Archive of Our Own

It’s a girl.

Tamao knew it would be. It wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t a girl. She holds her. Strokes her face. She’s bloodied and alive. She does not scream. She is quiet in her arms. 

Tamao names her Nozomi. It was decided long ago.

X

They come and see her. No one asks questions. No one asks ‘where’s the father?’ No one gives her the look that is standard for a woman who has had a child out of wedlock. They’re kind. They bring food and gifts. They fuss over her and baby Nozomi. They tell her how things have been. Yuyuko stares at Nozomi, asleep in the crib while Rui keeps her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, looking at her as if she weren’t quite real. Ichie takes pictures on her cell phone, she and Fumi’s gaze drifting to one another here and then.

Eventually Rui and Yuyuko leave. Tamao is grateful that Rui has taken her disappointment with her. Ichie provides updates on the going-ons at Rinmeikan and leaves not long after.

Fumi lingers longest. Why don’t you sit back? I’ll make you dinner and be out of your hair.

Tamao nods and thanks her for the courtesy. She breastfeeds Nozomi while Fumi, familiar with the kitchen, pulls pots and pans. Tamao strokes Nozomi’s peach fuzz hair and listens to Fumi move around in the kitchen, humming softly. So much of her body still aches and yet, for the first time in weeks she feels some moments of restfulness. She closes her eyes and drifts off. Dreams of Rinmeikan unfolding in her mind, dreams of Rinmeiki. Dreams of her students, dreams, of what she hopes is to come for Rinmeikan and Nozomi.

Tamao stirs at movement. Fumi with a blanket, laying it over her. Tamao flushes. Fumi smiles. “Rest,” she says, careful not to wake Nozomi, who’s still cozied against her in the baby sling.

She’s a guest. How could—

“Dinner’s still cooking. It’s okay.”

Tamao gathers her breath, nods. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Fumi nods, tucks the blanket more closely around her, squeezes her shoulder before returning to the kitchen. Tamao readjusts on the couch, glancing down, worried she was indecent from the feeding when Fumi came over, grateful that Fumi said nothing. She thinks she won’t sleep but she drifts off again. Fumi’s presence has always been calming.

X

Tamao sits opposite of Fumi to eat dinner, having insisted she stay and keep her company. If you’ve nothing to attend to, Tamao said. Whether she did or didn’t, Fumi agreed to join her. She’s cooked a lavish meal. The kind Tamao herself has not had the energy to make since Nozomi came along, though Nozomi herself remains always fed and cared for.

“I’ve missed your cooking,” Tamao tells her, pushing the ponzu bottle to her with her index finger.

“Your company’s better than my cooking. Although,” she says, opening the ponzu bottle and dowsing her plate, “you might not miss it much longer. I made a week’s worth of meals while you rested. It’s all in the refrigerator.”

Tamao’s throat tightens, thinking of all the extra time she’s just been afforded. “Fumi…”

“Nozomi’s tiny. She should have as much time with you as she needs.”

Tamao’s eyes sting. She nods. Fumi probably used too much ponzu.

“She’s beautiful,” Fumi says. Tamao flushes, proud. “I have to wonder if that’s what baby Tamao looked like.”

“I’ll show you pictures sometime.”

“I’d like that.” 

They eat in companionable silence, only the sound of bowls and plates, chopsticks being set down to be heard. Tamao looks at her here and then. Gone is that rose clip in her hair. Her hair is shorter than when they were in high school, though longer than when she was in university. It falls just past her shoulders now. She’s more striking than ever. Fumi glances up, catches her eyes and Tamao lowers them, having a few more bites of food. 

“You must have questions,” Tamao says.

Fumi once saw her out with him. They made eye contact but Tamao steered him away, not wanting introductions, not wanting a clear image of him in Fumi’s mind. Fumi saw her after that but never pressed.

“No,” Fumi says slowly. She takes a bite of food and looks at her. “I’ll take what you want to share with me,” a shake of her head, “but my curiosity isn’t yours to satisfy.”

She recalls when Fumi was a pushier girl, a pushier woman. “Thank you.” For her care.

Fumi smiles. “No need.”

But she does need to. She nods. She thinks Fumi will understand that.

X

Fumi stops by later in the week. She makes an excuse about an errand she has to run that took her this way. She’s brought food to replace what she cooked the first time she came by. She brought diapers.

Tamao’s heart softens. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” Tamao asks. Nozomi is asleep. They’d have to be quiet but it would be manageable.

“Not today,” she finishes setting the items on the counter and smiles apologetically. “But thank you for asking.” 

Tamao nods, wondering if she only misses adult company or a reminder of Rinmeikan and the days that set her on her future path. Fumi saved the school. She saved her. “Will you let me make dinner for you some time?” Tamao fidgets. “I don’t have a lot of company so...” she struggles. “It would be no imposition.”

“Okay,” she nods. “I’d like that. I can keep an eye on Nozomi while you cook.”

Tamao curls her fingers, grateful. Her heart feels lighter already. “Thank you. We’ll talk and sort it out.”

“All right.” A final smile as she folds the reusable bags she brought. She straightens and looks at her. “Give her a squeeze for me when she wakes.”

“I will,” she promises.

“Good. Are you resting enough?”

“As much as I can.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Tamao blushes. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t doing everything you could.” Tamao’s blush deepens at the compliment. Fumi looks around the kitchen, deep in thought before she shakes the thoughts away. Tamao wonders what’s on her mind. Why she can’t stay. “Later, Tamao.”

Tamao follows her to the door. She’s gone too soon. Tamao can’t say she misses her, but she has yet to put a name to the dull ache that comes in her absence.

X

Fumi cradles Nozomi to her and Nozomi coos, sucking absently on the small towel draped over Fumi’s shoulder. Fumi’s fingers are careful as they stroke the soft strands of hair on her head. “If you get tired you can set her down,” Tamao tells her.

“Tired?” Her smile asks who do you take me for? 

“You’re a nice change from the cradle.”

Fumi chuckles. “So long as I don’t needlessly keep her up.”

“I think she’s drifting off now,” Tamao tells her, lowering her voice. She lifts her fingers to touch Nozomi’s hair, their fingers brushing. Fumi smiles and Tamao leans forward, pressing a kiss to Nozomi’s temple. “You’re the only person besides me to have held her.”

Fumi looks at her, expression guarded. “Lucky us to get this little treasure to ourselves.” Tamao smiles. “Are you sure I can’t help with dinner?” Tamao gives her a look. She’s her guest. Fumi smiles ruefully, sways Nozomi. “I’ve angered your mother,” Fumi breathes to her.

“I’ll consider forgiving you if you can get her to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best.”

True to her word, Nozomi’s down not ten minutes later. Fumi doesn’t set her down right away even though Tamao tells her its an option. 

“What if she wakes?” she asks.

“She won’t.”

“She looks so peaceful,” Fumi says looking at her. “All right,” she walks to the crib, making sure to cradle her head as she sets her down. Tamao watches her leaning over Nozomi, tenderly lifting the small blanket to cover her. “There you are,” she says, a steadying hand on her chest before lifting it. She remains a time longer, looking at her.

Tamao’s heart swells. Fumi looks back at her, smiles. “Now can I help in the kitchen?”

Tamao shakes her head. “I have sake. Would you like some?” She knows she won’t refuse.

Fumi nods. “If only you could join me.”

“Not tonight.” But there will be other nights. When Nozomi’s older. When she doesn’t need to drink from her. She knows Fumi understands.

They go to the kitchen and Fumi sits at the table. Tamao removes the sake from the fridge. She knows she shouldn’t have bought it. It’s expensive. But she wanted something nice for her, even if she knows Fumi would never judge her on such things. She sets a small glass aside and pours it for her. Fumi smiles her thanks. Tamao gets out a non-alcoholic beer for herself. “You think of everything,” Fumi says.

Tamao smiles and opens the can.

“How’s Tomoye…?”

Tamao considers the question. Her family hasn’t spoken to her. “It’s going well.”

Fumi nods slowly, taking hold of the glass. “We shared a lot of dinners there.”

Tamao nods. Not only meals. They worked a lot of the same shifts. She remembers them standing side by side, helping the chefs with meal prep. Fumi was hardworking, adored and respected by the rest of the staff. “And we will tonight.” At this small home.

“It’s nice spending time with you again,” she raises her glass and Tamao clinks it with the beer can. They drink. Fumi says nothing right away, her cheeks growing rosy. She blinks. “It’s good.”

Tamao can’t say the same for the beer. “Strong?”

Another small drink and a nod.

They used to drink together, long ago. It’s been years. They would have long conversations, Fumi speaking more freely. Tamao cherished those nights. “The last time I had a real drink was with you.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes.” A moment. “This is lovely but it’s not quite the same.” She enjoys having lowered inhibitions. Being different. Apart from herself. A break from herself.

“You wouldn’t change a thing.”

A smile. “No.”

“When it’s time I’ll be here. And I’ll get the sake.”

“All right,” she knows what these gestures mean to her.

Fumi looks to the other room. “Should I check on her?”

“She’s fine.” A moment. “I thought you spent a lot of time with children.” She spent so much time raising Shiori, caring for her.

“Children and toddlers, sure, not babies.” 

“Do you want children, Fumi?”

“Oh.” She flushes further. Tamao isn’t sure if its the sake at work. “I’d like a family, yes.” She frowns. “I have a family,” she stammers. Tamao nods, knowing what she means. “Children would be nice but I…” she hesitates, smiles, “I don’t know how … I’d have to be with someone. A man for that.” 

Tamao knows she’s dated men. “Yes.” She looks at Fumi, flushed beet red. “Are you all right?” Fumi’s a lightweight.

“Of course.” Still so much bluster. Tamao smiles. “But I’ll take it slow until we can eat. I won’t be a hindrance.”

She never has been. Tamao stands, settles a hand on her shoulder. “All right.”

X

Dinner is had. Conversation flows. Nozomi wakes at their laughter and Tamao goes to her. Fumi peers from the kitchen as Tamao bobs Nozomi. “She’s hungry,” she tells her.

“You can feed her and I’ll clean up.” 

She turns away before Tamao can argue. Tamao carries Nozomi to the rocking chair, sitting and feeding her. She hears Fumi move in the kitchen, movements furtive, trying to be quiet. Nozomi drinks and drifts again. Tamao covers up and stands. Fumi wears her apron, scrubbing at a pan. Her hair is tied back. “I’m going to put her to bed but I thought you’d want to see her first.”

Fumi turns off the water, dries her hand on the towel. She turns, smiles. “Thank you.” Another careful drifting of her fingers over the fuzz of Nozomi’s hair. “Goodnight, Nozomi-chan.” She presses a small kiss to her shoulder. Tamao looks at her, wondering if Fumi knows how bright she looks.

Fumi looks at her. “Everything okay?”

Tamao nods. “I won’t be long.”

She takes twenty or so minutes. By the time she returns Fumi’s sitting on the couch, arms crossed, leaning back. Her eyes are closed. Has she fallen asleep? Tamao settles a hand on the armrest and peers down. Her breath stirs strands of Fumi’s hair. Fumi opens her eyes and looks at her.

“You fell asleep,” she tells her softly.

Fumi rubs her eyes. “Sorry.” Tamao shakes her head. “That sake got to my head.”

“Just as planned.” Surprise in her eyes. It’s always been easy to tease her. She stifles a yawn and starts to rise. Tamao presses a hand to her chest. “Why not stay?”

Fumi looks at her. “I have to be at the factory early tomorrow.”

Her parents factory. Where her dreams went. Fumi and the obligation of responsibility. Tamao has always admired that about her. “Go from here. You’ll be more rested.” A protest. “I wake early.” She licks her lips. “I won’t let you be late.” A moment. “I would appreciate the company. There must be something in my closet that will suit you.”

She’s unsure. “I… yes. Thank you.”

Tamao brings a hand to her chest, breathes in relief.

X

They spend more time together. Slowly at first. Then more frequently. Tamao invites her. Fumi accepts. Nozomi starts to crawl. Fumi’s excitement is clear. She’s graceful, isn’t she? Fumi asks.

Tamao kneels beside her, watching Nozomi force herself on hands and knees. She’s strong. Determined. Tamao looks at Fumi, who observes Nozomi, eyes brimming with love. She sees the toys scattered over the apartment, Fumi’s small tributes. Nozomi picks one up, a small, flat, squished giraffe, soft in her hand.

She’s amazing, Fumi says. Just amazing.

Yes.

X

Fumi’s moody and quiet.

She doesn’t show any of it to Nozomi. She picks her up when Nozomi crawls over to her, moving so fast. Hey, you. She scoops her in her arms, holding a small teddy bear over to her. Nozomi clutches it, holds it close. Fumi kisses Nozomi’s temple and walks around the apartment. Tamao senses her restless energy. 

She starts to prepare dinner. It is routine now. Sometimes they cook together. Tamao likes those times best. Other times Fumi takes care of dinner while Tamao takes much needed rest. But she knows the long hours Fumi works. She knows what she’s given. The parts of herself that she’s sacrificed. 

Tamao goes into the fridge and pulls out the bottle of sake, pouring her a glass. She begins to cook, listens to the melody of Fumi’s hum. It’s been years since she’s heard her sing. Once everything is cooking she goes to her.

“I poured you some sake,” she takes Nozomi from her, “take off your jacket and sit down.”

A reluctant nod and Tamao watches her go hang her things. Natural as if the home were her own. A shared home. Tamao’s warm. “I can take over dinner,” she says when she returns.

Tamao shakes her head. “She’s missed you.” Fumi has been sparse lately. “If you’re up to it,” she says, meeting her eyes.

Fumi smiles, weary but earnest. She takes Nozomi in her arms again. “Why don’t I read her a story?”

Tamao nods. “I’ll bring the sake.” It’s a small amount. Fumi only ever drinks lightly when Nozomi is awake and only if one of them isn’t. Fumi and Nozomi settle into the couch, Nozomi cradled against her. She picks up a book of children’s stories and begins to read the tale of Momotaro to her. Tamao thinks back to their high school days, when Fumi played a fiercely loyal dog and companion.

Tamao brings the sake and sets it on the side table. Fumi thanks her with her eyes but doesn’t pause in the story. She must have read stories to Shiori this way. She read tales like this to the children at the library. Fumi who would be a devoted, loving mother. Who is, in many ways, a loving, devoted mother.

Tamao returns to the kitchen to finish the meal, care for and nurture it. She will give it the same attention and love Fumi gives to them. That is the least she owes her.

X

They’ve eaten and Nozomi’s in bed. They sit on the couch, the television playing Godzilla. Fumi can handle Godzilla but is more wary of other terrors. The room is dark, the light of the television lighting her face in blues and greys. There was a time in high school where Fumi would settle her head on her lap and unknowingly bare her heart. Even now Tamao isn’t sure how it happened the first time. They both froze before the tension left them. Trust has always bonded them.

She remembers Ichie’s tears when things ended between them. On an emotional level, Tamao knows she can never fully understand. Not in the same way most would. But she can imagine the heartache. Fumi too felt it. Fumi who fled Japan to develop the company abroad. What heartbreak did she bear on her own? What role would she have to play to understand it on some level?

“Long day?” Tamao asks.

Fumi’s smile is tinged with regret. “Nothing that couldn’t be managed. Thank you for dinner.”

Tamao considers telling her she missed her but isn’t sure it would be true, nor is she sure it wouldn’t make Fumi feel guilty. “I’m glad you’re here.” That’s true, at least.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more helpful. I’ve worried about missing Nozomi’s milestones.”

“She’s saved them, don’t worry.” 

A relieved smile. “She’s a good girl.”

“The best.”

The movie cuts to commercials, bright and loud. Tamao turns the television off and they sit in the darkness.

“Would you like to lie down?” Tamao asks.

Fumi says nothing. Tamao’s face warms. Then Fumi shifts, cautiously resettling on the couch before resting her head on her thigh. Tamao doesn’t ask if she remembers doing this. She knows she does. Tamao feels her eyelashes. Her hair is shorter now but as soft as Tamao remembered. She carefully threads her fingers through it and Fumi sighs. Work trouble? Trouble with a lover? Trouble with Shiori? It could be any number of things. Perhaps it’s trouble with Rui. Rui has kept her distance.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she tells her again.

Again the fleeting brush of her eyelashes. Her eyes remain closed. “I’ll go soon.”

“All right.” She leans down, whispers softly. “But you can stay as long as you’d like.”

X

Weeks later she discovers Fumi has parted ways with a lover. Fumi’s always been intensely private. The revelation does not surprise nor hurt her. She does not provide any details other than to say she was accused of not being available. I wouldn’t want to be with someone like that, Fumi excused. She thought of how often Fumi has been available to herself and Nozomi but did not say so, nor did she ask more. Fumi has not demanded the specifics of Nozomi’s father and she remains grateful, just as she knows Fumi would be grateful that her privacy be respected.

She wonders what it must be like to be Fumi’s lover. Having known her, Tamao can only assume she’s generous. It would be natural to cry over losing her. Tamao is grateful to know that she won’t lose her. No matter how much time passes between them, they’ve always been able to find one another as if no time has passed at all.

Nozomi stands in the baby playpen, little chubby hands gripping the corner, watching her. Tamao smiles and dances, traditional Japanese dancing. Nozomi will adopt this as well, she’s certain of it. She thinks briefly of Kaoruko. Tamao knows she knows but as expected has said nothing. Nozomi smiles, watching her dance. Tamao sings too. She is fuller since Nozomi came. She is restful.  Everything will continue, even after she is gone. 

Nozomi lifts her arms to be picked up, loses her balance and falls on her bottom. Tamao doesn’t respond. She knows how babies carefully watch the faces of others to decide how they will react. Tamao goes to her, smiles and Nozomi smiles. “Come on,” she says to her.

Nozomi rolls onto her stomach after rocking to and fro for a few minutes. She presses on her elbows, finds purchase with her hands. Crawls to the end of the pen again, yanking herself up. Babies are mighty, particularly baby girls.

Tamao picks her up. She did not know it was possible to love this way. The isolation, being ostracized, the stigma, worth it for this. Things will be different for Nozomi. By the time she’s old enough to enter Rinmeikan, they will know better than to shun her, cast doubt on her name. Nozomi will continue the tradition.

Nozomi looks around the living room, reaches to the floor. Tamao follows her gaze. The little stuffed bear Fumi brought her. Tamao picks it up and hands it to her. Nozomi drops it straight away and Tamao picks it up again, walking with her to the couch. She will read her all the old stories. Today she teaches her about Benzaiten.

X

Dinner has gotten cold and she’s put Nozomi to bed. Tamao studies the guides from the performance schools in Japan. Frontier continues to become more and more distinguished, while Siegfeld and Rinmeikan remain at the top, lauded by their vastly different approaches to the stage and the expectations placed on their students. Seisho is Seisho.

Tamao turns the page to see Ichie’s bright face; there’s a feature on her as a beloved teacher of Rinmeikan. She was always the most beautiful among them and has gotten more so. She’s popular with the students, easily breaking down the elements that most troubled her when she attended. Tamao hopes she will be there to guide Nozomi through. Ichie visits and sends gifts when she can’t, but Tamao knows how confused she is to know Tamao has a daughter. Did it hurt Ichie that she shut her out for that time? If so, Ichie has shown no indication of it. She always had the most heart of any of them.

Tamao left her phone on the kitchen table. She goes there, surprised, somehow, that the food she set out has remained uneaten. She wraps it up and puts it away. She cleans the kitchen, only stopping when it is pristine. Then she picks up her phone. She takes it with her back to the couch and sits. She snaps a picture of the Ichie article and attaches it to a message to Ichie. Thank you for elevating Rinmeikan. No. That’s not what she ought to send. She erases the message. Look what I found, she sends instead.

Ichie responds almost immediately. They chat about the school and what’s going on in their lives, who they haven’t seen in a while and those they’ve recently run into. Tamao doesn’t mention Fumi, though perhaps she should. She considers it some minutes further, looking into her phone gallery as she texts with Ichie. There’s a picture of Fumi standing with Nozomi in front of the window. Fumi has her hair up and Nozomi is wearing a tiny kimono. Both of them look at one another smiling, framed in light. 

Fumi is single again. Will she and Ichie ever reconcile? Something tells her that part of their lives is over and it’s unlikely. Their antics brought her so much joy at Rinmeikan. She studied them, curious at what it was to have those feelings, to share those experiences. She basked in their happiness. Until Nozomi, she had not known more joyful days.

Fumi visits, she writes to her.

It’s simple and true. Ichie who had been in the midst of writing something stops and for several minutes, Tamao stares at her phone screen, her anxiety climbing. Eventually Ichie begins to type again.

Fumi loves kids and Nozomi is the cutest! She must spend so much time fussing over her!

Tamao smiles, breathing again. She closes her eyes, realizes she was shaking. She wants to cry. She wipes her eyes. She is so grateful to Ichie, who shouldered so much in their time at Rinmeikan, who cared for her in ways others couldn’t see. Yes. She thinks a moment longer. Would it be all right to send you a picture? She gets an affirmative with copious exclamation points, stars, hearts. Would it be all right to send this picture that Fumi herself hasn’t seen? Then again, they’ve all seen her this way, it’s only Fumi herself that the visual is elusive for. She sends the picture.

Several minutes of silence then: She’s still so beautiful. Tamao doesn’t know whom she means. Fumi too, of course, she texts a bit later.

She’s sure they were each others first loves. What must it have been like to lose that? And they’re not close anymore. She suspects it’s too painful for either of them. She still doesn’t know that feeling. It was that way for him, perhaps, but not for her. He was kind and beautiful. He served his purpose. She wishes him well. It’s possible he’s heartbroken. It’s possible he hates her. But he did give her something beautiful. She will always be grateful.

You’re right, Tamao writes.

Did my article make you proud?

Okay. She understands. Yes! She’ll cut it out, frame it, one day share it with Nozomi. 

I’ll wait for you to come back, Tamao. I’ll keep everything running until you do. Ukaji-san misses you, too. She won’t say so, but she does.

Tamao smiles, warmed. How much it all means to her, even if they’re only words. I’m counting on you, Ichie.

They chat a little longer and Ichie tells her she needs to make some more preparations for tomorrow’s class lessons before she turns in for the night. 

Tamao sits in the darkness. She thinks of the years spent putting money away, planning and waiting. Waiting for things to align the way she wanted. Waiting for the inevitable fallout. It came. She has bore it. The dinner gone cold haunts her. She considers calling Fumi but doesn’t.

She prepares for bed. She goes through the motions. She checks on Nozomi, sleeping soundly in her crib, strokes her short, fuzzy hair. She settles into bed, phone at her side. Minutes later it buzzes.

Tamao answers the call but doesn’t say anything.

“Did I wake you?” Fumi asks.

She keeps her voice quiet, careful not to wake Nozomi. “No.”

Fumi does the same, as if out of habit at the time. “I’m so sorry about tonight.”

“Work?”

“A deal we had planned for overseas nearly fell through. I had to hammer out a new contract and stall long enough to get the attorneys here. I couldn’t find a moment to call.”

Tamao finds herself smiling. “It got done?”

“Mission accomplished.”

She imagines her goofy smile. “Good. I wrapped your dinner up. It’s yours tomorrow if you’d like.”

“I’d love that. How’s Nozomi? Did she get to sleep all right?”

“I think she missed you. But yes, she’s slept through the night so far.”

“I missed her too. Anyway, sorry about tonight.”

“Don’t be.”

“What did you do with your evening?”

“I read Nozomi stories. We danced.” 

Tamao hears her bright laughter on the other end of the line. “It sounds like I missed quite the evening.”

It’s like many of the evenings Fumi has been present for. “You accomplished something great.”

“But not as special.”

Tamao holds the phone to her ear, wishing she could hear her breathe. “Will you stay there tonight?” She knows Fumi overworks herself. She isn’t sure she has a choice. What would it be like if Fumi could focus her passion on the stage? They wanted to adopt a man, Fumi told her, but why have a stranger do what I can take care of on my own? I’d like to think I’m not so selfish. If anything, she is selfless to a fault. Tamao doesn’t know that she can help herself.

“Yes. There are a few other things I need to take care of to make sure I catch them first thing in the morning,” she stifles a small yawn and apologizes. 

“Please rest.”

“You don’t need to fuss over me, Tamao.” She’s good natured, not defensive like before.

“All right. I want you to get to bed sooner rather than later. Thank you for calling me.”

“You bet.” She hesitates. “Tamao.”

“Yes, Fumi?”

“It was nice to have someone to share my good news with.”

Tamao curls her fingers over her heart. “Thank you for your trust.” For allowing her to be that person.

“Hey…” she’s flustered, Tamao thinks. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Fumi.” 

She ends the call and sets the phone on the nightstand. She focuses on her heartbeat, slow and steady. Restful. She hopes Fumi will rest. She wishes she could rest here. Tamao hopes she knows she can rest here.

X

Tamao takes a bath, soaking in the hot water. She sighs softly, wondering when they will return. Fumi stopped by earlier with another gift for Nozomi, who crawled to her so quickly that Fumi hooted, impressed.

She’s going to be an athlete, Fumi declared. She’s so strong already.

Tamao thinks all babies are stronger than most expect, but Fumi’s cheer was contagious. She tickled Nozomi’s nose with the stuffed pink rabbit she brought and Tamao smiled, thinking of Lalafin. I think she’ll be a dancer.

Maybe a stage girl, Fumi said. That way she can be anything she wants.

Tamao went to them, touching a hand to Fumi’s shoulder, peering at Nozomi. Yes. A stage girl.

Fumi looked at her, smiled. I was thinking of picking up some groceries for dinner. Why don’t I take Nozomi with me? You can have the afternoon to yourself. Light some candles and have a relaxing bath?

Me? The offer surprised her. You need the rest more than I do.

This is restful for me. She looked at her. But I understand if you’re not comfortable—

No. That’s not it, I— a moment. I’ve never been without her. Fumi smiled, patient. Tamao knew she would accept whatever her decision. But… it is a beautiful day. She reasoned recharging could only make her better for both of them. If you’re sure it’s no trouble.

It’ll be nice to have a shopping companion. I’ll teach her how to find a good deal. She bobbed her gently around the room, Nozomi cooing happily. I’ll guard her with my life, Tamao.

There was no teasing in her words. She looked at Nozomi with such adoration. Fumi would protect Nozomi, the way Fumi has protected her. The way Tamao would protect and defend her. 

They went out together, Tamao kissing and hugging Nozomi before they left. Tamao battled her anxiety. It was eased by Fumi’s updates, accompanied with pictures of the two of them. At the park, at the store. Tamao lit candles, as Fumi suggested and took a bath. She used bath salts. She slipped beneath the water. She did this often when she was younger. These days she surfaces more quickly. She is no longer so curious.

She exits the bath when her fingers wrinkle. She slips into a robe and takes her time going through the body care routine. She combs her hair and exits, stopping abruptly when she spots Fumi and Nozomi at the doorway, Fumi wrestling with the shopping bags. Tamao rushes over, taking Nozomi from her. “You’re back.”

“Did I startle you?”

“No. How was it?”

“She was a dream. That’s just like her, isn’t it? I’ve never gotten that much attention in my life.”

“A beautiful woman with a beautiful child. That’s to be expected.” Tamao wonders if Fumi’s forgotten the admiring gaze of the student body at Rinmeikan.

Fumi averts her gaze, her cheeks reddening. “She was starting to get a little fussy, though. I think she was eager to get back to mom.” She takes the bags of food into the kitchen and Tamao follows her. “How was your time? Maybe not as relaxing as I’d hoped?”

She smiles. “Your texts eased my mind. Thank you, Fumi.”

“I picked up a few things to make anmitsu. I know how much you like it but I can’t think of the last time we had it.”

They enjoy most of their meals together these days. Fumi is over more often than she is not. It feels natural and right. “Your anmitsu is unparalleled. I can’t wait.”

“It’s not as good as yours,” she protests, “but it might free up a little of your time.”

Tamao shakes her head. “It tastes better when you make it.”

“All right,” she says with a fond smile. “Well, it’s yours tonight.” She leans forward before doing an abrupt about face, nearly hitting the wall. 

Tamao’s too busy blushing to laugh. She knows what Fumi nearly did. Her heart pounds now. Nerves and surprise. Where was she going to plant that kiss, she wonders. It could be anywhere. But anywhere would fluster her. She could tell her its okay but the last thing Fumi likely wants is to have her ‘mistake’ pointed out to her. “I can’t wait,” she tells her.

“Me neither.” A beat. “By the way, I got a call while I was out. I’ll have to put in a little work tonight. I’ll head out after dinner, or after we put Nozomi to bed.”

Tamao studies her back while Fumi unpacks the groceries. “Will you go to the office?”

“I left my computer there, yeah. I’ll have to go.”

“Why not keep a laptop here?” Fumi slowly turns from unpacking to glance at her. She folds the grocery bags. “For these last minute occasions?” Perhaps that’s too presumptuous. Her stomach clenches. Is she familiar? Presuming too much? “You stay up so late and you never rest.”

“Won’t I be in the way?”

“You’re welcome here.”

She turns away, studying the cans she’s just unpacked. The tips of her ears are rosy. “I’ll think about it.”

Tamao knows that means yes.

X

Nozomi takes faltering, unsteady steps towards them and Tamao can’t tell which one of them is more excited. Fumi has gripped her hand where they kneel on the floor. Do you see that!? Her grip asks. Tamao doesn’t tear her gaze away from Nozomi as she smiles, teetering their way. Fumi can’t help but to cheer her on. Come on, Nozomi! Yes, that’s it! That’s it!

Nozomi lights up at her encouragement but Tamao remains quiet, focused. Despite her unsteadiness she doesn’t lose her footing and soon she’s to them. Fumi presses a hand to her belly. Good girl! I’m so proud of you! She looks at Tamao. Tamao knows Fumi wants to pick Nozomi up but is stopping herself. Tamao is so happy Fumi was here to see this. She deserves to be here for this momentous occasion. 

Tamao takes Nozomi’s shoulders, hugs her to her. That’s my good girl, she says. When she releases her Nozomi stomps happily before falling on her butt. Fumi laughs, tickles her.  Nozomi squeals with giggles. Tamao smiles, watching them. She is overcome with her own sudden urge to tickle Fumi. Maybe that wouldn’t be right without Ichie. But she knows now that they are more present with one another than either are with Ichie. Her heart aches, good and bad. 

Nozomi tires before long and they put her in her crib. Fumi goes to the kitchen to clean up. Tamao stares at her back, unspooling the scenarios in her head where she wraps her arms around her waist, slips her hands over her ribs to tickle her. Are you still ticklish? She wants to ask. She anticipates Fumi would say no on stubborn pride alone but thinks she can be easily undone with just a grazing of her fingers. 

It only now occurs to her how Ichie had to know Fumi’s body to know where she was most ticklish, how fast her fingers had to move to get a response out of her. It’s no wonder Fumi was tomato red as Ichie gave Tamao her instruction.

Tamao joins her to do the dishes. Fumi smiles at her before turning her gaze away. More and more these days she sees a sad reservation beneath her smiles. Tamao does not know that look in Fumi’s eye but she recognizes it. It’s more than desire. It’s a wistful hope, a longing, perhaps, for what she thinks will never be. Fumi always looks away slowly, as if returning to an empty home.

Tamao files it away.

X

Another few months pass. Nozomi now sleeps through the night. Tamao often lies awake. She has suggested Fumi work from here on those nights when an emergency work situation arises. With Fumi it is better to suggest. She stays at the kitchen table tapping away at the laptop, making calls, speaking softly. Her English has improved considerably but Tamao wishes it hadn’t. She knows the demands of the language. Fumi has only been able to dedicate to it because of her lost dreams.

Tamao rises from bed and pads over to her. Her brow is furrowed as she hammers the keys. Whether it’s a contract, emails or something more, Tamao can’t say. She lingers at the doorway looking at her. Another minute passes before Fumi looks at her. Tamao sees her flinch.

“Did I scare you?” she teases. Did she think her a ghost? She often has been.

She stammers when she answers. “Not at all.”

She hides her smile. “Are you nearly done?”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer. Have I kept you up?”

Tamao shakes her head. She starts a kettle. She’ll make tea. It’ll help them both sleep. Tamao sits across from her as Fumi begins to type anew, less furiously this time, conscious of how quiet her key strokes are. Fumi has always been well behaved around her, clamping down on some of her most endearing qualities. Her fingers fly over the keys a few minutes longer. Tamao prepares the tea. By the time she turns to face her again, Fumi has shut the computer off. Tamao sets the cup of tea in front of her, gets a smile for her gratitude. Tamao sits again. Fumi holds the cup, finger absently stroking the handle. Tamao thinks of the closet where some of Fumi’s clothes hang for emergencies such as these. Fumi has caught her in the laundry room, holding her clothing as if they were some precious relic. Tamao supposes they are. 

“Is something on your mind?” Fumi asks.

Yes. She thinks of the money she will need to send Nozomi to private school. Nozomi will need the very best until she is able to arrive at Rinmeikan. Costs are rising by the year. She saved a considerable sum but it may not be enough. At least she had the foresight to anticipate she’d be financially cut off from her family. She has lived humbly in her small apartment. Being humble is essential, so long as one can go to war when need be. “I’m thinking of the future.”

“That’s like you.” She has a drink of the tea, closes her eyes. “Mh.”

Tamao flushes, satisfied. She has a drink, too, studying her face, delicate but defined features, the length of her eyelashes. Fumi opens her eyes and for moments their gaze remains locked. 

It’s Fumi who lowers her gaze to the computer before she looks back at her. “What about?”

“All of it.”

She sees a flash of consternation. “That’s as vague as ever, Tamao.” 

Tamao hums in response. “Perhaps.” Fumi ‘hmphs’. “You have always been and will always be my right-hand, Fumi.” Trust me, as I trust you. 

Fumi nods and they sit in restful silence until their drink is finished. Fumi stands and washes the cups. She stretches her arms high over her head and Tamao sees a glimpse of her pale skin. Tamao does not turn away when Fumi notices that she has noticed. They exit the kitchen and Fumi moves to the couch, arranging the pillow and blankets. It would be easier, more restful if they shared the bed.

Fumi pulls the blankets back and gets in. “If she wakes up tonight I’ll see to her.”

Tamao shakes her head. Fumi is owed her rest.

“I don’t mind.”

“I know.” She’s my daughter, wouldn’t sound like she intends for it, to. Neither does Let me do this for you. Seconds pass as she tries to find the words that are just right. This falls into improv and she’s long out of practice. 

Fumi breaks the silence. “Get some rest, Tamao.”

She hesitates and then nods, returning to her room and crawling into bed. The sheets are cold.

X

They take Nozomi to the amusement park for her birthday. Nozomi walks now and they each hold one of her hands, leading her around the grounds. Fumi buys them mouse ears. Nozomi loves it and Tamao smiles as Fumi carefully sets the hat on her head. Fumi looks better in the dog ears but Tamao prefers this instead, the three of them.

They take turns carrying Nozomi when she gets tired. They find a carousel and Tamao climbs onto the white horse. Fumi hands Nozomi to her and stands at their side, helping them keep their balance. Shiori used to love this, she tells her. 

These horses are better behaved, Tamao replies for her benefit, knowing how fidgety Fumi gets around real horses. She doesn’t miss the stares of passerby. Some must think they’re a family. They are a family, whether Fumi knows it or not. She likes to think that she does know it. They go to the Mermaid Lagoon, getting splashed with water. Nozomi screams with laughter. They all do. Later Tamao pays for the picture that was taken. She’ll frame this but knows she will never forget this day.

Fumi drives them home and Tamao sits with Nozomi in the back of the car. They didn’t get to see even half of the park. Nozomi was so tuckered out that Fumi carried her the remainder of the way back to the car.

“We’ll go back someday and show her the rest,” Fumi tells her.

“Would you like that, Nozomi?” 

Nozomi claps. “Go back now!” She’s slowly starting to piece sentences together.

“What do you say, Tamao?” Fumi asks.

Tamao shoots her a look and sees Fumi’s smiling eyes in the rearview mirror. “Someday,” Tamao tells Nozomi. “Your birthday isn’t done yet.”

And it isn’t. Fumi’s prepared a cake for her, decorated with shooting stars. They arrive back home. They celebrate more, eat dinner. The day has undone Nozomi who falls asleep against Fumi while watching Ponyo. Fumi scoops her up and carries her to bed while Tamao picks up the wrapping paper from all the gifts Fumi brought her. She’s spoiled her. It’s gotten to the point where Nozomi’s disappointed if Fumi doesn’t bring a present. Tamao joins them in Nozomi’s small room, reading her the tale of Urashima Taro. She only gets a few pages in before Nozomi’s asleep again.

They exit quietly, sliding the door shut behind them. They wash the dishes and clean up. Fumi leaves the kitchen as Tamao wipes the counters clean. She’s tired, but a reassuring kind of tired, the tired she used to get after an exceptionally good rehearsal. She’s musing on those days when Fumi’s hands cover her eyes. Tamao stills. Fumi’s hands are soft. She feels the warmth of her body standing close. “Have you closed your eyes?” Fumi asks.

“You could have asked me to,” Tamao says.

“Oh. You’re right. Well. Have you closed them?”

Tamao closes them. “Yes.”

“Okay.” She takes her hand. “Come with me. I won’t let you bump into anything.”

“All right.” 

True to her word Fumi doesn’t let her bump into anything. Tamao hears the sound of the balcony door opening. A cool night air settles over her. 

“Don’t open them yet!”

Tamao feels a shot of air, likely from Fumi waving her hand in her face.

“I just have to—” Fumi says then— “Ah— wait. Okay. I got it. Okay, you can open them now.”

Tamao does. She sees nothing but the night sky, the distant light of the neighbors’ homes. Then her eyes focus and she sees a telescope. Tamao looks from the telescope to Fumi. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you. And Nozomi, too.” She shuffles. “It’s just… uh. A little something.” Tamao looks at the telescope. It’s high quality. She doesn’t know much about these things but she knows that. “Today is Nozomi’s birthday but you did a lot of the work. She wouldn’t be here if not for you. I know it’s not Mother’s Day or anything, but I wanted to do something for you. Here…” she lifts a small folder from the table, sitting beneath a heavy book on astrology. “Take a look.”

Tamao opens the folder. There’s a map of stars. She sees the names: Nozomi and Tamao.

“I know it’s not much. Maybe it’s cheesy. But you can find those stars by looking through here,” she touches the telescope. “I’ve set it up for you and everything.”

Tamao’s speechless. Her eyes water. “When did you do this?”

“Here and there. I’ve had to be a bit sneaky, I admit.” A moment. “Can I help you find them?”

Tamao bows her head, sees a stool. She nods and Fumi settles a hand carefully on her shoulder, settling her onto the seat. She teaches her how to configure the telescope, the peculiarities. She guides her through the process, patient and thorough. She has always been a good teacher. Fumi does not know all the things she’s taught her.

Eventually Tamao finds the stars. One little one. One big one. Both beautiful and bright. Tamao stares until her vision blurs. She pulls away from the telescope, keeps her hands tight in her lap.

Fumi stoops in front of her, settles a hand on her knee. “Do you like it?”

Tamao nods but doesn’t tell her they’re missing one star.

X

Fumi showed her other stars. Planets. They returned inside and shared sake, reclining against the foot of the couch. Fumi brought it this time as promised. 

“Did you have a good day today?” Tamao asks.

“How could I not? I took pictures at the park. I’ll send them to you.”

“Thank you.” She debates a long time, or what feels like it before she rests her head on Fumi’s shoulder, her heart beating wildly. Fumi tenses before relaxing. They sit that way for a while. Minutes later Tamao pulls back and looks at her. Fumi looks back, a faint smile on her lips. “Fumi.”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to take me to bed?” Her acting chops haven’t been completely lost. She sounds natural despite feeling anything but.

Fumi doesn’t react. It would be easy to imagine she hadn’t said anything at all. But Tamao knows she said it. She’s been practicing saying just that for months now. Her voice is steady despite the frantic beating of her heart.

She stands and moves to the bedroom. She needs to move; she can’t bear her silence. She needs to move; she knows she can lead her here. She stands in the pale light of the room, the small orange glow of a corner lamp on the nightstand. Some time later she hears movement. She turns. Fumi’s joined her. But there’s little boldness. Instead there is reservation. Perhaps fear. Perhaps she is afraid that things between them will devolve. That this cannot be undone. That what is magical between them will shift and be lost.

Tamao knows she’s attractive but perhaps she is not someone Fumi finds attractive on a deeper level. Even if Fumi’s attraction is only superficial, she remains flattered. Tamao turns her back to her, reaches back to unzip her dress. It slips away from her and puddles at her feet. The room is cold. She faces her again, face red. Perhaps this is too much boldness. She wants to be accepted. Fumi turns away from her and Tamao’s legs go unsteady.

Fumi slides the room to the door shut. Now it’s just the two of them. That is a small commitment. Fumi goes to her, that rare, shy look on her face. She drinks her in and Tamao flushes more. Fumi settles a hand on her shoulder, trailing it down her bare arm, watching her face. Tamao trembles. It’s been so long since she’s been touched. She’s only had one partner. Now she has Nozomi. She felt nervous then but not like this. How can she be what Fumi wants? How does she become it? She has some idea. It may be different here. If it continues she’ll have to study her. She’ll have to anticipate. She wants to please her. Serve her. Service her. She wants to be everything Fumi wants and needs. She needs to be. It will give her direction, as a person.

But if she fails… No. Failure is not an option. 

Fumi palms her face. Tamao closes her eyes, nestles against her hand. Fumi’s other hand settles against her ribcage, fingers trailing down to her hip. Her lips brush the base of her neck. Tamao swallows, bites her lip. Feels Fumi brush it with her thumb. Tamao looks at her. Fumi kisses her, soft, careful.

Tamao feels like stone growing warm. But stone is still stone.

Fumi recognizes stone better than anyone. She stops. She stops because Tamao’s wrong. Has always been wrong. Fumi is diligent in ways he was not. Sees what he could not always. Tamao takes the moment to hate herself, how she is, how she can never be, but she can only allow the moment. This is not about her. She sees the concern in her eyes. Fumi thinks she doesn’t want it, this, her. She wants it all. She doesn’t need it but she wants it. Needs to be what Fumi needs. She takes Fumi’s hand in her own, folds her fingers in a loose fist, kisses her knuckles.

Fumi starts to breathe her name but Tamao silences it with a kiss. The more heated her kiss, the more Fumi responds. Tamao notes that. Takes hold of Fumi’s shirt. She may not know much, but she knows how to unbutton shirts. She knows how to do it in the midst of kisses. Fumi’s kiss becomes hungry before she breaks it, murmuring an apology.

Tamao’s heart aches for her. She takes her face in her hands. Fumi averts her eyes. Tamao waits.

“I’m nervous,” Fumi says at last, quiet.

“Me, too.”

“Are you sure…?”

Tamao nods, kisses her. This time she will lead her. She leads her to the bed until Fumi takes over,  wrapping an arm around her waist guiding her down onto it. 

She adapts, she adapts, she adapts. It’s wonderful, exhilarating, exhausting. It is rewarding and satisfying, addressing and solving the puzzles that arise. They need to be quiet, even if it’s hard, even for her. It’s exciting and strange to feel. They don’t talk anymore. In some ways, they’ve never needed to talk.

X

 Tamao wakes before Fumi does. She always looks at peace when she sleeps. Tamao observes her now that she can, Fumi unguarded, her own curiosity able to go unquestioned. She notes the small marks on her own body, knows where the others are on her inner thighs, on her breasts and blushes thinking of all the magnificent things Fumi made her feel last night. It would have been more enjoyable if she could have turned her mind off but she has long accepted that there are parts of her that cannot be changed. Parts of her that will always race, while others are at a standstill. She has to work around them and find the good. She will walk into the ocean if she cannot do that. Last night was good.

She believes Fumi enjoyed herself. She’s fairly sure she did. But Tamao knows she has a lot of work to do on her end. If it were to happen again. She’d like for it to, but she’s not sure Fumi feels the same. If it never happens again she’ll cherish the experience they shared together, seeing her in ways many have not. She’d like to see more of Fumi. There’s more Fumi hasn’t revealed to her. She knows it. If she becomes more proficient she can learn that about her. Find ways to be… better. Fumi has always bared herself to her but it is always a slow process. This is no different nor is it less special. Fumi rolls onto her side, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, face pressed to her shoulder.

Tamao embraces her back instinctively. It’s only then that Fumi wakes. Her eyes are hazy. There’s confusion. Recollection. It’s still dark. Fumi kisses her. Oh. All right. Again? 

How fun. How promising. She’s flattered. Tamao gives in to the kisses, submits to them, to her. Her robe is spilled open. Tamao runs her finger over Fumi’s shoulders, over her hair. She unfurls and bites the palm of her hand, growing lightheaded, wanting desperately to give everything. Truth be told she did not know it could be like this.

X

They’re both early risers and are out of bed before Nozomi wakes. Tamao studies Fumi’s body as she dresses, fit and athletic, despite not standing on the stage these days. Tamao senses her shyness despite only being able to see her back. Now that they’re out of bed there’s a shift, uncertainty. Nothing has changed for her. It’s possible Fumi doesn’t feel the same. She’ll have to mediate this as she has mediated other things.

Tamao stands, dresses. Fumi’s bashful about looking at her. It’s sweet, warms her more than the most delicious tea on cold nights. She has always loved this side of her. The side Fumi in unaware of, the vulnerability she tries to hide but shines despite her attempts. Tamao dresses, fingers brushing Fumi’s wrist when she finishes. “I’ll make breakfast.”

She exits the bedroom and considers what has transpired and what she has learned about Fumi. It’s possible Fumi has had other lovers since she told her of the last one she parted ways from but Tamao thinks it’s unlikely. There cannot be one now; Fumi would have never consented to take her to bed otherwise. She is a voracious lover; a contradiction to her often aloof exterior. She was sillier and animated when they attended Rinmeikan but she seldom sees that side to her these days. Fumi was always calmer around her. Is it the absence of the stage that has taken that spark from her? Fumi once told her her days without the stage were empty and without meaning.

She knows Shiori has a performance coming up. Fumi will be in attendance and recounted the story and role to Tamao, an earnest smile on her lips, but her eyes sad and withdrawn. Nothing will fill that hole in her heart. Not a lover. Not family. For a stage girl that is not enough. She once asked if Fumi was willing to die for her and the stage. She was then. She cannot ask anymore. At least, not now.

Fumi exits the bedroom and Tamao knows she doesn’t know what to do with herself. This changed things for her. Tamao wonders if she miscalculated. In so many ways it seemed a natural progression of things. They care for one another, spend much of their time together, sharing meals, caring for Nozomi, sharing their troubles. This is practical. Fumi must know that it’s practical too. She saw that in her gaze. What she longed for was the convenience. No. That’s unfair. Tamao knows how Fumi has felt a duty to her. Loyalty. But Fumi saved her, too. Fumi put her on the right path and taught her that if she wanted something she’d have to put in the work and do whatever it takes.

She can hear a Fumi in her mind, disagreeing with that assessment. 

Fumi joins her in the kitchen. She keeps her hands at her sides, fingers tapping at counters, tables, on pots. Tamao wants to take her fingers and still them. She knows doing so would make her more self-conscious so she hums instead. 

She glances at Fumi’s unassuming face and wonders what it must be like to have a vested interest in sexual activity and deny herself. Fumi is one of the most beautiful women she’s ever met. She could have just about anyone. She thinks of Ichie again, how she cried when she ended things between them. Tamao steals another glance at her.

Fumi notices, blinks. “Is there something on my face?”

Tamao nods, though there isn’t, cups her face and strokes purposefully at her cheek. Fumi blushes, no doubt making assumptions about what it might have been. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

“I’m surprised at you,” Tamao says.

Fumi stops, startled, pausing in the midst of pulling cups from the cabinet. 

There. She’s set her up to think the worst. Now she’ll surprise her. “Your beloved Hanamaru Natural Yuzu Ponzu factory is opening again and you haven’t said a word.”

“What!” Fumi nearly drops the cups and quickly gets it together, setting them aside. She looks at Tamao, fierce and demanding. “Is this true?”

“It is.” She goes and finds the newspaper she set aside for such an occasion and opens it for her to the page. “Their stock is doing very well. Their new batch should be in local markets within weeks.”

Fumi sits unsteadily, gripping the newspaper and devouring the content. “They’ll be using the same recipe and ingredients,” she tells her.

“Yes.” Ultimately this doesn’t matter. She knows Fumi prefers the secret recipe from Kappo Tomoye. Tamao still makes those bottles for her. “Will you be lined up at the store the day it arrives?”

“As if I have time for that,” she grumbles, considers. “But I’ll consider sending an assistant to pick up a few bottles. Businesses fold frequently if they’re not carefully managed. I don’t want to get confident about it staying around.”

Yes. She knows. She knows the factory has had a few scares. This factory helped provide a good childhood to me. I’m invested. A stranger coming in could never care for the business the way I could. Tamao hadn’t argued despite questioning the logic of her statement. Fumi is more emotional and sensitive than she knows. It’s possible a ruthless businessman with a genuine interest in running and growing a company could better manage it. It might be at the expense of the employees or the quality, but it would be growth none-the-less. Fumi’s caring nature can be a setback. She’s so often focused on honor and nobility that opportunities pass her by. Tamao knows it’s not always possible to be that way. Had she been, she would not have had Nozomi. She would not have had Fumi. But Fumi still hasn’t learned.

“I could go for you first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t be absurd. You can’t take Nozomi out in the cold for that.”

Babies are tougher than they’re given credit for. But… was she thoughtless? Was she so eager to provide comfort that she missed something so glaring? “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Fumi looks up at her, flummoxed, before smiling. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You’re still an airhead.” Tamao blushes and Fumi takes her wrist, holds it before the commotion of the other room gets their attention. Fumi releases her and Tamao goes to attend to Nozomi.

X

Days and then weeks of the old normal pass. Fumi’s nervousness subsides. She is careful. She does not ‘slip’ in communicating with touches or any affection that wasn’t there prior to the two of them sharing a bed. She works at the office more though she doesn’t remove the laptop from the home. Tamao’s grateful.

She understands that she has not been a more traditional partner as tradition may dictate. Should she send amorous texts? Love letters? Provide a different kind of affection. She does not know how nor does it interest her, in particular, to take up these new performance arts. She is often on stage and isn’t sure that she can introduce more roles into her life, to be performed at all times.

Even so… it is her failure. Her inability. She does not know how to explain it to the woman who has always understood her best. She feels a sense of shame and disillusionment. It’s possible that she’s being unfair. Fumi may know her best but not many know her well. How can they when she’s a mystery even to herself? She does not like to dwell on thoughts of how she is or how she operates. She spent some time trying and even that effort was agonizing.

Tamao watches Nozomi, sitting on Fumi’s lap as she reads her a story. Fumi does all the voices for the characters and Nozomi loves this, demands that some lines are repeated over and over again. This is all the performance Fumi gets these days and Tamao sees the pleasure it brings her. She excuses herself to the bedroom, too emotional at what she has witnessed.

When she exits they smile at her. Tamao takes Nozomi and preps her for bed. She will read her a story tomorrow. They will practice reading. She must be ahead of the game when she starts school. Soon she’ll have to decide what school she will be sent to. She will have to think of what needs to be cut from expenses. 

She exits the room and closes the door. Fumi is at the apartment door, slipping into her winter jacket. Tamao’s stomach drops. She can’t accuse Fumi of avoiding her. Fumi is allowed her life. Fumi spends and shares so much of it with them. Tamao does not know what it is she wanted or expected from her. She wanted to give but perhaps she did not give enough. Fumi adjusts the lapels of her jacket but waits for Tamao to approach her.

“Leaving already?” Tamao asks. Too soon. It’s too soon.

“It’s early enough that I can get a decent night’s sleep at my place.”

“You can sleep here.”

Fumi says nothing.

Tamao frowns slightly. She tries to gather her thoughts. She thinks she has. She clasps her hands together, keeps them in front of her. She looks up at Fumi. “I apologize if I was unsatisfying as a lover.”

The words have shocked her. She reacts as if she has been slapped. She looks around as if trying to snap out of the daze. “That’s not true. You were very capable.”

They made love twice. Not again. Perhaps it’s her fault for not bringing it up. For simply expecting Fumi to understand. Or maybe she was wrong to think that she could compare to someone like Ichie, or someone like Yachiyo. She is not like those women but she knows there’s something to her nature that Fumi likes. “I see,” she says. 

Fumi shuffles her weight. She doesn’t see anything at all. There are so many possibilities for what went wrong that they overlap, reducing any answers to blobs. She could ask what she ought to do to be what Fumi wants but thinks Fumi will only grow angry and frustrated the way she used to with Rui.

“Would you like it if I asked you to stay and take me to bed?” Tamao asks.

Fumi’s eyes narrow. “You’re a hard woman to say ‘no’ to, Tamao.”

“It has never stopped you before.”

Fumi looks off, her frown now a scowl. She looks back at her. “Are you asking because it’s what you want? Or because it’s what you think I want?”

Tamao parses the questions. Searches for answers. Both. It’s both. But she can’t answer that way, despite how it would secretly please Fumi. She can still answer, however, in a way that’s truthful. “It’s what I want.” Fumi looks at her, some of the darkness from her eyes fading. “I know… that I am not as free as those others you could have. I have a daughter.” Even if she feels like their daughter she can’t say so. “I have no family willing to care for her. We cannot vacation on our own. I cannot promise you adventure.” They have only a room to be intimate in. Even with him, before Nozomi, there were more options. “Only established routine. Perhaps… my body may satisfy you but the other circumstances make the arrangement… undesirable.”

Fumi lowers her head, thoughtful. Her hands are in her jacket pockets, balled. “Sometimes I wonder if you understand me at all.”

Tamao looks back at her. She knows she understands her.

“Goodnight, Tamao,” she opens the door and exits.

Tamao stares at the door, the distance between here and where Fumi’s gone, as wide as the oceans. If only she had a tamatebako to force into her hands before she could go. Promises shouldn’t be broken.

X

Fumi doesn’t come for the next few weeks. Nozomi cries for her, asks where she is. She cannot be comforted. Tamao cannot read the stories the way Nozomi likes, the way that Fumi reads them. She thinks of when Fumi threatened to take the role of Otohime from her. Has she threatened to take this role, too?

Tamao takes Nozomi out. They walk the parks but Nozomi’s sullen, refusing to play with the other children. Perhaps she has picked up on Fumi’s qualities.

Efforts to get her to study are unproductive. Nozomi throws temper tantrums and asks when Fumi’s coming home. Tamao has no answers for her. Fumi texts to ask about Nozomi. Is she well? Does she need anything? Tamao had not expected to deal with two tantrums.

When Ichie and Yuyuko arrive Tamao is as close to wits end as she thinks she has ever been. They exclaim at how big Nozomi’s gotten. Yuyuko pushes the glasses she wears up her nose and offers a gift to Tamao without any fanfare. “Don’t get excited, it’s for little Nozomi. It’s never too early to start learning about rakugo.” Tamao’s fingers graze the wrapping paper, silky smooth, the bow tied beautifully. “I’ve written some of my favorite tales and included a small fan for her… if you’re feeling ambitious and want to get started early on one of our most sacred traditions.”

Tamao’s touched. “I promise you I will, Yuyuko.” It’s strange to not add the ‘chan’ to her name. 

They catch up, Ichie telling her about the latest happenings at Rinmeikan and the plays they’re putting on. Yuyuko being coy about the scripts she’s writing for stage performances. Nozomi comes over to announce that Ichie is pretty, but point out that Yuyuko has a hole on the wrist of her jacket.

“Check out the brat,” Yuyuko says. Nozomi stomps her foot. No brat!

Ichie giggles. “Sounds like someone has been spending too much time with Fumi.”

“She’s acting out,” Tamao says.

“Who?” Yuyuko asks. “Fumi-senpai or Nozomi? Could be either one, honestly…”

Tamao laughs but doesn’t answer. She doesn’t miss Ichie’s glance. Tamao knows that she knows. “How is Rui-chan?” Tamao asks.

Rui always felt like the youngest amongst them, not only because she literally was but there was a hopefulness to her, an absence of cynicism that singled her out from even Ichie. 

Yuyuko chuckles. “She’s got a few great roles in her future; assuming she chooses to take them on.”

“Rui-chan was always magnificent on stage,” Tamao says. But she didn’t love it enough.

Yuyuko nods absently and Tamao stands to prepare dinner. Yuyuko and Ichie busy themselves with Nozomi. With Tamao gone she’s grown shyer but Ichie has never let anyone’s shyness stand in the way. It’s no wonder she and the students love her. She’s an incredible boon for Rinmeikan. She hopes Yuyuko will one day return to Rinmeikan to teach. There’s some time before she has to be there, but Tamao would like for her to be available to Nozomi. She’ll approach Yuyuko about it one day. In the meantime, once Tamao returns she’ll go about making rakugo a fundamental part of the performance department. By the time Nozomi is old enough to attend, Yuyuko will be more than a master.

They eat dinner, talking some but mostly recalling old memories while Ichie fusses over Nozomi. Finally it’s time for her to go. She goes over the nightly routine but also shows them where she’s left the detailed notes.

“Is this a night routine or a script…?” Yuyuko asks picking up a stack of pages. Ichie grins, despite Tamao’s look. She sets the notes down. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Yuyuko says, lifting Nozomi up. “We can’t let anything happen to the future of Rinmeikan, can we...?” Nozomi quickly takes hold of her glasses, squeezing them. Yuyuko’s lips thin while Tamao carefully pries them away, reprimands her, cleans the glasses before setting them gently on Yuyuko’s face again.

“Especially Tamao’s first night away from her,” Ichie says. “I don’t think we could survive even a hair misplaced on her head.”

“You exaggerate.” Tamao says, but she agrees with the spirit of the assessment. “Can I take her?” she asks Yuyuko.

Yuyuko hands her over and Tamao holds her close. “Ichie and Yuyuko will take good care of you tonight. I want to hear from them what a good girl you were.” She strokes her hair.

“Where’s oba?” Nozomi asks again.

Tamao doesn’t look at either of them. “We’ve already talked about this.” Her explanation being that Fumi would return. She knows Fumi will return. It may take time but she will. She sets her down and she goes off, attention diverted by the gift Yuyuko has brought. “She’s not usually like this,” she explains.

“Oh?” Ichie plants her hands on her hips. “Too bad. She’s a lot of fun.”

“Imagine if she turned out like you, Ichie-san…” Yuyuko says. “I’m not sure Rinmeikan can handle two at a time… The school might not survive…”

“Hey, you!” Ichie pinches her and Yuyuko doesn’t respond which only seems to annoy Ichie further.

Tamao smiles at them. “Well, then. I’m off. Ichie, is it okay?”

There’s a moment between them, a moment Yuyuko recognizes and meanders off to kneel beside Nozomi.

“You don’t have to ask me,” Ichie says, boundless cheer, “only you can decide if tonight’s the best night to be away from her.”

Everyone has always been so good to her. “All right then. Thank you.”

One final hug to Nozomi and she’s off to the show. It’s a risk, but she’s become well acquainted with risk.

How about you actually make an effort and put everything on the line for a change?

She’s never forgotten those words. She’ll always be grateful to her.

X

Shiori is spectacular. Fumi should not have ever feared her but Tamao understands why those who don’t know Fumi’s capabilities might compare them, might think Shiori has the upper hand. She considers her bias but concludes that she is correct.

The show ends. Everyone filters out. It takes some time for Fumi to exit. It’s to be expected considering that it’s likely she visited with Shiori backstage. Tamao saw the Edels there as well. They must all be in high spirits. They have not kept together like their Rinmeikan girls have, however, and Tamao takes a perhaps unnecessary smug satisfaction in that. How can you know that? She can almost hear Fumi asking.

In time Fumi exits but she’s not alone. Tamao doesn’t recognize the woman with light hair and even brighter laughter. They’re walking, engaged in jovial conversation when they spot her. 

Fumi stops short realizing something is amiss. She resents that she is considered to be ‘amiss’, then berates herself. Fumi has said no such thing. It’s only an assumption. “Oh, this must be Tamao-san.” Who is this woman? “You didn’t tell me she’d be here.”

“I wasn’t aware she would be,” Fumi says, looking at Tamao curiously. “Where’s Nozomi?”

“Yuyuko and Ichie are watching her.” Fumi’s expression darkens at the name and Tamao wonders how long before Fumi can hear that name without hurting. 

The woman looks between them. Fumi makes quick introductions. The woman’s name is Mio. “Did you come together?” Tamao asks.

“I just ran into Fumi-chan by chance; I knew I had to sit next to her.”

“I’m not sure how you knew that, exactly. And I’ve told you, I don’t like to be called that.”

“Why not? It’s cute how fussy you get about it.”

Fumi crosses her arms while Mio beams. Tamao thinks of Ichie as she looks at them. “I see. Shiori put on quite the performance.”

“She’s so talented,” Mio answers. “It makes me wonder when Fumi-chan is going to make her return. I think she should quit being the CEO at the factory and get back to the stage. Imagine hiding a beautiful woman like this away.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Fumi blushes.

Maybe so, but it shouldn’t be. Tamao’s ashamed for not saying aloud what this Mio can so easily. It is, perhaps, the gift of ignorance. Or is she envious of her ability to simply say such things? It seems she still has a long way to go. 

A long silence follows. Mio clears her throat. “Well… Fumi-chan mentioned she hasn’t seen you in some time so I’ll let you catch up.” Tamao looks at Fumi, whose face reddens further. “I’ll see you around, Fumi-chan. At the usual place?”

“If I see you,” she reluctantly agrees.

Mio squeezes Fumi’s arm, nods at Tamao before she goes on her way. The woman is fashionable, attractive, lively. “She’s beautiful, Fumi.”

Fumi rubs the back of her neck. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I wasn’t planning on returning home tonight.”

They share a long look and Fumi begins to walk. Tamao follows after her. They get to her car and climb inside. 

Fumi drives. 

The silence is not as comfortable as she’s used to but it isn’t awkward. They arrive at what she can only assume is Fumi’s home. She hasn’t seen it. Fumi has never asked to take Nozomi for the night or weekend, perhaps knowing that Tamao wouldn’t see the point in being away from both of them.

They climb the stairs of the apartment building, Fumi using the card key on the door and turning the lights on. The home is small but nice. More Siegfeld than Rinmeikan. The thought is unkind, perhaps. It’s likely this is just the closest thing to work she could find. Fumi gives her a tour but Tamao is stalled by the pictures on the wall. Framed posters of Shiori’s performances, their performances at Rinmeikan. There are framed photographs of herself and Nozomi. There aren’t photographs of the three of them together and Tamao nearly cries at her neglect, at the isolation she has unknowingly subjected her to.

Fumi sets the keys to the car and home in a bowl off to the side by the door. Tamao ventures further and takes it all in. The luxurious furniture, the small kitchen. It’s a studio. There’s a large bed next to the floor to ceiling glass wall. She imagines the bed in the mornings, awash in hazy light and in the brilliant splendor of the sunset in the evenings. It’s perfect for the eligible bachelorette. If not for the pictures on the walls, perhaps. There’s a telescope pointing out. Fumi looks at it, as if trying to decide whether she ought to hide it. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she excuses, as if there were a mess. 

“I hope you don’t mind that you received some.”

“No.” She sifts through the words. “I want you to feel as welcome as you’ve always made me.”

Has she made her feel welcome? “Nozomi misses you.” Fumi steps back as if the winds have picked up. “I want you to know that.”

Fumi could demand the reason why Tamao is making these confessions. Fumi doesn’t. Maybe their trust isn’t gone. “I miss her.”

Tamao steps closer. “I don’t expect a commitment from you. I don’t want for you to close the door on your possibilities. I know I can’t give you… the things that others can.” The gestures. The tenderness. The hurt the lovers feel at her absence. The same lust. She looks up at her. “But I want to love you. And give you pleasure. The way you have loved and given me pleasure.” Not quite in the same way. The sensations in the bedroom were enjoyable; there’s no denying that. But the mental comfort, the richness she has added to her life, that is not something she is sure she can ever repay. “If I’m wrong, tell me. If you do not long for the… simple things we could have… I understand. But if you do, Fumi… let’s not deny ourselves. I can be what you want.” She sees the conflict in her eyes. “Try me, Fumi. I’m tougher than you think. I’ve brought life into this world. I’m strong. You’re strong, too. Show me.”

Tamao sees her shaking before her lips are hot against hers. She’s lifted and Tamao wraps her legs around her waist, thinks she’ll be taken to the bed, but no, she’s taken to the couch. Fumi’s hand is under her dress, another gripping the back of her neck. She is secured. Reassured. Fumi does want her. Fumi does want this. They can be a family if Fumi so chooses. Her underwear is pulled off, her dress tugged up and down. Fumi does not relinquish her mouth.

Tamao searches for strategies to make this better for Fumi. Her hands find their way beneath her clothes. She has to make determinations faster that she can keep up with, judging based on Fumi’s breath and sighs. This woman, would be king, who gave up a throne for her, who chose to stand at her side, should still be treated like the royalty she is.

Fumi has lifted her so Tamao straddles her. Lips going everywhere that make her dizzy. Tamao breathes her name, gasps it when Fumi’s teeth grip her ear. Fumi palms her neck, looks at her, eyes hot with desire. Does Tamao look at her the same way? She’s sure her other lovers must. How could they not? But she’s not like them. She has searched for the word that might describe her. She has found many that come close but are ultimately ill fitting. Maybe it doesn’t matter if she is fragmented, if Fumi is able and willing to be the glue.

“I want to do something for you,” Tamao tells her. She follows the words with a slow, deep kiss. Fumi moans into it. Tamao will have to decipher whether it’s the words or the kiss, or the combination that did it. Maybe what she needs is to channel the performance where she played the maid involved in an illicit affair with a count. But there’s nothing illicit about this, nor does she think that Fumi would actually involve herself if it was. She pulls off Fumi’s blouse. Presses kisses to her bare skin. Makes her way down until she’s kneeling in front of her. Her fingers hook into the waist of her pants and unbuttons them, drawing them down and away. She settles her hands on her knees, spreading her legs.

Fumi looks down at her, breathing slow. Tamao leans forward, presses more kisses to her belly. She’s never done this before but she’s experienced it. Tamao watches her, settles a hand over her heart, to see how hard it beats, feels how it pounds harder. Fumi’s eyes are dilated. If only she could make her own eyes do the same. Her body, her chemistry won’t cooperate. She’ll have to show her in other ways.

X

Tamao wakes to several texts from Ichie. Everything is okay and she provides pictures for proof. Tamao saves the pictures and sends her gratitude. She’ll be home soon enough. Truth be told she’s eager to get back to Nozomi but wishes desperately to ask Fumi to also come home.

Tamao trails her fingers over her back, sees the scratches she left. It was more than twice last night. She may have lost count. She isn’t sure when one coupling ended and another began. Maybe she’ll never understand that piece. Has Fumi missed sexual intimacy or has she missed her? Tamao wanted to repay everything. All her love. Her kindness. Her gestures. She can still feel the phantom sensation of Fumi’s hand in her hair, on her shoulder, gripping her close. She is becoming a better partner to her. She will improve the more she is able to do this, Tamao is sure. If only she could ask for a training regimen without Fumi taking offense.

Even if this has all been an exercise. What histories weave through Fumi’s touch…? The touches and lessons of past partners, perhaps. How many of Fumi’s caresses were the ones that awakened Ichie? Or has Fumi tailored them specifically for her? Tamao thinks Fumi would do this but she is not sure.

Tamao wraps an arm around her waist and brushes kisses to her back. Her hand slides further down and slowly Fumi rises. She turns to face her. It’s strange that any one person can look this way in the morning, but Fumi can. The sun is rising and the apartment is cast in pink and purple hues. 

“Good morning,” Fumi smiles.

Tamao nods and kisses her. The proper course. The next few hours are spent entangled until she is so spent she could sleep again. Even chasing toddlers doesn’t consume so much energy. “You’re still fit,” Tamao whispers, nestles against her shoulder. Fumi chuckles. “Fumi?”

“Yes, Tamao?”

“Come home with me. Come home to Nozomi. She misses you.”

Fumi looks at her a long time and once more Tamao senses she has missed an opportunity. 

“I’ll visit tonight,” Fumi says.

“Tonight...?” 

Fumi nods. Tamao wants to ask why then remembers— Ichie is there. Oh. She wants to tell her that Ichie knows, has given a blessing that isn’t necessary, however appreciated it is. But not now.

“Thank you,” Tamao says. She whispers a few things in her ear, enough to make Fumi’s face and ears go scarlet. The blush travels down to her chest and farther. She nearly shouts, she’s so proud of herself. She has to keep it together. “I think we have a little bit more time.” She slips under the covers, but she’s not there long. In time the covers are flung away. Her head is beneath the pillow, hand gripping her thigh, the back of her neck, her lips and tongue tasting honey.

X

She takes a bath. It’s only once she’s out of it that it occurs to her she could have asked Fumi to join her. It’s likely she would have liked an invitation and it could have helped foster intimacy between them. Maybe next time, but she’s unsure when. It’s not a possibility at her home. Regardless, she can’t lie to herself. She’d prefer to bathe alone. She likes the simplicity of that empty space. 

Fumi lets her borrow some clothes and drives her back, with the understanding that she won’t go up with her.

“I’ll see you tonight, yes?” Tamao wants to confirm with her. She wants her to commit.

“Yes, tonight.”

Tamao starts to get out of the car, but Fumi’s hand, wrapped carefully around her wrist stops her. She looks back, ready to ask why— Fumi kisses her. Tamao blinks. Oh. Yes. This. She suspected Fumi’s loving charms with Ichie. How demonstrative. She enjoys the way Fumi’s finger has curled beneath her chin. When the kiss ends, Fumi remains close. She smiles, looking a little like a peacock. She used to strut around that way so often in the past. “Oh, of course,” Tamao says, shaking her head, “I forgot.” Fumi looks at her and Tamao reddens. “I’ll get better at this.” She can’t say ‘dating’. This isn’t dating. This is something else. She doesn’t know how to date. But she can maybe know how to do this with Fumi.

Fumi shakes her head. “Don’t say that kind of thing, all right?” She brushes a hand over her hair, over her ear. “I like you as you are. Was that okay…?”

Tamao smiles. She must mean the kiss. “Yes.” She leans forward, knowing it would be foolish to forget now, and kisses her again. She knows Fumi appreciates it from the softening of her lips, that small surprised sound. Luckily it’s dark and no one will see. The kiss winds to an end and Tamao memorizes the look on Fumi’s face, tender and satisfied. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” Fumi nods. Tamao turns to go, hesitates. She faces her again. “Fumi… I’m really…” she wants to say ‘content’ but Fumi may find the word dull and half-spirited. She has to put it in a way that Fumi will understand. “Happy. I’m happy you’re returning.”

“Me too.” 

Tamao leaves her and walks the remaining block to her apartment building. Despite bathing it feels as if she’ll be discovered. She imagines that’s silly. Ichie and Yuyuko should be ready for her. She texted them to let them know she was returning. And still she stands on the doormat outside her apartment as if she were the intruder. 

Sometimes I think she wishes I were more like you, Ichie told her once.

Tamao didn’t agree. It just so happens that Fumi is attracted to two wildly different types of women. How could she compare with Ichie? She knows she can’t give Fumi that same kind of fullness. It was Ichie who ended things between them. I never see you! Ichie recounted the story to Tamao, getting emotional as she told it. At that time, Fumi lived in Japan but was busy taking over the family business. She doesn’t doubt that the time abroad would have happened. She does doubt Fumi would have stayed away as long as she did if not for the breakup. It was years she was gone, returning only for a few weeks at a time to see to matters in Japan.

Her nerves are starting to frazzle her. She enters the apartment and hears footsteps thumping towards her. Soon Nozomi is at her feet and in her arms. Tamao squeezes her close, breathes her in. How she’s missed her. She survived their time apart but carried with her a dull ache. Nozomi clings to her too and Tamao whispers to her, soft reassurances. She’s returned. They won’t do that for a while. She considers telling her that Fumi will come tonight but decides against it, wanting to surprise her, wanting her face to light up at seeing her.

Yuyuko and Ichie come around the corner, both dressed and ready for the day. Ichie remains fashionable, her nails always done, her make up minimal but on point, her outfits fun and sophisticated. It’s strange to imagine that Fumi could choose her over Ichie. Then again, Fumi did not choose her over Ichie. She could have done that in high school and she didn’t and Tamao wouldn’t have known what to do with her if she had. Ichie is vivacious, vibrant, dynamic.

Yuyuko is confident and sure of herself. Rui is one of the kindest people she’s ever known, even if that kindness can be debilitating. Fumi is strong like iron. Tamao would like for Nozomi to embody all their good qualities. She wants so much for Nozomi to follow in her footsteps but her life would be easier if she were not like her. If she could grow like an empress tree, strong and kind, Tamao will be satisfied.

She pushes the thoughts away. She has guests.

They talk about the evening with Nozomi. She cried but quieted when Yuyuko and Ichie put on the performance of Yoshitsune and Benkei, Yuyuko tackling the narrator and Yoshitsune while Ichie performed the tengu and Benkei. Tamao wishes she could have seen it.

“Her eyes were big as saucers,” Yuyuko tells her with a small yawn, “it’s easy to see you’ve fostered a love of the stage with this one.”

The words warm her more than the sun. She holds Nozomi in her lap and hugs her close, so proud. She makes them breakfast, despite their protests. Soon Yuyuko has to be on her way. I’ve written a dramatic account of the evening, she tells her, pointing at a stack of papers, tell me what you think when you get the chance.

Tamao is moved. She wraps her arms around Yuyuko briefly. Yuyuko tap, taps her back until she lets go, her cheeks rosy. She smiles and adjusts her glasses. “Later, Tamao-senpai.” She thinks her continued insistence on calling her that is a mark of affection and is grateful.

Tamao bids her goodbye, reminding herself to reach out to her more often. She sets reminders on her phone to stagger every two weeks. She can readjust from then. Ichie’s in the kitchen washing dishes. She’s trying to help but Tamao can’t help but think she’s trying to get back at her in some way. The thought is ungenerous. Ichie is better than that. Better than her. 

“Thank you,” Tamao tells her, sitting in the kitchen, watching her work.

“Thank you. I got to spend all night with Nozomi-chan and see Yuyuko. It’s strange not all being together anymore.”

“I agree.” There were so many nights after she graduated that she cried herself to sleep over what she’d lost.

“Where’s Fumi?”

Tamao looks to the living room where Nozomi is. She’s waving the small red fan Yuyuko brought around. “I imagine she’s at work.” She turns back to her. She lowers her voice. “She’ll be by later.”

“Huuuuuuuhhh. Nozomi-chan will be so excited.”

“Yes. I— it was important to me that she return.”

“For Nozomi-chan?”

Tamao blushes. “Y-yes.” A beat. She considers a moment longer. “I also enjoy her company.”

“Hmmm, you were always close.”

She stops herself from twitching. “Yes.” She can’t give her the comfort of not as close as you, because they were. It was different.

“She’s still the best I…” Ichie stops, shakes her head, folds the towel and sets it aside. She turns and faces her, smiles. “I hope… that you get what you want. That you both get what you want.”

“Thank you, Ichie.” A moment. “Do you regret what happened?”

Ichie takes a seat across from her. “That’s a hard question.” Her eyes fog in thought before clearing again. “I wish it had been different in the end. But I don’t regret any of it. I think… it all worked out the way it was meant to. But I still think about her.”

“It’s not like you to look back.”

“I know,” she sighs.

“Does this hurt you?”

“Would it matter if it did?”

Tamao doesn’t answer.

“We can’t escape all hurt. And I don’t think we should. That relationship taught me a lot. It taught me… what was worth it and what wasn’t. What I could take and what I couldn’t. And…” a frown, “my self-worth. Ah, that sounds dramatic,” she says with a grin. “But… I felt lonelier with her sometimes than I felt without,” she smiles, apologetically. “Does this bother you?” Tamao shakes her head. “I loved her. I’ll always love her. I hurt her, too. She was walking away from the stage, taking this factory on,” she shakes her head, “even when I knew it would make her miserable. I think I was the only good thing in her life at that point but that relationship was the worst thing in mine. She was never there. I felt forgotten.” Tamao wishes she could tell her that Fumi understands. That Fumi has learned. How she has realized that being absent makes for a poor lover. But those are Fumi’s words, her thoughts. She can’t say those words for her. She can’t tell Ichie that her losses were her own gains. “She must have thought I abandoned her at her lowest moment. It hurts her to look at me now. Sometimes I wish… she’d just shout at me for something. Anything. Does she shout at you?” Tamao shakes her head again. Ichie smiles, stands up. “I should go. And don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. If you ever need someone to keep an eye on Nozomi-chan, you can count on me.”

Tamao nods and then Ichie is gone. She remains in the kitchen, the tears frozen in her eyes.

X

Nozomi is overcome when Fumi arrives. She cries from excitement and Fumi picks her up into her arms and holds her as if she’s reunited with something precious she’d lost. It was ‘only’ two weeks, but Fumi felt that absence strongly. I’ve missed you too, little one. She looks at Tamao apologetically, who goes to where they are and wraps her arms around them, fighting the urge to sniffle from emotion.

Tamao takes the gift Fumi’s holding on to and sets it aside. Nozomi clings to Fumi, refusing to relinquish her. Fumi walks with her to the couch and strokes her hair, asking her about her day, smiling as Nozomi tells her about rakugo and tengus and Ichie. Nozomi has many stories about her.

Tamao comes over and sits by them, walking the small stuffed dog over her legs. Nozomi starts giggling and snatches him from her. Tamao takes the dog back. “What do you say?”

Nozomi huffs. “May I have?”

“Yes.” She gives it to her and Nozomi mimes what she was doing, hopping the akita over all their legs. “Nozomi, do you know the story of Hachiko?” She glances at Fumi who smiles. It’s as she thought then. Nozomi shakes her head. Tamao recounts the tale of the agricultural professor who adopted an akita by the name of Hachiko, later to be called Hachi. How every work day they would walk together to the train station for Ueno Hidesaburo to get to work, part ways, and be greeted by the loyal canine upon return, spoiled by the other passengers and workers while he waited faithfully. One day, Hidesaburo was unable to return but Hachi was there every night and day, at every train, looking for his master. For years. Until he died. The story of Hachi is a story of love and devotion. “Fumi has brought you a very special gift. What do you say?”

Nozomi looks at her, shy. “Thank you.” 

Fumi kisses her head and Nozomi scrambles off her lap to walk the stuffed dog around the room. Fumi smiles. “You must have been overjoyed to come back to her.”

“Yes. It was only a few hours but it felt like an eternity.”

“Anyone would miss her.” A beat. “How was everyone?”

“Good.” She keeps her hands in her lap. “Yuyuko taught her rakugo. Now that Nozomi’s been receptive I know it’ll be impossible to put a stop to her agenda.”

“Would you want to?”

“No.” They watch Nozomi bounce around the room. “I spoke with Ichie.” Fumi guards her silence. “She knows. I didn’t tell her but you know Ichie.”

“You didn’t tell her?” 

Tamao shakes her head but wonders if Fumi would be angry if she had told her.

A long silence. “She’s well?”

“Yes. I think so.” Shouldn’t she have a more definitive answer? “Things are going well at Rinmeikan.”

“That’s important.” 

Her tone is hard to read. Tamao chooses to be charitable. “I think so.” She looks at her. “Nozomi’s so glad you’re here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry out of happiness.”

“She’s sentimental like her mother.”

Tamao considers tickling her in retribution but can’t bring herself to do it. “Perhaps.” Though she  thinks she isn’t as prone to emotion that way. It is an ugly quality about her. That inability to feel more deeply, or at least, as deeply as scripts and book say she should. She lowers her voice. “Will you stay tonight?”

“Would you like me to?” 

Tamao nods. She sees Fumi’s fingers twitch beside her, no doubt wanting to take her hand. What is it like to want to reach out but not be able to? She considers the urge to tickle her. After a few moments it passes.

X

Fumi goes on trips. She’s gone days at a time, sometimes weeks. She buys them an iPad so she and Nozomi can chat and see one another while she’s away. Nozomi asks fragmented questions, tries to touch the screen to reach out to her. When you come home? Fumi smiles. As soon as I can, sweetheart. I’ll bring you a present.

Nozomi always cheers at this prospect but spends a great deal of time during the day visiting the iPad trying to find her. Tamao reads with her, dances with her. Nozomi is starting to pick up the steps. Tamao practices with her over and over and over again, making sure she gets it right. She makes corrections, as often as is necessary, but stops when Nozomi gets tired, refusing to do anything more. She’ll allow it for now.

She shows her videos and DVDs of herself dancing as a child. Of Kaoruko. She mirrors the dances for her, folding the fan this way and that, explains what it communicates. Her stomach growls. She bites her tongue. She will feel no hunger. Hunger is a state of mind. 

They continue. 

Nozomi eats well. 

She gets taller.

When Fumi returns it’s always with a gift for Nozomi and flowers for her. She’s careful when she chooses them, knowing how well Tamao knows the flowers. Nozomi too is starting to learn them. When she can, she’ll teach her flower arrangement.

This time Fumi brings a bouquet of ume flowers: elegance, faithfulness and pure heart. Fumi catches her by the door, presses her to it and kisses her. Tamao returns the kiss, trying to match her ardor and frightened she’ll never be able to. She cuts it off, hands at her shoulders. Fumi blinks, surprised, looks behind her. “Nozomi didn’t see.”

“Oh, good.”

Fumi stares at her for a while, as if trying to understand what or who it is she’s looking at. “Was that too much?” She clutches the flowers in hand, her face grows beet red. “I’m sorry.” Tamao can tell she’s humiliated. “I missed you.”

It’s been weeks. They’ve talked via FaceTime. She loves her. She’s glad she’s back. She isn’t sure she’s missed her. Or not in the way that Fumi has. I will not use words like ‘love’ or ‘affection’. I just want to be someone you will miss…! Otohime’s words. They had resonated with Tamao then. Fumi has missed her and yet she couldn’t return her kindness in the moment it mattered. Tamao lowers her face, ashamed. “I understand.”

Fumi steps back, clears her throat. Nozomi comes around the corner. The sad confusion drains from her face, followed by cheer. “Hey, you!” Fumi picks her up, chatting her up, pressing kisses to her stomach as she giggles uncontrollably. “How have you been?” Nozomi babbles away as Fumi listens, asking questions, offering praise. She walks with her around the apartment but can’t keep eye contact with Tamao.

Tamao is so sorry. 

The rest of the evening passes in a fog, though Fumi doesn’t let up on her exuberant energy until Nozomi’s in bed. Tamao has set the flowers in a vase, set them on a kitchen table. They’re at their most important place. The family table. She hopes Fumi will understand. Fumi goes into the kitchen. Tamao waits for gratitude. For the recognition of her gesture. She wants to be forgiven.

“You’re too thin,” Fumi says.

Tamao flinches. That’s unkind. Fumi has never been unkind to her. It confuses her. “We had a big dinner.”

Fumi plants her hands on her hips. “I think you went out and made sure we had a big dinner.” Yes. She did. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

“Tamao.” Her voice is firm. “Are you having financial difficulties?” Tamao thins her lips and says nothing. “The shelves are bare more often than not. Nozomi is doing well,” she nods, “but you’re depriving yourself.”

“I’m taking care of her.”

“You can’t take care of her if you get ill. What if you pass out? Who’s going to see to her if I’m away?” Tamao thins her lips. “Who’s going to see to you?” 

Tamao seethes. “I will always take care of her.”

“Has your family cut you off completely? Where’s your budget book?”

“I know how to budget, Fumi.”

“Don’t be stubborn!”

“Lower. Your. Voice.” Well. She supposes she can tell Ichie now that Fumi has yelled at her. But there’s no trace of that affection beneath. Or maybe the anger is raw because of how deep the emotions run. “I have money. But if she’s to go to the best schools. The very best schools, sacrifices have to be made.”

“Sacrifices,” Fumi spits. “You and your love of sacrifices. It doesn’t all have to be life or death.” Tamao’s hot. Angry. Fumi’s fingers clench, wrapping around the kitchen chair. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself. Not when you don’t have to. Don’t you trust me?” Her voice breaks. 

“I trust you with my life. Our lives! You know that…!”

“Then why didn’t you ask me for help? I’m not just here for Nozomi. I’m here for you, too. I’ve been away and you’ve let yourself go hungry? Whatever you want, whatever you need, I can help to provide. You did that for me once, Tamao. Why won’t you let me do the same for you? I have… all this money!” her eyes water. “And nothing, no one to spend it on!” 

They hear the door of Nozomi’s room open. Tamao shoots Fumi a look and goes to put Nozomi to bed. What was that? Nozomi asks. Tamao shakes her head, tells her she and Fumi were being silly. She tucks her under the covers, glances back to the kitchen to see Fumi pacing, before she stops herself, grips the back of the chair. Tamao ignores her, soothes Nozomi. Reassures her that everything is all right. Eventually her eyelids get heavy again. Tamao apologizes for waking her. She closes the door and returns to Fumi.

She sits at the kitchen table. Waits. 

Fumi sits too. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

“I am too,” Tamao says. She waits, knowing Fumi is trying to choose her words.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help? You’ve never hesitated before.”

“I know.” She fiddles with her fingers, forcing herself to stop, gripping her knees instead. “I value what we have. Our relationship has… expanded, recently. I didn’t want you to think that was the reason I wanted us to get closer.” 

Fumi’s eyes darken. “Do you really think so little of me?”

Tamao wants to cry. She shakes her head, numb. “Nozomi is my child. Not your obligation.” She bites her tongue. “I wanted to do this on my own, no matter the cost. Even if I know I haven’t done it on my own. I think of all the ways you have helped me… and I can’t … imagine how different it would be if you weren’t here with me all this time. I saved for years for this. Everything’s gotten more expensive. Rent has gone up. More than I planned for. I didn’t miscalculate… things… changed. How can I ensure she’s strong if I can’t take care of her on my own? What kind of mother can’t take care of her child?”

“A mother will do anything she can to ensure she’s there for her child, pride be damned.”

Tamao says nothing, face red hot. She doesn’t know why Fumi looks so sad. 

“We’ve talked about what schools she would go to,” Fumi says. “When she would enter Rinmeikan.” She rubs her forehead. “I think I misunderstood things. My place here.”

“No.” Tamao takes her hand, squeezes it. “No, you misunderstood nothing, Fumi.” Perhaps she was too possessive, wanted to be the one to shape every moment of Nozomi’s life. But how could she? It’s already too late. Nozomi is already picking up Fumi’s mannerisms.  

“I know you said you expected no commitments. If not you, then let me commit to Nozomi. I can provide what she needs financially. I know she’s not mine,” the words stick in her throat, “but I want to help make sure she has what she needs. It doesn’t have to be forever. It can be but it doesn’t have to be. I know you’re proud. But you once taught me that strong people can be cared for and still be strong. That sometimes it takes strength to ask for help. Please. Let me help you.”

Tamao closes her eyes, breathes. “Okay. Okay. Yes.” They remain there. She listens to her own breath, too loud and ragged. She lifts Fumi’s hand, rests her forehead against it. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is small and desperate. “I’m sorry.” 

Fumi stands, wraps her arms around her.

X

They lie on their backs in the bed, side by side, arms touching. Tamao asked her to stay, perhaps because she knew Fumi was hesitant to. She needs to show her care. Her desire for her. For her presence. How can she say it? What if words aren’t enough? She wants to tell her she’s sorry for not being more welcoming. Sorry for not missing her the right amount. Sorry for not being more grateful. For not being clear that this is her family. For ever making her feel like she didn’t belong.

Tamao takes her hand, laces their fingers. She’s still trying to find the right actions, the right words when she realizes Fumi has already fallen asleep.

X

Hello, Fumi.

Her greeting every time she arrives. She thinks of her all the time. She thinks of her not enough. Their lovemaking ebbs and flows. Sometimes they make one another’s voices raw. Other times it’s languid. Tamao has put a reminder in the calendar. Fumi doesn’t know she’s done this but somehow she suspects something similar is happening. 

She grows sadder. 

“I’ve met someone,” she tells her one day.

Tamao looks up from her tea. Nozomi is in kindergarten. “You have?”

“Yes.”

She looks so miserable. 

“Tell me about her,” Tamao says. That’s presumptuous. It could be a man.

“You know her.”

Tamao goes cold. She has a drink of tea. “Who?”

“Mio.” 

Mio. No family name given, as if she were not quite real. The name means nothing to her.

“You met her the night of Shiori’s show.”

Oh. That person. “Has anything…”

“No. Of course not.”

Fumi’s angry. It was an unfair question. Unfair to ask what she had the answer to. She isn’t sure why she asked. Emotion carried her away. Some script of a lover’s quarrel. 

“She’s a professor with the cooking department at Frontier,” Fumi says casually, despite the words crashing into Tamao like a tsunami. “We’ve run into each other a few times at a nearby restaurant during lunch. That’s what she meant the night of the show by ‘the usual place’.” Tamao listens to her go on, thinking of Fumi sharing meals with this Frontier woman. “We have good talks. She’s interested and…”

“And…?”

“She always seems excited to see me.” She flushes. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Tamao’s fingers are starting to shake. She sets the tea down. “I told you that what we have would not close any doors for you. I meant that.” Fumi lowers her eyes. “Of course… what we have cannot continue if you pursue this.” As confounding as relationships are, she does know that. She does not wish to share her. She is not so kind. She is not so giving. “I hope you understand.”

“Yes, of course.” She waits. “…don’t you have any … do you have questions about anything?”

Tamao shakes her head. The less she knows the better.

“Would you prefer I not see her?”

“I won’t stop you,” Tamao says. “Oh. Yes. One question.” Fumi looks at her, hopeful. “Will you visit Nozomi?”

The question takes her aback. “Yes.”

“When you’re away she’s always looking into that iPad, as if it were a mirror. She tries to sleep with it.”

“Don’t… make this more difficult for me than it already is.”

“I don’t want that.” If it were so difficult she wouldn’t do it.

Minutes pass in silence. Tamao holds on to the mug of tea for warmth.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Tamao asks. It seems like the right question to ask but what are feelings? What separates the feelings Fumi could have for Mio from the ones she has for her now? Are they any different? Is what Fumi feels for her different than what she felt for Ichie? Is what she feels for Ichie, different than what she feels for Fumi? Fumi has never confessed feelings of romantic love for her. Does Fumi not feel those things? Or does she not want to inconvenience her? Has she shown her time and time again only for Tamao to miss all the signals?

“I like her,” Fumi says, as if that answers anything. 

She strokes the handle of the cup. “I see.” But she doesn’t. She smiles. She has to smile. Fumi was unavailable to Ichie. Ichie ended things. I wouldn’t want to be with someone like that, Fumi said. Tamao thought she had been available. She has been a physical presence. Was it not enough? It feels as if she should be crying but there’s no movement. Her eyes are like sand. This is when she ought to cry. This is how she can show her what this means. She is a stage girl. She has to have her stay. The tears don’t come. “I want you to know… that you’re always welcome here. If you change your mind. If it doesn’t work out…” She needs a moment. “This is your home. We are your family.”

It’s Fumi who cries.

X

Fumi does visit but not as frequently. When she does visit she doesn’t stay for hours at a time like before. Nor does she stay the night. She’s taken her work laptop back home. She has meals with them. She reads Nozomi stories. They practice reading together. Sometimes she’ll demonstrate dances with Tamao for her. She does not mention that other life and Tamao is grateful.

What about kendo? Rui still tends to her old dojo.

You want to put her in kendo? With Rui?

Why not? She can be graceful and strong. I’ll take care of it. I can take her to her lessons… unless you’d rather. Rui taught us a lot. She’ll be great with Nozomi.

She wants to suggest they both take her but agrees instead. What if Rui looks at her the way she looked at her the last time? As if everything she believed was a lie.

I’m enrolling her in my old dance studio. She doesn’t say her grandmother has approved, wants to see Nozomi. She doesn’t want to see that radiant smile on Fumi’s face that could burn her just now. Especially when her grandmother has vaguely been promising this for some time.

Fumi smiles. You hear that, Nozomi? You’re going to make okaa-san proud. Hanayagi-han better eat her heart out.

Nozomi’s happy when Fumi’s happy but she grows despondent in her absence.  She has questions. Why doesn’t Fumi stay the night? Why can’t she stay the night? Can she please stay the night? Fumi looks heartbroken but finds ways to let her down gently. Is she running off to meet Mio? Is she returning to her cold apartment? Is she sleeping at the factory? Is she sleeping with Mio?

Fumi stands at the door, slipping into her jacket. Tamao looks at her and wishes she’d prevented things from changing.

X

Tamao has ordered a certificate for a star next to hers and Nozomi’s. She places the certificate in the folder with the gift that Fumi presented to her. She and Nozomi spend their nights looking at the stars. When Nozomi is particularly lonesome for her, Tamao points the telescope to the night sky and lets her peer through the viewer.

Tamao takes her phone. These days she hesitates to text her. She’ll take a picture but she won’t send it to her now. The next time she visits she can show her how Nozomi turns her eyes to look at them. She shows Nozomi Castor and Pollux. Fumi didn’t teach her that constellation. Maybe she meant to but her nights here are shorter.

The apartment feels colder. She turns up the heat but it doesn’t help.

X

There’s a mark on Fumi’s neck.

Their evening passes peacefully but Tamao can see nothing else. She does not share the picture of Nozomi stargazing.

X

It always surprises her how tall Rui is. She’s taller now than when they last went to school together. Tamao guides Nozomi inside, her small hand in her own. The dojo is fine. Rui startles, blushes, looks at them. “Tamao-san. I expected Fumi-senpai.” Everything’s changing. She’s disconcerted. She won’t snap that Nozomi’s her daughter. 

“She couldn’t make it.”

“Ah, I see. Nozomi-chan, do you think can change on your own?”

Nozomi nods, bows and goes back. Tamao watches after her. Does Fumi allow this? Or does Fumi go back with her? Without Nozomi’s hand in her own she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She settles her hands in her jacket pockets. Rui is careful when looking at her. After they graduated, Ichie explained that Rui had always been in love with her. This was something Tamao was aware of, but only in a cursory way. It was intangible and difficult to grasp. She knew the term and how that term was usually signified and denoted in media but it remained hazy and elusive. Ichie seemed to want a response from her. Tamao nodded but had not known what she was meant to do with the knowledge. 

Rui still wears her hair up. It’s considerably shorter than it used to be. She wants to ask if she’s read the scripts Yuyuko has prepared for her, but doesn’t. To think that she could abandon the stage to teach kendo. What a waste. She wonders if Rui can pass her advancement exams these days. She must have. She should have, if she’s teaching Nozomi. She considers asking but thinks it would get back to Fumi who might think she was antagonizing Rui. Fumi has always been fiercely protective of her. Maybe she’s only jealous of how close they must still be.

“Well then, please take good care of her,” she says to Rui with a small bow.

Rui bows back, considerably deeper. Tamao turns to go sit to the side when Rui calls out to her. Tamao stops, turns. “Nozomi-chan is an excellent student!” Rui says. “Y-you should be very proud!”

Oh. There’s that girl she used to know. “I am.”

Rui remains red faced and Tamao knows there’s something else that’s threatening to burst from her mouth. Whatever it is she clamps down on it and turns, returning to her students. It was an apology, Tamao imagines, and she accepts it.

X

She still receives all the school magazines and brochures. Tamao turns the pages to the Frontier magazine. There’s an article on the cooking department and an accompanying picture and feature on the head cooking instructor: Kita Mio. She leans over a counter, cooking spoon in hand, chef’s hat on, a dab of flour artfully arranged on her cheek. She’s… very cute.

The article details her approach to cooking and features a brief interview on why she chose Frontier. I didn’t really want the stuffiness of those other schools! Tradition is overrated! Let’s have some fun! Tamao frowns. She shouldn’t say those things. She goes on to praise the hardworking Frontier students as well as the art behind lovingly crafting meals. Cooking for someone is a great way to show you care, so I think of it as a form of communication. A lot of people think the saying ‘cooking is the way to a person’s heart’ is a myth but that’s not true! I’m going to make sure all these girls are able to put a love spell on the ones they care about! Oh, can I say that? Strike that, if it’s not okay. They ask if she’s seeing anyone. Tamao can’t imagine any other school being asked that question. Clearly Frontier hasn’t gone as far as she imagined it had. Oh me? My current love affair is with ponzu!

Tamao throws the magazine out. 

The apartment is still cold. Her days are lonely without Nozomi. Her friends have busy lives. She can’t start a career. She can’t risk not being available if something were to happen to Nozomi while she’s at work. Either way, she has no husband to mention. They’ll consider her unreliable.

Her grandmother speaks to her now but those calls are infrequent. Tamao thinks she understands the path she has chosen for herself and Nozomi. Maybe some part of her grudgingly approves. Her parents do not see her ambition. They do not recognize that the ends justify the means. They remain disappointed. 

She is single.

She has a university degree but she is a stay at home mother. No one ever mentions how some dreams have to be set aside for others.

She dances. 

She’ll return to Rinmeikan. 

She can’t lose her skill. 

She practices every day. She remembers practicing with Fumi in their cold Rinmeikan rehearsal room. Fumi was grumpy in the beginning. Tamao was patient and Fumi bloomed again. Fumi says that she saved her, but Tamao knows it wasn’t her, it was Rinmeikan. It was the spirit that Rinmeikan demands.

They have to let her return. They will let her return. She saved that school. She gave her life to that school. They all did. She’s still serving them. She’s still thinking of the future. She will teach. Nozomi will enter and continue the tradition. Rinmeikan and Rinmeiki will be preserved. They will outshine Seisho.

She dances and thinks of Kaoruko. Tamao has written her letters. Dozens. She has not sent any of them. All this time later she has still not acknowledged Nozomi.

X

Nozomi has insisted on dressing up for her video call with Fumi, who is away on a business trip. Tamao puts her in a nice dress and combs her hair, using small flower clips to pin her hair back from her eyes. It’s already starting to fall to her shoulders. Tamao settles the light on the table so Fumi is able to see her.

“When will she call?” Nozomi asks.

She’s four and speaks in full sentences now. Her vocabulary is advanced for her age and Tamao is grateful to her own hard work, Fumi’s, to push Nozomi as far as she needs to go. “Soon. Be patient.”

At seven on the dot the iPad lights up with Fumi’s incoming FaceTime call. Tamao studies the background. A hotel room. She sees a bed, a bright yellow suitcase sitting open on top of it. It strikes Tamao as too bright for what Fumi might usually choose.

Nozomi looks at Tamao, telling her to take the call. Tamao smiles and accepts it. 

“Fumi!” Nozomi chirps. “Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi!”

Tamao strokes her hair, hoping some of the hyper energy will go out of her.

“Hi to you, too,” Fumi says with a grin. She asks if the sound and video quality is okay, continuing when they agree. “What a pretty dress you’re wearing. I’ve been waiting all day to get to talk to you,” her eyes seem to shift to Tamao. “Good evening, Tamao.”

“Good evening, Fumi.”

They exchange pleasantries that amount to not much of anything before Fumi asks Nozomi to recount her day. Nozomi tells her about kindergarten, peers in class, dance lessons, kendo lessons and how hard she hit Akikaze-sama today, the reading she does at home, the flower arranging Tamao has started to teach her. She tells her how Tamao doesn’t think any of her steps are right.

Fumi laughs softly. “I think you’ve had a busier day than I did.”

“I’m so tired!” Nozomi says dramatically, exhaling.

Fumi laughs again and Tamao looks at Nozomi and back to Fumi. “It’s not as busy as she makes it sound.” And in any case, Fumi is in no position to lecture anyone on being a taskmaster. If Nozomi is spoiled it’s because of her.

“How was your day today?” Nozomi asks and Tamao worries at how she so often sounds like a little adult. She doesn’t want her to be ostracized. But there aren’t many parents who will let their children play with the child of an unwed, single mother. Thank goodness for kindergarten, at least.

“Hm, well, it was very busy,” Fumi tells her. “I had meetings from the early morning until just a little bit before this phone call. So thank you for telling me about your day. I needed a pick-me-up.”

“You’re welcome. When will you come home?” Nozomi asks. Tamao shifts and stops herself from clearing her throat. “I miss you.”

Fumi looks pained. She forces a smile. “I miss you too, little one. As soon as this business trip is done I’ll come by. I’ve picked up a few things for you, so you have that to look forward to.”

“I—” she stops suddenly. “I need to pee!” she scrambles off the small bench in front of the table and runs out of the room. 

Fumi seems to look after her, after some figure off screen. She chuckles. “I guess she really had to go.”

She wants to tell her Nozomi’s been more prone to acting out since Fumi’s been absent. “She’s silly.”

“Yeah. It’s cute.” For a moment it’s as if Fumi were really looking at her. “You’re working her too hard.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re working her too hard. She’s not performing on stage. She’s not a soldier. Let her rest.”

Tamao is so angry she doesn’t know what to say. “This is important.”

“To who?”

“She likes it.”

Fumi scoffs. “Does she? She’s a child. Let her be one.”

Tamao waits a moment. “You’re out of line.”

“Okay.”

The tone of the solitary word sounds vulgar to Tamao’s ear. So long as Fumi’s bringing up her concerns, she’ll address hers as well. “You don’t always have to get her presents.”

“I like to. It’s not a problem.”

“It is for me.” 

“Don’t pick a fight.”

“I’m not.” But she’s not sure. She takes a breath, looks at her. She should have said this long ago, and maybe she’s being a coward by choosing to do it over a video call. “I can’t… get her the same things you can when we go out.” Sometimes she thinks that Nozomi prefers Fumi. “I’m with her all the time. I can’t have her be angry that I can’t provide the same things. Her impulses.”

Fumi flexes her jaw. “All right. I understand.”

Tamao glowers a moment, wondering if she’s actually upset at the presents or picking a fight because Fumi thought to question her. “You’ve helped us so much and I… I’m sorry if I sound ungrateful.” Fumi shakes her head absently. “I hardly have any room here for all the things you get her. And there are so many… The best way that you could—”

She hears Nozomi calling. Tamao looks out the room.

“The best way that I could—?” Fumi starts.

“I’ll return shortly,” she mutters.

“What? Tamao?”

Tamao leaves the room. Nozomi’s waddling around the bathroom looking for toilet paper. Tamao encourages her to sit and stop her dribbling. She looks under the sink but there isn’t any. It must be in the closet. “Wait here, Nozomi. I’ll find some.”

She hears voices in the other room and stops, paralyzed. Is the television— oh. No. Not that. The iPad. She glances into Nozomi’s room and there’s a voice, familiar and alien. 

Are you talking to your ex?

Fumi’s irritated. How many times do I have to tell you, she’s not my ex.

Huuuh, well, you talk and act like she’s your ex.

Will you stop?

Tamao remains at the edges of the room, peering in, out of sight. She can see them now. Mio enters further into the frame, plopping onto the bed, digging absently through the suitcase that must be hers.

You could have let me know your meetings were wrapped up. I was waiting all day for you.

I told you to go out and explore the city.

I did, I did but it would have been more fun with you.

We have all night. I just need to get through this call.

You’re grumpy, Fumi-chan.

Fumi stands and goes to her. Will you please go? Just until I’ve wrapped this up? They’ll be back at any minute.

Are you sure they haven’t forgotten the call? She’s a mom. They’re busy, right?

Tamao won’t forget.

Are you sure? Fumi doesn’t answer. Mio stands and wraps her arms around her neck. She’s closer to Ichie’s height than Tamao’s. Don’t pout. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your body. I know you’ve missed mine.

Tamao shivers.

Will you please be quiet, Fumi hisses.

She’s attending to Nozomi. She won’t hear. Besides, she seemed so proper and everything. Not the kind to spy—

Tamao leaves in a daze and returns to the bathroom.

Nozomi looks up at her from the toilet. “Where’s the toilet paper?”

Tamao looks at her.

“I’m wet.” She starts to cry.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—” It’s like a mantra she has to repeat to herself as Nozomi starts to blur. “Just stay. I’ll be right back.” She goes again, making sure not to focus on the absence of voices, making sure her imagination doesn’t take over. She knows Fumi would not do those things while the camera is running. She knows that. Her imagination is happy to supply any of the details.

She returns to the bathroom and helps Nozomi clean up, washing their hands and putting the toilet paper in the dispenser. She sits on the edge of the bathtub, blank. “Mommy?” Nozomi who was at the doorway to the bathroom turns back. “Let’s go talk to Fumi.” Tamao nods but doesn’t move. Nozomi goes to her and takes her face in her hands. “Don’t be sad.” She wraps her small arms around her and squeezes her tight. 

Tamao will not allow her child to see her cry. She strokes her hair, proud that she’s kind and observant. She sniffles and stands. “All right. Let’s get back to Fumi. She must be waiting for us.”

They return to the room but the call has ended. She sees a message from Fumi on her cell phone.

Sorry to cut it short. Something came up. Tell Nozomi I love her!

She’s sinking despite standing perfectly still.

X

Fumi arrived with a coloring book of Japanese tales and crayons for Nozomi. I know what I said, but I’d already bought these for her before we had the conversation. What am I supposed to do? Not give them to her?

You could have waited so she doesn’t constantly expect them. You can’t keep buying her things because you’re not here. The last thing she wants is to turn her into Kaoruko.

Fumi scowled.

Now it’s been hours. They’ve had dinner. Fumi lies on the floor coloring with Nozomi. Tamao hesitates and sits beside them. “May I join you?” She doesn’t know who she’s asking.

“What do you think, Nozomi?” Fumi asks.

“Yes, but these are my colors,” Nozomi points to her small spread. “You can use this.” She gives her peach.

 Fumi has been granted three colors.

“Oh my,” Tamao says. “Thank you.”

They continue to color, listening to Nozomi prattle about the legends, getting many of the details wrong but taking great liberties that make them smile more than anything. “You have quite the imagination,” Tamao tells her.

“Maybe she’ll be a writer like Yuyuko.”

“I want to be a dancer,” Nozomi declares, “and be the best at kendo, and be a writer.”

“Maybe you will be,” Tamao says.

“But it’s important to not take on too much,” Fumi says.

“But it’s just as important to not be held back by our fears. Never give up what you love, Nozomi.”

Fumi readjusts on the floor. 

“It’s cold,” Nozomi complains. She flexes her fingers, her fingertips a light purple. Tamao has been in the kitchen most of the evening.

“Oh. I’ll get you a sweater,” she stands to go fetch one while Fumi takes Nozomi’s little hands in hers, rubbing them and blowing hot air on them. Tamao returns with the sweater and helps her into it.

“Come to think of it, it’s a bit chilly in here,” Fumi says standing. She goes to the radiators. “These are cold.”

“Oh.” She thinks. “They’ve been a little finicky lately. But they usually kick back on.”

“Does it usually get this cold in here when this happens?”

It’s rare for her to notice the cold. She runs warm. 

“Tamao.”

“Oh… I don’t think so.”

“I hope it kicks back on soon. It’ll be colder tonight.” She wraps an arm around Nozomi’s small shoulders, rubbing her arm. “And you have school in the morning.”

“It’s bedtime in a little bit,” she tells Nozomi, who’s taken to wanting to stay up longer when Fumi comes by.

“I want to color.”

“You have another few minutes to color and then bedtime.”

Nozomi sighs and looks to Fumi for aid.

“Just like your mother said.”

“Fine…” she grumbles.

“Don’t complain,” Fumi tells her.

You’re one to talk, Tamao wants to say but she finds herself smiling instead. She watches them color a little while longer but feels the temperature dropping. She runs the hot water and it comes out cold no longer how long she gives it. “I’m going to call the landlord,” she tells Fumi. “There’s no hot water.”

“What do you mean there’s no hot water?” She comes over to verify for herself. Tamao might be offended if she didn’t expect and come to love this particular quirk. “You’re right. When you call him, you tell him it needs to be fixed tonight.”

“Oh…” Tamao brings a hand to her own cheek, feeling it heat. “I … don’t know that he’s always so responsive.”

“I’ll call him if he gives you trouble. You need heat. This place could be condemned otherwise.”

It is a little dramatic. “I’ll call now.” She calls and Fumi watches as if to listen in. It goes to voicemail. She leaves a brief message detailing the problem, as well as a callback number. “I hope we hear back soon.”

“He’s got ten minutes,” Fumi declares.

What happens then? “All right,” Tamao says.

Fumi returns to Nozomi and finds another blanket to wrap around her. Tamao finds herself smiling again until she thinks of that text message from Fumi when she was gone. She took Mio on that trip and didn’t tell her. Maybe it’s none of her business. But she lied to her and said something came up. It shouldn’t matter. Maybe Fumi was trying to spare her. But she was not spared. I miss you. I miss your body.

Are those the kinds of things Fumi responds to? Tamao never told her those kinds of things. She’s praised her discipline. Her reliability. Isn’t that better? It was different with him. She enjoyed him. How kind he was, how beautiful, how sensitive. It was easier to fall into a role. Sweet one moment, a seductress the next. She wanted him engaged. She wanted him to want her always. She needed him to love her in every way. She needed Nozomi.

“Has he called back?” Fumi asks.

It’s been three minutes. “Not yet.”

“Try the hot water again.”

Tamao tries the water again to find the expected result. “It’s not back.”

She listens to Fumi grouse about the hot water, explaining to Nozomi the importance of radiator maintenance. Tamao doubts Fumi has ever personally been involved in radiator maintenance nor is she certain Nozomi can follow along. Nozomi yawns. 

Tamao returns to them, kneeling at their side. “I’ll gather every blanket and make sure she has them tonight.”

“Neither one of you are sleeping in an unheated apartment.” Fumi stands to get her phone. “There are a couple of nearby hotels I could set you up at. They’re very clean. Nice.”

Tamao looks at her a long time. “That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.” She stops scrolling through her phone to look at her. She lowers her voice. “I know what you’ve said about the financial piece, but forget about me and just think of Nozomi.”

“I don’t think she’ll adapt well to a new environment. She’s always lived here.”

Fumi looks at her, helpless.

“Unless… you were to be there with us.” A beat. “Did you have plans tonight?”

Fumi takes a slow breath. “This is more important.” She looks at her, clears her throat. “I just need to make a call.” She steps out into the balcony, barefoot and in a t-shirt.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Tamao tells Nozomi. “You’ll get sick.”

“Won’t Fumi get sick?”

“Fumi doesn’t get sick.”

Maybe all of that went to Shiori. She’s sure what she’s said isn’t true but she’s never seen Fumi even come down with a common cold. She looks out the glass doors to the balcony. Fumi doesn’t pace, she holds the phone to her ear, grips the railing. She settles down on to her elbow, runs a hand through her hair. A few nods. The call ends but Fumi remains outside a few minutes longer.

Tamao’s phone rings. The landlord. She silences the phone and watches Fumi, her attention taken by the stars. Is she thinking of Kaguya and her demands? Tamao always so closely identified with that role. Perhaps she has gotten too good at making demands. Perhaps she has become too forceful.

 She waits a little longer but Fumi doesn’t return inside. Tamao stands and listens to the voicemail the landlord left. Everything should be back in order within the hour. She bites her tongue and returns to the living room. Fumi has returned.

“All right!” Fumi bounces in place to keep warm. “We’re all ready to go. Go grab a few books for tonight, Nozomi. The ones you want read most.” Nozomi scrambles to her bedroom. Tamao looks at her. For all the cheer in her voice, Fumi looks weary. “Hey,” she says. She sounds out of breath. “Did you hear back from the landlord?”

“Yes.” She licks her lips. “Tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“That jerk.” Fumi shakes her head. “Well… it’s fine. You pack up too, Tamao.”

Tamao nods, clutching her phone. She turns to go to her bedroom but stops. “Fumi… I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Fumi shakes her head. “Your troubles are my troubles.”

X

They return to Fumi’s apartment. It’s only the second time Tamao has been. She expected her photographs and Nozomi’s would be down from the walls, but they haven’t been touched. They were there even without the anticipated visit. Nozomi runs inside and starts grabbing items off the shelves.

“Hey, hey, wait up!” Fumi says chasing after her.

Tamao searches the apartment looking for traces of Mio but does not find them. Everything is still immaculate. The apartment is warmer than it was last time. Tamao looks to the couch, to the bed, remembering the things they did together and heating. Fumi removes a vase from Nozomi’s grip and provides a small lecture on respecting property in new homes. Tamao echoes what Fumi says and takes Nozomi’s little coat. 

“Why don’t I get the bath water running?” Fumi asks. “You two can share a hot bath and I’ll get everything ready out here?”

Tamao nods, her eyes stinging, unsure of how she ruined this. 

Fumi runs the water. They take their bath. Fumi’s prepared tea for the two of them. The sheets on the bed have been changed and Tamao sees a pillow and sheets on the couch. Tamao already knows Fumi intends to take that. There’s a brand new futon rolled out by the window. Tamao looks to Fumi who can’t quite make eye contact.

“I got it a while ago,” she explains. “Just… just in case.”

Tamao nods. She wants to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Fumi.”

They read Nozomi bedtime stories and soon she’s fast asleep. Tamao can see all the handprints she left on the floor to ceiling windows. She knows Fumi sees them too and is trying not to complain, trying not to go stalk over Nozomi right now to clean them.

They sit together at the kitchen table drinking tea. Neither one says anything. Every now and then they look over to Nozomi to make sure she hasn’t gotten out of the futon to run around. 

“I’ll leave the lights dimmed in case she wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom,” Fumi tells her.

Tamao nods, grateful. She guards her countless questions, better to carry the weight of her insecurities than burden Fumi with them. She has lost the right to ask the things she wants to ask. And yet, things have not quite gone back to what they were. Fumi is more guarded and Tamao isn’t sure what she can and cannot say.

She tries. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight. This is your home. We’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

“It’s no inconvenience.”

Would you like to take me to bed? It’s hard to imagine she once had the courage to say those words. “We can share the bed. We’re friends. It’s all right.” She says the words but can’t discern if she’s made the suggestion for her benefit or Fumi’s.

Fumi lowers her face, color giving everything away. “I appreciate that. But I can’t.”

Perhaps it was selfish to ask. She has always demanded so much of her.

X

The next morning they wake Nozomi and get her ready for school. Fumi makes breakfast while Tamao helps Nozomi dress and go over plans for the day. Fumi drives Nozomi to school, Tamao accompanying them, listening to the two of them chatter on. Fumi decides it’s time to tell Nozomi about the cherry blossom festival, and why it’s sacred. 

Tamao looks out the window. Yes. That’s coming up. She should prepare something to commemorate the event. They used to have so many parties at Rinmeikan. It occurs to her that she turned off the reminders on her phone for Yuyuko and since then, it’s Yuyuko who has reached out to her. She used to be better at this.

They arrive at the school. Fumi parks and goes around to get her backpack and open the door for the two of them. Fumi stoops and helps Nozomi slip into her backpack, adjusting the straps. “There you go, young lady. Did you sleep okay last night?”

Nozomi nods. “Can we stay there again? It’s nicer than the other home.”

“Nozomi,” Tamao says. She knows children just say these things without consideration but can’t help her embarrassment.

Fumi laughs, haltingly. “That other place has more room. And beautiful memories. And your mother takes very good care of it.”

“But your place has working—” she fumbles for ‘radiators’. “And it’s better.”

Fumi hangs her head a second, thinking. “I’m going to have to respectfully disagree. Your apartment has character. Come on. Don’t be ungrateful.” Nozomi pouts. Fumi strokes her shoulder. “Maybe one day you can stop by again. If I have time and it’s all right with your mom, okay?”

“Okay.” She sees some of her friends and runs off after them, waving back to Fumi and Tamao.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been forgotten that quickly,” Fumi says.

Tamao smiles, chagrined. “Welcome to my morning routine. I’m sorry about what she said,” Tamao says.

“It’s okay.”

Tamao sees some of the other parents wandering by, giving them looks. They’ve never seen her with a man. A father. A husband. They must recognize Yumeoji Fumi, the stage girl turned CEO. Tamao is seized with the desire to take Fumi’s hand and claim her. She remembers it could create problems for Nozomi. She keeps her hands folded in front of her. 

“I hope they got your radiator back up and running. If it’s not, give me a call and I’ll find someone to take care of it for you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Tamao mumbles.

“I’ll give you a ride back.”

She starts heading to the car. Tamao is painfully aware of everyone’s inquiring gaze. She lifts her head. She can only be proud to have Fumi in her company. But something is wrong. She gets into the car with her. She sits. Everything is too loud. There are too many people. Her chest is tight.

Fumi doesn’t start the car. She sits with her, turns on the heat. “Is it a problem that I’m here?”

“No. No.” Her fingers come to her chest, clutching at her blouse.

“What’s the matter?”

Tamao squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t breathe. She doesn’t know what’s the matter. She’s strangling. She wheezes air.

“All right. Here.” Fumi takes the hand that isn’t digging into her chest, wraps her fingers around it. Her other hand settles at the back of her neck. Tamao thinks briefly of how Fumi has gripped her there before. Now her touch is tentative. Her voice steady. Calm. She presses her forehead to Tamao’s. “Focus on grounding your body. Just breathe with me.”

“I can’t—” she gasps.

“I know it feels like you can’t, but you can. Breathe in with me, four seconds. We’ll hold it for seven and then we’ll exhale. Don’t worry, I’m minty fresh so you should be safe.” Tamao’s lips wobble into a smile. “This is a group exercise so we have to do it together. Okay. On three we’re breathing in through our nose for four seconds, hold it for seven and then breathe out. Do it with me, Tamao. Will you try?” Tamao nods, their foreheads rubbing, their hair tickling her face. “Okay, one, two three, breathe.” She does. “Hold…” she counts down, “and exhale.” Tamao exhales, shaky. “That was great. Let’s try that at least five more times and go from there, okay?” Another nod.

They go through the breathing exercises and Tamao feels the tension fade, her heart rate slow, the claw at her chest start to relax, become a human hand again. There are so many days she does not feel human. 

“Three more times,” Fumi tells her softly.

They do it three more times.

She can breathe again. Where did she learn that from? She wants to ask but it doesn’t matter. She wants to look at her. Tamao’s eyes open. Fumi looks at her, face soft with concern. It’s too much to see her this way. Tamao wants to kiss her. She closes her eyes again, leans into her. Fumi’s arms wrap around her, tight. Tamao finds herself clinging to her.

X

They go to the cherry blossom festival together. The three of them wear kimonos and watch as  the petals drift past them. The crowds are manageable and Tamao’s glad that Fumi’s here, unsure she could have taken Nozomi on her own. It would have been possible to lose her in this crowd. Nozomi carries the small umbrella with her, whacking too many passerby in the process.

“Let’s fold it up for now,” Tamao tells her. Fumi ends up taking it from her when she starts trying to use it as a kendo sword. Tamao frowns. She’ll have to speak to Rui.

Oh, it’s fine, Fumi says, Nozomi’s passionate for the sport.

You’re too lenient with her. She never thought Fumi could be this way, even if in retrospect it all makes perfect sense.

All the performance schools are in attendance, putting on short plays. Ichie’s there with the new students and Tamao takes Nozomi’s hand and leads her over. Ukaji-sensei is here, too. Their eyes meet. Ukaji-sensei straightens. Tamao knows she hasn’t been forgotten. Ichie notices, smiles, leans up to whisper in her ear. She’s explaining, she’s sure. Ukaji-sensei leans away from Ichie and nods over to Tamao. 

She and Nozomi arrive to the Rinmeikan group.

“Everyone!” Ichie proclaims, “This is Tomoe Tamao! The trailblazer who revived our performance department again and again!” She sees her eyes flick, land on Fumi who approaches.

The students react not as if Ichie is out of her mind and this is another antic. They know who she is. Have they seen her photograph in the hallways of the schools? What has Ichie told them? They bow and ask questions. Tamao’s heart thrums. She learns their names and introduces Nozomi to them all. Nozomi is rapt at attention, having heard of this school, these students, this legend. Tamao reminds them that it was a particular group of students who helped revive their department, along with the help of Ukaji-sensei. Fumi stands behind Nozomi, hands on her shoulders. She does not add to Tamao’s story, it’s as if she wants her to have every opportunity to set the tone. To relish this moment.

The students recognize Fumi too. They blush and whisper amongst themselves but they do not recognize her as a stage girl. Tamao informs them. They have to know the calibre of person this institution creates. Fumi’s humble or perhaps uncomfortable that she no longer performs. She hears murmurs of a conversation between Ichie and Fumi but by the time she’s finished answering the questions of the Rinmeikan students and her questions, their conversation is done.

When they leave, Tamao is in good spirits. “Those uniforms haven’t changed since even your great grandmother attended,” she squeezes Nozomi’s hand, “you’ll meet her soon.” Fumi looks at her, surprised. “Real soon,” she adds. Even if this has been said for months now.

Fumi takes Nozomi’s other hand and smiles. They walk some ways further until they come to the Frontier booth, which isn’t much of a booth so much as it’s a food stand. Tamao’s heart lodges in her throat. She’s there, somehow, that woman. Fumi didn’t mention she would be. It feels like she was allowed to walk into a trap. Her chest is tight again. No. Fumi would never let her walk into a trap. She breathes in for four seconds, holds it for seven, lets it go.

Nozomi tugs on her sleeve and points at the booth. “Are you hungry?” she asks.  Nozomi nods and they make their way over. Tamao steals a look at Fumi whose face is somewhat paler than usual, but otherwise reveals nothing.

The students go through the routine of what’s on offer: yakisoba, yakitori, okonomiyaki, takoyaki, taiyaki… it all smells amazing. This woman cooks for Fumi. Tamao notices her eyes, an amber color.

“Ah, if it isn’t Fumi-san and little Nozomi-chan,” she seems to dance where she stands. “Tomoe-san is here, too.” She smiles down at the food before looking back at them. “What will you have today?”

“What do you recommend?” Fumi asks.

“Well, here at Frontier School of Arts all the food is amazing. But what about taiyaki for Nozomi-chan?” She cocks her head to Nozomi, stooping a bit, “It’s sweet and shaped like a fish. What do you think?”

Nozomi looks at Tamao who nods. “Yes, please.”

“How do you know my name?” Nozomi asks as Mio plates the taiyaki.

Mio glances at Fumi and looks back at her. “Fumi-san told me a lot about you. How special you and your mom are.” Fumi shifts her weight, jaw squaring. She hands the food to Nozomi, careful to make sure she has it before letting go. “Tomoe-san, what will you have?”

“Oh,” she blinks, trying to gather her thoughts. Trying to determine what it means. Does Fumi tell her about them? Why is she referring to her as ‘san’ all of a sudden. “Um…”

“The takoyaki is fine,” Fumi says. Tamao nods. Yes. She likes that.

“Takoyaki coming up!” The students begin to plate it and hand it over to Tamao. “What about you, Fumi-san?” Mio asks.

Fumi gives the table a good look over. “I think I’m okay for now.” She releases Nozomi’s hand to fumble with Nozomi’s umbrella under her arm, dig into the small purse she has. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing at all. It’s on the house.”

Tamao looks at Fumi.

Fumi blushes. “Please,” she says to Mio.

“I mean it,” Mio says. “How about you shoot me a text some time? We can still grab lunch near work? That was fun, too.”

Tamao looks between them. Fumi’s face is is as red as Nozomi’s umbrella. “That sounds like a lovely offer,” Tamao says.

Fumi glances at Tamao, back to Mio. “All right.”

“Great!” She says, perked again. “Tell everyone about the fine foods you tried brought to you by Frontier!”

They say their goodbyes, Tamao and Nozomi digging into their meals. Tamao breaks off a piece of takoyaki once they find a spot to sit, tries to hand it to Fumi who shakes her head. Tamao eats. The food is delicious, but Tamao hasn’t decided whether to sing Frontier’s praises yet. 

Don’t pout. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your body. I know you’ve missed mine.

That woman said those things. She wishes she could forget but she cannot. She sits on the bench, watching Fumi wipe some of the bean paste from Nozomi’s face away. She should be happy. Satisfied. And yet.

X

Nozomi is fast asleep, earlier than usual, exhausted by the day’s activities. 

They help one another out of their kimonos, Tamao’s hands shaking more than usual. Their eyes drift over one another as it they haven’t already seen so much more, the very core of who they are. So much more intimate than any skin.

“Will you stay a little longer?” Tamao asks. 

Fumi agrees.

They change. Fumi into the t-shirt and the overpriced sweatpants she wears, weathered with age, Tamao into her robe. They sit on the couch and Tamao looks to the glint of the telescope sitting on the balcony. Every evening she puts it out there, if the weather permits. Every evening she looks to the stars.

“How long?” Tamao asks.

She doesn’t have to explain what she means. She knows Fumi knows. As she now knows. How long since things ended between her and Kita Mio? It’s clear that they are over. It’s less clear that they may have been over for quite some time. Fumi does not answer right away.

“Months. I could break it down for you to weeks, days, hours.”

Normally Tamao would expect a certain kind of rancor in Fumi’s voice when she stated something like that. It’s absent now. “Could you? Break it down that way?” She clarifies.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

This time Fumi doesn’t answer. 

Was it Mio who ended things? Is this Ichie all over again? 

“Do you remember what I said to you the night you told me you wanted to explore things with her?” I want you to know… that you’re always welcome here. If you change your mind. If it doesn’t work out… This is your home. We are your family. She hasn’t forgotten. Has Fumi forgotten?

“Yes.”

Nerves grip her, creating a choke hold. “Have you given it any thought?”

“Yes.”

Then why has it been months? She wants to scream at her. She knows that Fumi is only gathering herself. Fumi grows morose and quiet when confronted. Tamao braces. 

Fumi speaks again. “She thought you were my ex.” Oh. Yes. She knew that. “I pushed back against that but she never really bought it. Eventually I started to wonder if I was only fooling myself.” Tamao shifts to better look at her but is quiet. “Mio’s wonderful. In all the ways I thought I wanted. She’s… funny and zany… She gives me a hard time.” She smiles. Tamao wonders if she knows how she smiles. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you or Nozomi. I couldn’t stop thinking that I could be here. Sharing meals. Reading stories. Sharing all those milestones with you.”

She realizes. “You ended things.” 

“It wasn’t…” she frowns, lips moving wordlessly. “Being with her wasn’t home.” She takes a breath, chin trembling. “This feels like home. You and Nozomi feel like home. Like family.” She narrows her eyes. Tamao knows why she narrows her eyes. “I should have been… happy that I had a chance to right things but I felt as if…” she takes a breath, “I’d thrown everything away just because it wasn’t…this wasn’t—  because …”

Tamao takes her hand.

“I didn’t think I deserved to be allowed to return. To be given that second opportunity. So I just hoped…if I could just be here. If I could just be allowed to be a part of your lives—”

Tamao flings her arms around her. She’s never done that before. She breathes her name like a prayer. Fumi’s arms come up tentatively to wrap around her. “This is your home,” she says, “we are your family,” like a spell.

“Wait, wait…” Fumi says. She pulls back to look at her. 

Tamao doesn’t break eye contact. She can’t. She won’t lose her. “…what is it?”

When she speaks her voice is unsteady. “This isn’t temporary for me. I don’t want… misunderstandings. I’ve decided and I’m sure. I don’t want anyone else. Anything else. I want this. I want you and us and Nozomi. For good.” She bows her head, takes Tamao’s hands in hers. “Please tell me you understand.”

Yes. This she does understand. She has to say it aloud. “I understand,” she squeezes her hands. “This is your home. This is our home. This is our family.” Fumi’s eyes glimmer. Tamao takes her face in her hands and kisses her.

X

They go to bed together. Tamao’s missed her, missed this, means it, tells her so. It seems to mean so much to her that Tamao doesn’t know how she was ever so blind to it. They kiss and kiss and kiss and it still doesn’t seem like enough, every moment they are parted, Tamao damns the need for air. Why not be inhuman? Why not transcend it all? 

She wants more of her. More. More touch, kiss, strength, bite, heat, more of her fingers and tongue. If only they could disappear into one another, make it so they were inseparable. She can perish in this pyre, be purified, be reborn. She could only be better. 

She isn’t sure she can say the same for Fumi. 

It’s very hard to keep quiet. Her short fingernails dig into Fumi’s back. They take turns clamping a hand over one another’s mouths when it’s too much, hands and toes digging into the blankets.

The corner of the fitted sheet comes off the bed in the middle of their acts. She sees Fumi focused on it. Leave it, Tamao says, astonished that that of all things, could distract her, she smiles, kissing Fumi’s lips, slick with her, just leave it.

Fumi leaves it. She doesn’t leave her. She will never leave her. The thought alone is enough to free her of all inhibitions, at least for now. They have to be quiet, but it doesn’t mean, Tamao decides, that they can’t be creative.

She pushes Fumi down onto her back, straddles and kisses her, bites her lips. Their lips will both be bruised in the morning. They have both been foxes, after all. Tamao thinks she still may be.

X

She wakes with Fumi sleeping atop of her, face nestled in her neck, Tamao’s legs on either side of her. They must have passed out that way. Tamao wants to laugh thinking about it. They may have gotten carried away. Tamao wraps around her once more, arms and legs. She kisses her shoulder.

It takes Fumi another few minutes to fully wake. Tamao pushes the hair back from her face, more unkempt than she’s used to seeing it. She kisses her cheek, her eyelids, her nose. Fumi only ever seems to blush when she ought not to.

Fumi kisses her. Soon it’s getting heated again. Tamao chuckles and lets her go. “Nozomi will wake up soon,” she tells her quietly, “she may be up already.”

Fumi collapses against her again. “I’m surprisingly tired.”

“I’m not sure what’s surprising about it.” Especially considering how they spent the night and early morning hours. Fumi kisses her neck. Tamao sighs softly. “I mean it, let’s get up. Please fix the fitted sheet.”

Fumi bolts to attention. She gets up, body on display, with no inkling of the shyness of before. She’s either accustomed to her or really troubled by the unruly sheet. It could be either. She adjusts the fitted sheet and Tamao takes notice of all the marks and small bruises on her body, the half moons on her shoulders, nails and teeth, and still, Tamao doesn’t think she’s ever seen her look more radiant.

The fitted sheet snaps out of place and Fumi fights with it again.

“Fumi?”

“I’m not going to leave it,” she says, trying to pull it down, though Tamao can tell it’s going to come loose at any moment.

“I love you.” She can’t say she’s in love with her. She may be, but she doesn’t know, isn’t sure that she’s capable. Only that second to her daughter, she loves this person most. Only that when this person is gone, she misses her. That’s progress, isn’t it?

Fumi stops. The fitted sheet comes undone again. She smiles. “I know.” She gets on hands and knees on the bed, gives her a brief kiss. “But thank you for saying it.”

X

That first day is like any other. 

They make Nozomi breakfast. Tamao shares with Fumi all the pictures she’s taken of them over the years. When night falls she shows her the star, next to hers and Nozomi’s. Nozomi sits on Fumi’s lap and tells her about Pollux and Castor.

Days and nights unfold. They take on new rituals that will become old rituals.

They dance together. They take in a show.

Time passes. Tamao arranges for a family picture to be taken. They turn out beautifully and they frame and display them. They share the photographs with friends and family. They move to a bigger place, one that is closer to Rinmeikan. Nozomi continues to read and study, to dance and train in kendo. 

Fumi gets a piano and they play together as a family. Sometimes Tamao joins in with her shamisen. They sing. Tamao realizes that Fumi has not abandoned the stage. It’s only that her stage has changed. It will do for now. She shines so bright. Some people are stage girls even without a stage. Those words as if from a dream.

They gaze at the stars and Tamao stares at the moon and thinks of Kaguya. She still feels bonded to her but more removed these days than ever before.

One day, in the middle of scouring the internet for new ponzu recipes, Fumi looks up at Tamao.  

Do you want to get married? Fumi asks. She answers without waiting. I think we should get married.

Tamao doesn’t say anything right away. She’d forgotten they can do that now.

Will it create problems with your family? Fumi asks, as if there weren’t other problems already in place.

Tamao dries the plate she holds and sets it aside. She sits on Fumi’s lap, an arm around her shoulder. You are my family. She kisses her. All families have to start somewhere. They can create a new dynasty. She sees her start to protest, demanding an answer. Yes. Another kiss. Yes, yes, yes.

They get married. It’s a small ceremony, a signing of a document, really, attended by their closest friends, their Rinmeikan core, Tamao’s grandmother, Shiori. Tamao thinks of that day at Rinmeikan, when Rui nearly had a heart attack thinking of the day Tamao would get married. Today Rui smiles, proud. 

Nozomi cries and blubbers; she’s so happy. Fumi’s so happy. They all are.

They have dinner at home, the two of them putting the meal together, deciding they’d rather do that than go out anywhere extravagant. Nozomi sets the table. It is like any other day. It is the first day of the life they want to lead for the rest of their lives.

There are compromises, sacrifices, necessary to please one another. Some days they can make love for hours, other times, months pass without. They hold hands and cuddle together. They are both satisfied and full.

Time continues to pass. Perhaps too quickly.

Tamao is the one to bring up adoption. It seems unnecessary, in so many ways, but if anything should happen to her— Fumi agrees before she can finish. Yes, yes, yes. But you have to stick around, she tells Tamao, you have to.

Fumi knows that such promises can’t ever truly be made. Tamao promises to do her best and Fumi’s content with that. They explore their legal avenues and when they’ve determined a strategy they talk to Nozomi. They explain what it means. They explain what it could mean for her. She already has so many strikes against her in the eyes of strangers. She is, perhaps, too young to make this decision but it has to be made.

She agrees. She cries tears of joy. Tamao worries that she has a soft-hearted child. She is grateful to have a soft-hearted child, and later she cries too, thinking of all the days she was consumed with loneliness, felt strange, felt as if she were banging on her own walls, trying to escape, trying to let someone in. 

She has a daughter. She has a wife. She has a family. Soon she will continue a legacy even if, as time goes by, that matters a little less. Enough has gotten into her, slivers of people, that she can no longer simply be purpose.

Fumi comes to bed one night and Tamao takes notice of the gold band on her finger. They match that way. She thinks it strange that a commitment to another person can be so easily understood and symbolized, but it’s so much harder to fathom and encapsulate for a cause.

What will you do if she doesn’t want it? Fumi asks. Tamao looks at her, not understanding. What if she doesn’t want Rinmeikan?

The thought hadn’t occurred to her. How could she not want Rinmeikan? Siegfeld, Seisho, Frontier, those aren’t options. What else could she want?

Fumi only looks at her.

Fumi should have never been raised the question. It feels like an omen. Her mood sours. What will you do?

That same look, only a glimmer, of what she’s seen in others. I’ll support her.

It’s too much like giving up. Fumi left the stage. She worries about her influence on Nozomi. She’ll have to redouble her efforts. It’s a long time away but it’ll be here before they know it.

She comforts herself. Parents are bound to disagree. Fumi only ever promised to be strict with her, not Nozomi. She has not been betrayed.

But maybe something is wrong with her, or maybe at long last she is starting to be able to sift through those parts of her, always mysterious to herself. It has always felt as if she’s had magnitudes inside of her, shifting, discombobulating her, making it difficult to see, to decide, making her question far more than her other peers. She does not see the way that others see. She never will.

She is still herself. She is not fixed but perhaps she was never broken the way she thought. Fumi sees and accepts her, even if she doesn’t always understand. Tamao worries about how her own peculiarities could affect her relationship with Nozomi in the future. There are roles she will have to play, others she will have to let go. Those performances that inform her. Those scripts she clung to for guidance. There are some things she no longer needs like before. She can let relinquish all the things she carried.

Those she loves continue to fill her. It helps steady the vortex inside her. 

These days she’s steady.  

She thinks it will be all right.