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A many-years-old Toyota swerved around the parking lot, choosing a space secluded and far away from the rest. Tomoyo barely budged, her body pushed against the side of her car seat.
Sonomi reached behind and jostled her daughter’s knee, waking her from her impromptu nap.
“Wake up, love, time to go for our picnic!”
She blinked, her eyes filled with sleep and squinting against the noonday sun. “Are we there yet?”
“Just a quick fifteen-minute walk is all.”
“Why are we so far away?” Her head dropped to the side again, as if the weight of keeping it upright was just…too much…
Her father swung open the door and pointed upwards, to the shade above them. “It's so the car won't be too hot when we come back, Tomoyo-chibi,” He lithely ducked into the low-slung car and grabbed her, swinging her around and round in circles, as she shrieked in pure delight.
She wakes up to the sounds of the gravel crunching, with a slight crick in her neck. She glances to her right, where Eriol has turned off the car.
“Slept well, Tomoyo-san?”
She shakes her head a little. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that.”
“Nonsense, there’s no need to apologize. I know you’re exhausted these days, I can barely get ahold of you.”
“Ah, you sound like Sakura-chan now. Ne, Tomoyo-chan, I speak to your voicemail more than you!”
“Well, if Sakura-san has the same issues I at least don’t feel like it’s something to do with poor little me.”
His face is ridiculous and brings a smile to hers. “Still, I don’t know what came over me. I almost never sleep in cars.”
“If you must apologize, do so to planet Earth. I picked a park so out of the way because I thought we could catch up on the ride over. Truly, my friend, it’s been too long. I’ve missed you.”
His voice is still so light and unassuming.
(His eyes are as soft as his tone.)
“You’re one to speak, though, I’ve seen this upcoming launch tour of yours,” she says, taking the conversation away. “Do you stay in any city for more than a day?”
“I’d rather be exhausted and back home sooner, I suppose. It’s hard to be away. I miss here too much.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I’d miss everything about here,” he replies, and maybe the emphasis was there and he’s still just looking at her, saying nothing more. Theirs is a friendship of a solid decade filled with comfortable pauses. This silence stretches a beat beyond, and the car feels warm with the sun beating down through the windows.
The walk to the park entrance is a long one for Tomoyo’s tiny legs. That’s what Sonomi told herself, at least, when she first walked along with Tomoyo on her back. But in the heat of the sun she’s beginning to think that it’s better for her daughter to build some character. She slides her down and is about to say as much when Hiro switches the picnic basket to one hand and props Tomoyo onto his hip with the other.
She’s hot and sticky and the ease with which he’s able to do that is frustrating despite her best intents.
“Put her down, Hiro, it’s good for her to walk.”
“Let Tomoyo walk? Let Princess Tomoyo walk? Her subjects would never stand for that! We could not! Close your ears, My Royal Highness Princess, do not hear this treason!”
“What’s trea-son?”
“You’re going to spoil her, you ridiculous man,” Sonomi said, rolling her eyes as she turns to her daughter. “Treason, my love, is when people let down those who they serve. Or work for, I suppose.”
They walk on, and she feels her momentary grumpiness melting away as she watches the two of them whisper to one another. They keep up the pretense with the park agent, Tomoyo handing over the entrance fee they set aside with all the gravitas she can muster and Hiro playacting her loyal subject. The agent is clearly charmed by them both, barely glancing at Sonomi, and points out the best locations to set up, away from the crowds.
She’s never been jealous of Hiro himself, and the attention he receives wherever he goes. The effect is magnified when he’s out as a father, his obvious devotion radiating in his every action. He barely notices anyone else. His eyes are soft, and loving, and entirely focused. And that’s what gets to her.
It sounds ridiculous to be jealous of her daughter…but sometimes she is. She didn’t have very many memories like this from her childhood. To be loved without question, without reservation.
They’re reaching the top of a hill dotted with the most beautiful purple flowers when Hiro says, his voice deceptively light, “You know, I never could spoil Tomoyo-chibi, she's too polite as is. She deserves the absolute best we can give her.” He punctuated the statement by glancing at her, eyes hard.
Sonomi feels her stance stiffen in response and forces herself to stay calm. “Let’s not talk about that today,” she called out, conscious of Tomoyo’s curious looks between them.
Tomoyo flashes her professional pass to an agent who barely glances up, busy with the long line of weekend escapees. She grabs a map, but Eriol seems to know where they’re going and they’re able to walk leisurely towards a series of gradual hills.
After a brief, amiable silence, he speaks up. “Thank you again for doing this, you’re truly a life saver.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s no trouble at all.”
“I think this is the very definition of trouble. Do you know how much I had to cajole to get your assistant to clear out this long of your day?”
“For you, my dear friend, I’d have cleared out two whole days.” She smiles widely, and he looks taken aback, stumbling a bit on the path.
“Who-o-ops! You have to be careful with your words, Ms. Daidouji. My poor heart can’t take such flattery.”
She has the wherewithal to attribute her flush to the afternoon sun. “Such a tease. I’m serious, Eriol-san. I truly am sorry that I’ve been so unavailable, and I’m really happy that you came to me for help with your author photo.”
(She is sorry, but she definitely wasn’t unaware of what she had been doing. Or, at least, she didn’t think she had been imagining things. The subtle flirtatious shift in word choice. A light hand on a waist to guide through a crowd. Low whispers that necessitated leaning in close.)
(Her heart quietly thrilled.)
(Her head decided it was time to get terribly busy with work.)
“It’s not much of a secret that I just wanted to get some time with you. This was as good an excuse as any.”
“I’m sure the publishing house must have given you a hard time and offered to send their own photographer.”
“You have no idea. They wanted to take photos in full academic regalia, can you believe it? Cap and gown and the whole…I haven’t even accepted yet! I had to be so rude to get out of doing the official photo shoot, I was cringing the entire time.”
“I taught myself how to shoot editorials after one too many arguments with the powers that be on how, exactly, models should be styled. How many different ways can I say bring me women who look like women and not prepubescent girls? Trust me, you don’t need to explain.”
“I’ve always admired your staging of the clothes as much or even more than the clothes themselves. You truly did miss out on your true calling.”
She’s about to open her mouth to respond, unsure of what to say to that—he’s not wrong, and she’s admitted as much during more than one late-night heart-to-heart.
She’s still, sometimes, caught unawares by how close they’d become.
But she’s cut off when they reach the crest of the final hill and come upon a veritable Eden of wisteria, drapes of purple flowers climbing up and over every conceivable structure. “Oh, wow,” she lamely settles on
He looks altogether too smug. “I knew this would be worth the drive. The wisteria that grow back in England are nowhere near this gorgeous, although they do try. There’s something about the way they grow here that seems so in harmony with nature.”
“It’s truly breathtaking. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.” She places a hand on his elbow, as if to steady herself in the face of such beauty. It’s unlike anything she’s ever—well. Actually…she’s seen wisteria before, but the memory seems very hazy. Her mother has always particularly disliked them, so she can’t think of where she would have seen them.
She’s about to give voice to her confusion when something Eriol said struck her.
I haven’t even accepted yet, he’d said.
Tomoyo ran to a patch of wildflowers, bored with wait as her parents set up their small picnic site. She twirled around, feeling the material of her brand-new dress swish against her legs. It was her dress, not anyone else’s before her, it was her brand-new dress, and that was something to be very happy about.
She chose a spot and sat down carefully, as to not damage the skirt, and deftly picked a few flowers. She was going to be a princess, and her parents were the Queen and King of the forest. She needed a crown to be a princess, all princesses had crowns.
(Okaa-san had once shown her pictures of Nadeshiko-oba-san with a crown in her hair. She was wearing a long dress and looking at the camera with a smile, and okaa-san had said that she was a precious princess. Okaa-san was so careful with the pictures of oba-san. She was only allowed to hold them if she had washed her hands and was sitting at the table like good girls did.)
(Nadeshiko-oba-san was pretty and always smelled of flowers. Tomoyo wondered if she slept with flowers in her hair to make that happen.)
Making a crown was difficult though, the flowers kept slipping out of her fingers and they wouldn’t stay in her hair and it was hot. Plus the grass was itchy.
Someone came behind her and lifted her hair from her neck. The gentle breeze was refreshing, and with a few nimble twists and turns, her mother pinned her daughter's hair up and tucked a few flowers throughout. “Honto kawaii, Tomoyo-chan!” she said, giving the top of her head a gentle kiss
Tomoyo giggled and smiled. “Arigato, okaa-san.”
“Come, let's eat?”
Tomoyo skipped alongside her mother and plopped down on the blanket. She played with a few of the strings unravelling from the sides, and then clapped her hands in joy as her father handed her small lunch box to her. He helped her open it and set it out and then watched as she took a bite, savoring the taste.
“Well, Tomoyo-chibi, what have you learnt this week?”
She swallowed before speaking. “Madame Julia said we went over the subjunctive in French, and more practice of how to speak in English.”
“And have you been practicing them both?”
“Oui! And yes!” She was rewarded with a huge smile.
Okaa-san seemed less happy, watching them both. “Ne, Hiro, let's not overwork Tomoyo on her celebration day,” she said, bringing out a box, “cake time!”
The pastry inside was purple, like the flowers, and decorated with little drops of icing made to resemble plums. Her mother cut her a piece and handed it over.
Tomoyo picked up her fork and cut out a big piece. Halfway through her mouth, the many layers started to collapse. In a hurry, she cupped her hand around it. For a lack or better things to do, she just began to eat out of her hand. Sonomi reached over with a napkin, and then there was a flash. Tomoyo blinked and saw her father with their camera, smiling.
“Sorry…that was just too adorable. Has Madame Julia taught you that word, Tomoyo-chan? Adorable?”
“Kawaii!”
Her mother laughed. “Yes, Tomoyo-chan, kawaii.”
Tomoyo smiled. “Nadeshiko-oba-san is kawaii, right?”
A small, sharp intake of breath before okaa-san replied, “Yes, Tomoyo, Nadeshiko was kawaii.”
“Why can't we see oba-san?”
Something was funny with okaa-san’s face. “We’ve talked about this, Tomoyo-chan. Sometimes grown-ups don’t agree, and they have to take a small timeout.”
“But can we see her soon?”
“Why do you want to see her?”
“Because she’s a princess and I’m a princess, right. I think it’s important that princesses meet each other. Plus I want to show her my new dress. All of my other dresses are hers so maybe she would want to see this dress. Also okaa-san you always said Nadeshiko was your most favorite sister and I’m your more favorite daughter so I think we should meet each other.” She thought for a second, and then nodded. “Also I want to ask her if she sleeps with flowers in her hair.”
Okaa-san’s face was all tight and stiff, and her eyes were watering like she was trying not to sneeze. Tomoyo also sometimes felt like sneezing when they were outside.
“How about we take a photo of all of us?” Otou-san’s voice seemed to be louder than usual, and okaa-san’s face seemed to relax a bit.
Tomoyo clapped her hands in joy and then reached up to make sure that the flowers in her hair were still there. Maybe if she had a picture like oba-san then okaa-san would let her show it to oba-san, and then they could be princesses together and make okaa-san happy.
“Sonomi. The film’s ran out.”
“Is it? Didn’t we bring more?”
“No, remember, this roll was from that tourist stand and you insisted it was overpriced and we’d get a better deal back home?”
“I…well, it was!”
Lost in her own thoughts, Tomoyo missed the look on her father’s face as he groaned.
“I just want to take a picture with my daughter, Sonomi, is that valuable enough for you?”
Tomoyo looked up from her mother's lap. “We can't take a picture?”
Otou-san walked towards them and kneeled in front of her. “It's okay, Tomoyo-chibi, there'll be plenty more times for pictures. I promise.”
“Pinky promise?”
He laughed and went to put away the picnic basket.
“Wait, Eriol-san, what do you mean, you haven’t accepted yet? Accepted what?”
She knew that look on his face. It was oh-so-studied, perfectly nonchalant. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t do that,” she says sharply, and the tone of the day suddenly shifted. The sunlight filtering through the trellises, previously gentle, seemed harsh and piercing. “What haven’t you accepted yet?”
“Didn’t I mention? I’ve been offered a position at Merton College in Oxford,” he offers, again so seemingly offhand.
“Oxford. In England.”
“Is there another I should be aware of?”
She can hear the shift in his tone, light as always but now mocking. It’s…infuriating.
“No, you didn’t mention that, that’s not something you just mention to your be—” best friend but she swallows the word, because she’s not sure if she can call herself that if he’s about to pick up and leave without even so much as a by the way, “—that’s not something you forget to mention,” she finishes.
For a moment it looks like he’s going to let it slide, like the old patented Eriol Mask is going to show up for the sake of politeness. But then he says—“I know, I’m sorry. I’m a coward, I couldn’t bring myself to say it, couldn’t bear to see this exact look on your face.”
He looks so miserable she feels her anger melt away. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us. Some...best friend I am.” This time her voice drops just a little but she gets it out. That title, once reserved for Sakura-chan, that she'd realized more accurately worked for the pained magician in front of her.
“It’s not…Tomoyo-san, of course you’re my best friend, but—"
Her stomach suddenly drops. “—wait, who all knows?”
He doesn’t need to say. The way he looks away is all the answer she needs.
Calmly she states, her tone barely a question, “Am I the last person to know that you’re leaving us?” Me?, she thinks.
“Tomoyo-san, you’re not—you’re—you must—”
She hefts the camera out of her bag and starts pulling out the various pieces that make up her kit, studiously avoiding looking back at him. “It’s fine. We don’t have very much time, with the light that is, and we have a lot of pictures we’ll need to take, you’ll need headshots for your new set up I imagine.”
“Can we talk about this, please?”
In response, she simply lifts the viewfinder to her eye, creating the tension and distance between subject and photographer. She starts clicking away, even though he’s not ready and still looks completely distraught.
It’s for checking the lighting, she tells herself. She’ll delete these extra shots after they’re done.
Tomoyo sat on the bed. Her own bed. In her own room.
This sort of thing only happened when they were visiting okaa-san’s family, although she didn’t know why they called it that when they never saw any other family. But she was relishing the way that everything seemed just for her. Everything was her size.
She went to change into her nightgown, but it wasn’t in her bag. She padded across the wooden floor in her little kid slippers, towards her parents' room. She was about to open the door when she caught the argument coming from within.
“Why the hell did you reject the job? You know that was the damn best chance we had to go up in life!”
“Hiro, you know I left Amamiya Corporation to leave the posh, spoiled life I led! If I take that job, you know as well as I that Tomoyo will suffer!”
“Tomoyo deserves the best! You owe it to her to give that much to her!”
“She deserves our attention, she deserves to have us. Not our money. Do you honestly believe that if you got that job you would spend a weekend playing in a damn garden?!”
“Do you honestly believe that if you continue to sit at home like an idiot that Tomoyo will have half of what she deserves?”
“She needs us, Hiro. She needs her father and mother. Nothing is more important than family. You of all people should know that.”
“She would have family. She would have me. Or is that not good enough?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Anyone can see that she simply adores you. But how long will you be content playing house, Hiro? You suffer away in that ridiculous job of yours when your daughter is just dying to spend time with you.”
“Dying to spend time with me? That’s an odd turn of phrase from you, Sonomi. Dying. What’s your excuse for deserting Nadeshiko? Clearly you weren’t too busy there. I assume she was also dying to see you.”
“Hiro, don't go there.”
“You never visited her.”
“…why are you saying this? Why?”
“What use was it to be not tied down if you couldn't make that visit to her? The one who really holds that dear place in your heart?”
There was a long pause.
“See, you’re not even denying it!”
“I’m not here to fight with you, Hiro. I fight for us, for Tomoyo. I wish you’d do the same.”
“Why fight for someone who didn’t even fight for the one she truly loved?”
A thud, like someone hitting something hard, and then—“Again, the only thing that gets a rise out of you is the cold, awful truth. What do you mean I don’t fight for us? All I do is fight for us, for this family, for our daughter. I can’t sit by and watch you turn down every attempt at giving her a better life.”
“Just say what you mean. Money, money, money, it’s always about money with you. Just take it, I don’t want it and I never have.”
“It’s not the money, Sonomi, it’s what we owe to Tomoyo. Please don’t make me do this.”
“Make you do what?”
The second pause stretched out even more, and Tomoyo strained at the door as her heartbeat threatened to drown out her father’s low voice.
“If I leave, you’ll be forced to go back. You’ll at least be forced to give Tomoyo what she deserves. I don’t know if you can give her or anyone what they need, not after she rejected you. I’ve never heard you as upset over your own daughter as you are about her.”
“Out!” There was another thwack sound, like a fist hitting a face squarely.
“That’s it. I don’t have to sit here and take this abuse, Sonomi. As always, you get what you want and damned if you consider anyone else’s feelings.”
“I’ll make sure you never see your daughter again.”
“Trust an Amamiya to hold a grudge. What will you say to get them to take you back? How will you grovel?”
“I don't care what I do, and it’s not any of your concern. Get out. Now.”
“With fucking pleasure, Sonomi. I’m leaving, don’t you worry.” The door burst open and Tomoyo gasped at the sight of her usually tranquil father, his nose bloody. His eyes glanced over to where she was standing, and she made to go to him.
“Tomoyo-chan...” He shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of her.
Tomoyo recoiled, tears shining in her eyes. Amethyst eyes meeting sapphire ones that seemed surprised at their actions.
“I’m sorry if I’m scaring you, my love.”
She reached out and slowly touched his cheek, which was red and blotchy, and he flinched as if it stung. She pulled her hand back. “Where are you going, otou-san?”
He took a deep breath and glanced back to the room before fixing her with a stare. “Tomoyo-chan, you know how we’ve talked about when grown-ups don’t agree? We just need a little timeout. I need a little timeout.”
Tomoyo blinked. She felt suddenly very tired, as if she could fall asleep right there on the floor. When that happened otou-san would always carry her back to her bed and lie down next to her so that she could be tucked into the crook of his arm. “Otou-san, I’m sleepy.”
The smile on her otou-san’s face seemed funny. Like okaa-san’s smile from earlier.
“No worries, I’ve got her.” Okaa-san had come out of the room. Her eyes seemed different. “Come on, Tomoyo-chan, say good bye to otou-san and let’s go to sleep.”
Tomoyo instinctively reached out and grabbed her father’s hand. “No! I want otou-san to sleep next to me.”
“Tomoyo, my love…”
And then, as if in slow motion, Daidouji Hiro turned away from his daughter and out the door.
He's been trying for a while to break the silence, and is trying again.
“Tomoyo—”
She pretends that his voice is carried away on the wind and continues taking photographs even though they’ve gone through three series against three different backdrops. In each he looks academic and at ease, which is a joke because shooting each set with the minimum humanly possible interaction has been a…challenge, to say the least. She hasn't been this focused on lighting conditions, ever.
“Stop talking, you’re ruining the shot.”
Her voice is harsh, and she can see him recoil through the viewfinder. Her finger seems to move of its own accord.
“Just…can you stop taking photos for just one second, please?”
He looks pained.
“This lighting won't stay around forever, you know, and these flowers bloom so rarely they're are hard to catch. Must take advantage. What an apt metaphor, actually, you're also going to be...I mean, it’s nice to know we’ll have some photos to remember you by—” she’s rambling, this is horrific, this is why she needs to stay behind the camera. She goes to pick it back up again and he bounds forward, placing one hand on her lens.
“Stop. Just…stop. I don’t want to remember this moment like this. Why would you want photos of this? I’m hurting, can’t you see? Aren’t you?”
She’s surprised and not when her mouth chooses to answer the first part. “Because…because one day it will all be gone, and all I'll have will be memories that will disappear as well.”
“Everything changes but not everything has to end so badly.”
“That’s rich coming from you. You’re going to be gone. You’re going to go and I never—” she shakes her head. “Never mind.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, Tomoyo, I’m sorry but this time that’s just not good enough. There’s too much here for us to just end like this.”
“Carpe diem. Seize the day. You can't live in the past. You of all people should know that!”
“You think I don’t know that? I couldn’t do our past anymore, it was killing me, when this opportunity came by I just jumped for it because I know, hey, maybe being away from her would be easier than being friends with her.” He brings his hands back to himself, clutching himself.
Tomoyo can feel the desperation in his voice, matched by her own desperate desire to get out of this situation. She’s going to find a taxi all the way back home if it meant getting away from this. “Well, congrats, you got your wish. Since it’s just so difficult to be friends with me, I hope you enjoy your time in England. Send me a postcard. Or don’t. I don’t care. I won’t be waiting.”
She takes her camera strap off her neck and stows it in her bag, trying her hardest to ignore his presence. What do they owe each other, anyhow? Ten years of a friendship. It’s longer than most relationships.
She senses him there, watching her. He’s waiting.
The first thing that Tomoyo remembered after that trip was going home and going to pre-school. Her memories were suddenly fragmented, flashes of a picnic and a park and something else.
Sometimes she would wait by the door, wait for when otou-san would come back. Because he had to come back, he’d promised.
She saw her mother in the evening, when they would talk over dinner, and Sonomi would fall asleep before her daughter.
They had to take a princess picture.
Dinners became less frequent and houses became bigger and Tomoyo learnt names of maids, bodyguards, and cooks.
And then one day, Tomoyo realized she had stopped waiting for a man whose face she couldn’t quite recall.
He’s waiting.
He’s moved away, to give her space, but he’s not making any moves or saying anything.
Finally, she’s the one who breaks. “What do you want from me?”
“Anything,” he finally says, his voice soft as always. “Just any small sign.”
“You’re leaving,” she reminds him.
“I could. I could also…not.”
She wants to laugh. “And what, if I say please don’t go, you won’t?”
A look of sheer—panic? hope?—crosses his face, and he takes a half step towards her. “Of course!”
The world stops.
“Give me any hint, Tomoyo, and I will stay. For you.”
She doesn’t understand what’s going on.
Because people don’t stay. People leave, they do so every day, they go to Hong Kong and the US and places that aren’t here.
“I will stay but I can’t be just your friend anymore. I need more. And…I thought you wanted the same.”
They don’t even have to leave, they can disappear right in front of her. They always do.
“I will wait for you if you think there’s a chance for us. Honestly, I’d have been waiting in England as well. I can’t not have you in my life, Tomoyo.”
She can’t seem to process anything that’s going on, and as she continues to stare through him he visibly wilts, folding back into himself and taking deep breaths.
Finally, he says. “If you can’t, I understand. I’m sorry that I’ve ruined—well, I hope that I haven’t ruined our friendship, Tomoyo-san. I understand. I don’t think I could stop waiting. I’ll probably wait for you for a long while yet.”
His smile is sad, resigned, every emotion writ large. It seems to take a great effort for him to keep his hands by his side as he inclines his head to her and then starts walking away from her. But somehow it’s clear he’s not leaving. She’s making him leave.
Is it really that easy?
How could it be that easy?
What would happen if—
“Stay.”
Her voice is so quiet, and she feels like it’ll be carried off in the light breeze.
“Stay,” she repeats, stronger this time.
He stops, and then slowly pivots to face her.
“Please stay.”
And then he was coming back, his strides long and sure, until he was right in front of her, his eyes searching in hers for confirmation, for—
She puts her hand in the crook of his arm, drawing him closer. He lightly places his hands on her hips, and her heart feels like it’s racing as she watches his face light up. Her heart feels like it’s expanding, and she feels safe and—
He slowly bends down until his breath reaches her lips, somehow separating them without so much as a touch as one hand reaches around her to rest in the small of her back. It’s fierce and hot and slow and fast and she feels like she’s going to melt or break into a thousand pieces but he wouldn’t let her, he’d be there. He feels strong and secure and his hands reach up to her face, angling her mouth against his as he kisses her again, deeper, taking all that she can give and giving more in return.