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The door is open.
The door was open.
The door is closed.
The snow painting the pavement covers her eyes, and then they don’t. Thinly; overtly.
Each step pressed; each step imprinted in powder. In the snow. In the doorway; up the stairs.
On the doorstep—as she reaches her hands out for the doorknob. That her sister should have closed.
Where is the van?
There was a van. It's right there, in the doorway. She presses her hand against it, but she can’t feel it. Because there isn’t a van. Why did she think there was a van?
There isn’t a door either. She walks in.
Her home should be inside, but it is not. Because this isn’t her home. But it is. Because it is her home, where her parents and sister live. She lives here too.
She did;
she doesn’t,
not anymore.
It's familiar, her home—with its many doors and many chains and many rooms; with a chair in the middle of it and a ceiling that opens. The floor shines, reflecting a face she can’t remember. A girl is standing, laying down faceward on the floor, with bloody hands and a face she can’t remember.
With a face misplaced on hers. That she can’t remember.
That’s not her face.
‘Mayu?’
It's sudden, the blood. The blood that covered her hands now pools out of her body. Her sister’s body–stuffed inside a bathroom stall. But the blood wasn’t blood, but something else. Something grotesque, and awful. That makes her stomach churn and broil hotly all the way up to her throat.
It sticks, it oozes, chalks, not; it doesn’t smell, but it smells. Of something that reminds her of things she doesn’t want to remember. But she sees it—that—in flashes, in memories that make her feel ill—of things she can’t see, can't hear. But she feels it. Grinding her teeth down in her shifting jaw to tear them out.
Her sister was a yes. And she was not. That was the difference between the two of them. That’s what he said. But-
The car jerked forward, and Yui bumped her head against the car door.
“Sorry Onēsama.” Kyoko said. “The driveway is covered in snow. I couldn’t see.”
Her head pounded heavily. “I’ll shovel it when we get settled.”
The house was colder than the outside.
The windows were what drew her eyes first; patterns of frost diverged and intertwined invisible imperfections lined within the glass. Oddly warm to the touch when she pressed her hand against it. It was almost nostalgic.
Inside was bigger, grander—with red bricks and wood; like the movies they watched on the way over. The lingering smoke from the snuffed fireplace burned her nose, and the floor creaked as the two of them stepped inside. The floor, itself, is covered with carpet. Only carpet—with patterns consisting of incomplete hexagons. She doesn’t think a single room in this house has any polished floors. The ceiling doesn’t look like it opens either.
Kyoko closes the door and stands there, with the rhythmic sounds of locks getting pushed into place. Metal sliding, hinges twisting, and the sound of chains locking themselves around her wrists-
“I don’t think those locks would be necessary, Kyoko. We’re the only ones out here, you know.”
She jiggled the doorknob roughly.
“...You did read the pamphlet I gave you, right?”
“I read it on the way over, Yui-onēsama. Never hurts to be cautious.”
Kyoko said it with a smile—a rare occurrence—but it didn’t look right. Her eyes kept drifting towards the door as she made her way over to Yui. With a mouth that looked like it had something to say, but her lips were firmly pressed against each other.
Yui leaned forward to give her a chaste kiss anyway. “Well, I guess.”
Whatever keeps her at ease, she thought—especially with what happened. This impromptu vacation outside the city was merely a means to keep Kyoko’s mind occupied, after all.
The grandness of the interior doorway seemed to be enough to pull her out of her anxiety rut, as she started to glean at all the peculiarities that line the house walls within. She really ought to thank Fuhito for lending them his vacation house—not that Kyoko needs to know that.
She wandered around her grandfather’s house like a stranger—pulling Yui along as they walked down hallways and up stairways. It was an infectious feeling, a sliver of childlike wonder that Yui didn’t feel like ruining. Because.
It's strange, the house. Oddly ordinary for a strange man with a strange family that wants to be ordinary. A strong exterior, but a weak interior. The wind from outside bellowed, and the crisp seeps of air feathered along her body—involuntarily sending chills down her spine, much to Kyoko’s amusement.
…If it were just Yui and Mayu, she could easily imagine telling each other ghost stories in the dead of night—as the two of them snuck out of their bedrooms. They’d make note of the floorboards that creaked the day before, and exit the house to watch the sunrise under snow fortresses and stolen coffee mugs.
…
Perhaps she ought to take her mind off of things too.
It didn’t take long for her to find the snow shovel.
Normally these kinds of things get handled by the police force with their own detective—she imagines, like in whodunit books–but suppose hiring your own daughter was cheaper. Or maybe that thing that happened was bad enough not to warrant any unwanted attention from the public.
Which is why Kyoko told her about it.
Well, not all of it. But enough to gain her interest. Not that Kyoko has to do that kind of thing in order to gain her support, obviously. Her aloofness grew with her age, and things like this were par for the course. Letters filled with riddles and all.
But, even still. She had hoped going steady would allow them to trust each other a bit more with serious things. Especially if Kyoko was planning on letting Yui investigate the matter with her. Something related to the very school she attends–a well-renowned school—of all things.
Or maybe she doesn’t want them to be like that.
Although she doesn’t show it, Kyoko had been very keen on having a normal school life—with friends her age and classes with no absences. Yui, on the other hand, had spent the past year getting her paperwork in order so that she could open up a private detective agency—with her management degree finally getting put to work. Things were going the way the both of them wanted it too: with a gradual merge into normalcy.
Sigh.
She remembered the pout Kyoko had when she told her about the commission—the one her father gave her. It was as if everything done was for not. And then they went back to work. Together. Like a dance they never fell out of.
The sudden interest in a romantic relationship was expected at that point. Someone to fall into, to lose herself into, with someone she was familiar with—in typical Kirigiri fashion.
But it works. She likes to think it does. They do a lot of couple things—like going on dates, celebrating holidays, birthdays, and being affectionate; it wasn’t really different from how it was before. Suppose that makes her a bad girlfriend, or whatever she wanted her to be in the moment.
Honestly, she doesn’t know what Kyoko sees in her. Or their relationship. It would probably crumble the minute Yui isn’t necessary anymore—when the investigation ends, or when Kyoko meets a boy she likes enough to settle down with.
“…”
The snow is agreeable today, and the shovel had given her no trouble. A good thing. Her upper body had always been weaker compared to her legs—a “compensation for her talent” Kyoko would say, but Yui has never put much weight into those kinds of titles. Full body exercises have many benefits—besides detective work. Like shoveling snow out of driveways.
Sigh.
It doesn’t take long for her to finish up. The driveway beneath turned out to be reflective with a pristine shimmer—like a mirror. As expected of someone as strange as Fuhito Kirigiri. She doesn’t stick around to look at it any longer than she has to.
The house was warmer than the outside.
If she were to close her eyes, she could pretend they were back at her old dorm room. Kyoko was sitting at the table with her hair in a different style that was almost reminiscent of a housewife—not that Yui would ever say that out loud. She also had two cups beside her, along with a big book of sorts. Specks of dust were noticeable along its spine as she thumbed through it with equally dusty gloves.
“Done already, Onēsama?” Kyoko said, with a voice as warm as the house. The stress that Yui unknowingly had melted off of her shoulders.
“Yeah, the snow hadn’t hardened yet so it was pretty easy to get it out of the way.” She was kind of surprised there wasn’t any ice on the pavement either.
“...I see.” And sets the book down.
She doesn’t protest the cup that Kyoko gave her. Ceramic, and hot—unmistakably hot chocolate. It was hot enough to make her sit at the table beside her, lest her hands get burned.
“Not in the mood for coffee? Could have sworn I saw some coffee grounds in one of the cabinets.”
Her finger twitches against her cup handle; cute. “Tempting, but I’d prefer to get some rest tonight,” is what she said with a light cough. "It's been a while since we’ve slept together.”
Hm, that’s true. After the final Black Challenge, the both of them got swept up in assisting Yadorigi and the Libra girls with eliminating corrupt detectives for quite awhile. Then their normal lives bled along with it. She can’t think of the last time they both got to stay still in one room—let alone right next to each other—long enough to rest.
“Well it's a good thing there’s a soft bed upstairs then.” She takes a light sip of the hot chocolate. “And it had a nice comforter too.”
“Mhm, pining Yui-onēsama down on it would be a lot nicer than on the floor-”
It takes everything in her power not to spit out her drink.
“-It’d be a lot softer on my knees too.”
Hastily, she swallows.
Sometimes Yui forgets Kyoko is older now. Where did that timid girl go? She wonders.
The offender slid a hand on her thigh, and was met with a firm grip on her offending wrist.
“I see someone has been getting bold lately.” Another sip.
“Yui-onēsama surely knows how long 7 days is by now.” Kyoko twists her wrist absentmindedly. “This is to be expected.”
“Kyoko-” She stops herself. “You’ve lasted a lot longer than 30 minutes before.”
“That was then. This is now.” Her eyes pleaded. “Onēsama.”
“The hot chocolate was nice.” And sets the cup down, letting go of her hand. “Clean the dishes.”
Kyoko deflates, and takes the cup with her into the kitchen.
Some things are to be kept in moderation. Kyoko’s wants, and the time spent on vacation before they have to think about work again. ‘The life of a detective,’ one would say in the murmurs of the Detective Library.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Yui hums as she gets ready for bed.
As much as she didn’t want to, the desire to work festered underneath her skin. A consequence of deciding to work at the prime age of 13. Kyoko probably feels it a lot worse than she does, she thinks.
Yui untangles Kyoko’s braids, and allows her fingers to relax as she combs through her hair. A small comfort of tradition the two of them managed to maintain over the years.
Kyoko’s hair falls down her shoulders and it almost steals her breath away when she looks over her shoulder.
“Onēsama?” She questions.
Yui is quick on the uptake. “Just for a little while.”
Kyoko smiles and pulls her closer—with a tongue inviting itself into her mouth.
She gasps, giving Kyoko the advantage, and allows herself to be laid down on her back on the bed beneath. Kyoko wraps her legs around her waist all too easily.
A flare of heat pools between her legs as Kyoko rolls her hips into her—and hands that ride up her shirt. Dragging the familiar texture of scar tissue up her torso and over her breasts.
Her hips stutter. “K-kyoko you’re going to fast-”
“Oh? Did Onēsama forget she said we were only doing this for a little while?” A thumb grazes her nipple—earning a moan from her lips. “I’d appreciate it if Onēsama doesn’t distract me. I’m trying to beat a record.”
“N-no wait-”
No.
No?
That wasn’t it.
Something felt off.
Something didn’t feel right.
A loud sound wailed at the back of her mind; like a warning siren; a gunshot. Accompanied with the familiar burn of sleeping limbs weighing down on her vision. Kyoko goes to lick her neck. But she couldn’t feel it.
She couldn’t see it.
At the corner of her vision, Kyoko was leaning over her.
Leaning over her.
Leaning over.
He was leaning over her.
When she was 9.
When she was 12.
Why couldn’t she remember it? What he did to her? On that day in front of an open door with a van driving away? In an abandoned building in a school full of neglectful teachers?
Like fireworks—things buried in her mind suddenly become too bright.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make it-
“Yui-onēsama!” She hears distantly. Then clearly. Thinly; overtly.
“Yui-onēsama..?”
Her eyes pulled themselves open; her face drenched in sweat. She finds it hard to breathe again—and lets Kyoko wipe her face off the tears that blurred her vision. That burned her eyelids with a fury she doesn’t want to feel anymore.
All she can hear is her own chest moving.
Say something.
Please.
Anything.
Kyoko said nothing. Instead, she found herself held—slowly wrapped in a throw blanket that tickled her nose.
Silently,
Throughout the night, she felt soft kisses pressed into her forehead—some softer than others, some with words from poems she once told Kyoko she liked. Just like she remembered Kyoko doing a long time ago in a time she can’t remember. Doesn’t want to remember.
Not anymore.
The milk in her coffee turned sour as Kyoko set down the case file on the table. Yui was hoping they would at least enjoy a quiet morning together.
“That’s certainly…a file…Kirigiri-chan.”
“Files.”
“Files?”
She looks closer.
Indeed, the more she looked at it, the more she saw that it was, in fact, not just a file—but many files;---they were all banded together in some fashion that Yui could only describe as haphazardly done. If she had to guess, something must have happened to make the person who compiled it feel like they had to do it quickly, or…something might have happened. She couldn’t say.
“And you wanted to go through them all…today?”
“Yui-onēsama is correct. Yui-onēsama will read them, and I will answer any questions Yui-onēsama has.”
Hm, Kyoko really wants her to read them. Her tongue is rolling over her honorific. Or maybe Kyoko doesn’t like milk in her coffee all that much.
In any case-
“So, I take it that you want me to help you in your investigation the headmaster has given you then?”
“Correct.”
Well, at least there was still some coffee left in the coffee pot. She leans over to pick up the first one.
Now, it's not that the situation Kyoko found herself in is complicated in any sense. It's more so the fact that it was just…weird. Enough to make her pinch her nose. No wonder it's taken her over a year to get something down on paper.
“So, the student council was coerced into killing each other in the old school building that is still on campus, which has connections to this ‘Kamukura Project’…which is something the headmaster—who should have an oversight on these kinds of things—does not really know about?”
Kyoko squirms in her chair.
“And the prime suspect of the case…was just…let go? Who is not only redacted from the investigation report but also-” She shuffles the files. “-coincides with the report of this supposed Kamukura Izuru going missing?”
“More or less.”
“Kyoko. This seems like a lot of work for you to be doing all by yourself.”
“I know.”
Then why-!?
Calm down Yui. The only plausible reason Kyoko was dragged into this mess was because of her Ultimate title—ignoring family relations. She may not be the ‘ultimate detective’ Shinsen was trying to create right now, but one could say she was the best in her field.
Wait-
“Even so, your DSC ranking is only 910. It would explain the former, but not the latter. Would it even be possible for someone as high profile as Kamukura to be murdered? Impossible, sure, but you don’t even know if it’s a real person!”
“An ‘impossible murder’ then, Yui-onēsama?”
“You know what I mean!”
“Relax,” Kyoko leaned back into her chair, “I was only tasked with investigating the Steering Committee, initially. The other events just happen to coincidentally relate to the Committee. I don’t have to look into it if I don’t have to.”
“Which you are. I’ve known you long enough to know that much.”
“Hmph.”
The more she learns about this school the more she wants Kyoko to drop out of it.
“If it puts Yui-onēsama at ease, I was already told to drop the case.”
“By..?”
“Yes.” Her face is that of stone, but the subtle fidget of her eyebrow isn’t hard to miss.
“But you want to keep going? And for me to help you with it?”
At her words—Kyoko beams. And suddenly Yui finds her bent on one knee in front of her.
“Yui-onēsama knows me so well. Marry me!”
Her coffee mug breaks on the floor.
“...Are you sure the door is locked?”
“Yes. I am quite sure.” And jiggles the doorknob to put Kyoko at ease.
It has been 3 days since they’ve settled into the house, and Yui has finally managed to convince her to leave it for a change.
She suspects cabin fever is getting to her—if her increasingly deranged pleas of marriage proposals are anything to go by—so a change of pace in the local town is what the both of them need right now.
The drive over isn’t any better. On the way, Kyoko kept talking about all the things she wanted to happen at their wedding, what they’ll eat, who’d they invite, and a bunch of other little things her mind couldn’t keep track of.
At least she looked happier.
Soon, they parked—and Kyoko was quick to cool. Her hand lightly grazed hers as they walked down the sidewalk.
A small town in the middle of nowhere; it reminded her of her hometown. The old decorations from Christmas still hung from city lights and family shops; and the distinctive chatter among people who knew the other well filled her with a sense of longing—nostalgia of something she lost a long time ago. Of small hands welcoming her home. Of smiling parents. Of her own reflection staring back at her with a crooked smile.
If she thinks anymore—she might start to yearn for it; hiraeth.
She lets Kyoko pull her along.
Until she suddenly stopped. Yui looks up.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember saying yes!”
“Yui-onēsama would never deny me.”
“I-” Her mouth opens and closes before she decides that she’s given up. They walk in.
There was a certain air of professionalism that wafted through the bridal boutique—not exactly warm, but not exactly cold either. Linen; it was a nice scent that overwhelmed her senses. Kyoko’s too, if the way she hid her nose under her hand told her anything.
“WELCOME! WELCOME!”
The voice practically rumbled her eardrums—making her wince—and is joined with a sharp hum of some unfamiliar tune as an employee walks up to them. A small lady, with a hard foot that clacked against the floor as if she wore stilettos.
The employee huffed. “Now which one of ya is the lucky bride!?”
Her face blushes. “Oh no no no, we were just-”
“-Left the husband at home did ya!? Can’t have him see the bill now can ya!?” She barked. “We have a lot of dresses on clearance! Go stand on the stool why don’t ya!”
She clapped her hands, and unfamiliar hands from who-knows-where suddenly latched onto her. A gaggle of employees she couldn’t name pulled her away from Kyoko—who was now being led away from her in the sea of dresses that loomed over them.
Left, right, left, right. The layout of the store didn’t make sense. The entryway of the fitting room loomed over her with an air of suspense as she was forced to walk the rest of her way inside.
Inside.
Inside.
She walked inside an open door that her sister should have closed. And.
Ruby eyes; can’t say she’s met a lot of people with that kind of color. They were almost brown, like a deep-rich wine; jewels of a crown, with the way her bangs framed her face.
Yui’s shoulders tensed up.
“Ah, you scared me!”
The allusive woman in the fitting room does not reply, but gives her a courtesy bow. It is then she realized that she was an employee; although it doesn’t seem like the uniform fit her quite right compared to her colleagues. Having such a long figure has many cons, she supposes. Almost like a spider hanging onto the wall, with how dim the fitting room is.
“My apologies.”
“N-no, it’s fine. I should have been paying more attention. I assume you’re going to help with putting the dresses on?”
“Of course.”
Ah, she hates the way her face is flaring up. The employee’s voice was husky and rough—it briefly reminded her of Taehime. She had encountered classmates at her college who had similar voices before, but never in such close proximity! It was almost as alluring as Kyoko’s morning voice murmuring into her ear as she-
Focus Yui! Now’s not the time! She wants to slap her own face.
“H-hah, I hope not to cause you any trouble then. I am in your care.” And gives a flustered bow.
The employee hums at this.
It's difficult to fight off her embarrassment in silence.
Distantly, she can distinctly hear Kyoko and the lady—who she assumes to be the boss of the boutique—pulling at hangers and talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be taking a while. Kyoko’s voice had subtly gotten louder than the other—and became more stressed with each minute that passed.
She is definitely putting a lot of effort into this.
Yui’s face reddens.
The sound of footsteps finally came closer after some time. Almost echoing in the dark hallway beyond the curtained room.
“Here.” Kyoko pushed the curtain away with enough room to hand over the stack of dresses picked out. “Did Yui-onēsama need some help putting them on?”
Her question was laced in mischief—that much was obvious. Thankfully unbeknownst to the employee—heaven forbid.
“No, it's fine.” She quickly took the dresses. “I got it from here.”
“Take your time, Onēsama.” And the curtain closed.
It certainly doesn’t seem like Kyoko wants her to take her time, though. Her muffled ‘hmphs’ could be heard from a mile away as the boss and some employees broke out into a rumbling conversement that blended into white noise. Like TV static in a dark living room.
The employee with her took the dresses to hang on the rack, leaving Yui to her own devices.
How hard can it be to pick out a dress anyway? The sooner she settles on one the faster they can leave.
…
Not that she’s planning on buying one!
Maybe, she’ll take her time; it's been awhile since Kyoko has experienced consequences for her actions anyway.
She gives them all a good look (as well as one can see in a dim room anyway), and many of them were what Yui imagines when she thinks of weddings: ball gowns with long veils, and a shimmer unfamiliar to her. Others were more modern, with sleek silhouettes that showed more skin than she has in her entire lifetime. They puffed from the rack like flowers in a bouquet. A very, very expensive bouquet.
“What do you think?” The employee said.
“They’re all…very western…” And grabs one.
Is it strange to say that Kyoko had always given her the impression of being a traditionalist? Yui doesn’t know. Or, maybe the boutique doesn’t have any wedding kimonos. It can go either way.
A family portrait comes to mind of her mother adorned in her uchikake kimono—which had bright colors, and told a story of cranes flying among clouds. A part of her thought one of them would get to wear it one day. But she hadn’t seen that picture after Mayu died. Or her parents together in one room.
The one in her hands felt like grains falling between her fingers. With silk layers embroidered in floral lace. Relatively modest in some regards.
“A ball gown. It would compliment your figure and bust well.”
Yui sputters. “I see.”
Getting undressed was easier said than done.
Indeed, it fitted her body well enough—thanks to the clips that the employee put on her—and she had no problem getting out of the fitting room. Her entrance into the sitting area was met with an eruption.
Suddenly, it was like there were more workers than expected—more than she noticed from when they first walked in. A flash, and her eyes squinted. Kyoko was un-amused as everyone seemed to use her shoulders to boost themselves up from their seats.
“A TWIRL, A TWIRL!”
Yui does just that, and she thinks some of them died on the spot.
“What do you think!? That particular gown has a 25 percent discount!” The boss said. “Well suited for an outside wedding!”
She continued to talk in spurts, and Yui’s ears seemed to ache by the end of the sales pitch.
Frankly, if it ever came to it, she didn’t really know where she would ever want a hypothetical wedding. It's not really something the two of them ever talked about. Kyoko definitely refrained from giving any input into whatever the boss said.
It takes too long to get back into the changing room, and Yui solemnly swears the next dress will be the last.
“A bit of a handful isn’t she?”
“In a way. I’m surprised that so many people work here.”
She was eager to get back into her clothes, and the employee didn't push—a small relief from the crowded lobby, she found herself thinking. A bit of an odd-ball compared to the rest. Who dutifully went through each dress for her respective opinions on each of them. It was kind of boring; the sitting area seemed to be a lot more interesting with the gossip that soon spilled into the festive air.
“...So how did you end up working here anyway?”
The employee gave her an unreadable look.
“If you don’t mind me asking!”
“Hm.” She starts, “I’m doing a favor for a busybody, which includes working here.”
Poor girl. Her answer makes a lot of sense in retrospect. Yui doesn’t think she could last another minute in this boutique, despite all the things she’s endured for Kyoko’s sake. Surely some exceptions exist.
“Hopefully not a big favor.”
“Keeping an eye on Kirigiri-san hasn’t been too difficult.” She hums.
…
The room was a lot more suffocating than it was before.
“...How so?”
“She’s still sitting with everyone, isn’t she? Kirigiri-san isn’t the type of person to leave someone like you behind.” And the employee goes back to thumbing through the dresses—leaving Yui in a cold sweat.
“...”
Now, now. There’s no need to panic Yui. This world is a strange place with a lot of strange people in it. This could be very explainable if she just asked.
“And do you two…know each other?”
“We attend the same school.”
She couldn’t hide the sigh of relief.
“Oh really? And what would your talent be?”
“Ultimate Fashionista.”
A light-bulb went off.
“Aha! Wouldn’t that make you Enoshima Junko?”
“You’d be correct.”
That explains so much! She’s heard about her on the online forums people used to talk about the newly enrolled students for Hope’s Peak Academy.
“What a small world.” And very reassuring. “But that doesn’t really explain what you told me, about the favor I mean.”
Enoshima tilted her head, letting her long hair fall to the side. “All of her classmates have been worrying about her lately. She hasn’t been showing up to class, so I was tasked with finding out what she was doing.”
Ah. Because of the case she’s investigating.
Yui smiled. “Well, you can tell them that she’s just been busy with work, and is currently on vacation with me.”
“I figured as much. Glad to hear.”
The next couple of minutes were spent in serenity. Enoshima had asked questions regarding what kind of dress she was going for, and Yui stammered over hushed replies. A small part of her really regretted asking that question, but at least she knows she’s in good hands.
She can certainly attest to the fact that Ultimates really do know their talent above all else. It was almost robotic in the way that the other spewed out bits of knowledge about current fashion trends and styles. Almost reminiscent of the way Kyoko spoke about detective work.
Ultimates and non-Ultimates really do live in completely different worlds. Don’t they?
A small voice inside her head wonders if she’ll ever be good enough.
“Hm.”
Enoshima was currently looking a little too harshly at Yui’s chest.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“The bra strings are going to show through the fabric—ruining the nude effect. You’re going to need to take it off.”
“Take off my bra??”
“Don’t worry. This dress has built-in cups. You’ll be fine.”
That doesn’t help! It wasn’t like Yui was afraid of undressing, but doing so in front of Kyoko’s classmate didn’t feel appropriate.
“I won’t look.” Enoshima turned around. “Go ahead and put the rest of it on.”
There’s no getting out of this one isn’t there?
It felt like she couldn’t put it on any faster. The sleeves—dainty as they were—hang onto her shoulders loosely, and it takes a while for Enoshima to adjust the clips from behind.
If she was being honest, Yui didn’t know if the dress looked any good. It was mangled between two hefty dresses, and took a painstakingly long time to properly straighten out. Enoshima was confident that the dress would be the one, however, that matched what she wanted.
‘Something lively.’
‘Lively?’
‘With some colors!’
‘Wedding dresses have been white since the 19th century.’
‘But not always!’
Enoshima had said nothing then, but had the look of someone who believed in her craft. So Yui had to believe in her.
“There.”
The way the dress felt on her was kind of weird, with all the rhinestones that encapsulated her cleavage—but otherwise it felt light as a feather.
“You can look in the mirror now.”
Yui obliged and turned to look at herself properly.
Oh.
They were cherry blossoms.
The more she looked, the more the dress came to life. With stalks of trees swaying in the wind—and petals falling gracefully. She swished from side to side, and it was like they were dancing. An iridescent glow was captured within it—parading under the soft light. It was almost supernatural.
“It's beautiful…”
As lively as her mother’s kimono…in a faded picture photo lost in someone’s cupboard.
Suddenly her face gets dabbed with a cloth—soaking up tears she didn’t know were falling.
“Oh, was I crying? Sorry.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Blunt as ever. She really must be something special if all those magazines are eager to work with her. The fact that Kyoko has never befriended this classmate remains a mystery.
Yui giggled. “If you say so.”
For a minute the two of them idled. The impatient roar of conversation continued to bounce in waves, and Enoshima gave the dress a scrutinized look before giving her the go-ahead.
“By the way, I should really say thank you. Feel free to come over and visit anytime when the semester starts. I’m sure Kirigiri-chan wouldn’t mind.”
Enoshima gave her a polite nod under what she hopes is a small smile, and Yui pulled back the curtain.
And for a moment—as she walked into the sitting area—there was silence. She continued to walk, and it was like the entire room was holding their breath. How unfamiliar—the echo of the boutique was.
When she made it to the center of the makeshift runway, her eyes met Kyoko’s-
Ah.
How scary.
Yui has only seen those eyes in the comfort of her own bed.
The approval comes not too long after, but she can’t hear them. She’d twirl, and walk around the room—but she won’t look for them. Only hers.
But she never said anything.
Kyoko was unusually silent. So silent, that she didn’t hear her enter the fitting room with her.
Arms snake around her waist. “Going somewhere this evening?” She purred as lips graze the nape of her neck.
“Kyoko you can’t do that-!”
“Why? Who’s to stop me?”
Yui was about to stammer out an apology before she realized there was no one in the room with them. How weird. But suppose not unexpected.
“No one.”
“How convenient.”
She finds it in herself to relax as Kyoko slowly kisses the side of neck—and she lets herself lean into her.
Kisses slowly morph into love bites as she slowly unclips the back of her dress and pulls at the strings that fastened her back. And all too quickly, her bare breasts are suddenly exposed into the cool air.
She bites back a moan.
“Oh? What’s this?” Hands grope her from behind. And squeeze.
“I was t-told to.” She breathed out—her breasts becoming more sensitive with each pull of her buds. “Enoshima-chan said it would look good if I-”
“Enoshima-chan?” She pinched them between her fingers—hard. “Surely not the classmate I’m thinking of?”
Yui stammers out, “That’s what she said-” but is interrupted with a sudden finger pressed into her clit—that slides inside of her. “Kyoko-!”
“That’s right. Yui-onēsama should only know my name. Should only say my name.” She pumped her finger rapidly and harshly—she couldn’t keep up with it. Her legs shook and threatened to give out. The sound of slick vibrated within the fitting room. “I don’t ever want to hear another girl’s name come out of your mouth.”
Kyoko grabs her chin roughly–digging two fingers into her mouth. She sucks on them. “Does Onēsama understand me?”
She nods.
“That’s not an answer, Yui-onēsama.” And bites her neck—hard.
She moans—and she thinks the entire store can hear it. It's embarrassing. And she closes her legs instinctively.
“Y-yes. I underst-!” Is all she can muster before her legs give out.
If the boss and employees notice anything off about them as they make their purchase of the sullied dress–they didn’t say. Yui doesn’t care for rumors anymore. And let’s Kyoko carry her back to the car with a hand firmly wrapped around her waist.
The rest of the car drive back to the house is spent fighting off Kyoko’s hand from getting into her underwear. It takes everything not to soak her shorts in her own heat by the time they make it into the driveway.
Kyoko almost speeds up the driveway and immaturely messes with the car stick. After what seemed like forever, she manages to put the car in park and beckons her to sit on her lap.
She does—and lets her pull off her shirt along with it. In return, she unbuttons Kyoko’s blouse.
“Feeling okay?” Kyoko said suddenly.
Yui lets herself breathe for a bit—looking at her oddly. “Yeah? I feel good. Do you?”
Kyoko looks at her.
“...Just making sure.” And laps her tongue around one of Yui’s breasts, while fondling the other.
She sighs, and lets herself hips roll for friction she can’t find. She could feel a hand squeeze her waist.
Kyoko lets go of her breast with a bite, and trails kisses upward to her shoulder blade. Then she-
“Hm? Why did you stop?”
No response.
“Kyoko?”
“...” It was an expression she’s never seen before. Her stomach curled into itself.
Briefly, it was as if time was still. The car continued to run—-oil circulating in a slow engine; the trees swayed slowly with a wind that seemed to hush. And the house in front of them creaked; and whistled.
Kyoko takes her time putting on Yui’s shirt. Fiddling with things that weren’t there, and combed through her hair with wet gloves. She doesn’t bother with feeling disgusted over it. Anymore and she might say Kyoko was freaking her out a bit.
“Yui-onēsama.” She whispered then. “I want you to go inside and stay in the master bedroom.”
“Why?”
“Please.”
A strange request, but Yui has heard stranger.
“Where would you be?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll come get you if I need to. I promise.” And gives her a slow kiss before opening the car door. “Stay inside.”
It didn’t feel real until she got out of the car. And Kyoko looking at her with the way she’s doing now.
At some point she finds herself in front of the door. With the sight of broken locks and smeared snow on the carpet floor.
She walks in.
Is it strange to think that nothing is wrong? Yui doesn’t know.
The fireplace is on. And the sound of burned firewood crackles as if it were mere whispers cusped in her ear. The distinct aroma of smoke embodied the living room, and got stronger as she walked past it.
She has done dumber things. Like gambling both of their lives over green tea.
What’s one more?
The floorboards underneath the carpet creak, and she notes each one that does. These types of games weren’t new to her, and she knew better than to let an invisible enemy know that she was scared.
That she was terrified.
Of someone that could make Kyoko’s face drain white of all its blood and had eyes that said ‘the end of the world is coming.’
Yui is a detective for a reason. Kyoko is a detective for a reason.
This is something that she trained for. That Kyoko was born for.
She’s no stranger to breaking-and-enterings. And she hopes Kyoko never gets to experience one again.
It's not hard to parse the hidden words hidden behind Kyoko’s.
Get the case files, and stay put.
She could do that much. And she’d be damned if she couldn’t.
Or whatever the enemy has in mind.
A memory flutters.
But she keeps walking.
The master bedroom was at the end of a hallway—of a house that seemed a lot bigger on the outside than the inside; with a floor-plan that didn’t make any sense, and floors that seemed too old for a house built 10 years ago.
Maybe too quickly, does she finally shut the door behind her. And lets out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding.
It doesn’t take long to find it. Hidden underneath the place Kyoko had said she put it.
The files feel cold against her chest.
She sits on the bed.
Time, Yui finds, moves very slowly in the evening. If she knew what time it was, she’d probably be less bored. If not less terrified.
Her hands fiddled with a tiny booklet that she pulled from her pocket and starts to write.
Of verses, of couplets; assonance, then consonances. The walls expand and constrict—as the winds picked up and sighed. It was late—she thought.
She trains her eyes on the words she can’t see in the dark, and tries to ignore knocks made along the walls of the house, doors quietly shut, and the furniture that dragged itself across the floors downstairs.
The noises—every once in a while—get closer to the room. She doesn’t want to be proven right—so she doesn’t look at the shadows that pass by the door underneath. Nor does she listen for the sounds of what she thinks is a person breathing softly. Touching the doorknob with tested pressure.
The wind outside picks up—and she knows it is now 1am. She heard it from one of the locals from that evening spent in town. Her eyes are heavy, riddled with sleep. But she can’t find it in herself to wait any longer.
She hasn’t seen Kyoko in over 8 hours.
A thought startles her, and she quickly finds herself standing up, case files in hand, and another on the doorknob. What if she-?
…
If Kyoko were to put a ring on her finger…would she choose her over the world? Over the detectives—the good yet conniving; the corrupt but honest—with dreams and wishes that much align with their own? Destroying her family legacy in one final act of selfishness—in the embrace of a woman she barely knows.
Would Yui find herself dancing with nymphs on her wedding day? Oblivious to the changing world around her. Allowing herself to be numb to the mind by her emotions—blinded by her heart's desires; and dancing in a dress made of silk weaved by promises made under foolish devotions—of whispers that other detectives would rather destroy than nurture, for the selfish means of coming out on top?
Would she tell her, then? Of all the things wrong with her? And finally close the gap of knowledge that they both seek from the other?
And maybe, then, would Kyoko tell her about herself too—in hush whispers, under the falling blossoms of sakura trees in the fresh awakenings of spring. Like wedding vows.
She wants their wedding day to be in the spring. Under those very same sakura trees. And she’d walk down the aisle just like this. With one foot over the other. Flowers—not files—pressed against her chest, and her head straight on her shoulders.
The door opens. And she walks out.
Her foot presses down on the floorboard softly, and puts the other foot in front of it—softly. She does it again—a little faster this time, and waits for the floorboard to warp in sync with her body—weight shifting as delicately as she could in the dark. The wind bellows around her.
And the floorboard creaks behind her.
—Thump —Thump
Faster. And faster. Her eyes stare straight—and fizzle, and gloss, and do anything but focus. Suddenly, it is too dark; she can’t see anything past her nose, or feel her way around the hallway, down the stairs, into what she thinks is a living room and not a dead end.
Would Kyoko look for her in this maze? Or is she walking—praying to whatever god or spirit she believes in that Yui is indeed walking towards her? Behind her? In front of her? Surely she hears it, the both of them, walking down the hallway in heavy thuds pretending the other is none the wiser.
Maybe she is still absent-minded, like that day. On the 12th of December, where last minute arrivals were her fashion. Last minute thoughts—who paid no heed to the necessity of time, of the snow melting and freezing her skin and the many eyes drilling a hole in the back of her head.
It's hard to breathe. She can’t breathe.
Her heart rate increases without her—almost running. She’s running. She’s running out of time.
Fuck this. Fuck this house. She doesn’t care anymore.
Yuhain Kanji is dead. He has always been a dead man. She doesn’t know what’s behind her—who’s behind her.
Memories from before, they boil, and she doesn’t want to think about them. Or hear them—-as they claw their hands down her neck, arms, and legs—cutting up her elementary school clothes as her little sister watches—
A gloved hand clasped around her wrist tightens–files fly from her hold—
And–
The outside was colder than the house.
Immediately her vision was overtaken by snow. Thinly; then overtly; It fell like it rained—pinching her exposed skin with bites of hail. She stumbled over the snow that almost felt like powder—swimming around her legs.
She doesn’t know where they are going, but all she knows is that she can't hear anything. The wind swept her ears and threatened to take her glasses. Screaming, with a banshee’s cry. And for once in her life, Yui didn’t like the fact that Kyoko had long hair as it whipped around her face sporadically as they continued to run into the open forest.
And stumble. They both fell over into a tunnel made within the snow.
Oddly, it was warm—and suddenly found her lips stolen by Kyoko’s.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-” she mumbled into her “-If I knew I wouldn’t have-”
“It's okay Kyoko.” She keeps her lips on hers—and leaves them hovering as she speaks. “It's okay. We’re okay. We didn’t know-”
“But I knew, Yui-onēsama. I-”
Kyoko freezes. And peers her face into a slim opening behind Yui that she only just realized was there. She turns around to look outside of it too.
Somebody was standing outside in the snow.
A second too long with the stranger’s eyes seemingly locking onto hers—and her body ran cold. She wanted to look away, but something about them made her pause.
A long body; a tall figure. Long hair; dressed in slacks of black and specks of white that blended with the snow. Pale skin—that seemingly warmed with a mystical glow. Oddly feminine, oddly masculine. Oddly familiar. She can’t tell what she’s looking at, it was something unusual that existed. That lived inside the house.
Their head scanned the landscape too calmly—almost serene; all-knowing. It was like they were immune to the harsh conditions; snow fell off their hair as quickly as it dared to latch. Unbothered, but bothered as they walked around the house in circles. Forwards and backwards. With long legs that seem to walk like a predator of a lost era. An extinct animal.
Yeah. That seems about right.
Just as quickly as she was able to keep an eye on them, they vanished—into thin air, and back into the folktale they climbed out of. Immediately she looked over to Kyoko, and found her staring back.
“...You saw that too, right?” Yui whispered.
Kyoko leaned forward and pressed their foreheads against each other. “Yes. I did.”
She could only lean into her embrace. She’s too tired for anything else. Too tired to make sense of what she witnessed.
It's warm—Kyoko’s hug.
She doesn’t protest with being laid down on the snow floor, with Kyoko’s legs making home between hers.
Softly, a kiss was pressed on top of her closed eyelids. “I never want to do that again.” Kyoko whispered.
Yui tried to focus her ears as she spoke.
The sound of Kyoko undoing her gloves echoes within the closed space, and the sounds of her shorts getting undone and pulled from her was familiar. Her lips hovered over hers was familiar.
“I want to get married in the spring.”
“We will.” A kiss. Then another. “I’ll make sure it happens.” Her kisses deepen, and trail downward a familiar path.
Between her breasts.
Down her waist.
Over her mound.
Into her–
She jolts as her tongue makes a long, agonizing stride over her slit. Enough to make her eyes flutter.
And she lets her—and lets her legs hang over Kyoko’s shoulders as she starts to lick at her wet folds—prying them open with her hands and tongue.
It was familiar.
A hand falls onto her head to grab—to deepen. She whimpers. As a slow heat becomes quick to pool into her core.
To her dismay, Kyoko parts from her flower and goes to entertain Yui’s lips instead. They’re positions move slightly—with Kyoko humping her thigh as three fingers get inserted into her.
She tries to move, but finds herself pinned. The attention gets too much. And her core gets hotter, and hotter. As wetness slicks out of her in pace with her hand.
Kyoko’s breath quickens. “D-does Yui-onēsama want kids?”
“I think so.”
“How many?”
She lets herself entertain the thought. “Just one.”
“Have any names in mind?”
Just one.
“I’ll tell you later.” And loses herself in Kyoko’s touch.
The release comes quieter than she was used to, but maybe that was for the best. Kyoko’s followed soon after.
At some point in her sleep, Yui got carried to the car’s passenger seat. The quick motion of Kyoko backing out and high-tailing it out of the road as a blur. She didn’t really remember.
Because she was dreaming.
It was a nice dream. That started with her walking home with her little sister. And ended with them walking inside the doorway.
That had a closed door.