Chapter Text
Ririka reminds her of strawberry wine.
Mary had been a meager thirteen years old when she first took a sip of the awful drink. And all to impress the girl that lived next door- smooth tan skin and dark eyes. It had been late at night in a cold kitchen. With hushed giggles, they looked through her parents' refrigerator, yellow light illuminating their faces. They'd spotted the large bottle hiding behind the milk carton. Mary had grabbed the glass by the neck and held it up in front of the girl's eyes.
They both had grinned, wide, and full of mischief. Mary in one quick motion had screwed off the lid and taken a large gulp.
It was no sooner than the alcohol passed her lips that she spit it back up over her shirt. The red liquid dribbled down her chin and stained little dots on the white tile. The girl had thrown her head back in laughter, and in Mary's embarrassment, she never spoke to the girl again after that night.
Strawberry wine is deceiving in that way. The sweetness of the fruit doesn't make the dryness of the wine any more tolerable. Of course, it had been her first taste of anything alcoholic, but the experience did not necessarily leave her wanting for it ever again. See, she could understand throwing back vodka until you forget the world exists. That has a purpose. Vodka does not hide for anyone- so direct in its intentions and end goal. Alcohol is to get drunk, not to enjoy. Sipping wine is redundant to Mary, and even worse than that, it hides behind a facade of nuance.
Ririka looks up from the notepad in front of her, pen stopping mid scribble. "What is it?"
Mary quickly averts her gaze, heart stuttering in her chest. She had been caught staring. Dammit.
"Nothing, just thinking," Mary shrugs, feigning nonchalance.
"May I ask what about?"
She chances another glance at Ririka. She's looking at Mary with wide, doe-eyes that makes something inside her stomach turn. Then, a smile, a small tug at the corner of Ririka's lips. It burns deep in the center of Mary's chest, climbing up her throat.
Yes. Exactly like strawberry wine. And she wants to drown in it.
"Nothing," she lies.
Ririka's smile falters into something like a frown, though nothing so convicted as sadness. Her emotions and reactions are always so subdued. As if it's all just brewing below the surface. Like a caged animal pacing behind the bars of an enclosure. It makes Mary want to slap her. To grab her by both shoulders and shake the vice president until she just lets herself be Ririka.
"I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore." Ririka's voice is stoic, giving away nothing. There are hints of disappointment in it, however. Mary isn't surprised Ririka would see through such an obvious lie. What surprises her is that she actually commented on it.
"No secrets, huh? Then tell me this, Ririka." Mary clicks her tongue, leaning forward. "What's the deal with the mask?"
Ririka's expression only changes microscopically. Anyone who didn't know better wouldn't have noticed. Her lips tighten just slightly, an indication of her intention not to respond. And there's a flash of mild amusement in her eyes. So brief that you could blink and miss it. But the look reminds her of Kirari.
Mary hums, leaning back into her chair, crossing her arms.
A few moments pass between them in silence. Ririka turns her attention back to the page before her. The pen in her hand resumes its swirly movement over the paper. Mary watches as she writes, admiring the penmanship. It's near perfect. Almost obsessive. Her gaze trails up to watch the blue of Ririka's eyes as they bounce up and down, following the movement of her hand.
"I was thinking about strawberry wine," Mary relents suddenly. She doesn't know why she says it. She inwardly winces.
The pen halts once again. Ririka looks back up to her. "I see. Why were you thinking about strawberry wine?"
"I hate it." A shrug.
Ririka seems to ponder this for a moment before her lips hang in an exaggerated expression of dread. "I'll have to get rid of all the bottles I bought for your birthday, then."
It takes a moment for her to realize Ririka is making a joke. An actual joke. Ririka Momobami, making a joke. After the brief moment of confusion wears off, Mary laughs, grinning. Ririka looks relieved, lips in a shy smile.
Mary doesn't think it's cute at all. Nope. Definitely, definitely, not.
The peace is interrupted by the shrill ringing of a call. Ririka reaches into her jacket pocket and fishes out a phone-- pink, with white flower stickers on the case. Mary only allows herself a tinge of disappointment about not knowing her number, or that she even had a phone at all.
Ririka looks at it for a long time, watching the screen intently as it continues to ring. The lightness to her face has been replaced by a shadow, features like steel. It sends a shiver down Mary's spine at how quickly the expression changes. Like flipping a switch. She slowly answers it, bringing it up to her ear. She says nothing. Almost as if she's waiting.
Mary pretends not to be paying any attention, but her ears are straining to hear the voice on the other end.
"Ririka, are you there?"
It's unfamiliar. Deep and masculine.
"Yes." Her voice is quiet but firm.
"Your birthday is arriving shortly. Your eighteenth birthday, to be exact. I assume you remember our agreement."
"...yes." her voice wobbles just slightly. What the hell are they talking about?
"Are you alone?"
Ririka catches Mary's eye. "Yes."
There's a pause on the line. "Don't lie to me. I will call again at sundown. Be. Alone."
The phone clicks and Ririka slowly pulls the device from her ear and pockets it again, almost as if in a trance. Mary studies the girl's face, and her heart sinks when she notices the slight quiver to her lips. The air suddenly seems thick and heavy.
"Who was that?" Mary demands.
Ririka opens and shuts her mouth once. Twice. And then suddenly stands, chair scraping with a squeak against the cafe floor. Other patrons look at them in confusion at the harsh noise.
Ririka's mask is thrown on in haste and she sets down a small pile of cash onto the table. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Hey, wait-"
Ririka does not turn. Mary watches in awe as she strides out the front doors, bell ringing to signal her exit.
What the fuck?
The gamble with Rin changed everything and nothing. Mary is...fond of Ririka now, and would even call them friends, as embarrassing as that was. But she still is wary of her. Wary in the way you wouldn't turn your back to a tiger. It's necessary, this distance between them. And Mary isn't about to let her guard down when she's so close to what she wants.
Yet, it must have changed more than she had initially thought. Because now she gives an actual, real damn about the girl. Which, Mary assumes, is why she grabbed her things and followed Ririka out of the cafe, down the street, and all the way back to Hyakkaou Private Academy.
Ririka hasn't noticed her. If she has, she hasn't said anything. She lets Ririka get much further ahead of her now that they are back on school grounds. It'll be far easier to get caught tailing her here, especially since it is after class hours. Mary keeps her distance, creeping around corners, and moving quietly through the halls. She watches as Ririka stops in front of the student council room, waits for a moment, before pushing forward the large wooden doors.
Mary waits for a few seconds before walking up to the doors herself. She stands in front of the wood, hand uncommittedly resting on the handle.
It hadn't occurred to her what exactly she would do once she found out Ririka was going. Listening at the door wouldn't work. The wood is thick and the room beyond it is large. The only other entry point she is aware of is the three large windows on the outside of the building, which for obvious reasons isn't an option.
She clenches her fist at her side, nails digging into her palm. Walking in and demanding Ririka tell her what is going on isn't a viable solution either. The girl could be silent as a mouse when she wanted to be. Getting information out of her is like prying teeth from an alligator.
She'll have to be smart at this. Play her cards right. It's the only way to get the information she needs to assess this situation.
Ririka opens the doors to the student council room, striding in. The room is empty, except for her sister, who sits at the very end of the table, chin resting on her knuckles. The overhead lights are off, leaving only the slight glow of the aquarium to illuminate the space.
Kirari glances up as she approaches, a smirk forming on blue lips. "Ah, Ririka. What do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were with your little obsession this afternoon?"
"Our birthday is in three weeks," Ririka says, ignoring her.
Kirari's eyebrows twitch but the bemused smile does not falter. "I'm aware. You should know I've gotten you a magnificent present. I hope yours doesn't disappoint."
Ririka reaches up and tugs the mask from her face, setting it gently onto the long table. She can feel her heart in her ears, throat wobbling. Kirari's expression does not change, but her eyes dart around her features, examining her. She reaches up a finger and traces the under of Ririka's eyes, where tears are forming. Her fingertip is cool against her warm skin.
"He called me, Kirari."
"And what did he say?" Kirari asks, taking her hand back, drumming them lazily on the polished surface.
"That he wants to talk to me while I am alone. At sundown. I think we both know what he wants to know."
"Of course."
Ririka runs a hand through her bangs, pressing her palm into the space between her eyebrows. Sundown is in an hour and a half. She doesn't have any time.
"What do I do?"
"Screw a politician," Kirari half shrugs. "I could arrange it."
"This is not a joke."
"And I wasn't making one."
Ririka scoffs, eyes darting away from her sister. "It has to be real. You know he's a human lie detector. It'd never work."
"No," Kirari agrees. "It wouldn't. You can be a very cunning woman, Ririka. But you've always struggled with outright lies. You're far better at dodging around the truth. And you're right, it's almost as if he can smell deceit. It's no wonder he's undefeated in all forms of poker."
Ririka hangs her head, arms wrapping around her waist, hugging herself. Kirari's right. It's no use either way. She can masquerade as someone else with ease. She can sidestep honesty like it's her job--and sometimes it is--but she struggles with lying. Especially without a mask. Especially in front of him, who can read her with a blindfold on. It'd be no use to try and pretend to be with some politician that would inevitably disgust her.
She doesn't know when she started crying. But she can feel the wetness gathering on her cheeks. Silence hangs between them for a few long moments, leaving only the low hum of the fish tank.
"Ririka, what was it that mother told you that day?"
Ririka looks up, meeting her sister's cool smile. Her heart clenches inside her ribs. She closes her eyes for a moment, and in the dark, she can see her mother's sickly gaze staring back at her. "What did she tell you?"
"Yes, you are good at deflecting."
"I learned from the best."
"You're much more snappy now," Kirari comments. "Saotome must be rubbing off on you. She is an entertaining girl. I wonder..."
"She isn't one of your fish to gawk at."
"Sister," Kirari tsks. "Have you always thought so ill of me? I know you've taken a liking to her. I wouldn't touch a hair on her head."
She says nothing. She wipes her eyes on the backs of her hands. Forces a stoic expression on her features. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll see you tonight."
She turns to leave, but Kirari catches her by the hand. Ririka turns back to face her begrudgingly.
"Save your tears, Ririka. He doesn't deserve them. None of them do," Kirari squeezes her palm. "Answer his call tonight and tell him the truth-- that you have not found a suitable spouse, and that you will be holding up your end of this agreement. After that, I'll handle it. I'll deal with it all. You won't have to worry about it."
"How?" she asks meekly, gripping her sister's hand tight.
"Just leave it to me. I've never failed you before, have I?"
She hasn't. Not ever. Even when she is being an insufferable brat, she always has had her best interest in mind, Ririka knows that.
"I'm sorry for being short with you.."
"All is forgiven," Kirari lets go of her hand. "I wouldn't be in the best mood myself if I was being coerced into having children."
"I..."
The I love you dies in her throat. It's something they don't say. Loving someone meant having something to lose. Something they could never afford to have.
"I know," Kirari reassures.
"Alright. I will see you at home."
Ririka places the mask back over herself and pivots towards the door. Now that her mind has had a moment to breathe, she realizes she'll have to think of an explanation to give to Mary. And apologize for being rude. She sighs, breath hot against her lips as it reflects off the mask.
She pulls the door open.
Ririka's eyes widen and she sidesteps quickly as a form falls onto the carpet before her, catching themselves on all fours.
The familiar voice groans.
Ririka rips her mask off. "Mary?"
Mary looks up, nervous alarm in her eyes. She scrambles to her feet, brushing off her skirt. Her face resolves into a calm and cool expression. She does not turn to look at Ririka, instead, she walks into the room a few more feet, stopping just in front of the long table. She stares at Kirari, arms crossed.
"It's been a while, Momobami," she sneers.
Kirari sits up straight, a sort of wry delight settling onto her. "That it has, Saotome. I trust you haven't been idle."
"You'd be right," Mary waves a hand. "Not without the valuable help of Ririka here, of course."
Ririka flushes. What is she doing? Why is she here? Had Mary...followed her? Her mind is doing somersaults.
"I'd expect no less," Kirari says. "This election certainly has gipped your ambition, hasn't it?"
"You could say that."
Ririka can see the mental badminton the two are doing. Back and forth, hit for hit. And she's left to watch in the middle. She looks nervously between the two. Mary's quick to anger. Her rage is like whiskey on a fire. It burns hot and quick, engulfing anyone who was dumb enough to stand too close.
"It looks like we're both racing to the same finish line," Mary continues, leaning forward slightly. "I'll be waiting for you."
The confidence that radiates off Mary is something to be in awe of. She never fails to impress Ririka. That said, Mary is most definitely the one poking things with a stick this time.
Kirari sniggers after a moment. "We'll have to see, I suppose."
Seemingly satisfied, Mary turns over her shoulder and walks towards the doors. Ririka allows herself a breath of relief. It's certainly not the easiest thing to watch her sister and Mary be at odds.
Mary pulls the door open, and then hesitates, looking back directly at Ririka with an expectant eye. "Are you coming or what?"
Ririka is stunned in place for a moment, before nodding, quick and sheepish. She follows Mary quickly out the door.
The door swings shut behind them. Mary turns the corner to the right, walks a few steps, before halting suddenly. Ririka almost crashes right into her back because of this.
Mary turns over her shoulder. Ririka's breath hitches at their proximity, bodies mere inches from each other. A deep blush floods onto her cheeks.
"You know I heard everything, right?" Mary asks, eyebrow raised.
Ririka's eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open. "Y-you did?"
"Well, duh. I was standing right outside the whole time. And I was able to push the door open just slightly without either of you noticing."
Her mind is racing, turning it over. She never heard the door open, though she isn't entirely sure either. It was foggy in the moment. But surely Kirari would have noticed. She wouldn't have let Mary spy on them...would she?
"So," Mary continues. "I think we should go have a talk somewhere a little more private, wouldn't you say?"
The flush burns on her skin. The conversation with her sister had been vague, or so she thought. She can't exactly remember the details of the discussion now. How much has Mary been able to piece together?
"Why did you follow me, Mary?"
Mary looks away, peering out one of the large windows that line the hall. The orange light of the late afternoon gives a warm glow to her sunny blonde hair. Beautiful. Ririka swallows.
"Let's go," she says, ignoring her.
With that, she turns back around starts on her path. Ririka falls into step again as well. She places the mask on her face once again on the off chance they run into any straggling students.
Mary leads them to the west wing of the school, in a far less traveled hallway. She opens the door to what appears to be a storage closet and gestures for Ririka to step inside.
She complies and steps in. As she passes through the threshold she switches on the light switch. The light bulb above flickers a few times before coming fully to life. Even with the light it is still dim and stuffy. The room is larger than she expected, with multiple dusty shelves and a few boxes hugging the walls. There's enough space to stand a comfortable distance away from each other, something she's thankful for. She sets down her mask on the pile of boxes to her left.
Mary walks in and shuts the door behind her, locking it. She faces Ririka, a determined smile manifesting onto her lips.
"Alright, Ririka. I understand we're both a little reluctant to give out information. But I think we can both agree that in order to trust each other more we're gonna have to settle for some give and take. So, let's play a game."
She reaches into her jacket pocket and produces a red poker chip. Ririka watches as she tosses it in the air, before catching it with the cross of her hands.
Ririka smiles. Sly.
"We'll take turns tossing the chip. If you're the one guessing and you chose the hand correctly, you get to ask one yes or no question, and the other has to answer truthfully. If you don't guess correctly, the tosser gets to ask the question. Sound fine to you?"
Ririka doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
Mary beams. "Great. You can go first seeing as I already tossed the chip."
She holds out her closed hands.
There's a trick to this game. The person with the chip or coin subconsciously lowers the hand that contains it, as if their fist is being tugged down by the object even though it is practically weightless. However, it doesn't work if the person is aware of this phenomenon and actively avoids it, which may be the case for Mary, as Ririka can't tell a difference either way.
"Right," Ririka says. It's a hunch, really. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mary's brow twitches and she opens her fingers. The red chip shines in the sterile light of the room.
The blonde tosses the chip to Ririka, who catches it. "Lucky guess. Your question?"
Ririka looks down at her feet, gathering up courage, before looking back up. "Am I...a heartfelt friend...to you?"
She intakes a deep breath and holds it.
If she didn't know better she'd swear she could see pink on Mary's cheeks. Her eyebrows are drawn together. "What do you mean by a heartfelt friend?"
"You know..." Ririka stutters, face warm. "Like Yumeko."
She scowls inwardly at the name. Her relationship with Mary makes her green with envy.
"Yes, we're friends. Whatever. I thought we already talked about this," Mary rubs the back of her neck, eyes looking to the left.
Ririka breathes a small sigh of relief. In the back of her mind, she wonders if she'd still think that if she knew all the things she has done.
With her thumb, she flicks the chip upwards, watches as it rotates in the air before snatching it. She grips the plastic tightly in her palm.
She presents her fists to Mary who examines them.
"Left."
Ririka passes her the chip. "Correct."
Mary smirks. "Alright. Was it your father who called you today at the cafe?"
"...yes, it was."
The blonde gives away nothing with her expression, but nods. "I see."
Another flip.
Mary presents her hands. Ririka looks between them.
"Left."
Mary reveals her empty hand with a smirk.
"What's the deal with the mask?" Mary asks.
"It's yes or no questions."
"Fine," Mary grumbles. "Does Kirari make you wear it?"
That's what most people have always assumed. It's never been true, however. Never.
"No."
Mary seems mildly surprised by the answer, but she says nothing. Wordlessly, she passes back the chip.
Ririka tosses the chip behind her, catching it behind her back. She's a little surprised she can still do that, she hasn't practiced in years.
"Impressive," Mary remarks. "Right."
Ririka throws her the coin. "Correct."
Mary looks pensive for a moment. "Is your father a piece of shit or what?"
She almost laughs. "Yes, you could say that. But the kind of power he has could make anyone that way."
"Don't make excuses for him. If he's an asshole, he's an asshole. He'll just have to live with that."
Mary tosses the coin and catches it.
"Left."
The blonde reveals her empty hand. Ririka curses herself. Really, she should choose right. It's Mary's dominant hand, therefore more likely to be the one that contains the chip.
"Is pink your favorite color?"
The question catches Ririka off guard. She had expected more probing questions about her and Kirari's conversation.
"Um...yes, it is."
"I figured. Your nails are always painted pink and when I saw your phone case today it pretty much confirmed it."
She passes the chip back to Ririka, who tosses it up once again. She catches it with ease, holding out her hands.
"Before you guess, I have a question I want you to answer," Ririka searches Mary's features. "You didn't really hear anything at the door, did you?"
Mary smirks.
"Not a thing," Mary says. "Just knew you wouldn't go along with this if you thought I didn't already know something. Figured you'd piece it together eventually."
Ririka shakes her head. "You're mean."
"And you're keeping too many secrets. Friends tell each other shit, okay? I know you're probably emotionally stunted or something and that's whatever. But that's why we're playing this game," Mary gestures vaguely with her hand. "We have to get used to confiding in each other if there's gonna be any trust here at all."
Her heart pounds in her chest. Mary cares about her. She's saying it without actually saying it. The blush creeps onto her cheeks faster than she can stop it.
"Fine. Guess then."
Mary takes a deep breath and steps forward into her space. Ririka's breath catches in her throat.
She watches helplessly as Mary reaches out and takes her right hand into her own. The warmth of Mary's skin is comforting. She looks down as Mary gently pulls her fingers open. Soft fingertips slide the chip from her palm. Ririka is uncomfortably aware of the blood rushing to her ears.
"What's the deal with your father and your birthday?" Mary asks, still holding onto her hand. It's hard to focus when they are so close.
"That isn't a yes or no question," Ririka responds, voice just above a whisper.
"I know that," Mary says. "Tell me anyway."
The shorter girl steps back, letting go of her hand, and Ririka grieves the closeness. "I don't know..."
"Just start at the beginning," Mary presses.
The beginning...
Ririka stands, stiff as a board, eyes staring out through the glass of the tall window. A city is below them, all tall buildings and flashing lights, distant car horns and muffled sirens. In truth, however, she isn't really looking at any of it. She's far too distracted by the firm hand on her shoulder. Her father's hand. It's so out of place resting on her like this. Something twists in her stomach.
"My dearest daughter," he says in a voice that sounds nothing like his own. "Do you know what is in a name?"
She can't tell if the question is rhetorical or if he actually wants her to respond. She shakes her head anyway and resists the urge to shuffle her feet.
He crouches down next to her, letting go of her shoulder and resting his forearms on his knees. She turns to face him. She stands taller than him now, looking down onto him. A dark shadow is cast onto his sharp features. There are no lines on his face, no creases, as if age had never touched him, nor stress or guilt. The only sign being the few grey spots that reflect in his dark hair.
"A name is the most important thing us Momobami's have. When people hear it, they already know that we stand above them. They recognize our bloodline, and they fear us. And even more important than fear, they worship us."
He gestures to the view in front of them. To the city. To the cars that go by and the people that walk beside them. She wonders, distantly, just how many people are in the city. How many people are working long hours at an office somewhere? How many children are waiting for their parents to come home? How many siblings are playing amongst themselves in their bedrooms, no pressure on them besides homework due the next morning?
She wonders how different things would be if Kirari and her were born into something more mundane. Would Kirari still have a curiosity so insatiable, or would it be more tamed, more the kind that was fueled by the search for knowledge and not the desire for entertainment? Would her sister still comb her hair with exactly twenty-five strokes before bedtime? Would she still let Ririka do her literature assignments for her? Would Ririka still like doing them? Would they sit together, on couches or on the carpet floor, and watch TV together with a mother and father smiling on at them? Would they be a family instead of a regime?
She chastises herself quickly and shakes the thoughts from her head. She's getting far too old for these idealistic fantasies. There's no point to them, truly. They weren't born commoners. And there's no amount of pondering that would fix that.
"This nation belongs to us. To our name," he says, a certain finality to his voice. "We rule over the people below and we don't even need a crown to do so. That is true power, Ririka."
Ririka remains stoic, but her mind is racing. Why is she being told this? This sounds like a lesson for Kirari, not her. Us, he says. The only "us" that has ever included her has always just been between her sister and herself. She's never been his favorite, or anyone's for that matter. Kirari has ambition embedded into her very being, a trait so valued by their clan, more so than anything else, and it is completely lost on Ririka. So why is he telling her of their power? He had said so himself, many times, that Kirari should have devoured her in the womb.
She so desperately wants her mask at this moment, somewhere to hide her alarm. Where she can pretend to be anyone who isn't herself. Someone who these words mean something more to. Someone who actually wants something. But it was left sitting in the car, as was instructed of her by her father. Her shield, forcibly taken away from her...
"How old are you now, Ririka?" he asks suddenly, though she knows he already is aware of the answer.
"I'm twelve," she responds.
"Getting to be a big girl, then. I think you're ready to hear a very big responsibility, that lands on only you."
She does not dare show her unease on her face. And only nods curtly.
"You know, your mother died very young. So you are the only children we had. No sons in our bloodline to pass our name down. Kirari is set to become the leader of the Momobami clan, and can not shoulder this burden as well. But you, Ririka, you are the one best suited for such a task. "
She isn't entirely following, and her confusion must register on her face. Her father stands and raises a hand. She winces out of instinct, but he only brings his hands on both of her shoulders, now holding onto her by both firmly. There is an intensity in his eyes that makes Ririka gulp.
"When women marry, they take the last name of their husband. So, we need a male heir to the family name, to continue to pass down the title of Momobami. Kirari can not be bothered with such a thing. This duty lands on you, my eldest child. You will bear children until you produce a son, once you reach a suitable age to do so. This can be arranged without the need of there being a husband through a process called artificial insemination, meaning you will be able to pass down your name."
She can feel her heart sinking in her chest, melting low in her stomach. Children? Sons? She's never even considered these things before. It's all so much to take in. Her thoughts are churning over in her head. How does she talk her way out of this? Can she? She's never been a talker, that was always Kirari. She wants her mask.
Think think think.
"But what if I meet someone? What if I don't want children," Ririka protests, voice suddenly strong. She then shrinks once again after her brief moment of bravery, fingernails digging into her palms.
Her father looks at her for a long moment, before breaking out into a wide grin. It's unsettling. "How about we come to an arrangement, then? A bet, if you will. A gamble. If you meet someone you intend to marry by the age of eighteen, and I can see that this relationship is indeed genuine and worthy of my blessing, you will not have to produce a son. But, if you do not, you will be set to have your first child at age twenty one with no complaints.
She hangs her head low.
In truth, what choice does she really have? She's always found she has very few choices in life. It's always in her best interest to be obedient. Her mother taught her that. The only lesson that was ever given to her out of kindness.
"I agree to the terms."
He stands up at his full height now, a chuckle on his lips. She is not stupid. She knows the reason for his confidence in this deal. He believes that no one of substance will ever love her truly, which means she will have to hold up her end of this agreement when the time comes. She doesn't blame him. Could anyone ever really be capable of desiring a person who cowers behind a mask? Someone loving her in genuine?
She can't really picture it, either
"I haven't seen him in years. Our deal was the last proper conversation we have had."
Ririka doesn't dare look Mary in the eyes as she finishes explaining. But she can see the girl has her fists clenched at her sides. She's angry.
"So, let me see if I got this right-- your father is going to force you to have children using some wealthy bastard's semen so that you can pass down the Momobami name and your ~pure ass bloodline~ or whatever. And the only way he said he'd agree to let that bullshit go and let you be your own person is if you're in a 'worthy' relationship by the time you're eighteen?" Mary says. A pause for emphasis. "And your birthday is in three weeks."
Ririka nods, embarrassed, gaze studying the floor. She can feel amber eyes boring into the side of her head. Her fingers twitch at her sides, itching to reach for the mask resting beside her. That stare may just be the death of her one day, she thinks. In honesty, she really wouldn't entirely mind.
"Alright," Mary says after a long moment, casual as ever. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to pretend to be together."
Ririka nearly chokes on air. Her eyes shoot up.
"W-what?" Ririka sputters.
"You heard me. You said it yourself he's never around. You haven't even seen this guy since you were a kid. All we have to do is convince everyone around here that we're together and word will get back to your father eventually. The only thing that spreads faster than poker chips around here is gossip."
"That won't work," she stutters. "I don't have to be with just anyone. It has to be someone worthy. And it has to be with the intention to wed."
"What? I'm not good enough for you to be your fake girlfriend?" Mary scoffs.
"That isn't what I meant!" Ririka backtracks quickly. "Worthy, to him, means wealthy and powerful. And your family-"
"Is poor. I know," Mary interjects. "So, we have to make some shit up about my family, whatever."
"But it won't be easy to convince him! Or the rest of the clan!"
"We can do it. We have three weeks to do it," Mary insists. "You can't just let these people walk all over you, Ririka. You shouldn't let them and I won't let them either."
A warm feeling spreads from her chest and into her limbs. There are tears on the edges of her vision and a smile spreading across her lips.
She should tell Mary no. She should. Kirari already had promised to help her. And in addition to that, Mary doesn't know the fine details of the situation. That her father is one of, if not the most powerful man in the nation. He's been called omniscient due to his capabilities in deciphering fact from fiction. She doesn't know that if they went through with this little scheme, and he found out about it, he would destroy their entire lives. That more was at stake here than just the forced baring of a child.
But looking at Mary now as she glows with an ethereal sincerity, a cocky smile on her lips--how could she say anything but yes, really? And it's selfish. Entirely fueled by her own desire. The idea of even pretending to be with Mary, even if they are caught and both eaten alive by the clan, is too good to pass up.
And, maybe, just maybe, Mary is right. Maybe they could pull this off. They make a great team, after all.
"Okay."
Mary smiles. "Alright then. We'll work out the details tomorrow. Tell your father the good news. I'm going home."
The blonde walks to the door and unlocks it. She pulls it open and then hesitates in the threshold. She turns her head over her shoulder.
"See ya' later, babe."
Mary then winks, easy as breathing, before disappearing around the corner. Ririka watches, almost as if she was hypnotized, as the door closes. She brings up a hand to her burning cheek.
The ringing of her phone an hour later does not startle Ririka. She answers it, bringing the device up to her ear. She stares out the window at the setting sun over the horizon, admiring the oranges and yellows of the fading daylight.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Good. So?"
Kirari's words mutter in the back of her brain. To tell him the truth. That she was still without a potential spouse. To let her sister handle it.
But she then thinks of Mary's determined voice and her soft hands. Those eyes...
She breathes in through her nose.
"I've met someone. I care for her and she is worthy of it."
It's quick. Concise. Simple.
There is a long pause on the line, and Ririka can hear her heartbeat in her ears. She clenches her fist at her side, skin clammy.
"Is that so? I will be taking several measures to confirm the validity of this...relationship. Do not think I won't be watching."
"Of course."
It takes everything in Ririka to not sob with relief.
"Don't get too comfortable, Ririka. Remember that it is up to me to decide if she is worthy of my blessing. Goodbye. For now."
There's a click on the line.
Ririka lets her arm drop and hang limply at her side. She watches in a daze as the sun sinks lower and lower over the tree line, before disappearing completely.
Oh, Mary, what have we gotten ourselves into?