Work Text:
A haze the color of brush-tainted water hung low above Yusuke’s head. It replaced every hopeful thought with another deadline, another goal they couldn’t seem to reach. Their charcoal piece received high praise, but the haze kept them stuck in that one critique, that one teacher who said their watercolor blending “needed work”. They’d wasted twenty hours, twelve sketchbook pages drafting ideas, and three canvases, all for a grade that barely surpassed the class average.
My work used to be displayed in galleries. Sure, at a certain point, it stopped being theirs, but it still meant something to someone. He liked it enough to steal it.
Their phone buzzed, and Haru’s icon appeared in the bottom-left corner. She was represented by the prettiest plum tomato from her most recent harvest—almost too pretty to eat. They did anyway, of course, and Yusuke nearly wept at the taste.
They could’ve chosen any other photo, such as when they simply had to capture the way the mid-afternoon sunlight perfectly framed Haru’s face. But they kept circling back to that grainy plum tomato, and what it meant to be offered the bigger half.
A dash of red and a custom ringtone (Futaba’s idea), and the haze began to clear.
[Haru <3 added you, Ann, Futaba, and two others to the conversation]
[Haru <3 named the conversation “Slumber Party <3”]
Haru <3: Makoto and I made plans to visit Tokyo for a week once the semester is finished. Since our exam periods overlap, why not celebrate these collective accomplishments with a party? More specifically, a slumber party! Next Saturday, I invite you over to my house for an evening of video games (bring your own controller!), spa treatments, and a four-course meal. Submit any requests at least a day in advance. Transportation will be provided.
Haru <3: No need for a dress code or “proper etiquette”. Come exactly as you are :)
Haru <3: Oh, and Ryuji will be in Inaba at that time, so he unfortunately cannot join us.
From an early age, Yusuke kept a mental note of every event they either weren’t invited to or, in the rare case they were, events Madarame forbade them from attending. Birthday parties, end-of-year parties, graduation parties; all of which were typically proceeded by the coveted slumber party, wherein guests would spend the night at the host’s house.
Yusuke never understood the appeal of slumber parties. Sharing a room with other students was more intrusive than fun, and from what they’d heard, people rarely slept during them anyway. They weren’t special, so Yusuke had no reason to feel left out.
Futaba: wait holy shit sapphic sleepover??? sapphic sleepover!!!
Ann: OMGOMG I’m so excited!!! I’ve missed hanging out with you guys!!!
Sumire: I’ve missed you, too. Count me in!
Makoto: Exam prep has been incredibly draining for us both. I’d call this the perfect remedy.
They should be more excited. They’d get to see their friends again. They’d get to see Haru again, who was just as much a friend as any of them, but… to the left, slightly.
Yusuke should be excited, yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t belong there. They didn’t understand the appeal of video games, frequently went to bed at sunrise and woke up mid-afternoon, and rarely remembered to wash their face at night. As for the meal… their Sensei’s words echoed in their mind.
“Be modest, Yusuke. Don’t make them think I’m starving you.”
Me: Did you mean to include me in this conversation?
Haru <3: Absolutely! I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you all semester :)
Their heart leapt into their throat.
“You” didn’t necessarily refer to them specifically. It was a general you, most likely, encompassing their entire friend group. That didn’t stop Yusuke from reading it as something personal. She wants to spend time with me.
Futaba: youre getting your slumber on whether you like it or not inari ᕕ༼ ಠ益ಠ ༽╭∩╮
Makoto: What emotion is that even depicting…?
Futaba: (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )
Sumire: My turn!
Sumire: *:･ﾟ✧(=✪ ᆺ ✪=)*:･ﾟ✧
*****
Come Saturday, Yusuke spent the better part of each class doodling rooftop gardens, sunhats, and curly, cropped hair. It was absentminded at first… until it wasn’t, by which point she prayed the pages she’d turned in wouldn’t be marked down for incomprehensible notes or unvaried subjects. If nothing else, these doodles reminded her why she enjoyed art so much to begin with. Though the process was a bit of a blur, the results were truly inspired.
After class, she stood on the curb outside her dorm, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty. Then Yusuke wondered if they may have forgotten about her. She tried not to look down at the dress shirt she’d worn specially for the occasion as she prepared to head back inside.
A smooth, rumbling sound pulled her from her thoughts, and Yusuke was soon faced with the fanciest limousine she’d ever laid eyes upon, let alone been in the presence of.
Not even Madarame rode in anything so extravagant, which Yusuke now assumed to be intentional. Maintaining a modest façade, while also subtly flaunting his wealth. When they attended exhibitions together, she was always told to take the train (or walk, if she didn’t have the money) as he drank champagne on velvet cushions.
“There’s no room for you.”
“You’ll dirty the seats.”
“Don’t you like taking the train?”
Yusuke noticed Okumura’s initials, as well as the Big Bang logo, adorning the gold hood ornament, and she felt sick on Haru’s behalf all over again.
The door opened. Yusuke instinctively hesitated.
“C’mon!” Ann hollered. “What’re you waiting for!?”
It had rained last night. Her shoes were wet, and the seats looked expensive.
“Should I dry off first?”
“No need,” the driver clarified, “a little water won’t damage anything.”
Oh.
She sat beside Ann, who sat beside Makoto. Futaba and Sumire took the seats behind them, chatting amongst themselves about whatever new anime they’d gotten sucked into.
“Haru just finished setting up,” Makoto said. “I’m honestly amazed at how good of a planner she is. If I were in her shoes, I’d be far too overwhelmed to make any decisions.”
Yusuke gazed wistfully out the window. “She is wonderful, isn’t she?”
Ann made an unusual sound, a mix between a laugh and a “tsk”.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing! Nothing.”
They approached the Okumura residence, and Futaba climbed across Sumire to press her face to the window. “Daaamn! I forgot how massive this place is!”
Sumire glanced in all directions, unable to absorb every detail at once. “You certainly weren’t exaggerating when you described it…”
“If I stay long enough, will I suddenly start speaking French?” Futaba joked, voice muffled against the glass. “Until then—Ann, could you be my translator?”
Ann nodded. “Oui.”
Haru waved to them from the front door, dwarfed by rows of rosebushes and dark, wooden pillars. A tiny waterfall bubbled in the koi pond to her left, and Yusuke’s mental haze reappeared, clinging to the part of her that knew she’d made a mistake.
Years of being paraded around like some exotic pet made her straighten up in the presence of exorbitant wealth. To stay put unless ordered otherwise. To parrot phrases that either boosted someone else’s ego or humbled her own.
Always humble. Always grateful.
Haru would never treat you that way, Yusuke attempted to reassure herself. She invited you for a reason. Think about fried plum tomatoes. When she offered to braid your hair while you ate. Think about asking her to braid it again.
“I’m so glad you could all make it!” Haru called out, spinning her pale pink parasol like a tour guide. “Come in, come in!”
Upon reaching for her bag, the driver said, “Don’t worry, we’ll bring everything to you.” Yusuke… didn’t know how to feel about that.
“Thank you,” she replied before following the others inside.
Futaba cupped her hands over her mouth. “Echo! Echo, echo, echo…”
Makoto sighed, shaking his head. “We just got here…”
Haru shut her parasol and hung it by the door. “So long as you keep your shoes off and don’t break any dishes, it’s really no issue. Now,” she pulled out her phone, “I made a list of potential activities. Where should we start?”
“I’d kill to hook my console up to one of your TVs.” Futaba gestured toward a large bag being wheeled past them. “Brought a couple games with me, including an emulation of the first Featherman tie-in for the GameSphere.”
“Don’t tell me they’re all Featherman related,” Ann groaned. “None of us are as committed to binge-watching as you are. None except for Yusuke, I mean.”
“Futaba definitely has me beat in that regard.”
“Not to worry, Ann-chan! I included an eroge or two in my arsenal as well.” She received another look from Makoto. “Kidding, kidding, I left those at home.”
“To the game room it is, then.” Haru led them down an open hallway, and Yusuke’s tension waned with the gentle sunlight pouring in.
She’d noticed soon after befriending her that the other girl preferred to walk on her toes. Haru always stepped lightly, enough to never make herself seen or heard. Her quirks could’ve been the result of the ballet lessons she’d taken as a child, or perhaps something more… sinister. In the latter case, Yusuke understood the effort required for grace to appear effortless.
Today, she still walked on her toes, but with a newfound skip in each step, like she could enter any room and need no introduction.
“Here we are!”
It was practically a miniature theater, if theaters also came equipped with a billiards table, a dart board, and a cabinet of boardgames that seemed too expensive to open. Futaba’s bag had been placed on one of the front row seats, and she immediately rushed over to unpack it. Ann gravitated toward the games cabinet, Makoto the billiards table, and Sumire the dart board, each making themselves at home right away.
Yusuke, on the other hand, remained frozen in place.
“Is everything alright?” Haru’s voice made her heartrate speed up, then relax.
“You… have a lovely home,” she replied, almost robotically.
“Yusuke.” Her tone shifted to something more firm. How she could transition so effortlessly between them, Yusuke hadn’t been able to replicate. “I aim to ensure all my guests’ experiences here are ideal. That includes you. Please, be honest—is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course.” Haru didn’t look convinced. “If it weren’t, I’d tell you.” She turned to Haru with a question of her own. “How are you feeling? This is your first time hosting, correct? Makoto told me how thoroughly you prepared for it.”
“Ah- I may have gone a bit overboard…” There was a slight tremor in her hands, and she shuffled in place as if standing motionless for too long made her uncomfortable. “I just- I want this to be perfect. I want everyone to enjoy themselves tonight.”
“I’m certain I- we will.”
A couple months apart was no match for the Phantom Thieves, who found their rhythm again fairly quickly. Yusuke hovered over Futaba’s shoulder for a while, having no clue what to make of the gameplay despite being a Featherman fan herself. She eventually switched places with Sumire to face off against Makoto in a round of 8-ball pool. Makoto then switched with Ann so he and Haru could play cards, and the pair made their way to the unoccupied dart board.
“Yeesh,” Ann cringed. “I’m rustier than I thought I’d be.”
“Are you at least having fun?” Yusuke threw her next dart—36 points. There was absolutely no way she was getting to 301 in two more turns.
“Oh, yeah, totally. It’s made me want to revisit Penguin Sniper with you guys. Maybe we can all go next week, while Makoto and Haru are still in town.” Ann removed Yusuke’s darts from the board. “Y’know, for old times’ sake.”
“For old times’ sake.” Yusuke couldn’t shake the dread that phrase carried. Even after she’d moved on to something else, it lingered in her mind, asking one simple question:
Will I ever feel as free as I did back then?
*****
Take a bite. No, not that big. And don’t follow it up with another, not right away.
“Mm-mm!” Sumire, on the other hand, shoveled forkfuls into her mouth, only pausing for the occasional compliment. “All the produce comes from your garden, right?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘mine’ at the moment. This batch can be accredited to the Shujin gardening club, who generously volunteered to care for it in my absence.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Makoto said, dabbing his face with his napkin.
Sumire reached for her second serving. “I never even knew Shujin had a gardening club.”
“For a while, it didn’t. At least, not officially.” Her expression grew forlorn. “The board preferred to fund clubs with a more committed membership. What’s worse, those who did attend these meetings eventually… stopped. Moved on to different clubs, which only proved the board’s point that we didn’t deserve to be funded in the first place. I suppose the fruits of our labor, quite literally, were too far off to justify the effort put in.
“After Father died, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t allow my dreams, nor the dreams of everyone who’d come this far, to die as well. Because of you, I realized how much gardening means to me. I value it both as an escape, and as something that ties me to the better parts of him. So I asked the board if I could help fund an official gardening club.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ann raised her glass, “Future CEO, Miss Okumura Haru!”
She blushed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve still got many years of training ahead of me.”
Yusuke raised her glass as well, clinking it with Ann’s. “And we’ll be here rooting for you your entire journey, ensuring those dreams become a reality.”
“Thank you, all of you.”
Once everyone had finished eating, they prepared to migrate upstairs.
Everyone except Yusuke.
She usually wasn’t one to pass up a free meal, but the things it reminded her of made her lose her appetite entirely. Okumura. Madarame. She had this constant urge to look over her shoulder and ask him on how much she should put on her plate. He’d likely advise her to simply throw something together back at the atelier, to leave the prime cuts of meat for those who were actually invited. But he’d never taught her to cook, and he never intended to.
“Would you like me to wrap that up for you?”
Yusuke froze. Haru.
“My apologies, I really did enjoy the meal, I just—”
“No need to explain yourself. If you aren’t hungry, you aren’t hungry.” She waited until the rest of the group had left before she continued. “I’m quite familiar with the sort of… expectations adults often place upon you during formal occasions like these. I also know how difficult they can be to shake. If you’d prefer to eat alone, I’ll see to it that no one disturbs you.”
“Thank you…” Yusuke blinked back tears. “Thank you so much.”
She didn’t know how long it would take for her appetite to return. But when it did, there was a plate waiting for her in the fridge and an open seat at the table.
*****
Yusuke’s skin crawled just watching Ann apply her face mask. When offered something similar, she politely but adamantly declined.
“I’m sure your skin will look lovely, though to be perfectly honest, there are very few sensory experiences I’d call less desirable than this.”
Haru sat at her vanity, combing through silky auburn curls that appeared almost strawberry blonde in the setting sun. While her friends beautified themselves, Yusuke sat to the side, absently sketching them. Currently, she’d drawn Sumire and Makoto once, Ann and Futaba twice, and Haru a startling five times.
“Can I see what you’re working on?” Ann scooched closer, causing the fragrant mask to begin peeling off her face. “Aw, c’mon…”
“Of course.”
Yusuke turned the page to Ann, whose eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t realize it’d gotten this bad.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “Wait- do you even realize how bad it’s gotten…?”
“How bad what’s gotten?”
“Oh. My. God. You don’t know, do you?”
“Is the vague wording really necessary?” Yusuke instinctively brought the sketchbook to her chest, guarding not only its contents, but a part of herself.
“Sorry.” Ann leaned forward, keeping the conversation between them. “You like Haru, don’t you? And before you misinterpret me, I’m talking the romantic sorta like. The like-like.”
“Certainly not. You of all people should know how serious I am about selecting my muse. Haru just so happens to currently be that muse.”
“Ugh. I give up.”
“Good. I hope you’ll come around to my true intentions eventually.”
As if one intrusive thought wasn’t enough, Yusuke now had two. Thank you, Ann.
Haru meant very much to her; that, she was certain of. They’d helped each other through some of the darkest periods in their lives. Confronting their fathers’ Palaces. Coming to terms with the fact that their names were only ever spoken in tandem with the men’s mistakes. Forging their own identities despite that. Setback, progress, setback, repeat.
For years, they’d been forced into the same social circles. Haru would occasionally attend events hosted by Madarame, and vice versa. But they were always kept apart, never allowed to interact beyond a simple greeting. Empathy breeds rebellion, after all.
Yusuke refused to return to where the atelier once stood. Last she’d heard, it was demolished a few months ago for not being up to code.
A decade too late, she’d thought. Where was that ‘code’ when I needed it most?
With Haru, though, things weren’t so simple. She couldn’t leave her father’s estate forever (at least, not yet), so she created a safe space out of a prison and invited all her friends. Some of the doors remained open, like the game room. Most were locked. An attempt to make the place feel smaller than it was, she assumed.
So they shared similar traumas, which meant nothing in terms of attraction. Haru was objectively beautiful, and Yusuke couldn’t just allow her beauty to go unnoticed, un-sketched. Surely her prior muse could understand that.
Yusuke stared at the page again. Yes… she is beautiful. Beautiful, and kind, and assertive, and graceful, and intelligent, and resourceful, and loyal, and brave, and… She paused, then went deeper. And the song of her laughter rivals a chorus. And if her smile was framed in a gallery, no matter how renowned the pieces hanging next to her were, she would surely outshine them all. And when I’m with her, I am safe. I am free. I am home.
She’d erased Haru’s eyes several times, unable to properly capture their warmth. The way they made her feel. Sketching over smudged graphite, Yusuke stared into those eyes once more, asking herself what they truly meant to her. In an instant, she knew the answer.
“Yusuke?”
She shut her sketchbook and looked up, only to be met with the real thing.
Oh.
“Y-Yes?”
“May I do your makeup?”
Oh. Oh no.
“Wh- uh- why?”
“Because I’ve never seen you wear makeup, and I think you’d look beautiful in it.” Ann guffawed, and Haru waved her hands apologetically. “I phrased that wrong! What I mean is—you’re already beautiful, Yusuke. And makeup is technically another form of art, right? Just- using your face as the canvas… right?”
“Ohoho~?” Futaba pushed up her glasses, grinning fiendishly.
Sumire rested her chin on her partner’s shoulder. “Aww, how cute!”
“If you’re uncomfortable with my request, I completely understand—”
“I accept. Henceforth, I will be your canvas.”
Futaba rolled her eyes. “Pack it up, Juliet.”
“Give me a moment to lay out my supplies.” Haru opened the drawer to her vanity, then immediately started clapping and shuffling her feet. “Oh, I’m so excited!”
“You’re very lucky,” Makoto said, lightly elbowing Yusuke. “Haru is an incredible makeup artist. She’s certainly refined my routine.”
Ann pulled up a chair beside the vanity, throwing her friend a wink as she passed by.
Sitting across from the auburn-haired girl, Yusuke clutched the fabric of her shirt a little tighter. If she hadn’t acknowledged her feelings then, would she react the same? Would she fret so much over something as simple as makeup?
Regardless, here and now, Yusuke liked Haru. That, she couldn’t deny.
“What’s your tolerance for having objects close to your eye?”
“I’ve worn eyeliner before, if that’s a good enough indicator.”
“I knew it,” she heard Futaba mutter.
Haru nodded, combing over her palette. “And would you allow me to pin back your hair so I can work on both sides of your face?”
“My… hair?”
When Madarame refused to take his student to the hospital after “accidently” shoving her into a glass table, and when those wounds inevitably left behind raised, discolored scars, hiding them became second nature. Thus, Yusuke had styled her hair to obscure half her face for nearly a decade. She didn’t even need a mirror anymore.
It wasn’t that she thought her friends would judge her for her scars (which they already knew existed), just that their good intentions, the ways they’d likely feel obligated to respond, only served to strengthen her insecurities.
“They’re really not that bad.”
“With some foundation, you won’t need to cover them up anymore.”
“It’s absolutely horrible what you went through.”
Pity. She despised pity, no matter the intent.
But here, in this prison-turned-safe-space, Yusuke said, “Okay.”
Haru tucked her bangs behind her ear, then secured them in place with a pin. Then… she went to work. Not a single word about the eye that could only open so far, or the sliver of brow that could never grow back. Nothing.
“Maybe… no, more of a- hmm… it would certainly be a bold move, one I have no doubt you’d pull off…” Haru pursed her lips. “How about… blue lipstick?”
“I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
*****
“Aaannnd—done!”
Yusuke hadn’t realized their faces were mere inches apart until Haru backed away.
“Already?”
Makoto checked his phone. “It’s been over an hour.”
“Guess it’s time for this thing to come off.” Ann said, removing her face mask. As far as Yusuke could tell, she looked identical, if not a bit shinier. Perhaps the results were delayed?
Haru turned Yusuke’s chair toward the mirror, and the other girl shut her eyes the second navy hair came into view. There were so many parts of herself she’d yet to figure out that she worried a sudden change might throw everything off balance. All her progress, gone.
Would Haru prefer if I looked like this?
What if makeup cannot hide my flaws?
What if this is as good as it gets for me?
“You can open your eyes.”
Despite these worries, Yusuke trusted Haru’s skills. She trusted Haru.
So she listened, and looked into the mirror.
Blue and gold blended seamlessly together, with a hint of glitter to populate the Starry Night sky. Sharp, black winged liner not only accredited Haru’s steady hands, they also gave Yusuke an air of intimidation she hadn’t experienced since the Metaverse. Seeing Fox reflected in polished Palace surfaces always made her wonder whether she could translate this confidence elsewhere, without a mask and a Persona to protect her. Here, it was like greeting an old friend.
“I… I love it.”
What’s more, not a single scar had been painted over, yet she still felt just as powerful.
“I’m glad. I think gold suits you quite nicely.”
Gazing at each other through the mirror, Haru wore a smile that Yusuke selfishly hoped to be directed at her and her alone. Their shoulders touched, hands overlapped. Barely a minute ago, she despised mirrors. Now, sitting beside the girl she would go to hell and back for, nothing existed outside what was reflected in it.
“Aww, you two are super sweet,” If Ann meant it teasingly—all in good fun, of course—Yusuke couldn’t tell. “And Haru’s right, gold is totally your color. Next time, I suggest going even bolder by swapping out black for red liner.”
Haru seemed surprised. “Next time? As in, our next slumber party?”
“Yeah!” Futaba interjected. “I’m having a ton of fun so far! Well… except for when I ate too much spicy chicken, but that one’s on me.”
“You’re a wonderful host, Haru-senpai,” Sumire added. “I’d happily support any event planned by you, or any business venture with your name tied to it.”
“My, that’s…” She contemplated her response, tapping her fingers against the back of Yusuke’s hand. “…ah, certainly motivating. How about we aim for the end of each semester?”
Sumire fiddled with her glasses. “I should probably clarify—don’t automatically commit to outdoing yourself. A great performance means nothing if its motivated by the wrong reasons. You deserve to have fun just as much as we do.”
Makoto nodded. “Well put.”
“I understand. I’ll try to stay on the right path, and if I falter, I’ll reach out for support.” Haru squeezed Yusuke’s hand, whose feelings for her friend had never been stronger. “I love you all so much. You’ve changed my life in ways I once assumed impossible.”
Yusuke leaned into her side. She smelled like roses and coffee. “We love you, too.”
*****
The house was quiet. Peaceful. It didn’t creak and groan like the atelier, though it shared its sterile atmosphere. Every vase, table setting, and wall sconce were purposefully crafted to be admired from a distance; ironically, reminding Yusuke of a museum.
With only her phone’s light to guide her, she crept downstairs, having finally regained her appetite. Upon entering the kitchen, Yusuke found it mildly jarring how modern its appliances were, especially when compared to the classical theming of the rest of the house. Microwaves don’t need that many buttons, she thought, half-expecting it to start angrily beeping at her once she opened it. She watched her plate spin for a minute or so, then removed it before the machine really proved how loud it could get.
Yusuke sat in a dark, empty room, eating leftovers with a cold center despite the alleged superior technology used to heat them. But she didn’t mind. Cold leftovers were better than no leftovers at all, and she’d gone to bed far too many nights on an empty stomach.
There was a subtle shift in the space, the feeling of being watched, and Yusuke turned to find Haru standing behind her. Her eyes widened, still framed by glitter and gold.
“Did I startle you? Sorry, I didn’t know how else to announce my presence.”
“No need to apologize. I hope I wasn’t the cause for you still being awake.”
“You weren’t. I… I couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Haru sat down, hands folded neatly in her lap. She took a deep breath, then said, “This is my first slumber party. Not just the first I’ve hosted, my first ever.”
Yusuke’s posture relaxed, as did the tension between them. “Oddly enough, I’m actually glad to hear that. This is my first slumber party, too.”
“Let me guess: either people were too intimidated to invite you, or you were forbidden from attending on the basis that they might… discover things.” Haru’s tone betrayed her. She sounded almost disinterested, if not slightly amused, reciting the same, tired excuses verbatim. “And you were only denied more with age, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Denying someone their childhood, all so he could cover his tracks. Absolutely sickening.” Haru didn’t get angry very often, but when she did, it was justified.
“We’re here now, though, aren’t we? Experiencing exactly what we were told not to.” Yusuke tried to hold the cold center of Haru’s anger before it spiraled into despair. “You’ve made me feel more at home than I have in months. For once, I was able to set aside my worries regarding school, my grades, my future…” Go on, say his name. He can’t hurt you like that anymore. “…Madarame. And that’s thanks to you. Sumire’s right: you’re a wonderful host.
“When you ask me if everything’s alright, the question should extend to you as well. Haru,” the features illuminated under her phone’s light tightened, “are you alright?”
“I-I’m not sure.” Their chairs had gotten closer without them realizing. “I miss you so much. I finally found a group I can relate to—real friends, not ones bought by my father. Then I graduated. I had to leave you behind as soon as I’d met you.”
“Being forced to move on… trust me, I understand how difficult that can be. With all the uncertainties of life, let me assure you of one thing. Wherever you are in the world, in your education, your career, I’ll be waiting for you.” She smiled softly. “In your garden. Even after we’ve grown, we can still return to it. Perhaps as different people, but never as strangers.”
“But- but that’s just it, we can’t. In a few years’ time, I’ll have sold the estate. My garden will likely be paved over, if the rumors I’m hearing from potential buyers are true.”
“Then we’ll build a new garden, together.” Yusuke didn’t care if she’d given herself away. If Haru knew how much she meant to her, it was well worth the risk.
“I’d like that.” She glanced at Yusuke’s unfinished (now fully cold) leftovers and stood. “Ah, it appears I’ve kept you from eating. I’ll go.”
Yusuke wanted her to stay, though she’d take another hour to finish if they continued talking. “I appreciate you opening up to me. I hope to have similar conversations in the future. Under brighter circumstances, of course.”
“Here’s to those brighter circumstances.” She raised an imaginary glass, and Yusuke followed suit. “Goodnight, Yusuke.”
“Goodnight, Haru. I love you.”
She paused, one foot in the doorway. Yusuke wondered if she’d caught the double meaning. Then, Haru calmly walked back over, knelt down, and kissed her cheek.
“I love you, too.”
Yes, Yusuke thought, I believe she knows.