Chapter Text
It’s only late at night, staring at the ceiling in her room, that she realises she loves him.
She’d only said yes when he’d asked her on a date out of curiosity; she’d never been on one before, yet it ended up being her that asked to meet a second time. It was the way he’d spoken about theatre that drew her in—all it had taken was for her to ask about the part-time job he’d met her at and it was like she’d suddenly flipped a switch.
She hadn’t cared about theatre. It had never caught her eye and even now it sparks very little inside of her, but for him it has its own centre of gravity.
She’s never come across someone so determined. Most people her age are still deciding who to be (herself included), but Yukio knows exactly and in more detail than she can even fit into her own imagination.
Charmingly, he isn’t self-conscious about it either. Yukio isn’t afraid to take up space, more than happy to elaborate on his ideas without being encouraged.
It’s a breath of fresh air. She’s used to exhausting conversations and attempting to drag opinions out of convictionless people. She hates platitudes. Yukio, meanwhile, is interesting without trying.
And above all, he seems to find her interesting.
He insists on asking about her own job, even though she almost always has the same things to say. There’s no way her generic office holds any merit to him, but he tells her that he likes her perspective. It flatters her more than she should let it.
It was only after a handful of dates that he asked her to be his girlfriend. She hadn’t even had to think about her answer- whatever this was, it was what she wanted. If it isn’t true love, it’s the closest thing she’s ever felt to it.
Girlfriend. She mouths the word to herself, revelling in the novelty of it. She’s not sure who she wants to be in five, ten or fifteen years, but starting off here—Yukio’s girlfriend—feels right.
“If this is going to become serious, I need you to know that I can’t always promise I’ll always put you over my work. My career is important to me.” She’s decided to stick to her office job; although she has no passion for it, it’s something to work hard at and that’s what she’ll be satisfied with. Not everyone can be like her boyfriend.
He smiles. “I’m glad. To be honest, I feel the same way about the theatre.”
A warm recognition nestles itself in her chest. Despite their differences (of which there are more than she can count), so far she’s always found that they have the same values.
“You know,” Yukio says. “If you’re interested, we’re still looking for more actors and just about every backstage role you could think of. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have experience.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen. It’s not for me.” She’s resolute. Yukio’s girlfriend has carved out her own space in the world and is determined to keep it.
Yukio is unoffended. “Well, I can’t fault you for being honest. The offer still stands if you change your mind, though.”
“I’d rather just hear about that place from you. I like hearing what you have to say about it. It’s interesting when it comes from you.”
“I’m glad. I’ll have to convince you to change your mind about participating, though.” He says, lightheartedly.
She rolls her eyes. “You won’t. I’m stubborn.”
“So am I.”
“It would be more convenient to get married.”
“I don’t like when you say things like that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, that isn’t why I’d want to get married. I’m just thinking out loud.”
She wonders if this is a good idea—to plan the rest of her life and choose someone to spend it with at twenty.
“You don’t have to propose.” She adds.
“It’s not really our kind of thing, is it?”
“Not in the slightest. And we don’t have the money to waste on an engagement ring.” She takes his hands into hers. “If we’re going to get married, why should we waste time on things we don’t care about? We don’t have anyone to impress.”
“What are you going to say next? That you don’t want a wedding ring?” Yukio teases.
“I’m sure drawing them on with a permanent marker would suffice.” She deadpans, and they laugh. “No, those, at the very least, I would like. If you would.”
“Of course I would. I’m not so sure about the wedding itself, though. It would have to be small.”
She’s twenty. By all accounts, her own wedding should at the very least be exciting to her.
“I want that about as much as you do. The only thing that matters to me is that we’d be married.”
Yukio smiles. “I get it. There’s no need for us to follow a predetermined path. Let’s just do what works for us.”
“I’m really glad that you understand me.”
(He will propose a few weeks later, in their own home, offering her a bouquet of the flowers he knows she likes instead of a ring. She will later deny crying over them and the words he had carefully practised beforehand.)
“If we’re getting married, we also have to decide what’s coming after.”
“Kids.” She affirms. “Well, it’s not as if we’ve never spoken about it before.
“I mean, we’re still young. We don’t have to think too hard about that yet.”
“That’s not really the case for me. The more progress I make with Mankai, the busier I’ll be, at least for a few years. I don’t know when, or even if, my workload would decrease after that. I’d always be around, of course, but I think it might make raising a young child difficult.”
“Got it.”
Her voice feels unnatural. How is a conversation like this supposed to sound? What does a normal couple look like?
“I just,” Yukio gestures vaguely. “I want everything to fit together. In my head it does.”
If there’s anything Yukio’s soon-to-be fiance knows about him, it’s that he’s exceptionally good at conceptualising ideas. The execution often isn’t as straightforward.
“So you want to have a child in the near future.”
“Is that okay for you? I know your career is completely different.
“I’ll have to figure something out, but I was never planning to stay there long-term anyway. I could leave and search for somewhere that actually offers progression in the role later. Besides, I don’t really care about that ‘living your life before thinking about kids’ stuff either.”
She won’t try to explain it to Yukio, but she knows that she was always going to get married eventually anyway, from the moment she was born, so why not get it done now? And have a child. Her desire for motherhood is something that feels innate, as much so as hunger or fear of death.
Sometimes, she wonders if this is how her own mother felt.
She wonders if Yukio would understand.
“Okay.”
“There’s a lot to think about.”
“Let’s focus on getting married first.”
It hits her all at once that they’re really talking about getting married .
“And this is what you want.” She emphasises. “You want to get married.”
“Of course.”
Something inside of her chest flickers dimly.
“Kasumi, isn’t it?”
Yukio Tachibana’s fiance had studied the man’s face on a flyer she’d managed to dig out of a folder in a kitchen drawer the night before.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Kasumi takes a sip of his juice. She feels a little sorry for him—he hasn’t reached drinking age, unlike most of their party. “I’ve heard a lot from Yukio.”
Now that we’re getting married, you absolutely have to meet them . Yukio had said. He was excited.
I’d love to. I can’t meet everyone at once though .
The troupe leaders, then , he’d amended, and…
“Reni!” Yukio exclaims, immediately standing to greet the last member of their party.
“Afternoon.” His fiance greets casually. When she meets his gaze, it’s cold. It doesn’t surprise her—Yukio went as far as to warn her in advance not to worry too much about how Reni may come across. He might seem harsh at first, but I’m sure you’ll get along. I think you two might actually be on a similar wavelength.
Reni takes a seat on the other side of Yukio, briefly greeting the troupe leaders before turning to him.
She returns to her conversation with Kasumi, exchanging platitudes with him while attempting to catch tidbits of the discussion between Yukio and Reni. They both appear extremely passionate, yet something feels dissonant between them. It’s like watching a world-class pianist perform with a piano that’s almost inaudibly out of tune.
Eventually, she tilts her head towards her soon-to-be-husband: “Those two can really talk.”
“Tell me about it.” Kasumi laughs. “They always manage to find something to talk about—you’d think they barely see each other, let alone live together. They’re both such intense theatre junkies they practically eat, sleep and breathe it. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what Yukio is like, though.”
Before she can respond, he interjects again.
“You know, I think it’s so romantic that you two are already getting married. Don’t you think so too, Syu?”
“It does sound like something straight out of a story.” The leader of Winter Troupe (right?) says noncommittally.
“That’s Yukio for you.”
She smiles thinly. Syu and Kasumi quickly become absorbed in their own conversation, and Yukio’s fiancé turns back to her drink.
The members of Mankai Company all seem kind enough.
These are the people she will share her husband’s time with for the foreseeable future. Well, she certainly has nothing to resent them for.
Later, when almost everyone else has left, Reni and Yukio’s fiancé wait for Yukio outside.
“It was nice to meet you.” Yukio’s fiance says politely. “I don’t feel like we spoke very much. Perhaps next time we can get to know each other a little better?”
Reni tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“It’s not my business, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done as a part of the theatre. I doubt Yukio would have been able to get any further than a play in a school gymnasium without a friend like you.”
It’s interesting that Reni is the one Yukio chooses to call his best friend. She’s never really understood why.
Reni glances towards Yukio as he finally exits the bar. “You should take your fiancé home. I’ll go back to the apartment on my own.”
“Right.” Yukio nods. “That’s probably safest. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course.”
“All right then. See you tomorrow, Reni.”
“See you.”
“What did you think?” Yukio asks eagerly as they walk to the train station.
“Everyone was really lovely.”
“I saw you were getting along with Kasumi pretty well.”
Yukio is clearly hoping for her to elaborate. She bites her lip. “Yeah. He seemed pretty passionate.”
“What do you think about doing that again sometime?”
It would be easy to say yes, the way she does every time she gets roped into a conversation where her answers don’t really mean anything outside of the moment (in other words, almost every time she gets roped into a conversation). Yes doesn’t mean anything if, later, when asked when she’s free to do what she promised, she gives endless excuses.
Maybe if she did this again, and a few times more, she could integrate herself into the group as if she’d always been there. Yet somehow, she gets the impression that this is the furthest she should go.
Besides… Despite being the one to arrange it, Yukio didn’t seem so enthusiastic when it had actually come to her meeting his actors.
“Maybe not.” She says honestly.
Yukio swallows, something unrecognisable in his voice. “Yeah. Maybe not.”
The first thing she does after getting out of bed is stare at her reflection in the mirror. The drawn curtains make her appear almost monochromatic. Ghostly, in a sense, as if she could fade away completely in an instant.
Her appearance is the same as always. Well. Her eyes drift to her hand. The slim gold band on her finger is new, of course.
She will be a new person today. One ring, one brief flicker of a glance to her hand, will change what people see when they look at her. She tells herself that overall, it’s a neutral effect. Some people will see it as good, some will see it as poor and many won’t feel any different at all.
No matter what, it says to the world that they loved someone enough to marry them. The important part.
She just can’t help but wonder what that’s going to mean . To outsiders, is she no longer as put-together because she fell victim to love, especially at a young age? Is she more put-together because she’s already “settled down”?
She sighs. The ring will stay on her finger regardless of what anyone thinks of it.
Yukio’s wife draws the curtains and opens her closet to find the outfit she set out last night, as she does every day. She’s still herself, ring or no ring.
Only perhaps now a slightly different self.
“You look exhausted.”
Sleepovers with Reni have been a somewhat common occurrence since Yukio moved out. It never bothers his wife— she understands that it’s more convenient to be close to the theatre during crunch times and a few days alone gives her time to get ahead with her own work. Normally, things go smoothly.
This time has been different. She could tell as soon as Yukio stepped through the door.
“Reni quit.” His voice lacks its typical enthusiasm.
“What?” She says, inelegantly. “He’s your best friend.”
“It looks like he doesn’t think so anymore.”
“So he’s quitting theatre? Altogether? What on Earth would make him want to do that?”
“No, he’s- I think he just wants to do his own thing. I tried to talk him out of it, but we just ended up having an argument. Well,” he laughs nervously. “Honestly, that’s a bit of an understatement.”
Rather than having had an argument, Yukio looks as though he’s had about fifty.
“I’m getting the feeling you’ve got a lot to digest. You can go ahead and take a bath if you’d like. We can talk about what happened some more later, if you feel like it.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
“I’ll make stew tonight.” She adds.
Yukio’s features soften ever so slightly. “Thanks.”
Three empty boxes sit on the windowsill, the contents of two placed neatly on top.
She holds the third in her hand. Two lines are visible on the paper window inside.
As carefully as she can manage, she sets it down with the others, washes her hands thoroughly, and rubs at her closed eyes.
When she opens them again, everything is the same.
She’s pregnant. God. Only after three positive tests does she allow herself to believe it.
She won’t tell her husband yet. She won’t tell anyone until she can pick apart exactly what this makes her feel (seemingly nothing).
The word “mother” sits on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it down. There are nine months to go before that, and there’s no promise that they’ll go as she hopes.
“I was thinking,” Yukio says, up to his elbows in dishwater. “What about Izumi?”
“Izumi.” She repeats. “I like that one.”
“Izumi Tachibana.” It has a ring to it, as much of a cliche as that is.
‘Izumi’s mother’ doesn’t sound half bad either.