Archive of Our Own

To my dear Yumeko,

As I am writing this, Riri sleeps behind me. Peacefully. The first time in years since our paths were tethered by and to our father.

You and she know best that I am always last place when it comes to lying, not that there is a reason for me to lie at the moment, no. I do give credit where it is due, and that is to you. The plan was successful. Well, most of it. I must admit, I was appalled by your wit. That you were one step ahead of me on the day of the board retreat (not the first time, but this was the one for the books). Yes, appalled, not amused like the earlier days—and yes, that, I do admit as well. It seems this letter is taking an unexpected route, one where I admit things I'd have murdered my mind before my pride for if I were still the same me during council years. Steering back to the topic at hand, yes, I was horrified.

• Not because someone transferred in the middle of the semester for the first time in my presidency at St. Dominic's, one with a clean record and almost zero digital footprint. Like the identity was skillfully planted.

• Not because that someone gave me a gift on the first meeting, one that I kept safe while I attempted to unravel the twists and turns of the genius behind it (to do both simultaneously was not a cakewalk, but it was a considerable feat on my end), when the answer was right on its sleeve: to dismantle it. Completely.

• Not because that person tipped the ranking by an angle slanted enough for a council member to fall off from the top 10 on the very first day. And for what? The thrill? The love of the game? I would have applauded you from the front-most section seats had it been for it, or for yourself. But for a boy you just met? Quite unsettling, but no, not horrifying enough. But you did clarify it at the end. Though I wish you could have made clear of your intentions a little earlier.

• Not because that person made whoever sat across them cry at the gambling den, squeaking and making ridiculous sounds even when she hadn't won yet. Green streaks whenever she'd leave through the door.

• Not because that someone befriended the only person who wouldn't gamble, but spent his life in isolation at the library with that damned computer. And that person became a useful tool to defeating yet another council member, one that I sent myself. But while this was the threshold for the council to finally recognize that someone as an actual threat to the hierarchy, I admit I was.. astonished by how she won without needing to be untruthful.

• Not because she shook the rest of the council, and even if she did lose because of her two left feet (which I still find amusing to this day, that one who is considerably skillful in combat is also a complete mess with bodily coordination when rhythm and beat join the duel), she didn't leave with a loss in the rematch. But she has got to thank Dori for the bang trim. It was awfully messy. Probably cut her hair out of impulse herself. But I admit it looked weird enough for me to have the uneven strands memorized.

• And not because she placed a bet, one that was unannounced and overlooked by many, even me. And that bet won her the 10th spot on the board, a free ticket to the school board retreat.
  
  

I may not have written every little detail, but I have every memory intact. Every victory of yours is etched in my mind. Every defeat of yours still upsets me. Why, you ask? Because for a reason I couldn't fathom back then, if you were to lose, I would have wanted you to suffer defeat by my own hand, and only by mine. Not by that boy you won your first game for. Not for the dead weight even I couldn't shake off of you. And maybe I was upset because you didn't keep him at bay. Maybe.

There are still questions left unanswered. Well, because I never asked you any of these when I had the chance. But how did you know I didn't have it in me to destroy the gift? Or was that merely a test? Or were you simply fishing for a piece of my upbringing? And maybe I was appalled by how easy it was for you to step on it when I finally gave up solving it. A gift is a gift. To me, at least. Maybe it was the first I received in many years, and it didn't matter even if it was given by a potential foe. Maybe.

And the fact that you were terrible at dancing (which I think I would never be able to recall without its irony I mentioned humoring me), and you further proved it when you danced with that boy during the gala. Deadweight, I told you. That's why you didn't win. But my question lies not in that particular matter, but in how when I stole you from another, suddenly you were a charmer who's attended enough social gatherings to move flawlessly in rhythm with me. To be on par with me. That you knew where to hold, how long to touch, and when not to blink when I'd challenge your gaze. That your feet were no longer both left, but perfectly in unison with mine. That when I swayed, you'd glide as if you had foreseen which direction I'd bend us next. Either one of us was lying and it certainly wasn't me, or you were a flame that only needed to dance with another: one that burned hotter than red, and what else was there other than the blue that danced closest to the candle's wick?

And maybe that was when things had truly become more frightening for me. The day of the school board retreat, I finally cracked many of your tells—weak spots: family, revenge. Things that explain why you did what you did, but not how you did it. Your almost-never-unfazed-by-defeat persona contributed a hefty amount to your purpose, and frankly, I always thought you'd stay that way even without underlying reasons. But poisoning me with a kiss… that was quite.. bold of you. You had me there, and I wish I meant that only objectively, not figuratively. You got me. Captured me. And I wish I felt more trapped than free. I wish I hated you for snaring my lifeline.

And how I wish I had been horrified purely because I had nothing in my stash to deflect it, parry it, or flee from it with. Not one of my backup plans with backup plans accounted for surviving poison delivered through a kiss. Not in the thousands of possibilities I conjured. Not in one of the clauses I both mentally and physically drafted.

And most importantly—and worst of all—not one where I'd expected my heart to pound out of my chest not solely from fear. Instead, even as I knew death was knocking and waiting to be invited in, another thought knocked with it: if I survived this day, I would rather admit that I would gladly greet the reaper at the door once more, than die not only from the poison but from the guilt that had been eating me away for not confessing any sooner. That I wouldn't even mind welcoming another poisoned kiss if it were the last thing life would wipe away from my memory. That if I were to die, I should be thinking of the last places I would want to heave my last breath at. Instead, I felt at peace with the thought of dying by your hand. By whose hand patted my back and sat with me when my stomach flipped and the poison came up and out of me. The first to not use my vulnerability against me when she'd swum in it with me.

The irony of it all. Maybe I'm a hypocrite. Maybe I should stop saying 'maybe.' I long for a life where I didn't have to fight just to be chosen, and I fight for a life where I long for fairness to flourish. Where one would simply acknowledge me instead of assessing me. But the thing is, you did assess me, but not only did you acknowledge me after, but you also understood me. Placed your heart right next to mine. Proposed an alliance. One that thrived, and the fruits of it we now lavish in. For now, at least.

It recently only occurred to me that I have never beaten you at an official gamble. Last one ended in a draw. And yes, had it been in a different circumstance, you would have lost to me. I know even you know that. Ridiculous, aren't I? To place my pride in places people would not normally toss a coin on, but I am not one of those people. Not ever was I. And you know that too. You always knew. So I'd expect you to understand when I say that if I had died because of you, my death would not be in vain. It would be more honorable than any gamble. And I would have no regrets. That's what I'd like to say. But there is one thing: it's that I am writing this letter instead of saying this all in front of you, but this is the only way. The only one left. Someone has to take the fall. It can't be you or my sister. If anyone were to welcome death by the door, let it be the one who had already declared open arms to it, though the conditions are not the exact same as I wrote them. But words transcend death, don't they?

But when I say that I am not one of those people, I don't mean those who were easily captivated by you. Maybe I held too much power for anyone to notice, and I don't recall you ever mentioning how obvious I made it look, that it was not merely an obsession. You're several levels above me in that department. Whether I'll ever get an answer from you, I fear I won't be around long enough to find out. I do wish I'd catered better to my own obsession. I wish I had held on to everything that mattered to me longer, and much earlier. I wish I had looked at you not through the dividing glass pane, the window that kept us apart, but through my own eyes without withholding anything. I wish I had been twice the person my reputation made me out to be: that I wanted things more than anyone else could ever want them. When I call something mine, it is, by any and every means, mine alone, even if I must die for it.

And maybe there is another regret: this is the first time I have called you dear to me, and it will be the last. But let it be known that if there were another time, another chance, I would be the one knocking at your door. I would tell you my biggest regret—one I would hold close even on the other side, and one I am most certain would have transcended death had it come directly from my voice: that I wasn't able to tell you that you were the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. I regret that we never truly were, and that we will never happen. And most of all, I regret that I was never able to tell you the only truth that mattered, words that would remain physically unspoken and locked away with me forever..

..I love you.

Sincerely yours,

your partner, Kira