Chapter Text
“I think we ought to even the odds,” Kirari said with an airy lilt. There was gleam in her eye—contemptuous and playful.
Mary threw a card down with a curt laugh. “As if I’d let you use that on me. I’ve been holding onto this card for a while, president .”
A lone eyebrow raised, disappearing beneath pale bangs. Bright blue lips pulled into a smug grin. “But now you’ve put Ririka in such an unpleasant situation.”
Ririka hid a smile behind her hand of cards. Her sister and Mary were always like this—bickering, teasing, endlessly competing against one another. If they were grade school children, Ririka was sure they would see who could run the fastest during playtime, or who could spit the farthest, or who could shove the most dango into their mouths. It was endearing. Ririka’s heart blossomed and swelled inside her chest as her two favorite people in the world grew closer and closer. She knew Kirari was amused with Mary’s bravado. Who wouldn’t be enraptured with Mary’s vibrant, fiery personality? She had the countenance of a no-nonsense winner, yet she attracted the nonsensical as a hive of honey attracted a lumbering bear.
“What a terrible girlfriend you are.”
Mary scowled and her eyes flashing. Anticipation was evident on Kirari’s face as she eagerly waited for Mary to explode. Ririka shifted closer to her girlfriend, pressing a knee against Mary’s thigh. It was a comforting gesture, a reassurance. Mary chewed at the inside of her cheek. Instead of an explosion, however, there was a sharp exhale and rolled eyes. Mary shook her head. “Fuck off. Ririka can take care of herself.”
Ah. That reminded Ririka of the game at hand. Mary was right—she was capable of fighting her own battles. Ririka triumphantly placed a card down on the growing stack. She was buzzing from her tiny victory, looking up to see if Kirari and Mary had seen her move. The suspense was building, coiling like a rattlesnake preparing to strike. Kirari’s initial move was laser focused pupils and a flickering tongue—she wanted to intimidate Mary, to tie her up with extra cards. But Mary, never one to back down from a challenge, held her ground. The sound of a rattle filled the room, louder and louder. The stack of cards was deadly. Venom beaded into droplets before dripping down sharp, curved fangs.
“Now it is you who has put your girlfriend in a tough situation,” Ririka said, hardly able to contain her glee. The proud look on Mary’s face made her success that much sweeter.
Sayaka’s brow furrow, the gears turning in her head. The deliberation and hesitancy on her face proved that Sayaka had the one card that could save her from this devastating blow. Everyone knew that using the card would dump Kirari into scalding, metaphorical water. Would Sayaka make that gamble? Ririka watched with bated breath. Sayaka was a wildcard, though not in the way that Jabami Yumeko was. At first glance, Sayaka was logical to a fault. She was calm and analytical, only acting if she had time to think everything through. Someone caught in their mind, with an anxious desire to think and think, often fell victim to inaction. However, Sayaka was far from passive. She wielded a taser as if it were an extension of her arm, acting on reflex with surprising speed and strength. Though highly-capable and composed, she exploded in fits of unbridled emotion, missing subtle nuances in conversations, blundering her way through situations that required tact and delicate diplomacy. Sayaka was a logical girl, yet she often acted so illogically .
Perplexed, Ririka watched and listened, safe beneath her mask or concealed behind blue lipstick and braids. Eventually she realized what was strange about Sayaka’s behavior. The secretary was driven by intuition as much as she was driven by logic—that is to say, Sayaka’s logic was severely biased. It was a complexity that puzzled any curious onlooker. Sayaka’s mind was far more dimensional than a single one way mirror. Just past the reflective surface of her eyes was a room of mirrors of various shapes and sizes, orientated to create a never ending maze. One could get lost trying to find a way out, going mad amidst the images that seemed to warp and twist the laws of physics. However, people could be hilariously blind. It was so simple.
Sayaka’s actions were dictated by her heart. On each and every mirror was the smiling reflection of Momobami Kirari.
Sayaka stared down at her cards. There were two potential moves. Sayaka would play her card and jeopardize Kirari’s safety or Sayaka would take on the brunt of the punishment for herself. Ririka leaned over, pressing her shoulder against Mary’s and taking comfort in her girlfriend’s warmth. The early Sayaka would have shouldered the growing burden of cards, sacrificing herself to save Kirari without any hesitation.
“President,” Sayaka said, her eyes burning with determination.
However, Sayaka was changing. As she grew closer to Kirari, she took more risks—finding delight in the unknown. Sayaka would play her card and put the woman she loved into trouble. Even if it seemed like an illogical decision, Sayaka would find some way to rationalize it.
“I-I’m going to gamble at your expense.” She pulled out a single card, clutching it in a vice grip. “But I believe in you.”
“You’re wrinkling the card,” Mary sighed, settling an arm around Ririka’s shoulders and pressed her forehead against the top of her head. Ririka could feel Mary sneaking a peak at her cards. “Just make your move, it's not that deep.”
“If I win this gamble, it could lead to Mary’s downfall,” Sayaka continued. “This is clearly worth the risk. It is the reason you chose to play that card against Mary in the first place, president.”
Kirari’s eyes twinkled. “Make your move, Sayaka.”
With a sharp breath, Sayaka threw her card down. A bright blue draw two landed atop the stack of discarded uno cards.
Kirari’s airy laugh filled Mary’s bedroom. “I see. You gambled that I would have another draw two , but I do not.”
A gut-wrenching gasp escaped Sayaka’s lips. “No!” She slumped forward, her forehead smacking the table and rattling their cups of tea. “I was so sure you would have another draw two . I am so sorry!”
Mary snorted. “Four draw two cards in a row. Draw eight, Kirari.”
Kirari grabbed eight new cards. There was a delighted grin on her face as she fanned herself with the large hand.
“This is all my fault,” Sayaka groaned. “I should have just drawn six.”
“Oh hush,” Kirari said. “I’m so flattered you chose to gamble at my expense. Actually, being dealt such a severe blow at your own hand is quite… exciting to me.”
“Gross,” Mary said, her nose curling.
Sayaka finally picked her head up from the table and Kirari grabbed her jaw, pulling her closer. “If you happen to have a draw four card in your hand, please, I will not mind if you use it on me as well.” Kirari punctuated her flirtation with a gentle kiss to the red mark on Sayaka’s forehead.
“What the fuck. Don’t do that in my room, I’ll kick both of you out.”
Ririka laughed softly, pressing a kiss of her own against her girlfriend’s cheek. “It was just a little kiss. They’re acting relatively PG, usually she licks her.”
“They’re disgusting,” Mary growled. “Anyways, it’s my turn now. Kirari has already lost. Let’s just finish this.” She played a blue three.
“Kirari can still win!” Sayaka said, but the confidence of her statement wavered as she cast a glance at the other player’s hands.
“The odds are certainly not in my favor,” Kirari said as Ririka made her move, placing a yellow three on the pile. Sayaka played another yellow card, as did Kirari. “But do you really think you can still win this game, Mary?”
“Just watch me.”
Ririka and Sayaka had two cards left in their hands, Mary three, and Kirari nine. However, Ririka knew she possessed the highest chance of winning not because she had the smallest hand, but rather, because Mary was clearly playing cards that gave Ririka an advantage. Mary changed the color of the stack, placing a green four atop Kirari’s yellow four.
“Uno,” Ririka said quietly, playing a green card of her own. She had a single red two left in her hand. Did Mary not think she could win this game by herself?
H-had Mary been lying when she said Ririka could take care of herself?
She was drawn from her thoughts by the feeling of Mary’s fingers tracing obscure patterns along her arm. No. Mary never gave up. Mary always did whatever she could to win. Ririka cast a brief glance at the other players, her gaze settling on Sayaka.
Oh.
Next to Ririka and Mary, Sayaka had the highest chance of winning. Everything was suddenly making sense. Mary knew Sayaka could potentially win the game, so she shifted her strategy. It was clever. Very clever.
“Uno,” Sayaka said, played a green five.
Kirari played a blue five. “Your move, Mary. How will you turn this game in your favor?” she taunted. Mary rolled her eyes, holding up a card between two fingers. “Oh? Do you not have a blue card? Or a five?”
“The new color is red,” Mary said, tossing her card on the stack. “Uno.”
With that final move, Ririka placed her last card atop Mary’s and held up her empty hands. “And I win!”
“My last card was also red.” Sayaka sighed, shaking her head. “I could have won that game.”
Kirari hummed, tossing her hand of cards onto the table. “I disagree.”
“President?” Sayaka asked with wide eyes.
“The odds were not in your favor.”
“But Ririka and I both had one card.”
Kirari raised an eyebrow, looking between Mary and Ririka. “Yes, but it was two against one. Mary cheated.”
Sayaka opened her mouth, faltering over her words. She scrutinized Mary with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that why you look so smug even though you just lost?”
The cocky little laugh that left Mary’s lips had Ririka’s heart skipping a beat. Mary crossed her arms behind her head. “As far as I’m concerned, I won that game.”
“Ririka won?” Confusion played across Sayaka’s face—a furrowed brow, pursed lips. “I don’t understand.” The confusion was quickly followed by irritation. Sayaka didn’t like being unable to comprehend something, especially if it seemed simple.
Kirari shrugged, sipping at her tea. “Frankly, neither do I. I know how Mary cheated, but I don’t know why.”
Ririka began gathering up the cards, shuffling and rearranging them back into a single, neat deck. “A win for me is a win for Mary.”
“Yup,” Mary said, pushing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. “I was originally trying to win the game fair and square, but towards the end, I realized Sayaka’s chances of winning were getting higher. Do you know how aggravating it would’ve been if she won? It would be even worse than you winning.” Mary glared daggers at Kirari. “You wouldn’t shut up about it the whole night. I would go insane.”
This was the cute part. Ririka giggled, eagerly waiting to hear Mary’s intentions spoken aloud.
“So I redefined my objective. For me, winning meant the two of you lost and, to guarantee you both lost, I focused all my efforts into making sure Ririka won.”
“So,” Sayaka said slowly. “You used Ririka for your own selfish pursuits?”
“Of course not!” Ririka cried. She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Sayaka and Kirari were so intelligent, yet they were unable to see the romantic subtleties woven into Mary’s actions. “You’re missing the point. It was our victory.”
It was all clear as day to her—Mary could be so comfortably predictable. Though prickly and solitary in disposition, Mary would always rely on her friends when she needed to. Being a person Mary trusted enough to put her faith into was an achievement Ririka held close to her heart.
“I see.” Kirari rubbed her chin in contemplation. “The romantic nature of… celebrating your partner’s successes as a victory of your own. Being proud of their development. Seeing the benefits of growing together, operating as a team.”
Mary blinked once. Twice. “Uh, no. I just didn’t want you or Sayaka to win.”
Kirari pushed onwards. It was evident a new plan was forming in her head—a new game to play, a new way of experiencing and showing love. “I will buy a ping pong table for your home, Mary. Our next game night will revolve around team competitions.”
Sayaka pulled out her phone, a blush rising high on her cheeks. “I-I’m not very good at ping pong, but I will do my best to help you win, Kirari. I can order a table now and have it delivered within the hour.”
“No, no. We will schedule the event for next week. Mary, make sure your schedule is clear for the entire weekend.”
Mary’s eyebrow twitched, anger blossoming on her face like blotchy red flowers. “Now listen here you little—”
“More snacks!”
Mary’s mother waltzed into the room, brandishing a tray of various sweet and savory treats. Ririka giggled, setting the cards aside clearing a space on the table.
“Ah, perfect timing!” Kirari said with a wide grin. “Mrs. Saotome, we will be spending next weekend here as well. Please make your curry.”
“Of course!” Mary’s mother set the tray down on the table and patted the top of Kirari’s head. “Will your other friends be coming as well?”
Mary laid back on the floor, pinching her nose and muttering a stream of harsh sounding words under her breath. She seemed to accept the lack of control she had in this situation. Kirari would do what Kirari wanted to do and everybody else was just along for the ride. A definitive nod and a confirming glance with her secretary—it appeared Kirari had made her decision.
“An excellent idea, Mrs. Saotome. The other student council members will make the competitions much more interesting. So yes, they will be joining as well.”
Ririka closed her eyes, listening to the voices in the room—the kind words, the pleasant tones. Ririka smiled bashfully as Mrs. Saotome praised her for winning the game of uno and blushed as she congratulated her daughter yet again on finding a girl so clever and talented. Ririka was loved here. There was a father that smiled at her and teased her, a mother that always made sure she was fed and comfortable. Ririka enjoyed the warmth—craved the warmth. The rest of the evening passed with this same ease and comfortable familiarity. The four girls prepared for bed, whispering in hushed tones so they wouldn’t wake Mary’s parents who had retired hours ago. Kirari joked about how tiny Mary’s bathroom was (as she always did). Mary snapped Kirari with a towel, leaving a red welt across the girl’s back (as she always did) before stepping back and holding her hands up as Sayaka turned on her like a furious mother bear (as she always did).
Ririka laid beside Mary, both girls staring up at the dark ceiling. This was a home filled with love and Kirari was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She understood exactly why Kirari planned such elaborate game nights, always bringing extravagant gifts of tea and cakes, warm scarves and fitted coats for Mary’s parents in the cold seasons, fresh fruit baskets in the spring. At first, Mary was vocal about her irritations, throwing fits and tossing her favorite vulgar words about. She went on and on about how the Momobamis lived in a mansion. She questioned why Kirari didn’t throw her stupid little game nights at her own house. But, after months of Kirari’s stubborn determination, Mary seemed to accept it.
Ririka pushed up on her elbows, hovering above Mary and taking a moment to admire how her golden hair laid splayed out across the pillows. Mary’s eyes grew darker and a coy smile pulled at her lips.
“You stopped asking why we always visit your home.”
“Huh?” Mary looked puzzled, the heated look slipping from her face. “Oh. Yeah, because I figured it all out ages ago.”
Ririka hummed, resting her chin atop her hands. She stared down expectantly. Mary rolled her eyes, but it was difficult to look menacing and peeved when love had softened her brown eyes. This was a look Mary reserved for Ririka and Ririka alone.
“Kirari wants love. I know the two of you don’t have the best home life. You and I talked about it before, plus I’ve seen the way you change when you’re home. You tense up more than usual, flinch at every sound. And Kirari, the two of you, ya know you’ve both done a lot of fucked up things, but goddamn when Kirari’s at my house it’s like she’s about as close to a normal high school girl as she can get.”
Strong, self-assured hands rubbed up and down Ririka’s back. She sank into the embrace. Past mistakes burned her body—crying housepets, gnashing teeth as students fought with the desperation of soldiers on the frontlines. Black blood splattered her memories. As the dried blood flaked, it fluttered before her eyes like ash. Tears burned Ririka’s eyes and Mary’s arms squeezed her tighter.
“I’ve never liked verbal apologies. I mean, the words are nice, but words can be too elaborate. Too flowery. I like actions. Changed behavior.”
Ririka nodded, blinking away her tears as Mary pressed a kiss against her temple. “Kirari is different now.”
“She’s still a fucking alien. She asks me the weirdest questions sometimes and, god I swear that time we went to a recycle shop is burned into my mind. But yeah, she’s learning.” Mary took a deep breath, lost in thought.
It was a gorgeous sight—watching Mary’s lips purse, her brow furrow. Ririka kissed that wrinkled brow until she felt it soften beneath her lips. Mary laughed. The vibrations resonating against Ririka’s chest were contagious and she giggled as well.
“My parents are embarrassing and ridiculous but they love me. And Kirari wants a family that loves her. I think she’s never really known how to get that love. Or even show it herself.”
“I—I want your parents to love me too,” Ririka whispered, still hesitant and second-guessing her right to ask for things she wanted.
“They do. Who couldn’t love this perfect face?” Mary said, cupping Ririka’s cheek. Her thumb brushed along her bottom lip and Ririka’s eyes fluttered shut. “They love you both.”
“And you?”
“Now you’re just being cheeky.”
Ririka pouted, kissing Mary’s thumb as it brushed against her lip once more.
“I love you,” Mary muttered, averting her eyes. “But I only tolerate your sister!”
Lips met in a chaste kiss, but Ririka pulled back as Mary tried to deepen the kiss. “That’s okay, because Sayaka loves Kirari a lot.”
“Almost too much. Your sister and her girlfriend are weird.”
They were weird, but they suited each other. They were both lost in love, like two leaves swept down a river. Despite how little control they had over the torrent of emotions and desires, Kirari and Sayaka were destined to flow in the same direction, dancing together in the crisp, cool waters. Their love was a ballet and Ririka watched the story unfold with baited breath. Their grand pas de deux was unparalleled, aberrant—pushing the bounds of the accepted and known. No other two dancers could ever match Kirari and Sayaka’s ferocity and elegance.
Their entrée began in a flurry of white lilies—falling through space with intertwined fingers. A new beginning.
“I’m exhausted,” Kirari said, her voice low and broken.
The door to Kirari’s office was left slightly ajar. Ririka tensed at the sound of her sister’s tears, ready to enter the office and rush to her Kirari’s side.
“I have to be a Momobami everyday. I have to be in control. I have to have all the answers before anyone even asks a question. Everyone is always looking at me. I have to wear a mask so my emotions and thoughts never show on my face.”
Ririka leaned against the wall, clutching her chest. She forgot sometimes that Kirari had a mask thrust upon her at a young age as well. Ririka’s mask hid her identity. Kirari’s mask was meant to be her identity—her mask was flesh and blood hardened into marbled stone.
“I get so used to the mask that some days I don’t—I don’t feel anything.”
“More tea?”
“It doesn’t help,” Kirari said, inhaling and exhaling as one would while trying to stop their tears. Ririka’s hand tightened into a fist against her chest. Why wasn’t Sayaka comforting Kirari? Instead of soft, sympathetic words and tender embraces, Ririka could hear the sound of water filling a porcelain cup.
“Take this. Focus on the heat against your fingertips. Take a sip before it is too cool and burn the tip of your tongue.”
“Sayaka?”
“I don’t know how it feels to be a Momobami. I will never fully understand how heavy this burden is, but I will listen. I am your secretary. It is my duty—and my pride and joy—to support and care for you. On the days you can’t feel, I will help you remember how.”
Her heart throbbed in her chest. Of course. Sympathetic words and tender embraces were not the only ways of showing affection. Sayaka was steady and calm. She took the chaos in Kirari’s life and organized it all into color-coded binders.
“Sayaka—” Kirari said, her voice cracking. “I—my fingers hurt. The heat from the tea, I felt it.”
“Allow me to kiss the pain away, president.”
Ririka quietly closed the door, catching a glimpse of the tender moment. Sayaka was kneeling before Kirari, her sister’s shoulders slumped and defeated. Sayaka had Kirari’s hands cradled softly in her own, her head dipping to kiss the pads of Kirari’s fingertips.
The adagio.
Kirari was a ballerina. She was expected to perform an elaborate routine without ever missing a step. She was expected to balance and twirl on the very tip of her toes while everyone watched and waited for her to stumble. However, Sayaka was poised at her side. She held Kirari steady, a barre for Kirari to lay a manicured hand on while she danced. Together, they made the impossible possible.
Sayaka was a danseur. When she aided her ballerina’s turns or mirrored Kirari’s delicate, dainty steps, all eyes were focused on the ballerina. Despite her role behind Kirari, nobody would ever think Sayaka didn’t deserve to be on stage. She was talented, she could leap high and far. When Sayaka stepped aside and danced on her own, people stopped and stared. How could someone be so strong? How hadn’t they noticed her before?
Ririka was unsure when the president and her secretary would reach their grand climax, but she knew their coda would only mark the end of this particular ballet. As soon as the music faded to a close, Kirari and Sayaka would bow and smile. With sweat beaded on their brows, a new song would fill the auditorium, followed by an entirely new dance.
Ririka would watch their next ballet, and then their next, and then their next. Regardless of whether the mask was fixed on her face or cast aside, Ririka was always the girl who would listen and watch. It was a habit she could never break—sharp eyes looking for the miniscule shifts in people’s expression, those almost imperceivable moments when their mood changed, the subtle creaks in the floorboards that signalled a potential threat. She heard everything around her. She once thought the cold kept her vigilant, but that was before she experienced the utter relief of being someplace safe. Anxiety wrapped like twine up her spine, pulled taut so her head was upright and alert, her body pushed up on her toes. The twine was her safety net as a child—she could never fall if she was strung up in a web—but now it pulled and pulled her until her limbs felt stretched beyond their limits. And so she continued to hear everything. There was little her sharp eyes missed.
Ririka nuzzled her head against Mary’s chest, preferring the steady beat of Mary’s heart over the hum of the air conditioning, the creaking of expanding furniture, and the occasional car that passed by the house. The twine only truly relaxed when she was at Mary’s side. Beside the vulgar girl, Ririka felt safe, like a bunny protected by a wily fox. The world was loud but Mary was blissfully louder.