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Standing in front of the door to the hospital room Mary was in, Ririka felt a sense of anxiety well up within her chest. She couldn't quite explain why, maybe it was because Mary really seemed grown up now, or maybe it was the excitement of getting to meet her new niece and nephew, or maybe it was dread at having to face Kirari again. But whatever the case, she tried to push it to the back of her mind, because after all, she was here to see Mary.
The girl who had stolen her heart away so many years ago.
The girl that had fallen out of reach.
With a deep breath, she pushed openly the door carefully, and the sight within the room, no matter how prepared she was for it, took her completely by surprise.
The room was dimly lit, the overhead lights switched off, and the only source of light coming from a small lamp and the cracked open blinds. The only decoration that didn't belong to the hospital was the small bouquet of pastel flowers on the nightstand. And there, in the hospital bed, looking so much more vulnerable than ever before, lay Mary. She looked exhausted, heavy bags under her eyes, hair pulled back into a messy braid, and cheeks stained with glassy tears. For the first time in her life, Mary seemed fragile.
Breakable, about to shatter at the slightest touch. She didn't seem to notice that Ririka had come into the room, her attention entirely fixed on the tiny, swaddled bundle in her arms. Despite the heaviness that weighed her shoulders down, her gaze was soft, loving, even. By her side, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back turned to Ririka, was Tsuzura, evidently holding the other twin in her own arms.
It was almost a sweet sight, these two girls who had been friends since childhood, one of them now a mother herself. But there was an underlying bitterness to this image, forever tainted by Kirari's presence that seemed to always linger around Mary. Like a haze of smoke, clinging to every fiber of her being. Never too far gone.
Swallowing back nervousness, Ririka cleared her throat. "Mary? Tsuzura?"
Mary barely glanced up at her, but there was an obvious sense of relief in her voice. "You came back,"
"Of course," Ririka tried her best to keep her tone steady, as she coolly strode into the room, making her way to Mary's side. "I'm so sorry I even had to leave... but, you know, I had to make sure the cats were fed,"
"It's okay,"
Mary's voice was soft, almost detached, and Ririka raised an eyebrow at Tsuzura. Silently asking the obvious.
"Uhm, Ririka, can I talk to you for a second?" Tsuzura was timid as always, and she looked to Mary as if to ask permission to leave her alone. And Mary answered with a nod, watching carefully as Tsuzura got up, gently setting the baby in her arms into the bassinet by her bed.
"Is everything okay?" Was Ririka's response.
"I think it's best if we, uh, talk outside?" Glancing back at Mary one last time, Tsuzura grabbed Ririka's hand, all but dragging her out of the room with boldness that was so unlike her.
Once they were outside, and the door was shut, Tsuzura sighed. Shaking her head, before lowering her voice down.
"I'm worried about Mary. Like, I'm really worried about her," A pause, before she continued. "I don't know if it's… normal? How she's acting? The doctors said that it's just that she's sleep deprived and probably overwhelmed, and uhm, hormones, and stuff, but I don't think it's that,"
Panic seeped into Ririka's mind, because the idea of Mary suffering, of something being very wrong, was absolutely terrifying. Mary deserved nothing but good things in life, and surely this should've been a happy chapter of it, shouldn’t it? A new beginning with a family and a home full of love, correct? But deep down, Ririka knew that would be impossible with Kirari, that a loving home couldn't exist with her shadow looming like a clamp. And though that thought was awful, Ririka tried to push it down. Avoid thinking about it, and keep her voice calm.
"What's going on with her?"
"She's just, I'm not sure, just been so sad? After you left last night, she cried for so long... It was just such a stressful night, for both of us. She couldn't get one of the babies to settle down, so I think that was part of it, but also..." Tsuzura trailed off, sighing. "She hasn't been able to contact Kirari since she went into labor. Which was understandable at first, I mean, she was at work that morning, but now it's been nearly two days, and she still won't pick up the phone or respond to Mary's texts. And I know it's not my place to make comments on their relationship, but honestly, I'm worried. For Mary's sake.”
That, Ririka decided, was very much like the Kirari she knew at Hyakkaou. Cruel, uncaring, and cold. Discarding people like toys on a playground once she grew bored, or they weren't useful to her anymore.
"Who sent those flowers then...?" She wondered aloud, and Tsuzura motioned for her to keep her voice quiet.
"Yumi, Yumi Totobami. She's gotten closer to Mary recently, I think, but she wasn't able to come. I think she's in Paris right now.”
Ririka nodded silently.
A brief silence settled over them, only to be broken by Tsuzura, her voice softer than before. "I just want Mary to be okay,"
Ririka couldn't agree more. Mary was like a bright light in her life, her best friend and confidant. The idea that she was suffering, and because of her wife's actions, no less, hurt more than any pain, any heartache she'd ever felt. After all, what had she done in life to deserve anything less than to be surrounded by beauty and love?
"Uh, Tsuzura? Would you mind if I talk to her for a few minutes? Alone?"
"Sure," Tsuzura stifled a yawn, and for the first time that day, Ririka noticed just how tired she looked as well.
"If you want to go home for a bit, get some rest — maybe change — I can stay with Mary?"
Tsuzura smiled almost gratefully at her, and nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Tsuzura, you’re exhausted.”
"Thank you, so much," Pulling her phone out of her pocket, and tapping out a quick message to a contact that was simply labeled My Love, she nodded once more. "Just, I dunno, take care of Mary for me? And try not to bring up Kirari,"
"I can do that, don't worry.”
At that, Tsuzura turned to leave, glancing back on last time at Ririka, before she shook her head, disappearing around a corner.
Leaving Ririka alone in front of the door.
With a deep breath, Ririka opened the door again, trying to prepare herself for how vulnerable Mary looked. How jarring it was to see her so helpless, and wrapped up in various shades of sadness.
"Where's Tsu?" Was the first thing Mary said as Ririka shut the door behind her gently.
"She went home for a little bit, just to rest and change and get some food,"
Mary hummed in acknowledgement, the air of the room quiet and still (save for the buzz of the air conditioner). From the outside, her attention was seemingly entirely focused on the baby in her arms, though Ririka knew better. She'd known Mary long enough and well enough to know when her mind was on something else, and now, it seemed to be wandering. What it was, Ririka had no idea, and though she was tempted to press for answers of what exactly was going on between Mary and her wife, she remembered Tsuzura's warning. The baby in the bassinet next to Mary's bed began to stir, and a flicker of concern flashed across her face.
"Can you move him closer to me?"
A simple request, and Ririka was more than happy to oblige. Right now, she'd do anything to help make Mary more comfortable, even slightly more at peace with her newfound role as a mother. Once the bassinet was within reach, Mary carefully adjusted her hold on the baby in her arms (her daughter, Ririka assumed), resting her hand softly against her son, stroking his tiny cheek with her thumb.
As the baby settled back down, evidently soothed by his mothers touch, Ririka's curiosity was piqued. What had Mary named her children? They'd discussed names so many times over the past months, and Ririka was, quite frankly, dying to know what her niece and nephew ended up being named.
Taking a seat on the edge of Mary's bed, she smiled at her, reaching out until her hand was settled against Mary's arm. Trying to offer some sort of comfort with the simple show of affection.
"Have you decided on names yet?"
Mary shrugged, laughing almost bitterly. "Nope, not yet. I wanna get Kirari's opinion, 'cause they’re her kids too, and, y'know... uh, that's complicated right now, I guess. The hospital’s just been calling them 'baby boy Momobami' and 'baby girl Momobami'. So I guess that's a temporary name?"
"What name did you want to pick, though?"
At that, Mary smiled, the first time Ririka had seen ever since Mary first arrived at the hospital the previous morning. "I liked Arisa for the girl. Momobami Arisa. I think it's pretty... and, I'm not sure for the boy, 'cause Kira wanted to name him. That was our deal, I name the girl, she names the boy,"
"Arisa..." Ririka said, slowly, testing the way the name rolled off her tongue. "I think that's perfect,"
"It was Tsuzura's idea, actually. She said if she ever had kids, that name was on her list, but last night, she told me that she looks like an Arisa. And she said that if I wanted that name, I could have it, because she has a whole list planned out,"
That seemed fitting for Tsuzura. For as long as Ririka knew her, she'd happily walk to the ends of the Earth for Mary, and do anything she could to make her life happy. Even something as simple as saying Mary could use a baby name she'd liked for her own hypothetical children. Never expecting anything in return, just happy to love Mary from a distance, as a friend.
Ririka nodded, peering over into Mary's arms, and Mary adjusted her hold on the baby once more, shifting her so Ririka could have a better view.
It was Kirari's child, there was no doubt about it. Nearly a spitting image of her mother, save for the small bit of darker blonde hair she had. And Ririka could only pray that she would never end up like Kirari, because she knew there was only so much heartbreak in life that Mary could take.
The bone-thin limb she called her arm struggled against the mattress’ firm frame, Mary’s lank nightdress hanging off her form in flaps. Straining with greatest difficulty, she placed down Arisa into the bassinet again. Breathing heavy, Mary then leaned back against the pillows again, closing her eyes.
And for a moment, Ririka felt her own heart break. But, of course, she could never let that show, especially not now, because the last thing Mary needed was another worry in life.
Tentatively, Ririka spoke.
"How are you doing, honestly?"
A pause, before Mary shrugged as best she could. "Depends on the day,"
"How so?"
"I mean, right now I'm not sure? Miyo hooked me up with the good pain meds," Mary gestured to the IV still in her hand. "So, I'm just a bit out of it right now, I think. But I guess I'm just, I dunno, tired? I guess a good word would maybe be melancholy? Which is stupid, because I should be happy right now, like, I have a family now, with the woman I love, and that should be making me happy, but I'm not. But, some days I have been happy, I think. I'm not sure how I feel, if I'm being honest,"
An awkward silence settled between them, which was almost funny, in a way. Over the years, their relationship had grown to become almost entirely awkward silences and unspoken words, broken promises and longing. Or, at least, that's how it was for Ririka.
But, before she could let that thought linger for too long, Mary spoke up again.
"Don't look so gloomy, Ririka. It doesn't suit you." Mary sighed, swaddled within the bedsheets as though a child herself. She looked so... small, Ririka had to do a double-take. So frail and thin, the structure of her bone an ivory-white, the hair that clusters around her scalp splayed out like a sickly, greasy halo. Her eyelids slipped shut, and Ririka dared to imagine a corpse in Mary's place.
Suddenly, an ugly hatred within her reared its head. It was a strange, pointed feeling— the spear-end jagged, aimed towards the silhouette that was her sister. Ririka saw Kirari, presiding over them both within this room.
Kirari, and her smile that was a ghost. Kirari, with those hands so cold they resembled tombstones, more than much else. Kirari, and her tongue a stinging nettle, red lash-marks decorating Mary's face.
Ririka was cold, without her mask. Ririka was warm, awash with rage. Ririka... could not speak, it seemed. Ririka was confined, again, by the swollen darkness that stretched Mary's eyes.
Try not to bring up Kirari, Tsuzura had requested. Ririka could not help but savagely, dangerously wonder: Why?
"So, Kirari..."
Mary was ashen, when Ririka had entered the room. Splintered into white dust-mites, something broken and charred and burnt. She hadn't wished to see it, refused to believe it. But here, some sickly stitch worked through her lip and cut her brow. Like a rotten fruit, Mary was peeling within herself.
Her voice was tight, protective, even: "What of her?"
"She hasn't shown up." Ririka always had been rather good at stating the obvious. Not only that, see, but there was a blank promptness to her voice, that insinuated the cracks that formed. Mary was splintering, like grandmother's most prized amphora, the image of Hercules was cutting clay against the ground.
"Yeah, no shit." Mary scoffed, though it was visible the space that was her throat went tight. Ririka leant a little back, within her chair, the plastic cut against her spine. She felt sickly, as though some flourishing part of her had been snipped, with the pain that contorted Mary's face. Arisa gurgled, just a bit, and then all went silent once again.
"How... why—" it took a moment for Ririka to collect herself, try not to wither at the darkness that nestled within Mary's eyes.
Some days, when Ririka drank tea with Sachiko and her wife, the former would of Mary talk, wind a gauze around her bleeding finger, then nod curtly to the latter: Thank you, Sakura, dear, Ririka couldn't help but notice the knot that crushed her fingers tight.
Sakura was not Mikura, nor Mary, for the matter too. Sakura fought tooth and nail and claw, the little knives that were her nails printed red, red against Sachiko's neck. Pleasure pulsed within the bleeding beads of that crooked eye, and Ririka squirmed, uncomfortable as a worm.
Mary was... fascinating, you know. Such a spark. It seems, Kirari got to her faster than I could. She chuckled, rich as vinegar, and then the necklace that was Sakura's firm grip pushed down, down, a collar that wedged a gasp through painted lips. Sachiko looked up, Sachiko adored. Sachiko spoke of Mary, as though Mary were from another life.
"Why is she not with you?" The flit of Mary's eyelids snapped Ririka back to present moment. Her voice crackled, with the fluorescence that buzzed atop. A fly made itself at home there, nestling into the false lantern's crook.
"Kirari has a job, Ririka. A meeting she couldn't— couldn't just leave because of me."
Ririka's eyes turned sharp, sharp like the tips of Sakura's glossy nails. She hated to assume Kirari's stance, those teeth jagged-white. Ririka was not Ririka; Ririka was Kirari, she didn't stand to defend, she raised to attack.
"A job," she loathed the throatiness of her voice. "A job, takes precedence over you?"
"Stop it." Mary's voice cracked. Ririka hated the sound more.
"Kirari has always been selfish, but I... I loathe to say, I never expected this."
Mary turned to one side, twig-thin shoulders shaking. Ririka observed the plummet of her fragile back, twisting and turning and losing itself into the whites of the sheets. Something painful twisted in her throat.
"Ririka, stop it." These were the shattered fragments of Mary, that pierced past the thin veiling in fore of Ririka's chest. A fire there burned, a flame of fury that was righteous, and yet Mary cried fat tears, slug tears, trailing down her cheeks in linings silver.
"You don't... you don't understand, what it's like."
"I could be better than her, you know." It was selfish, she knew. But the lesser rational part of her, just this once, scraped out. Ririka's voice had turned soft, gaze hooded and veiled as her heart. She was ready, for those blunt-edged tears to tear such into pieces, ready to leave the wing with a hole in place for a chest.
Mary gasped, hid the sound behind an open palm.
"Don't be an idiot. I can't—" she contorted, as though in pain. Her face wrinkled: Ririka saw, Mary in twenty years time. Tending to two, three, four, more children, Kirari soothing like tea cooling by her side. Once, she'd caught her sister in their mansion spare, tied between a mystery girl's legs. Ririka had seen, and Kirari raised a finger to her lips, eyes light and teasing-blue. She had known, that moment, that those wedding vows chaste that'd fallen from her lips, they had woven something inherently false.
It was all so malicious, so perfectly-timed, this was Kirari — of course, she had meant for Ririka to see.
"The door is always open." She attempted, arm raising. Take it, she urged to shout. Mary's beautiful, china-doll lips quivered, pursed white atop themselves. Choose me, to leave Kirari in ash, to caress that heart-shaped face.
"The door." Mary's thumb raised, trailing soothing patterns atop her cheeks. For each she wiped away, a new year from the crinkles of her eyes was born anew.
"Has been closed, for years."
Ririka felt something in her chest stutter, an old spark, and then die down once more. A candle extinguished in caverns dark, dripping, a shell of slime coated fully her tall form. Unthinking, spindle-fingers encased the waxy lines of Mary's sunken cheeks, dribbling with a wetness she could not control.
Arisa whined, needy, suckling. The nurses would be back, any moment now.
"Do you want to know, when I fell in love with you?" Ririka's toes curled: Ririka jumped. She doubted Kirari would let her see Mary for evermore, she cherished the widening of dark eyes.
"It was when, I think, we both gambled our winner's pride. Against Kirari." She whispered, tucked a lock of fire-blond behind those elf-tipped ears. Mary's smile was the saline coating behind her eyes, it hurt, it hurt so good. She smiled, it seemed like the sun itself shone from her eyes.
Mary, prideful Mary. Mary, losing Mary. Mary, Never again. Mary, Together. Mary, Star.
Ririka, Shadow.
"I don't know what overtook me. It was a feeling— a feeling unlike any other I'd ever experienced, before. It was as though there was a light, glowing, from within — and you, Mary, you were the one to flip that switch." Ririka trembled, her lips thin. Ash of rejection danced atop her tongue, there was an unexpected pinkness to Mary's cheeks.
"I don't think I could ever stop loving you." Ririka's head hung, suspended in the depths of her confession. She froze, like that, willing to vanish via the deepness of Mary's eyes.
"Not if I had the wish."
That was who she was, wasn't it? Somebody who craved destruction, chased it, like Kirari her games. Ririka danced oft, with the knife that drew blood of her own ruin. She was stone; all stone cracked beneath the pressures that came with age. And Mary was the sun, flitting further from the shadow's grasp.
Say no, have mercy. Mary was ruthless, of course. Mary would spit right in her face, tell her to get lost. This wasn't high-school Mary, however, crass and sharp. This was adult Mary, tamed into Kirari's house cat.
A shame, Sachiko tutted, over tea. A collar would've suited her far nicer than any ring.
Mary grabbed Ririka, by the lapels of her blazer knitted polyester, and pulled her in. The kiss tasted of disinfectant and chapped lips, and broken sobs like mewls brandishing a knife to Ririka's throat. The kiss was short, and ripe, and something so tender Ririka's gauzy fingertips hardly dared to touch.
"I— I'm sorry." Mary choked, face burying into her pillows high. "I— just, you look so much like— like her, and it—"
Ririka hardened like an oyster shell, a clam that zipped up, up, swallowing whole her form.
"I understand."
***
On the sidewalk, her heart broke, tears like blisters trailing down high cheeks.
***
Mary was discharged, that very same week. Kirari’s kiss tasted the way it always did: of isolation, and estrangement, and Mary’s second-favourite birthday cake. She kissed, ghost’s hands entwined in the mortician’s, coffin lid closing atop her form.
“You’re so beautiful,” whispered she.
For the briefest moment, Mary saw Ririka in those eyes. I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.
Mary tasted salt upon her lip, and a yearning ache that, upon the second kiss, remained unquenched.