this. Of course she understood all of this long before Claudine laid it out. But secretly, selfishly, she hopes that Fumi and the girls in Yachiyo’s Siegfeld Theater Company would reconcile, that she would be presented with a happy ending. Because that would mean that her-
She shakes her head, redirecting herself from going down that line of thinking. “They probably won’t make up, maybe ever,” Kaoruko says, surprising herself by saying it aloud.
“Wow, pretty pessimistic tonight, aren’t you? They’ll be fine, they just need time for the dust to settle,” Claudine assures her. “Let’s go buy Fumi a drink, I’m sure she’s going through it.”
And so they go - drinking and socializing until a late hour. It’s only as Kaoruko is stumbling home, arm linked into Claudine’s, that her thoughts start to drift. She had done such a good job keeping herself occupied, endlessly distracted by shiny glassware and old faces and a steady rotation of drinking venues, but now all is quiet as they walk down abandoned streets under a cloudless night sky towards the company residence. And as she recounts everyone who was out that night, everyone who bore witness to another night of her trademark tasteful debauchery, she can’t help but think of who was not there, who wasn’t watching her.
Kaoruko knew they were getting a new cast member in their troupe, that was not a surprise. Most of the girls she worked with had been there for several seasons, if not years, and typecast into various roles that did shift now and then. For example, Claudine was typically a heroine, or a love interest, and Kaoruko was typically a villainess. But there had been a hole in their cast for some time - perhaps the most glaring hole there could be: they were missing a hero, a lead. They had been riding on Yanagi Koharu taking the role permanently after trying it out for two seasons, but the news came in that she agreed to a contract across town - with big money - and so they were again out of luck.
So Kaoruko knew someone new was coming, but she did not expect Tendo Maya. Maya entered the rehearsal studio, all straight-backed perfect posture and an absolutely no-nonsense aura around her. Kaoruko could tell she was also from a wealthy family, but had never properly broken away to let loose as Kaoruko had. All she could think, that first afternoon, was how much she wanted to get to know Maya, and then wipe that uptight air away, to see her properly let loose for the first time in her life.
So she takes the chance after that first rehearsal, inviting Maya to dinner with herself and Claudine, an invitation that would be the envy of some of the junior company members, Kaoruko was certain. Maya agrees to the meal, but doesn’t seem particularly deferent to Kaoruko as a company veteran, a fact that she overlooks for the sake of her greater goal.
“So Maya, what were you doing before this?” Kaoruko asks, once the three of them are tucked into a booth at a nearby restaurant.
“My most recent role was that of Joan of Arc with the New National Theater,” Maya says.
Kaoruko has trouble getting a read on Maya. She doesn’t sound boastful of holding such a coveted role, but she isn’t demure. There is a sort of arrogance about her, lurking quietly. Claudine is pretty easy to read, as she can’t hide her emotions at all, but at the same time, Claudine tends to go with the flow. Maya, it seems, will be more of a challenge.
“Oh I considered auditioning for the New National, but came here instead, once I returned from France,” Claudine says, Kaoruko can see that Claudine is more attentive than usual, not tapping away at her phone, and she can see Maya has had an impression on her as well.
“Ah, yes, New National is rather prestigious overseas, I’ve heard,” Maya answers.
Claudine continues discussing something with Maya, but Kaoruko is distracted, pretending to ponder the menu as she thinks of the New National Theater, of its partner theater in Kyoto, of her life just a few years ago. It’s hard to really let herself think of it now. The memories in question all took place the season before Claudine returned from France, and she doesn’t know Maya well enough to get into it.
They go back to the company housing after dinner, Claudine going back to the studios to rehearse some lines for the upcoming audition, and Kaoruko helps Maya unpack her room. Maya really does not have many possessions, and Kaoruko decides, among other things, that she needs to take Maya out shopping. She can’t even invite her to the bars with her wardrobe as it is.
“Did you enjoy your first day?” she asks, listening to the murmuring and footsteps in the hall of the junior members surely trying to get a glimpse of the new star in their troupe.
“Yes, it was lovely. I think this will be a good fit.”
Kaoruko thinks of asking Maya then, why she left New National, if she knew a certain Isurugi Fuaba while she was there, but she stays quiet, hanging up practice clothes in the closet.
It’s not until another week and a half that Kaoruko can drag Maya out to the shopping district. The intensive weeks of auditions, casting, and initial rehearsals for their next season’s performance have them all sore and exhausted, but finally, one Saturday, Kaoruko wakes late and finds the other two at breakfast, and urges them to come out with her to bolster Maya’s wardrobe.
She gets Claudine to come along by implying that her Parisian heritage will help with fashion choices, but Kaoruko secretly knows she will be making all the decisions. Or at least she thinks she will. Once downtown in the shopping district, it seems that Maya is open to Kaoruko’s input, but she looks to Claudine for the final approval, and sometimes even buys something of her own accord, typically in a garish color Kaoruko would never even spare a second glance, had she been shopping for herself.
Finally, once all of them are tired of looking at clothes, they walk across the street to a cafe and settle down with pastries and fancy coffee drinks. Maya takes an interest in the sweets offered, and while Claudine checks her emails, Kaoruko gets into a deep conversation with Maya about the best confectioneries and patisseries in the city. It’s cute, she thinks, the gap between the serious Maya in rehearsals and the Maya listening with rapt attention, taking notes about cake. She wonders if she can reconcile the two. With a quirk of her brow, she suggests karaoke, and both Claudine and Maya make a hilarious show of trying not to look overly enthusiastic.
They rent a karaoke room, ordering some sake and settling into the benches, even though it’s barely evening. Kaoruko is certain to make them pose for a selfie, since Claudine often forgets and Maya probably doesn’t know what the front facing camera is for. She posts the photo onto her social media account, wondering if this photo, or any of her photos of her curated life in Tokyo are perceived by the one person she both wants and doesn’t want to think of her.
Claudine starts them off with an idol’s single, a few years old, substituting lyrics in French when she forgets them, instead of turning towards the screen to check them. She’s facing Maya and Kaoruko, immersed in her ‘performance’, her blonde waves swinging about her. Kaoruko goes next, picking an enka song both because she knows it’ll make Claudine roll her eyes, and because she enjoys them. The shakuhachi and the shamisen come in, and she is back in Kyoto, dancing around in the streets, while Futaba is on the sidewalk, perched on her bike. She sings the lyrics, a ballad of loss, surprised at how emotional she is becoming. She can see the wooden shop faces of the main street, the cherry blossoms, the river. She wonders if she’s ever felt homesick before this moment.
The song ends, and she forces a smile back on her face. Karaoke was her idea, after all. Maya takes the mic next, singing a classic Takurazuka Revue song. She wonders if this is Maya’s go-to at karaoke, or just something she wanted to try. With Maya, she realizes it could go either way.
The hour is over soon enough, and they walk out into the now-dark evening. Kaoruko is surprised when she sees the date in large numbers above the station entrance - she didn’t think it was so late in the year. She wonders what she’s done all year, if she’s accomplished anything more than acting out the part of the villain on stage and trying to enjoy herself as much as possible in her off hours.
The three of them - Maya, Claudine, and Kaoruko - become rather inseparable as the performance draws near. They go out for a weekly brunch on their off day, admiring the neighborhood which is now festooned in Christmas decorations. She plays dress-up with Maya, sorting through her recently purchased clothes to form outfits for various events. She keeps an eye on the social circles with Claudine, the two of them staying updated on the cold war of Fumi vs. the Siegfelds, and the ways the Rinmeikan Traditional Theater girls and the Frontier Western Theater girls tried to pretend they didn’t admire each other.
But if there are her moments with Maya, and her moments with Claudine, then there is also a third combination, one that she is not privy to: Maya and Claudine together. She doesn’t mind that they do things together, exactly. She doesn’t have to be included in absolutely everything, of course. But it does put her on edge for another reason: she can feel them all traipsing the edge of a cliff, a change that will alter the dynamics of their friendship irrevocably. She can sense it now - the transience - and she wants to reach out and hold the present moment close, though of course what she wants to clutch is amorphous, abstract.
She notices it first in rehearsal, watching the way Claudine constantly follows Maya with her eyes, despite the fact that she is in conversation with Kaoruko. Catching up on her notifications has been replaced with catching up to Maya’s level, Claudine’s new obsession.
“Want to get sushi tonight?” Kaoruko asks, famished after hours of rehearsals.
“Not tonight. I’m going to stop at the cafeteria real quick and go back to the studio to practice,” Claudine says, as they change after rehearsal, bundling into jackets and scarves to face the cold.
“Seriously? You’re not going to have energy for the performance,” Kaoruko says, shaking her head in disapproval.
“I’ll be fine,” Claudine says. “I’ve wasted enough evenings out drinking, I can stand a few late nights honing my skills.”
But I liked those nights, I don’t think they’re a waste, Kaoruko thinks. What were they doing in the middle of Tokyo in their prime of their lives, if not to enjoy themselves? If there is no nightlife, no circle of friends, no distractions, she might as well have returned to Kyoto. “Suit yourself,” is all Kaoruko says.
It’s a few days later, at their weekly brunch, when she sees the change in Maya. She sips her mimosa, watching the way Maya fusses over Claudine when the latter complains of a strained muscle, an injury Kaoruko warned Claudine she would get with all the extra practice.
“It’s really fine,” Claudine assures Maya. “The trainer says I’ll be fine by curtain up.”
“I have some supplies in my room: ice packs, a foam roller, a brace, you’re welcome to whatever you need,” Maya offers. Kaoruko wonders how many small injuries Maya has dealt with in her journey to lead actress, but only for a moment, as her attention is turned to the two of them making plans for later that afternoon.
“Sure, I’ll stop by. We should finish that drama anyways,” Claudine suggests.
Maya smiles. “Yes, I’ve been desperate to know how it ends.”
“You didn’t watch ahead, did you?” Claudine asks, leaning closer to inspect Maya’s features for an admission of guilt. Kaoruko doesn’t miss the way Maya blushes.
It’s the first week of shows when Kaoruko and Maya take a moment to slip away from the theater to go to a confectionary popup near the local park. It’s snowing now, large, cartoonish snowflakes that sit heavy on the grass.
“Where did you hear about this place?” Maya asks as they approach the rows of stalls for the outdoor market.
“I came here when I was a student,” Kaoruko replies, unbidden memories of Futaba sipping a cup of hot cocoa, of Futaba loaning Kaoruko her gloves coming to mind.
“Oh, was it-”
“What are your intentions with Claudine?” Kaoruko asks, cutting off Maya’s polite conversation. She sounds like a parent, or at least someone concerned with her friend’s well being, but she knows, inside, she’s selfish. Do you plan on taking Claudine and leaving me behind? is what she really means.
Maya looks surprised initially, but schools the look into her typical calm demeanor. “I plan to ask her to be my girlfriend,” she says, as casually as if she was talking about what she planned to order at the stall. They continue forward in silence for a bit, their footsteps marring the perfect blanket of fallen snow.
“She’ll say yes,” Kaoruko assures Maya, because she doesn’t have a better response. She detected their feelings for each other weeks ago, and if she was honest with herself, since just about the day they met. She cannot in good conscience tell Maya not to confess her feelings, she is friends with both of them, truly, she wants the best for them. But she can’t help the way her eyes tear up a bit, thinking of them leaving her behind, thinking of her own love.
“I do hope you’re right… Hanayagi-san?” Maya asks, her surprise at seeing Kaoruko’s clouded expression making her increase her formality, it seemed. “Are you alright?”
Kaoruko nods, swiping furtively at her eyes. She steels herself, realizing they are at the market. “Of course. We’re here,” she says, looking forward, away from Maya’s gaze.
They do their shopping, and then, bags loaded with sweets, turn back the way they came. Maya stops at a booth, purchasing two hot cocoas, and hands one to Kaoruko. They traipse back over their own footsteps in the opposite direction. Kaoruko knows it’s her turn to speak, to offer something to Maya. “Someone dear to me was in the New National troupe,” Kaoruko says quietly. “Do you know her? Isurugi Futaba?”
Maya considers the question, sipping at her drink. “Yes, I knew Isurugi-san. But she transferred to the Kyoto division just a couple months after I joined, so I didn’t know her as any more than an acquaintance.”
“That must have been… nearly two years ago now,” Kaoruko says, surprised to come to this conclusion herself. Had she really been on her own for two years now? Had she really been working on crafting this Tokyo life, the one where Kaoruko is in charge of her own destiny, where Kaoruko is the It Girl others wished to be, for two years?
Maya nods. “I completed a two-year contract with New National before I came here.” They walk a bit further, both of them musing, until Maya continues. “Do you still keep in touch with Isurugi-san?” she asks.
“No.” The cocoa is almost too sweet now, sticky in her throat. “I don’t.”
Maya nods, understanding the topic is over. “I plan to confess my feelings on the last night of the performance. That way, if it goes poorly, we can decide if we want to continue both of us here, next season.”
Kaoruko considers this. She’s always considered Claudine like herself, in a way. She wonders, if it were her, if Maya were Futaba, if she’d accept this confession. The fact that she’s unsure frustrates her. She wonders if she’s grown at all in the past two years.
Just as Maya said, she plans her confession for the last night of the performance. The cast goes out drinking together after the final curtain call, and before it gets too rowdy, Maya asks Claudine to step outside with her, “just for a moment”.
They do indeed come back a few minutes later, though longer than Kaoruko expected, smiles on both of their faces. They buy the next two rounds of drinks, and soon enough everyone is respectably drunk, the edges hammered down by the alcohol, easy smiles all around the table.
“Kaoruko,” Claudine whispers, surprisingly coherent despite several empty glasses beside her. “I have a girlfriend.”
“So I’ve gathered. I take it the confession went well?”
Claudine nods, smiling. “Kaoruko I- we-,” she takes a breath, slowing down. “We’re a couple, just like that.”
“Just like that,” Kaoruko repeats, gesturing to the waiter for another drink.
Kaoruko returns to her phone, updating her followers about her evening, about the aesthetics of the current bar, rapid videos of the drunken cast, a bathroom selfie, fully diving into her favorite distraction. About an hour after her chat with Claudine, the group breaks up, some of them going dancing at a club, others heading home. Still others, Kaoruko’s group among them, trek through the snowy night to a smaller, cozier bar.
“Yanagi-san will be there,” Kaoruko hears Claudine telling Maya. “You have to meet her, you two would definitely get along.” Kaoruko watches as Claudine slips her hand into Maya’s for the rest of the walk.
And once Maya is in a deep discussion with Koharu about something that is certainly too boring for anyone else in their current state of inebriation, Claudine gestures to Kaoruko, pulling her into an empty booth.
“What’s with you?” Claudine asks, her face filled with concern. “Spill.”
“I’m fine, the alcohol just isn’t sitting with me well. You know I hate beer. Why do these work parties always drink beer?” As she says this, she flags down a waitress with a tray of shots, taking two.
“Because if it were anything else we’d be falling down drunk in an hour,” Claudine says, shaking her head. “But that’s a lie. What’s really bothering you?”
Kaoruko shrugs. “Just lonely I guess,” she says, surprising herself with her honestly. “Thinking about my new life as a third wheel.” She’s just teasing, lying to Claudine after all, but she’s surprised by the tinge of venom in her words. But it’s not anger at Claudine, or Maya. It’s frustration at herself for her self-inflicted solitude. Generally, it’s enough to embed herself in the busy bars, her dynamic friend groups. But now, constantly watching a couple will hammer home her isolation.
Claudine cuts into Kaoruko’s thoughts, responding after pondering for a moment. “Kaoruko… who broke your heart?”
Claudine’s observation stops her cold, Kaoruko not expecting this insight from Claudine, who typically just played a sidekick role to her, who couldn’t be trusted to remember song lyrics in Japanese, and who was texting half the time they chatted. But she knows, deep down, that Claudine is perceptive like this. Claudine picks her moments, but she knows Kaoruko well. Kaoruko just had her guard down.
Kaoruko slides one of the shots to Claudine, shaking her head a bit. “I did,” she replies.
Winter season begins, with the turn of the new year. Not much has changed, aside from the fact that occasionally Claudine will sleep in Maya’s room instead of her own, and that sometimes Kaoruko’s two closest friends will subject her to their public displays of affection: handholding while walking down the road, or adjusting each other’s outfits at the train station.
They are getting ready to go out now, as Kaoruko still insists they go to the bars regularly. They couldn’t be top stage actors in Tokyo and just sit inside to watch dramas on television at night, she would say, and though the other two seemed to think that they in fact, could, they went along with Kaoruko. Kaoruko wears a sequined dress and a faux fur coat, the other two dressed up, though not quite as much as Kaoruko. After spending the requisite effort on hair and makeup, they head out.
They go across town on this night, mostly because Claudine wants to see Yachiyo. Kaoruko makes them pose, as usual, for a selfie on the train, and again at the bar entrance. Once inside, Maya spots Tsuyuzaki Mahiru, a friend of hers from the New National Theater, and wanders off to say hello.
Claudine and Kaoruko, meanwhile, spot Yachiyo right away, her pink hair tied up into an intentionally messy bun, her face changing to a wry smile when she sees them approaching. “Yo,” she greats, teasingly as always. Kaoruko doesn’t exactly enjoy being around Yachiyo, not in the way Claudine does, at least. She always feels like Yachiyo knows more than she lets on, her words coming out in coded riddles. Kaoruko can never feel at ease around someone who has more cards to their chest than she does.
“Yachiyo, is that a hickey on your neck?” Claudine asks, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “What will the director think?”
“Well it’s from the director, so…” Yachiyo holds Claudine’s gaze, and then her face crinkles into laughter. “Kidding! Kidding! Hey don’t punch me!”
They order a round of shots, and Kaoruko is distracted, watching the ways Claudine has changed. She realizes that Claudine is louder, more animated, since Maya’s been around. She wonders if the way Claudine behaved when it was just her and Kaoruko was genuine, or if Claudine was holding back. She’s released from these thoughts and a pair of arms wrap around Yachiyo’s shoulders, enclosing her in a hug from behind. “Akikaze-han??” Kaoruko asks, incredulous. “You’re sleeping with Akikaze??” she asks Yachiyo.
“How are you, Hanayagi-san?” Rui asks, a blush coloring her cheeks. Kaoruko remembers her manners, greeting Rui properly, and moving over to let her sit beside Yachiyo.
“Hmm… it looks like Siegfeld and Rinmeikan are growing closer, after all,” Claudine comments, smiling conspiratorially.
“I told you, it just needed some time. Won’t be long now before Fumi and Shiori make up.” Yachiyo says. “Here, chat with Rui, I need to talk to Kaoruko-san about something.”
Kaoruko is taken aback by the suggestion that she and Yachiyo have anything to talk about. She only knows Yachiyo through Claudine, and what she glimpses on social media, though Yachiyo is elusive and cryptic there. She can’t imagine what Yachiyo possibly wants her for.
But obediently, she leaves the other two, giving up her seat to Maya, who is just then rejoining them, Mahiru in tow. She and Yachiyo slip their coats on and take their drinks onto the rooftop bar, where there are portable heaters to take the chill away, but still they are the only ones up there aside from one or two solitary smokers.
“What is this about?” Kaoruko asks, her eyes narrowing, as Yachiyo stands against the rail, sipping her drink calmly. She pretends to sip her own drink, feigning calmness, but Yachiyo has her on edge as always.
“It’s the season for getting together,” Yachiyo says, her tone neutral. She is turned away from Kaoruko, gazing out over the railing.
Kaoruko dismisses the stray thought that Yachiyo is very pretty, and if she would drop the whole ‘I can read your thoughts’ thing she’d be a real catch. But she always has had a soft spot for that hair color. “Is it?” she asks, wondering if Yachiyo is getting at what she thinks she’s getting at.
Yachiyo shrugs, and Kaoruko realizes she’s going through the motions of this conversation in order to coax out of Kaoruko what she really wants to know. The thought annoys her, but she doesn’t walk away. “I mean… Claudine has a girlfriend now, Rui and I just got together… even Akira is finally making a move on the object of her affections.”
Kaoruko grits her teeth, wondering what the worst thing that would happen is if she just walked away, ignoring Yachiyo’s request to chat. Instead, she finds herself answering, “That’s good for Yukishiro-han.”
Yachiyo cocks her head a bit, considering this. “And yet Kaoruko-san is as elusive as ever,” she says, smiling fondly. “Do you have no one you like?” she asks, her tone turning more serious. “Or someone you care for, but do not want to declare your feelings for?”
There is a certain pang of nervousness in Kaoruko’s gut, a sense that Yachiyo shouldn’t know this, can’t know this, and yet she’s hit the nail right on the head. She knows she doesn’t have to say ‘the second one,’ as some unconscious flicker in her face has tipped Yachiyo off already. But still, she doesn’t back away. She wonders if she’s just desperate to be heard, wanting to unburden herself in front of anyone at all, and Yachiyo at least will let her say it indirectly and still be understood. “I let her go,” she says, quietly. She doesn’t say, ‘I pushed her away’, though she knows that’s more accurate. Perhaps the shame seeping out of her, the fact that she can’t meet Yachiyo’s eyes will give it away anyways.
“You had it and lost it,” Yachiyo says. She leans forward a bit, studying Kaoruko. “What are you doing now?” she asks, her brow quirking in thought. “Atoning?”
“We were close when we were young,” Kaoruko finds herself explaining. “I don’t even know when we transitioned from friends to lovers. It was only natural. I could always depend on her.” She sips her drink, almost choking as she tries to swallow. “But when she needed me, when she needed to rely on me, I-” she pauses, unsure of how to say it without explaining the whole situation.
“You couldn’t be for her what she was for you? You felt inadequate.” Yachiyo supplies. It’s a statement, not a guess.
“It’s better that she’s gone, she can find happiness somewhere else!” Kaoruko says, louder and more firmly than she planned. “I just… can’t be what she needs.”
Now Yachiyo looks at her with understanding, but it doesn’t irritate Kaoruko as much anymore. She nods, finishing her drink. Kaoruko does the same, but it’s bitter in her throat. “I think you can,” Yachiyo says, her face softening. “Isn’t that why you’re single? You’re holding out for the time when you feel you’re strong enough to face her again.”
“No… I…” but Kaoruko isn’t even sure what she’s trying to say. She pushes past Yachiyo to go back inside, trying to immerse herself in the hubbub of the bar to avoid thinking about Yachiyo’s words.
It’s a few weeks later, into February, when Kaoruko finds herself alone in her room on a Saturday morning, a rare weekend day with no rehearsal until the afternoon. Maya and Claudine have gone off together on a date, and she sits on her bed, not ready yet to change out of her pajamas.
She picks up her phone, pulling it off the charger, and checks various notifications - people liking her photos from the bars the night before, a message or two from Tamao teasing her for getting too drunk, some emails about rehearsal schedules for the upcoming weeks.
She opens the messages from Tamao and sends her back a picture she shot of the other woman, spluttering after an unexpectedly strong shot. Then she texts Claudine, asking about what time she’s getting back. It’s not that she’s lonely, exactly. It’s more the fact that she cannot stand being alone, and Claudine is as good of a distraction as any.
A few minutes later, she gets a text back. “Another hour, I think. Why, miss me?” Claudine sent the message with a tongue-out emoji, and Kaoruko doesn’t bother responding. She drags herself out of bed to get dressed, walking down to the cafeteria slowly for breakfast.
She’s just finishing up when Claudine and Maya walk in, purchasing lunch and sitting at the same table as Kaoruko. She watches the way Claudine slyly moves her umeboshi from her own tray to Maya’s, and the way Maya picks it up and eats it a few bites later without a word. When Claudine wipes a stray grain of rice from Maya’s chin, she can’t take it anymore. “Ugh, get a room,” she tells them, mostly joking. Truly, it just reminds her that there’s no one she can push her green onions off on.
They make their way to the rehearsal studio a bit later, preparing to start rehearsing the winter selection. Claudine and Maya share the leads, with Kaoruko as the main antagonist. It gives her a grim smile, to think of them reflecting their lives on stage in real life. It comforts her to think that she is doomed to be a villain, as if perhaps it takes some of the onus off of herself for her past actions. Like she was predestined to fail. She wonders how much of a villain she is, really.
She is shaken from her thoughts by the commotion from the actors who are currently rehearsing. She had been sitting on the side of the studio, reviewing her lines and awaiting her first entrance. She stands, trying to get a view of the disturbance.
It’s Claudine, she sees, being led to a chair, her weight supported by Maya and another actress, her ankle in the air. She sits heavily, hissing in pain as one of the staff members touches her ankle to assess the damage. And Kaoruko misses the rest, misses any of the conversation, the worry about Claudine being able to perform, Maya and the staff member helping Claudine to the training room, the rehearsal resuming, tensely, as she is lost in her memories. She can’t see Claudine, just Futaba. It’s two years ago, and she’s still frozen, unable to help Futaba with her injury, unable to cheer up her depressed mood.
That night, after somehow getting through the rehearsal, she eats dinner with Daiba Nana and Hoshimi Junna, Maya and Claudine not yet returned from a trip to the clinic. “I hope Saijou-san can perform,” Junna says.
“Don’t you want her to be injured?” Kaoruko asks, her voice nearly a sneer. “You’re her understudy, after all.”
Junna’s eyes widen at the implication, and Nana shoots Kaoruko a pointed glance. “Of course I don’t. No understudy wishes misfortune on the lead! We just want to train for our own opportunity to shine as a lead.”
Kaoruko goes back to her dinner, thinking that if life imitates art, perhaps she is truly becoming the villain. She sneaks a glance a few minutes later, only to find Nana now looking at her with a pitying expression. If anything, this feels worse than her accusing look before.
“They said I was cleared, after the strain last season,” Claudine says, explaining the situation to Kaoruko for the third time, over brunch. “But it acted up again, and I misstepped, and now suddenly I lost my role, I can’t believe it.” She tips back her mimosa, shaking her head in disbelief.
It was true, Claudine’s recovery wouldn’t be complete before curtain up, and Hoshimi Junna had taken over her role in that season's production. Kaoruko had expected her frustration, her lack of acceptance, just as she expects her depression to follow. It is the same as before - the same as Futaba. She’s seen this all happen before.
She remembered, two years ago, when Futaba’s knee ligament tore during a fight scene rehearsal and she was called upon to be there for the person who was always there for her. When Futaba couldn’t perform for about 9 months, and went from anger to frustration to depression, and Kaoruko was useless to help her, until their relationship slipped out of her grasp. She had been successful at distracting herself from this reality for two years with Futaba in Kyoto and her busy life in Tokyo, but now, each glimpse of the bandages on Claudine’s ankle and her crutches propped up on the wall behind the table had Kaoruko repeating those months, the slow decay of her closest relationship, her companion since nearly birth.
When they get up to leave brunch, Kaoruko a little unsteady from her heavier-than-usual drinking, she watches the way Maya helps Claudine put on her coat, and the way she helps her get steady on the crutches. Maya even takes the time to arrange Claudine’s hair around her coat collar, blonde waves that catch the small rays of winter sun as they step outside.
And Maya only continues to ensure Claudine is as well as she can be during the winter season. She accompanies her to physical therapy sessions, listening in on the “homework” Claudine has to do on the off days, so she can do the exercises alongside. She picks up essential groceries, so Claudine can minimize her trips outside the dormitory except for fresh air. In the evenings, Kaoruko and Maya gather in Claudine’s room, stretching, doing the aforementioned exercises (well, the other two do, Kaoruko abstains), and then eating sweets or fruit and drinking tea. They continue the usual routines of gossip and discussion of news at the company, and generally, Kaoruko feels that Claudine’s spirits remain high.
But at least for the first few weeks, Claudine stays home from the bars, leaving only Maya and Kaoruko venturing out together. Maya herself was hesitant, preferring to stay in with Claudine, but Claudine encouraged her to go out “for both of your sakes”.
So they go, one chilly night towards March, the wind blowing about as they make their way uptown towards a bar that Tamao recommends. Kaoruko expects it to be gaudy, maybe a little too overstated, like Tamao, but it’s surprisingly to her taste. Maya waves at Rui and Kaoruko follows Maya to a booth with Yachiyo and Rui, where Yachiyo hands her her favorite cocktail. Kaoruko is surprised that Yachiyo remembers.
“It’s so sad just seeing the two of you, we couldn’t believe the news about Claudine,” Rui says, swirling the stirrer in her drink. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and Yachiyo is tucked into her side sipping some fancy cocktail and suddenly Kaoruko feels entirely underdressed and out of her element in this bar. Even though the bars are her element, these social circles are her people. She wonders what she’s wearing, suddenly forgetting how she’s dressed and how she’s done her makeup but too embarrassed to check.
“Yes, it truly is a setback,” Maya answers, as placid as ever.
“Kuro-san says you’ve been the most helpful, at her side every day,” Yachiyo says, nodding at Maya with a soft smile. “She sent me a picture of all the groceries you brought her. Even her favorite bottle of wine!”
Maya smiles, and for once it’s even a little sheepish. “Yes, I admit it was a bit of a challenge, since I don’t shop for wine often. But I’m doing my best. I’m certain she’ll be back better than ever next season.”
The conversation continues, about Claudine or another topic Kaoruko cannot be certain of, but Kaoruko has mentally checked out. She hates this. She hates Claudine resting for three months and coming back a star. She hates Maya, the perfect doting girlfriend. She hates the sidelong, knowing glance Yachiyo shoots her every minute or two. And she hates herself. There is no reason for these feelings. She doesn’t really wish ill on any of them. She just wishes…
But it’s time to go. They arrived late, and the groups are already getting coats to meet up with the next group at the next bar since the last show is getting out at the theater up the road. “You coming, Kaoruko?” Yachiyo asks, a tinge of concern in her eyes.
“Not feeling well. I think I’ll head back early.” Even as she says the words she hates them. They taste like defeat. She’s never, not once since Futaba left, gone home early. She’s always been out late, scared to miss that weekend’s drama, busy busy busy with the excitement, and back at it again the next week. She wonders if Yachiyo knew she wasn’t up to it and merely asked the question to give her a chance to bail out. She wonders if she appreciates or resents that.
“I’ll come along and ensure you get home safely,” Maya says.
Kaoruko thinks that Maya isn’t much for the drinking scene anyways, so this excuse is lucrative to her as well, but she nods weakly, turning away with Maya and heading off. She wonders distantly of what she’ll miss that weekend, but finds she doesn’t much care.
“Should we stop by the after hours infirmary?” Maya asks, looking Kaoruko over.
Kaoruko pulls her coat tighter around herself. “No, of course not. I’m fine, I just wanted to leave.”
Maya nods, silent for a moment. Then, tentatively, “Is this about Claudine?”
Kaoruko meets Maya’s gaze. It’s steady, firm, but there is also something in her eyes that is beseeching, as if she wants to clear the air between them. “No. I mean, not really.”
“Kaoruko, understand it was not my intention to offend you in any way with my actions-”
“It’s not that,” Kaoruko says, cutting Maya off with a wave of her hand as she continues to walk towards the station. She kicks a bit of snow, wondering how to say what she wants to say. “How do you know what to do?” she asks, finally, just as they arrive at the station.
“Pardon?”
“The food, the exercises, the things you say to Claudine - How do you know how to do those things?” They swipe in, descending an elevator to wait for the train. Kaoruko glances at the sign. Three minutes.
“What to do? I… I don’t.”
Kaoruko hadn’t expected this answer. She leans back against the tiles, staring at Maya in surprise.
“I’m just trying to do my best as her girlfriend. Before this, she was always helping me with little things, and so now I’m trying to do the same. I mess up sometimes - just yesterday I got a soup she hates, but I’m trying to support her because it’s a time when she needs me.”
Kaoruko doesn’t answer. What could she say? ‘Do your best’ ‘It’s ok if you mess up’ seem like such simple pieces of advice they should be obvious to even her, someone who had never had to care for anyone else in her life. But it was different in the moment. Futaba quickly changing from the capable and enabling hero of her childhood to her helpful and doting lover in their early careers to someone she couldn’t rely on - just a mere normal, fallible human in a few short days - it was like the floor gave out. She was floundering, drowning, and thought she had no choice but to retreat.
It is Maya who speaks next, just as the train is approaching. “I think when it’s someone you have feelings for, the best feeling is knowing you have their love and attention, and them sharing their time with you. It isn’t about you knowing exactly what to do.”
The train comes to a stop. Neither of them speak for the rest of the trip home.
Kaoruko comes to sit beside Claudine in the mezzanine level of the theater in early March as they watch the actors rehearsing below. She sees Junna, radiant and technically precise in the role Claudine was originally cast in, and she sees her own understudy getting a chance to rehearse with the main cast while Kaoruko gets a rare day off. She decides to spend the morning with Claudine, and then get away from the theater in the afternoon - she did have time off, after all.
“I was thinking about trying to get Yumeoji-han and Tamao-han to get drunk together, '' Kaoruko says to Claudine, in a devilish whisper. “I think they would be a good couple, no?”
Claudine watches the stage and Kaoruko watches Claudine. Claudine’s cast has been exchanged for a much lighter brace, her crutches only used for long distances, her physical therapy now involving much more intensive activities. Kaoruko had no doubt that Maya was right - that Claudine would be back next season.
“Hmm, Fumi?” She paused for a moment. “...But I think they’re already past that?” Claudine says, biting her lip lightly.
Kaoruko wonders when this happened, and mentally cycles through all her encounters with both Tamao and Fumi. Of course they were both part of the Rinmeikan troupe, since Fumi’s sudden transfer, but Fumi hardly ever came out to the bars due to the risk of running into the Siegfelds. “When?”
Claudine shrugs. “Not sure when it started, but they were definitely making out at the event last weekend.” Claudine doesn’t look surprised or interested in this news so Kaoruko wonders if this is common knowledge in their circles. She wonders why Tamao hasn’t shared this with her, even if their relationship was more of “frenemies” than “besties”.
As they continue to watch the rehearsal, a second, more sinister thought emerges. She wonders what else she has missed in their social circles, in the bar scene. Which relationships have formed, broken up, made up, and so on. What the current drama is, what is no longer important. She wonders if she even cares anymore, and if she doesn’t, when did she stop? She still goes to bars most weekends, she still texts with most people in the theater scene, but it is like a certain impetus is missing. She wonders, suddenly, if she is ‘out’, if she is ‘done’.
“Do you want to get a coffee?” she asks Claudine then, feeling constricted, desperate to get some air outside of the stuffy air of the theater. Below them, Maya is onstage, acting out her role of the hero, shining as she saves the day for the hundredth time.
“Sure, let’s go,” Claudine says, tearing her eyes away from Maya at last.
They walk from the theater, take the elevator down, and walk out into the lobby, putting on their coats and into the blustery winter air. Claudine uses lighter crutches now, but Kaoruko tries to be considerate, offering to visit the coffee shop on the next block.
But Claudine shakes her head. “The station is just across the street,” she says. “And three stops down is the one you really love, and it’s just in front of the station exit.”
Kaoruko wonders if she should turn Claudine down, if her convenience and rest is most important, but Claudine persists. “Plus, the liquor store is next door… we can get some wine before we come back?”
Kaoruko cannot resist such an offer and so they go - feeling out of place in the Tokyo daylight, a time when she should have been in rehearsal - and enjoy a cup of coffee and a pastry before ambling to the liquor store. Or at least Claudine ambles, even with the new and improved, lighter-weight crutches. Kaoruko just follows along and tries not to get in the way. They select a couple bottles of wine, one to Claudine’s liking, and one to Kaoruko’s, before stopping in a small grocery store for snacks and then heading home.
Claudine messages Maya on the train, informing her about the wine and the cheeses and olives they’ve picked up, but Maya declines the invitation, reporting that she wants to stay late to work on some scenes with Junna, and in fact they’re getting dinner together.
Claudine shrugs and smiles, and Kaoruko takes this as a hopeful sign as well. The whole night feels reminiscent of the time before Maya arrived - the time when it was just Claudine and Kaoruko. It isn’t that she dislikes Maya - in fact, Kaoruko gets along with Maya very well, and is surprised by how well she’s fit into their small group - but rather, Maya’s mere presence reminds her of things she doesn’t want to think about. Dating, the New National Theater, injuries, these are all things that Kaoruko is working very hard to move on from and leave in the past, and the very idea of Tendo Maya makes that impossible. One Maya-free night seems welcome.
When they get back to the dormitory, they change into more comfortable clothes, uncorking the first of the two bottles of wine - Claudine’s bottle - and opening up some of the snacks. They sit on the bed, some rerun of a French film playing quietly on the television in Claudine’s room, and they mostly flick through their phones at first, catching up on missed notifications from the day.
“Yachiyo says Fumi and her sister finally made up,” Claudine says, finishing off her glass and refilling both of their glasses. Outside, the sun is down fully now, the room dim with just the bedside lamp.
“Wow, there’s going to be no drama by spring,” Kaoruko teases. “Everyone is making up.”
Claudine sighs. “There’s always something. I’m sure there will be another fight somewhere.”
Kaoruko swipes away a few texts - from Tamao, from her mother, and promises to deal with them in the morning. She goes back to her wine, and watches the black-and-white actors on the screen, her French good enough that she could pick up every other line. “I have to go back to rehearsal tomorrow,” Kaoruko says, more to herself than to Claudine.
“Can’t play hooky twice,” Claudine agrees.
“I wasn’t playing hooky. The director wanted my understudy to have a rehearsal day!”
“Sure. Or she noticed you needed a mental health day and thought it was kinder to phrase it like that,” Claudine laughs.
Kaoruko wonders if this was the truth. She hadn’t considered that she was asked to take today off for her own sake. She thinks back to the past few weeks, trying to determine if her performances have been off. If they have, it is almost certainly due to Yachiyo dredging up unpleasant memories on that rooftop, and Claudine’s injury replaying like a sick joke of Kaoruko’s own past. She thinks about asking Claudine’s opinion on her performance, but is afraid of the truth. So instead, she uncorks the second bottle of wine, and unpeels the foil from the chocolate bar they purchased.
“Listen, Kaoruko,” Claudine says, once they’re a good way into the second bottle. “I know you’re hiding from something. It’s ok if you want to talk about it.”
Kaoruko turns from the television to Claudine quickly enough that her vision doubles for a moment. “Who told you? Yachiyo? Maya?”
Claudine looks startled, but shakes her head gently. “No, did you already talk about this with them? I figured it out right after I met you.”
Kaoruko burns with shame that Claudine has known the secret she’s been fervently guarding for nearly the entire time they’ve known each other. She mistakenly put Claudine at the same level as her, thought they were both in Tokyo trying to ‘figure things out’, trying to distract themselves, perhaps, but that was only Kaoruko. Claudine was making strides into the future, making connections with people, seeking understanding, developing proper relationships, where Kaoruko was afraid to make anything more than surface level, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. She was pretending to become more independent, but truly just becoming more isolated. “How did you…”
“Kaoruko, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Claudine asks. Kaoruko has no choice but to nod, because they are. Even if Claudine is irritating or her style doesn’t match Kaoruko’s, she is truly Kaoruko’s closest friend. “Then understand that there’s a certain bond that comes with being friends, I can just tell certain things about you.”
And Kaoruko nods again. It is true. She knew Claudine liked Maya from the moment Maya arrived at their theater. She knew Claudine and Maya dating was an inevitability. Still, she has been careful not to rely on Claudine too much, or Tamao, keeping them both at arms-length, just in case. “Bonds can break,” she says.
Claudine swallows the last of the wine in her glass and lays back on the bed, and Kaoruko joins her, placing her wine glass on the nightstand. Their upper arms are touching, and Kaoruko is sure Claudine’s blonde hair is underneath her own. Their bond feels very palpable, suddenly. Claudine turns to look at her. “I think, if it’s a bond you’ve put time and effort into… then it never really breaks, it just gets strained.”
Kaoruko listens to the words, but can't really hear them. She is aware, painfully, of the closeness of their positioning, the lack of judgment the alcohol has given her, the way Claudine looks at her with a mixture of affection and concern, and all she wants was to close the gap between them - to be held by Claudine or even kissed. She hesitates, unsure of whether to give in or not, but then she pulls away rapidly, quickly enough to shake the bed and knock the wine glass off the nightstand.
Claudine sits up as well, likely wondering what caused this abrupt change. “I- I need to take a shower,” Kaoruko says. And she leaves the room - her room - the French movie still playing, the glass shattered, she leaves Claudine behind to go clear her head.
The shower is welcome after the tension in the bedroom, sobering and refreshing, but also the silence allows her thoughts to catch up. She’s ashamed, here in the bright light of the bathroom, to have even considered giving into affection from Claudine, and she wonders if Claudine recognized her need. Secretly, she believes she did. Her cheeks burn. She has spent two years alone, two years without anyone’s touch or affection or even reassuring words. She didn’t need anyone… right?
But standing naked under the warm water of the shower, she is aware of how absolutely lonely she feels. Secretly, shamefully, she closes her eyes and wraps her own arms around her torso, a cheap substitute for a hug. She pretends it’s from someone else. She pretends it’s Futaba. She isn’t sure whether to smile or to cry. She allows herself both, since she’s in the shower and no one will know once she’s finished.
She finally allows herself to think about what Claudine said, about how large bonds probably don’t break, they just get strained. She pictures herself and Futaba connected literally side by side, then pulled further and further apart from Tokyo to Kyoto, like those long sticky candies that stretch and stretch seemingly forever. Technically they are still connected, but that path between them is certainly weak, and her body is aching. She had been pretending to not see it.
She turns off the water and puts a towel on her hair and another around her torso, sitting on a bench for a moment before getting dressed. She realizes what she has to do, and takes a deep breath. She is Kaoruko, not some scaredy cat. What has she been ‘training’ in Tokyo for all this time, if not a final test, anyways?
She gets dressed and walks back to her room, where Claudine has swept and then vacuumed the carpet, and looks ready to leave. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” she says.
“I need to go to Kyoto,” Kaoruko replies.
Maya sees her off at the train station, to her surprise, a week later when she takes a three day trip - her usual two days off midweek, plus an extra day where her understudy would pick up her two performances, with the director’s approval. She’s surprised when Maya volunteers, but only mentions it offhandedly as the two of them walk to the station.
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t oversleep and miss your train,” Maya says, and Kaoruko is surprised at such a white lie coming from Maya of all people. Usually Maya said everything just as it was, and would say something like ‘someone had to make sure you didn’t get cold feet and refuse to get on the shinkansen’. She wonders when Maya got such tact.
“Well I’m up, I’m moving. Let’s get going,” Kaoruko says, pulling her small trunk behind her. Maya adjusts her scarf and follows along. They wait for the local train, their breath puffing in the air in the late winter morning, and ride it to the larger hub station, and Maya follows Kaoruko as far as she can, until she is certain Kaoruko will actually board the train to Kyoto.
“Hanayagi-san.” Maya states her name, commanding her attention. Kaoruko turns to face her. “You’re going to see Isurugi-san, correct?”
Mutely, Kaoruko nods. There is nothing to say.
Maya smiles, just a small corner of her lip turning upward. “Good luck. I hope you find her well.”
Kaoruko sits on the train, thinking about Futaba. It’s the first time she’s allowed herself to freely think about Futaba in two years. It makes her chest tight, it makes her clench her fists, it makes her bite her lip. She has never been this long without Futaba probably in her entire life. It really is as if Futaba has been ripped off of her side and she’s been ignoring the gaping wound for two years now.
She thinks about Futaba standing on stage, holding the prop rapier. She pictures the swoop of Futaba’s bangs, the creases on the sides of her eyes when she smiles. She thinks of the way that she could feel Futaba’s tangible need in the days following her injury, and Kaoruko’s inability or refusal to fill that need. She thinks of Futaba’s voice, reassuring her that everything would be alright.
It’s only a few hours to Kyoto, and she’s there sooner than she wants to be. She grew up here, and even though the city is large, she feels comfortable, she knows her way around. Kaoruko picks up something to eat near the shinkansen station and then takes a local train into the arts district, knowing exactly where the New National Theater has their Kyoto branch.
And then she pauses. She doesn’t know if she should call Futaba, ask a staff member if she is available, or just send her a text message. All options seem abrupt and invasive after years apart, and she needs time to consider her approach, so she settles for buying a ticket to that night’s performance. Then she kills time with some shopping, buying new clothes and some sweets at a local sweets shop she’s missed terribly.
When she returns to the theater, it’s much busier, the sky now dark, and the lights around it glowing spectacularly, shining on the larger-than-life banners of the cast. She had missed them earlier, but there she is: Futaba, wearing a princely outfit and looking determined, the lighting dark and intense around her. The banner is hanging between two columns of the theater, and Kaoruko stares at it until she begins to shiver, before hurriedly going inside.
She considered getting a drink before the show, but changes her mind when she thinks about drinking the two bottles of wine with Claudine: being braver does not mean having good judgment. And soon enough, the show begins.
Futaba enters about halfway through the first act, breathing life into the production. She is radiant, easily the most talented performer on stage. Kaoruko can’t follow the plot, however, as every glance at Futaba, every word she hears in that voice she knows so well just drills at her heart. She wonders why she stayed away for so long at the same time that she wonders why she came back. It is pleasure to see Futaba again after so long at the same time that it is horribly painful.
After the show, hands shaking, she gathers up the courage to text Futaba. “You were wonderful tonight,” she writes.
“I’m glad you thought so,” comes the response back. She realizes Futaba must have seen her in the audience, from the tempered, measured response. She wonders when. The message reads cold, and she dreads meeting Futaba all over again. But still…
“Are you free tonight?”
“I suppose.”
They agree to meet by the station in another thirty minutes, and Kaoruko arrives fifteen minutes early. She buys two hot coffees from the vending machine, using them to keep her hands warm. When Futaba arrives, she hands one to her, and they crack them open.
“Kaoruko,” Futaba says. “You finally came here.” She looks genuinely surprised, at least what Kaoruko can see of her. She’s wearing a puffy winter coat and beanie, and has a scarf tucked around her neck as well.
“Futaba-han. I did. I-” She wants to say she’s sorry, but the words catch in her throat. How could they ever be enough, and how could she convey to Futaba that she actually means them? “I thought we’d been apart for quite long enough,” she says instead.
“Oh yeah?” Futaba says, sipping the coffee. She begins walking along the street, bars open and storefronts closed. The snow is half-melted, a late-winter night scene familiar to Kaoruko.
“Yes. I… I messed up. A lot,” Kaoruko begins. She half-expects Futaba to cut in with a snort or a retort like ‘that’s an understatement’, but she remains quiet, because Futaba is kind. “Do you remember when we were kids and I hurt my wrist, but my mom had been drinking that afternoon, and she was useless to help me? I think you ended up taking me to the clinic on your bike…”
Futaba nods, a little lost. “She always had a tendency to drink a little heavy…”
“I think, that day, I was so shocked that my mother, someone I thought was so reliable, could be so useless when I needed her. That she was just a human too. And I think you became a superhero like that to me too. So when you were injured I just… didn’t know what to do.”
Futaba finishes the coffee, crumpling the can and tossing it in a receptacle. “Kaoruko, I’m not your mother.” Her hand quivers a little, and Kaoruko looks away from it.
“I know!” Kaoruko takes a deep breath. “I know. But you had always been so reliable, I had never had to be relied on before. I was… lost. And I failed you. So I’m really sorry for that.”
“I know.”
“I spent the last two years self-sufficient, thinking that if I could take care of myself, then I wouldn’t make the same mistake. But that’s not it.”
“No?”
Kaoruko can tell Futaba is only asking for the sake of the conversation, but she appreciates it. “I need to learn how to share burdens with you. How to give time and attention and care to our relationship.”
“With me, huh?” Futaba asks, a sly smile on her face.
“Yes. With you. Don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me.” Kaoruko moves closer to Futaba until she’s nearly pressed side to side with her, making their stride move awkwardly side to side.
“Oi! Kaoruko! What the hell?”
“Futaba-han. We should go sit down somewhere. I want to talk some more. Apologize properly.”
Futaba looks Kaoruko over while biting her lip, considering this proposal. She looks like she couldn’t be sure whether or not to trust Kaoruko, her brow furrowed slightly, but after a moment, her features relax. Kaoruko wonders if she, too, is thinking of their years and years together. “Alright,” she says at last.
Kaoruko walks to the bars for the end-of-season party, a rare weekend where she can stay out at the bars to her heart’s content without worrying about rehearsals and performances the next day. It’s spring now, and Claudine and she are sporting some of their favorite cocktail dresses, while Maya has some jeans that Claudine is obsessed with her wearing.
Kaoruko shivers a little as they walk to the bar, but she’s not going to wear a coat - she’s suffered through months of winter already. She’s accosted nearly as soon as she enters the bar, however, by Tamao, who is nearly tearful as she embraces Kaoruko in a hug. “What is this I hear about you moving to Kyoto???”
“It’s true,” Kaoruko says. “There’s no more reason for me to stay in Tokyo.”
Fumi is there too, pulling the emotional Tamao away, which clears Kaoruko’s sightline for… Yachiyo.
“She’s back with her girlfriend,” Yachiyo practically slurs from the bar area, and Kaoruko notices an apologetic gesture from Rui beside her. She has no idea how Yachiyo knows this information.
“Is that true?” Tamao asks, eyes widening.
“True enough,” Kaoruko confirms.
“Oh my gosh, let me buy you a drink! Come tell me all about it!”
Kaoruko passes Maya and Claudine playing some sort of drinking game with Mahiru and Koharu, and follows Tamao and Fumi back to the bar with Yachiyo and Rui. She wonders what it will be like to spend her weekends in Kyoto, to not know every detail of the changing relationships and small dramas of the Tokyo stage girls. Somehow, she thinks it’ll be alright.
She had meant to fill Tamao in, but a couple drinks in, Tamao is distracted, recounting her own favorite bars and restaurants and shops in Kyoto, so they move to discussing what Kaoruko needs to send back, and what they would do on their trips to visit her.
That is, until Claudine comes to their table, a bright-eyed Maya in tow, both of them urging Kaoruko to come outside. “There’s fireworks, down at the river!” Claudine says. “There’s some sort of riverboat in the dock that is setting them off, according to the bartender.”
Kaoruko isn’t sure what the fuss is, she’s seen fireworks dozens of times in her life, but it appears that this is where the party is going, so she’s obligated to tag along. This is her last night going out in Tokyo, after all.
She wonders what she and Futaba will get up to in Kyoto, as she walks out to the harbor. She wonders how long it will take for them to fall into a normal pattern, how long until the rifts between them feel… maybe not repaired, but not flaring up.
There is chatter around her as Fumi passes out drinks from the convenience store, and Maya ensures Claudine doesn’t trip on the uneven ground. She feels like she is present, and at the same time, just watching her friends.
Of all people, it’s Tsuyuzaki Mahiru who slips her hand into Kaoruko’s as they stand on the riverbank, just in time for the first fireworks to shoot off a couple hundred meters away.
Kaoruko doesn’t have much history with Mahiru, except that she is friends with Maya. She remembers she used to be castmates with Maya at the New National Theater, and she realizes Mahiru likely knows Futaba as well. She wonders if Mahiru blamed her for Futaba leaving, if that was why she had always kept her distance. It’s too late to ask, so she just stares at the fireworks and holds the hand in hers. It’s warmer than her own, and the grip is firm.
The fireworks are beautiful, exploding one after another in a variety of colors in the cool spring night. The sound of the crisp pops echoes in Kaoruko’s ears, and she clings onto Mahiru’s hand more tightly, feeling tears welling in her eyes. She wonders why now? and can’t place the emotions she’s feeling. But they pass as the fireworks show comes to a crescendo, and reluctantly she releases Mahiru’s hand at the end. She sniffles and wipes her eyes in what she hopes is a casual gesture.
“Good luck,” Mahiru says, an echo from the recent past.
Kaoruko only nods, her voice caught in her throat.
The next morning in the dormitory is hectic, despite everyone’s sleep-deprived, hungover regrets. It’s the day of Claudine’s final check-up, and hopefully, she can turn in all of her bandages, braces, and crutches, and resume her position on the stage in the spring season. Maya is buzzing all about, making coffee, searching for a missing train pass in the piles of dirty laundry, and rousing Kaoruko who cannot bring herself to get out of bed.
But despite her position, she is awake. She has been awake for a long time - hours, maybe. Today is the day she leaves the company. Today is the day she goes home. She doesn’t have an audition with a Kyoto theater company lined up. She doesn’t have plans to step on a stage again - at least not for some time. It is time for her to take on the family business, to come into her birthright. And arguably more importantly, she is returning to Futaba, if Futaba will have her.
Legs leaden, she gets out of bed and slowly moves to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and fixing her hair. She puts on an outfit suitable for traveling, and packs up the remainder of her things: toiletries, bedding, the last of her chargers and electronics. It’s two trunks, a smaller bag, and her purse: her whole life in Tokyo compartmentalized.
She says her goodbyes at breakfast, double checking that she has everyone’s numbers, social media handles, and addresses to keep in touch. Maya and Claudine offer to see her to the train station, but she declines, half because they have the appointment, and half because she feels like setting off alone is important.
So, they say their goodbyes at the front entrance to the dormitory, as Kaoruko waits for her taxi.
Maya steps forward, as regal as the day Kaoruko met her. “Hanayagi-san, I know you will do well in Kyoto. But I will miss you here in Tokyo. Thank you for welcoming me so warmly when I joined the company.”
Claudine, over Maya’s shoulder, looks as if she is stifling a giggle at Maya’s formality, but Kaoruko understands that Maya is unlikely to change at this point. “Thank you, Maya. Please, come see me in Kyoto, I have so much to show you.” She hugs Maya firmly, pleased with the surprise on Maya’s face.
Claudine steps forward as well, walking without the bulky crutches. She straightens Kaoruko’s collar like a parent might. “Kaoruko, I believe our bond is strong enough to reach from Tokyo to Kyoto. But I will miss you.” She leans in, placing a light kiss on Kaoruko’s cheek, and whispers, “I love you, you troublemaker.”
And suddenly, the taxi is there, and then she’s on the train, and another taxi, a dizzying blur of countryside until she is back at her family estate in a corner of the city. She takes a shower, changes her clothes, and sits out on the back porch with a snack of fruit, just in time for sundown. She knows they will be eating late that night, but she feels famished. Distantly, she can hear the dance classes taking place and wonders how long it will be until she’s fully immersed in the school.
“Thought I might catch you here,” says a voice, and she sees Futaba emerge from the shadows of the back gate of the hedge near where she’s sitting.
“Futaba-han! How did you know?”
Futaba shrugs. “I have my ways.” Then she smirks. “Mahiru said you were coming home today.”
“So you do keep in touch!”
Futaba hoists herself onto the raised porch and pops a piece of melon into her mouth. She looks younger to Kaoruko, like they're both still in high school. But when she turns to face Kaoruko, she’s reminded of how old Futaba is, of how old they both are. Of how long they have been apart. “I’m here. To stay,” Kaoruko says.
“Welcome home.”