falling colors:

amity

~

corinn heathers

falling colors

book one: amity

copyright © 2016 by Corinn Heathers

cover art copyright © 2016 by Jessica C. Conkling-Alvis

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced without express written permission from the copyright holder, with the exception of short excerpts for review purposes.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and situations are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

table of contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

a word from the author

part one

~

interference

.1

Long, faintly callused fingers brushed against the auto-lock panel. A triple-beep sounded and the lift doors slid open soundlessly. The tall woman tucked a loose strand of reddish-brown hair behind one ear and entered the lift that would take her out of the building. She hoped it would be possible to leave without encountering—

“Heading home for the day, Fumiko?”

Nope. Not possible.

“Yes, Mr. Norris,” she replied, managing to keep her voice respectful. It still hurt, even after all these years. She hoped she would have been used to it by now.

A person's given name was precious, should have been a mark of trust, of friendship, of love. The right to address her as such should have been Fumiko's to bestow only on those who she considered worthy.

Should have been, but wasn't, for Fumiko was one of the “nameless.” A cast-off, stripped of the Tachibana family name and all the power and influence it carried, all the respect it commanded. Bereft of a clan to belong to, society viewed and treated Fumiko as a second-class citizen at best.

“Finished with the Solaria accounts?”

Fumiko forced a smile. “Yes, sir.”

Norris's callused hand patted her on the back, a little too close to her backside to be considered an innocent gesture. Fumiko stiffened involuntarily, but she schooled her expression to be outwardly calm and pleasant. There was nothing else she could do but stoically accept it.

It was always this way with Norris. He liked to look and he liked to touch even more—and her lack of social standing meant he got away with it. Luminia Systems, like most companies, employed many nameless for menial tasks in order to take advantage of the lower minimum wage requirements. Plus other, unwritten “benefits.”

Fumiko managed to extricate herself from Norris's attention—a task made much more difficult by the old pervert following her into the lift. Mumbling an incoherent pardon, she darted around the corner and walked into the small café attached to the building. At this hour it was filled with the maintenance and janitorial staff, enjoying a cup of coffee or tea before their shift began.

Norris had disappeared—no surprises there. None of the upper echelon would be caught dead in the company cafe, especially not when it was filled with support staff—either nameless or from lowborn families, which was almost as bad. Fumiko queued up at the counter and patiently waited her turn, though in truth she wondered if she shouldn't just head directly home.

“What will you have?”

Fumiko gazed blearily at the menu. “Coffee, no sugar, extra single cream.”

No credits exchanged hands—the café was free to all workers, though it was most commonly used by lower-rung office drones and, of course, the nameless. Fumiko took her cup and placed a lid on it, sipping at the bitter brew as she headed out through the lobby.

“Heading home for the evening?”

“Yes,” Fumiko replied, favoring the security guard with a genuine smile. Out of all the people who worked for Luminia, it was the support staff that she felt the most comfortable around. The security guards, the maintenance workers and the janitors were always ready with a cheery greeting or a warm smile. The invisible, crushing weight of ranking and status was refreshingly absent among the lowest caste.

Fumiko chose not to linger over her coffee inside the cafe; even the relative safety from status-conscious Norris didn't put her mind at ease. No, it would be best to forsake her usual ritual of reading a few chapters of whatever she happened to be reading at the moment—this time it was a murder mystery, told from the perspective of the murderers themselves. The murder victim was similar enough to Norris that Fumiko found herself silently cheering on his killers.

Fumiko turned and walked out of the lobby, pushing the glass door open into the still-balmy evening. The world's white sun blazed overhead, incandescent in the sky, even as it descended toward the horizon and it was still warm enough that she took off her blazer. She sipped at her coffee, still almost hot enough to burn her tongue, as she waited for the bus that would speed her along the first leg of her lengthy commute home.

*

It was just after 21:00 when Fumiko returned to her tiny flat. She threw her blazer to the small bed that dominated one wall. This place had been her home for six years. Before that, she had been homeless as well as nameless, an all too common occurrence in this society.

Her name had been stripped when she was still legally a child, only sixteen. Such a thing was uncommon and seldom invoked, yet still perfectly legal if the clan's grievance was considered great enough. Those who lost their clan affiliation were guaranteed a very difficult life; without the legal rights of an adult, Fumiko's future looked bleak.

There were many nights where she'd slept on the tram, curled up across two seats, underneath a threadbare sweater. Other times she'd sleep underneath alleyway awnings or on the bedroom floor of sympathetic former classmates. More often, though, her nights were spent in so-called “love hotels,” restlessly slumbering next to the snoring form of men two or three times her age.

With no clan name, no money and no occupational placement file, there were very few legal opportunities for employment. Fumiko's young age and lack of training reduced that number to zero, leaving her with only one option for survival. As it turned out, catching the hungry eyes of men hadn't been all that difficult—especially the strutting highborn roosters with credit accounts full to bursting.

Not that such things made it any easier on Fumiko, but what choice did she have? For nameless children and criminals, embracing the city's underworld was their only means of survival. For Fumiko, it was also the slimmest but only path to a better future.

She kicked off her high-heel pumps and padded into the tiny studio's equally tiny bathroom. There was barely any room to move around inside. It didn't have a bathtub, only a very cramped shower stall. Even this small of a dwelling dug deeply into her credit account, but it was quiet, cozy and, for the most part, safe.

Fumiko studied her reflection in the mirror. The olive-tan face that stared back out at her possessed regular and even features. Dark freckles were scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and all across her shoulders and upper arms. Fumiko's hair was on the coppery side of reddish-brown; her eyes, a startlingly intense pale blue-gray.

It was blatantly obvious to anyone that Fumiko was a “mongrel” with “barbarian” blood, an illegitimate child produced through some clandestine affair with a foreign mistress. The Tachibana line tended toward clear, pale complexions and light brown eyes, with perfectly straight, glossy black hair.

“Dirty,” she murmured, her gaze drifting out of focus. A sneer threatened to take possession of her face as snippets of memories rose to the surface. The “dirty girl.” Covered in dirt that won't wash off, because my blood is dirty, too.

Fumiko looked down at her hands, at the skin of her arms. Freckles ran across most of her body, but were more concentrated around her shoulders, upper back and face. She made a disgusted sound and unpinned the high ponytail, letting thick waves of hair cascade around her shoulders. It would do her little good to dwell on the decades-old insults hurled at her by schoolyard bullies.

The silence was broken by the sound of Fumiko's multicom chiming in her pocket, notifying her of an incoming call. Shaking herself out of her dark thoughts and memories, she picked up the device and frowned at the screen. Other memories quickly filled the void as she read the comm address and the name associated with it: “Risa”—or, more properly, Marisa Renfield.

More than a decade ago, long before she became a nameless cast-off, Fumiko met Marisa for the first time. Despite the rather large six-year difference in age between them, the two became close friends. The Tachibana and Renfield clans were close allies, after all, and circumstances put the two together more often than not.

“Risa… um, hi,” Fumiko said into the multicom, trying not to let herself get mired in the past. It was critical that she live for the present. “How are you doing?”

“I… I'm not good.”

That wasn't a good sign. Marisa was typically an unfailingly cheerful person, no matter how dire the situation was. “Uh-oh. What's wrong?”

“I don't want to say it over the comm.” Marisa's voice quavered badly with barely-contained emotion. “I really, really need to talk to you in person. I know it's late, but… can I come over? Please?”

Fumiko blinked in surprise. Marisa's tone was bleak and seemed to have had all the life sucked out of it. Something terrible had happened—there was no other explanation. For someone like Marisa to be this strongly affected, there were only a few possibilities.

“Of course you can come over,” Fumiko replied with as much warmth as she could possibly impart over the call. “I'll have some tea ready and we can talk, okay?”

“O-okay.” There was a loud sniffle. “I'll be there in a little bit.”

*

The door to Fumiko's flat slid open, stuttering slightly on the rails, and a short young woman walked inside. Fumiko turned and gazed at her old friend with sympathy in her eyes. On the surface, at least, Marisa looked much as she always did, but the girl's ever-present, impish little grin was nowhere to be found. Her lips were set in a pale, grim line.

Physically speaking, Fumiko and Marisa couldn't possibly have been more different. The fair-complected Marisa was short and slender, with a lithe build that had little in the way of curves. A thick cascade of glossy, silvery-blonde hair fell a half-dozen centimeters short of her shoulders, cut in a flirty and stylish bob. Her sea-green eyes were wide, round and very expressive.

Tonight, however, those eyes lacked the sparkle they usually held. Fumiko thought they resembled nothing more than flat circles of dull green glass.

“Risa, what's going on?”

Marisa dropped her bag on the floor, slipped her feet out of her shoes and practically leaped into the taller woman's arms. Fumiko stared wide-eyed at the petite girl, clinging so tightly to her body it was as if Marisa were holding on for dear life.

Fumiko stroked her friend's hair. “Tell me. What's wrong?”

Marisa regarded her dully. “Too much.”

Fumiko held her friend close, responding to the desperate embrace with gentle, reassuring pressure. “Here, sit down at the table and I'll get us some tea, okay? Then you can tell me what's wrong.”

The younger woman nodded, pulling away from Fumiko with obvious reluctance, but she sat down at the tiny little table in one of the two chairs. Fumiko squeezed past and into the kitchenette, retrieving two chipped mugs and a tin of scrap-leaf tea. She busied herself preparing the drinks, filling both mugs with water from the electric kettle and dropping mesh tea balls filled with leaves into each one.

After a few minutes of steeping the tea strong enough to strip paint, Fumiko placed one of the mugs in front of Marisa before she sat down herself. Her friend picked up her mug in both hands, mechanically raising it to her lips. A bit of color seemed to return to Marisa's cheeks as she drank the sharply bitter brew.

“Cole was in an accident,” she said without preamble.

“What? What kind of accident?” Fumiko's eyes widened in disbelief. Cole was Marisa's younger brother.

“He was hit by a cargo drone,” Marisa muttered in a flat tone. She paused for a moment to slurp at her tea. “Two days ago. Lost control, malfunctioned or something.”

“Is he at the med center? Is he going to be okay?”

Marisa shook her head slowly. “He's… he's not going to make it. The doctors told us today they can't do anything. Too much damage to his spine and brain for regeneration treatments. All they can do is ease his pain until he… until he passes.”

“Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Risa.” Fumiko reached out and placed a hand on her friend's. It felt cold to the touch. “I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry and that I'll be here for you, if you need me.”

“I wish you could be with me. I wish you could come with me, when we… when we go to say our final goodbyes.”

Fumiko didn't respond to that. No matter how much Marisa wanted her to be there, it was impossible and both of them knew it. Marisa's father, the Renfield clan patriarch, would never allow it. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, Fumiko wasn't quite able to hide her pained expression.

“Sorry, Fumiko,” Marisa mumbled. “I didn't mean to—”

Fumiko's expression softened. “It's okay, Risa. You don't need to apologize to me. I wish I could be there for you, too.” But we both know that isn't possible, she added silently, feelings of helplessness and fury merging together to form a hard lump in her throat that even the piping-hot tea wouldn't wash away.

“All Dad can talk about is the clan, not our family. It's like he doesn't even notice how badly losing my brother hurts—of course, how could a mere daughter be worth any consideration?” She sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. Marisa's tears seemed to vanish entirely. When she resumed speaking, her voice sounded flat and lifeless. “I… ran off. Away from them, away from the med center. Tried to go to Kaori's, but she's visiting family until tomorrow morning. Mom keeps calling me, wants me to come back home, but I… I couldn't.”

“So you came here.”

“Y-yeah.”

Fumiko knew the “home” Marisa spoke of was actually her father's residence, the Renfield clan's main branch manor. Marisa herself lived in a small student apartment shared between herself and two of her classmates. It wasn't hard to understand why she would want to stay away from the place.

“Does she know you're here?”

“N-no,” Marisa mumbled. The faint ghost of something that might have been a smile tugged at the edges of her lips. “I told her I was going to Kaori's, and that I just needed some time to myself. I don't think she believed me, but… whatever.”

Fumiko said nothing. The silence stretched out for nearly a minute before the air was split by the sound of Marisa's multicom ringing. She paid no attention to it, instead opting to enthusiastically drink her tea.

“Um, Risa—”

“It's Kevin and I don't want to talk to him.” Marisa reached into her pocket and the insistent chime was abruptly cut off. The grim aftershock of her grief was joined by a look of bleak disgust. “I'm sure my parents told him what happened.”

Fumiko looked away. “Oh. That's… not good.”

“You mean it's bullshit,” Marisa muttered. Her grimace intensified as another incoming call woke her multicom, but Marisa already silenced it. The soft buzzing of the device's vibration motor continued for a moment before Marisa yanked it out of her pocket and shut it down completely. “It's just stupid fucking bullshit.”

“I know, Risa.” Fumiko reached out to take her friend's hand. “I know.”

“You're the only one who knows! Kaori tries, but she doesn't understand. She can't figure out why I can't just call the whole thing off, break up with him. The whole thing is so simple to her; just tell them what I want and stand strong and everything will turn out fine, just like it did for her. Except it won't, because there's too much money at stake.” Bitterness dripped from Marisa's words as she bit out the final sentence like a curse.

“It's because her family is lowborn,” Fumiko pointed out, using the common term for clans that were legally recognized but either weren't or couldn't prove that they descended from influential Terran families. “She never had to deal with the politics.”

“I know, but it's so frustrating that I can't make her 'get' it.” A chaotic, raging tempest of negative emotions seemed to whirl around the younger woman. Sadness, anger, fear, frustration—Fumiko found herself wishing there were more she could do.

No, it only seems like I'm not helping. I just need to be here for her and support her, no matter what.

“You should at least send him a message.”

Marisa scowled fiercely. “What? Why?”

“So he knows you're safe, at least.”

Green eyes narrowed dubiously. “I don't give a shit if he knows or not.”

“Maybe not, but I'm assuming you don't want him calling Security.” Fumiko tipped her mug up and drained the last few sips of tea.

“Point taken.” Marisa's eyes were round and wide as she pulled her multicom back out and powered it on. A notification informed her that she had three missed calls, all from Kevin Eldridge. “You were right; he's already freaking out. I'll send him a message to shut him up for now.”

“I'll make some more tea.”

Fumiko stood up and walked to the sink. She emptied the spent tea leaves into a can she used to collect coffee grounds and the like. Another quick fill from the electric kettle and two fresh mugs of tea were steeping away. This time, though, Fumiko reached up to the dish cabinet and pulled out two mismatched small bowls, dishing out a few scoops of tart berry ice cream into each.

“Here, Risa.” Fumiko set the more heavily-laden bowl down in front of her friend. She sat back down and took a spoonful of ice cream. It was sweet but not overwhelmingly so, and refreshingly sour. “Ice cream always makes everything better, right?”

Marisa was unable to stop her lips from curving into a smile. “Yeah, it really does. Brings back some happy memories…” The smile faltered. “Before your name was—”

“Don't, Risa. You've got more than enough sadness to deal with right now,” Fumiko interrupted, waving a chastising spoon. She dipped it back into the bowl and took in another small bite of ice cream. “The last thing you need to worry about is my old pain.”

Marisa didn't seem convinced, but chose not to object. The two sat in companionable silence for a long moment where nothing but their ice cream mattered. It was something of a tradition. Memories rose to the surface of Fumiko's mind, the image of a much smaller Marisa with a skinned knee, crying her eyes out as Fumiko tried to disinfect the wound with a medspray.

I couldn't figure out any other way to get her to calm down.

Fortunately, it worked very well. Any time Marisa was too upset to calm down through words or hugs alone, Fumiko applied a liberal dose of ice cream. That the dessert's power to comfort Marisa persisted into adulthood brought a smile to Fumiko's face.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“I am,” Marisa murmured. Her voice sounded a bit odd to Fumiko, but she chalked it up to the stress of the situation. “I knew coming to see you would make me feel better. You've always been there for me, ever since I was little. No matter what happened, I knew you would be there to hold me, and everything would be all right.”

“I'm glad.”

“Will you hold me now?”

“Of course.” Fumiko stood up and collected the dishes. She felt a momentary surge of embarrassment as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “I'm sorry I don't have a sofa for us to sit on, but there's just no room in here…” Not to mention the fact that she could hardly afford to keep the bills paid and the pantry stocked.

Marisa shook her head. “It doesn't matter to me.” She moved from the small dining table and eased herself down to sit on Fumiko's lap. Fumiko blinked in surprise and felt her cheeks grow warm as Marisa nestled in closely, resting her head on her friend's chest.

“This was a bit easier when you were younger,” Fumiko quipped, her voice quivering just a bit as she gently brushed her hand over Marisa's hair. The girl shifted slightly, her body trembling at the feather-light touch. “A-and smaller.”

“Don't say that I'm too big for this.” She tilted her head up and gazed directly into Fumiko's eyes. A hand reached out and up, fingertips tracing a slow caress along her jaw and to her lips. “It's not the same as it was before. We're adults now… and that means things are different. In a lot of ways.”

Shocked into speechlessness, Fumiko stared at the younger woman. The odd feeling she'd been getting abruptly crystallized into certainty. Marisa had always been very physically affectionate, but… yes, this was definitely different!

“Risa!” Deep crimson stained Fumiko's cheeks. “W-what are you… what?”

The girl did not respond with words. Fumiko was paralyzed, unable to move or speak or even look away, as Marisa's fingers gently but firmly took hold of her chin. Marisa held there for a moment that seemed to stretch out into infinity—

Fumiko could feel the heat of Marisa's breath, quickly growing husky—and then she leaned forward. Warm, soft lips pressed against Fumiko's, urgently, desperately. Her mind exploded into a chaotic jumble of thoughts, but none of them seemed to prompt her to pull back. She felt Marisa's tongue part her lips and slip into her mouth. Fumiko's ability to form rational thought vanished and she closed her eyes, instinctively returning the kiss.

Neither had any idea how much time had passed before Marisa pulled away with obvious reluctance. When Fumiko opened her eyes, the younger woman gazed at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a bright blush staining her cheeks.

“W-what? Why did you… did you—”

“I want to feel something good with a person I love,” Marisa said, her voice low and soft and filled with longing. “Is that really so bad? I don't think it is. Please, I just really need to feel good with you. I need to.”

Fumiko visibly blanched, panic and confusion written all over her face. “Risa, I didn't know—I mean how did you—I mean—what about Kevin?”

“What about him?” Marisa demanded, eyes narrowing sharply.

“Y-you're engaged to him!”

“Look, I don't want to marry Kevin. I'm being forced to marry him. You already know that. I don't want that kind of life, and I definitely don't want to be used as a pawn so Renfield can swallow the Eldridge clan.” Marisa's voice softened and she smiled at the older woman. “But I want you. I've always liked you, Fumiko. Ever since we were kids.”

“B-but that's completely different,” Fumiko objected. “You were just a little girl—it was just a precocious crush!”

Marisa shook her head. “It wasn't. Even after your name was taken, after Dad tried to keep you from ever seeing me again. All those years, I always kept you in my heart.”

Fumiko was at a loss for words. As a child, the girl did develop a strong attachment to Fumiko, but she never thought much of it. Fumiko always viewed her relationship with Marisa as a platonic friendship and nothing more. Despite the age gap, Fumiko was slow to mature and Marisa had always been sharper than her peers. The sharp stab of ten-year-old pain lanced through her and memories rose unbidden to the surface. Tears sprang from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Don't cry, lovely,” Marisa murmured, fingertips gathering the tears up and wiping them away. “I didn't mean to remind you of sad things. Being torn away from Hisakawa and your family throwing you away and—”

Fumiko bit her lip and shook her head. More fragments of the past materialized in her mind; this time of Emi Hisakawa. The two attended the same academy; the Hisakawa family was wealthy enough, but as a lowborn clan, they lacked social and political standing. Any sort of personal relationship between Fumiko and a lesser Hisakawa would have resulted in a loss of status for Tachibana. That the two were romantically involved threatened the standing of both clans.

“It wasn't Hisakawa that I missed the most. We were just fooling around, you know, too many hormones and too few brains. We were so absorbed in our feelings for each other, confusing and scary and wonderful all at once. We did some really stupid things. I was foolish… and still am, to be honest.” She paused for a moment, pursing her lips. “If I could go back in time and take it all back, I would.”

“Even though you loved Hisakawa?”

Fumiko shrugged helplessly. “I lost my name for that. The Hisakawa clan lost the favor of my family and yours. I don't even know what happened to Emi; we never spoke again after all of that.”

“Do you think she blames you?”

“If the situation was reversed… I would blame me.”

“Shh. None of that, now.” Marisa kissed Fumiko on the cheek, feeling her friend go rigid once again. A long, slender finger traced a teasing line down Fumiko's collarbone, slowly going lower and lower. “That's the past. It's over and done with and there's nothing you can do to change it. We both have to live our lives in the present. You need to see what you have, right in front of you.”

“B-but—”

Marisa touched her finger to Fumiko's lips, silencing her objection before it could fully begin. “Uh-uh. No buts, Fumiko. I'm twenty years old. An adult, okay? I can make my own decisions about something like this. You're not allowed to feel guilty.” The girl in Fumiko's lap giggled and a sly smile spread across her face. “Besides, it's not like I can't tell how turned on you are right now.”

“I, um—I mean, that is—um, what—ah…” Fumiko felt if her brain had short-circuited. The words she wanted to say, to deny Marisa's painfully accurate observation, refused to even form in her mind, much less come out of her mouth.

“I want you, Fumiko. I want to touch you. Kiss you. Feel good with you.”

“Buh… but… what… I can't.” Fumiko finally managed to find words again. “We can't. You're betrothed and I'm… nameless. If anyone finds out—”

“They're not going to find out,” Marisa countered. “Since when do you care, anyway? It means nothing! I was forced into the betrothal when I was only thirteen! I had no say in the matter at all!” The younger woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What, are you more concerned about his feelings than mine?”

Astonished and chagrined, Fumiko shook her head vigorously. “I-I'm not! I'm worried about you, Risa! I'm worried that if we… get caught… you'll be… you'll lose everything. You'll end up like… like…” She trailed off, unwilling to voice her own fears that Marisa would be stripped of her clan name as well.

“Fumiko, please,” Marisa begged, her voice breaking slightly from a mixture of desperation and desire. “It's way too late now; promises have been made, deals brokered, assets merged. If I break up with him now, Kevin would be devastated and it would be a deadly insult to the Eldridge family…”

Marisa bit her lower lip nervously before continuing. “I'm trapped. Trapped in this nightmare, in this business deal dressed up in matrimonial finery. Nobody is concerned about my feelings. Dad only cares about the clan. Mom might as well not even exist outside of being 'properly' excited over wedding preparations. Kevin no doubt has a wonderful little domestic fantasy dreamed up in his head. Nobody gives a shit what I want.”

“What about Akiyama, or your other friends?” Fumiko mumbled.

“They don't get it like you do. Kaori and I are close, yeah, but it's not the same.” Marisa closed her eyes and leaned against her dear friend. “There's nobody else in the world who I feel safer with than you. Nobody I trust more than you.”

“You really care for me that much?”

“Didn't I already say so?” Marisa shook her head and tapped two fingers against the side of Fumiko's. “I swear, Fumiko, you can be incredibly dense sometimes.”

Fumiko's cheeks flushed hotly. “H-hey!”

“What? It's true. You even admitted it not more than ten minutes ago.”

“Point taken,” Fumiko grumbled.

“That's why you should trust me.” Marisa leaned up and kissed Fumiko lightly. “Don't worry about anyone finding out. If I can be with you… I think I'll be able to play the role of the 'good wife' to Kevin without losing my mind. When I think about what my future's going to look like, I just… I can't. Not on my own. I need you.”

“I'm just… scared, Risa. Of a lot of things.”

“I know. I know you've been afraid, lost and lonely. I know it's been hard for you. I wanted to be with you more, be more a part of your life, but our families…” Marisa smiled sadly. “At least this way we can be together, closer than ever before.”

Fumiko shivered as a chill ran up her spine. She sniffled and took a deep breath, but the tears wouldn't stop coming. “Risa, everything's been so hard! Nothing works anymore! Nothing is good anymore! I can barely afford this place, I have no support, I'm treated like shit at work, I'm so lonely it's killing me and… and—”

“You exist to me,” Marisa murmured, placing a finger against Fumiko's lips to forestall the emotional outpouring. “You're not just 'good' to me. You're wonderful, lovely, beautiful, a kind person. You deserve to be loved. It was never your fault.”

Fumiko swallowed hard and shook her head. “Risa, I…”

“Will you be with me?” Marisa started to unbutton her blouse, slowly. “Like this?”

This time it was Fumiko who kissed Marisa. The girl moaned softly, muffled by her mouth, and their tongues met once again. Pleasurable sensations built within Fumiko, a hot, aching need that set her entire body aflame.

Moving slowly, as if she were caught in a dream, Fumiko's hands slipped beneath the unbuttoned blouse, her fingertips coming into contact with a silky warmth. Fumiko, though she was lost in the kiss, tasted salt on her lips. Reflexively she drew back, but it wasn't Marisa who was crying.

Judging by the expression on her face, Fumiko knew that the tears she tasted were her own. A small, delicate-fingered hand came up, curling a finger to brush aside the tears once again. Fumiko nearly laughed out loud at the strange dichotomy, how quickly their roles had reversed. Marisa came to her for comfort, yet now she was the one being comforted.

“Shh, lovely. Shh,” Marisa whispered. “Don't cry.”

.2

Fumiko's trembling hands took hold of the unbuttoned blouse and slid it free from Marisa's slender arms. Underneath, the petite young woman wore a cute and undoubtedly expensive designer bra. The intricate lace details did little to hide the fact that the undergarment was so sheer it was nearly transparent. Fumiko could easily make out the pink circles of her nipples.

“It feels wonderful,” Marisa moaned as dextrous fingers brushed across her back and unsnapped the bra. She closed her eyes and leaned back, exposing the tender skin at the hollow of her throat.

Not wishing to disappoint, Fumiko took the obvious invitation and traced the tip of her tongue across perfect, fair skin. Marisa let out a soft, barely audible gasp as her lover's teeth scraped against the sensitive spot under her chin. That gasp became a strained whimper as Fumiko's tongue flicked against the hollow of her throat. Goosebumps rose on Marisa's skin as gentle hands took hold of the fancy bra and slid it off.

“I want you to see all of me,” she murmured as she sank down to the cheap twin mattress of Fumiko's tiny little flat, stretching her legs out along the length of it. It was too hard in places and worn-out in others, but Marisa didn't seem to notice or care. “Take the rest off.”

Fumiko felt as if her brain had turned to mush, unable to process coherent thought. All she could do was what her cute little Risa asked of her. She fumbled with the front snap of the knee-length garment, loosening it and sliding it off over Marisa's legs.

The skirt was discarded along with the bra and blouse; Fumiko's fingertips hooked on the waistband of Marisa's matching panties. Cut very low, with less than a dozen or so square centimeters of fabric hiding Risa's most sensitive spot, Fumiko took a few moments to appreciate the effect. Then she started to remove them, hesitantly but also eagerly.

“You've seen me naked before.” Marisa's smile was shy, at odds with the avid, hungry look in her eyes. “Is it different now?”

Fumiko nodded vigorously.

“Take your clothes off, lovely,” Marisa ordered, her voice hitching slightly as her breathing became more rapid. “I need to see you naked, too. I need to feel your body against mine.”

Trembling hands took hold of fabric. Fumiko unbuttoned her blouse, tossing it to the floor. Underneath she wore a cheap bra that had definitely seen better days. Feeling suddenly self-conscious in comparison to Marisa and her expensive lingerie, Fumiko fumbled with the snaps and freed her large breasts from their confines.

The younger woman stifled another fit of giggles as Fumiko struggled to take off her own skirt. Blushing, Fumiko willed herself to calm down enough to get the stubborn snap and zipper undone. She tugged the black dress skirt off and blushed faintly in embarrassment as her worn, threadbare cotton panties were revealed.

“I'm absolutely going to have to take you shopping soon,” Marisa drawled out, grinning impishly. “You want to look nice for me, don't you?”

Fumiko's blush intensified. “Y-yeah.”

“That makes me happy.” Marisa's grin grew wider as her friend-turned-lover clumsily removed her panties. Her gaze traveled to the space those panties had covered. A thick mat of curly reddish-brown hair obscured the outlines of Fumiko's pussy. “I didn't realize it had been so long for you…”

“Things haven't been good for a long time,” Fumiko said in a small voice.

“What about now?” Marisa fixed Fumiko with a look that could only be described as coquettish. “Are things good for you now?”

“I, um, I—I think—um—”

Marisa burst into a fit of giggles. “You're so cute, sweet lovely. Like a schoolgirl alone with her girlfriend for the first time—” She broke off suddenly, a distressed look appearing on her face. “Oh, Fumiko! Don't tell me; has it been that long? You haven't… not at all since  Hisakawa?”

Fumiko nodded her head slowly. Marisa wasn't counting the empty sex she traded for survival. The young woman knew very well what Fumiko had been forced to do in order to stay alive after her name was stripped from her. There was no point in bringing it up, especially considering what was happening now.

“You poor thing,” Marisa whispered, her voice filled with sympathy. “Lie down, lovely, and let me make up for all those years you've been alone.”

Letting herself drop to the mattress, Fumiko watched in wide-eyed wonder as Marisa straddled her hips and gazed down at her. The hungry look intensified; Fumiko gasped in sudden pleasure as Marisa's lips wrapped themselves around one of her large nipples. A hot, throbbing ache accompanied the tightening sensation as the nipple became erect from the sudden stimulation.

“Risa! That feels—aah!—so good.” Fumiko's words slurred and she felt her whole body start to go limp. All of the strength seemed to drain out of her as Marisa went to work on her breasts. Her nipples were large even before they stiffened; in the midst of the mind-melting pleasure, they'd become even more prominent.

Silken strands of brown-black hair caressed the curvature of Fumiko's breasts as her sweet and generous lover split her attentions equally between both breasts. Small fingers squeezed and clenched them, the long, manicured nails scraping just enough to send shivers through Fumiko's body.

Marisa drew back off of a nipple and smiled up at Fumiko through a curtain of slightly mussed black hair. “They're so big and soft, I can't stand it! Makes me so hot.”

“H-hey!” Fumiko blurted, her blush darkening, but her embarrassed objection was lost beneath a loud moan as Marisa traced a fingertip across the faintly visible stretch marks at the sides of her breasts.

“Take it as a compliment, Fumiko.” Marisa tapped the end of her lover's nose with a fingertip. “I love the things other people hate. I love how tall you are. I love your freckles. I really love your big tits. I love the little extra you've got around the middle—” She broke off as Fumiko's embarrassment factor rose exponentially, a panicked look forming in her eyes. “I'm serious! I wouldn't fib about something like this, especially not now!”

“Um, I don't—I mean, I'm—”

Marisa burst into a fit of giggles. “It's adorable how easily flustered you are.”

Further conversation was suspended as Marisa slid down, her gaze still locked on her lover's face. Fumiko struggled to keep her eyes open as Marisa's right hand slid between her legs, her long nails scraping the tender flesh beneath the damp, curly red hair. Bracing herself for what was to come next, Fumiko clenched her hands around the old comforter spread over her bed.

“Wow, you're so wet,” Marisa purred. “This should be easy.”

A finger slowly traced its way up the slit between Fumiko's lower lips. Shivering, her muscles tensing, the tall woman moaned involuntarily as a the manicured, iridescent pink fingernail scraped against her and slipped inside just a little—then a lot.

“Risa!” Fumiko yelped, her hips bucking lightly in response. “Aah… go deeper…”

“One or two?”

“Um?”

Marisa giggled. “Fingers, lovely. One or two?”

“Ah… two.”

Fumiko groaned as she felt movement between her thighs. She was so wet that Marisa had no trouble at all sliding her middle finger inside to join the first. The groan became a strangled gasp as Marisa's palm pressed against her mound, thrusting the fingers further into her while massaging the outside of her pussy. Fumiko's grip on the comforter tightened until her knuckles went white, but Marisa shook her head.

“I want you to touch me, too,” she moaned. Without even slowing the gentle thrusting motion of her right hand, Marisa's left hand grasped Fumiko's right. She guided the hand up and up, nestling in between her spread thighs.

Fumiko needed no further encouragement. A small part of her mind that could still process information marveled at what she saw. Her index finger drew slow circles around the lips before parting them and sliding inside. The angle wasn't ideal, but her lover responded favorably.

Marisa's hips rocked against that hand, shoving Fumiko's finger deeper inside and grinding her wide palm against the outside of her pussy. The younger woman moaned and struggled to stay upright from the waves of pleasure that crashed through her, but her own fingers didn't miss a beat.

Stormy gray eyes flew wide open as the pressure inside started to build, pleasure multiplying pleasure and rising to a wonderful crescendo. Fumiko's lips parted wide as she moaned, feeling a thread of her saliva stream down her cheek and tickle her ear.

“Risa, it's—it's happening!” Fumiko cried out.

Marisa nodded vigorously and increased the tempo of both her thrusting fingers and the rate at which she rocked her hips. Both of them tried desperately to keep their eyes from reflexively closing as they climaxed at the same time.

Involuntary tears sprang from Fumiko's eyes as she both felt and witnessed their first orgasm together. She could see it in Marisa's face, the way her lips parted in a perfect little o as she moaned loud and low, almost a guttural groan.

Fumiko's head fell back against the mattress. She panted, the sweat beading on her forehead. Marisa smiled down from above, but something told Fumiko that her enthusiastic lover wasn't done with her yet.

“Spread your legs for me, lovely.” Marisa purred. “I want to taste you.”

Her muscles felt as if they'd been reduced to jelly, but Fumiko managed to shakily shift on the narrow mattress, letting one leg hang off the edge of the bed. Marisa slid off the bed and got down on her knees, the petite woman's short stature putting her at exactly the right level. She drew closer and closer, moving slowly and deliberately. Fumiko flinched in anxious excitement as she felt the tickle of Marisa's hair on her inner thighs.

“So hot,” Marisa breathed.

Fumiko didn't respond—was incapable of responding, for at that moment Marisa's tongue pushed through the curls, soaked with sweat and other liquids, and thrust its way inside her. Her muscles spasmed of their own accord and Fumiko felt her toes clench up so hard the joints popped audibly.

She couldn't believe what was happening. It had been so long since she'd experienced release, it was almost too much for her to process. The intense pleasure between her legs was even more overwhelming than when Marisa's fingers were inside her. Sweat poured from her forehead, getting in her eyes and stinging sharply, but she didn't care.

Soft cries of ecstasy gave way to loud, incoherent vocalizations that were occasionally interspersed with Marisa's name. Time seemed to flow in jagged, abrupt jolts as her lover's deliciously-soft tongue and lips worked her until she couldn't possibly resist any longer.

“Risa, aah—so close, so close, don't stop,” Fumiko begged. Marisa's only response was to shove her mouth against her lover's pussy even harder. Shapely thighs came together, squeezing reflexively around Marisa's head as she experienced her second orgasm of the evening.

“Mm, I—oh, Risa, yes! Yes! Yes—”

Fumiko collapsed to the mattress, utterly and completely spent. She had no strength left, could barely hold her eyes open to watch as her lovely Marisa climbed back onto the mattress and squeezed in beside her. Slender arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her close.

“Mm, you taste so good,” Marisa giggled and shifted slightly. Fumiko's eyes widened in surprise as Marisa kissed her hard; she tasted herself on her lover's lips and tongue. The younger woman held her in the kiss for a bit longer, their tongues meeting and caressing before she drew back.

“What do you think? Good, right?” Marisa wore a kittenish smile. “Next time you can eat me, if you want.”

“Risa, I…”

“What is it, lovely?”

“I haven't felt this good in so long.” Still breathing hard, Fumiko tried to let herself relax, allow her heart rate to come back down to earth. “Th-thank you.”

Marisa giggled.

“You're welcome, silly.”

*

The next morning came slowly, with difficulty. Fumiko felt a warm glow saturate her being as she opened her eyes and was greeted with Marisa's adorable sleeping face. The girl looked utterly peaceful in her slumber, as if all the pain and sorrow of the previous day had been wiped clean from her memory.

Fumiko knew this wasn't the case; one night of shared passion, no matter how good, wasn't going to change reality. That fact wasn't lost on Fumiko, either—though she was perhaps considering something entirely different. Lonely security had been the highlight of her life up until now.

Now, things were different. The situation had changed, and for the better at that. One moment Fumiko attempted to offer emotional comfort to the only person from her past who hadn't abandoned her. The next, she was drowning in a sea of pleasure, Marisa's head buried between her legs.

Sea-green eyes fluttered open and a faint smile curved Marisa's lips.

“Good morning, lovely,” she whispered.

Fumiko smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. She intended for it to be a quick little gesture of affection, but Marisa's arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a deep, passionate embrace. Squeaking in surprise and pleasure, Fumiko somehow managed to return the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

“Risa,” Fumiko mumbled.

“Hm?”

“About last night…”

Marisa grinned. “You make me so hot. I needed that on so many levels.” Her expression became thoughtful. “Like, I think Kevin is definitely very hot in his own way, but wow has it ever been awkward. Not in the good, cute way, either.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it's pretty difficult just to get him into bed with me,” Marisa explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “If he wasn't always constantly busy with Eldridge clan business… but he is, and after those long days in the office he doesn't want to fuck, just sleep. And when I can get him in the mood, it's over in twenty minutes or so and then he just wants to sleep.” Her expression became petulant and she sighed dramatically. “I'm going to be his wife whether I like it or not and I can't even get a good lay out of the deal!”

Fumiko gave her a pensive look. “Do you think maybe he's not very happy about the arranged marriage, too?”

“I doubt it. He really does just work all the time. But it's incredibly obvious that he's totally head-over-heels in love with me.” The younger woman sighed heavily, her face twisting into a grimace. “At least that's how it seems. He's so corny, but it's kinda cute in its own way. Always giving me goofy presents and tossing awkwardly charming lines at me.”

“Maybe he likes men?” Fumiko opined. “Or doesn't like sex at all?”

Marisa's expression went grim. “I hope not, for both of our sakes. If he really doesn't like sleeping with women, or anyone at all, I guess I'd feel a little less put out. At least then it wouldn't be personal, you know? But it'd fuck up this situation that's already really fucked up.”

“But don't you feel bad about deceiving him this way?” Fumiko blurted.

“A little.” Marisa's expression soured even further. “It's not the right thing, but it's the best thing. In a perfect world… well, we don't live in one of those. If the marriage doesn't happen, the merger doesn't happen and both families lose close to a billion credits.”

Fumiko reached out and caressed Marisa's cheek lightly. “I wish… I wish I had the resources to take you away from here. Book passage to another colony, live somewhere else without having to worry about any of this.”

“It's not possible. We have to live in the world we live in.” Marisa sighed and put on a brave front. “So Mom and Dad and my dear Kevin all think I'm staying with school friends tonight. I don't think any of them will guess I came here instead. They know I spend time with you, but they pretend it doesn't happen, and I guess that works out for us.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that, but it just… being nameless also means being invisible. Erased. Not a real person.” Frustration showed plainly on Fumiko's face. “If it wasn't for the pay limits, I'd be even less than that.”

“Try to remember that I'm still here and I still care about you. A lot. You mean the world to me—and not just because you make me hot.” Marisa grinned impishly. “Though I can't deny that's definitely a factor.”

Fumiko blushed. “Y-yeah.”

“Last night was just a taste of what's to come, lovely.” The petite girl's grin became hungry, predatory. “I fully intend to put on an encore performance… very soon. Do you have to go to work today?”

“I do.” Fumiko blinked at the jarring subject change. “I have to be there in an hour. Coffee and a quick shower; no time for breakfast. Will you be okay to get to class from here, Risa?”

“I drove here, so yeah.”

“Right, you have a car of your own now.”

“Dad felt it was unseemly and improper for a member of the family to be seen on public transit,” Marisa explained, wincing. “It's obvious that not only does his entire plan to expand the Renfield sphere of influence hinges upon the alliance, but also on grooming me to become another cog in the clan money machine.”

Fumiko stood up and walked the few steps into her tiny kitchenette. “Want some coffee before you go?”

“Sure.” Marisa leaned back on the mattress. Both were still completely nude and totally unperturbed by the fact. “I can't stand this. Kevin's a nice guy but… I just don't burn for him. Maybe I would be able to learn to love only him, but that's… that's not supposed to happen after the wedding!”

“It makes me so angry,” Fumiko growled as she dumped a scoop of pre-ground coffee into a filter paper. She slid the loaded filter assembly back into the machine and turned on the power. A sharp hiss of water being flash-heated was followed by a the gurgling sound of the drip coffee maker preparing to brew.

Marisa rolled her eyes theatrically. “Come on, Fumiko. Has it ever been any different for daughters of highborn families?”

“Point taken.”

“Everything is for the clan. It's all about status, influence, wealth, who has the most and who can be the first.” Marisa stood up and started to dress herself again. “It's a stupid dick-measuring contest. A stupid waste of resources, time, energy and people. None of this shit would ever happen if women ran the world.”

Fumiko herself agreed wholeheartedly, but she chose not to dwell any further on the subject of maybes and what-ifs. The world is what it is. We just have to live as best we can. She opened the small conservator and pulled out a carton of light cream. “You don't want to take a shower before you go?”

“No time,” Marisa said. Her eyes danced with mischief. “I'd love to take one with you, but I don't think two people can fit in your shower stall—even with me being as small as I am.”

Fumiko blushed as she poured the coffee into cups. A dollop of cream and a light dusting of cocoa powder finished the drinks off. She handed one to Marisa and kept the other for herself, sipping at the hot, bitter brew. The cobwebs fell away from her mind and she felt more alert and aware after only a few swallows.

“Is your father really pushing for you to work in his office?” Fumiko took a healthy swallow of her coffee, wincing slightly as the hot liquid nearly scalded her tongue. “Wasn't your highest placement score in interstellar navigation and mapping?”

“Yes, he really is. Clan, clan, clan, remember? Dad's acting like me working for the company is a done deal, a foregone conclusion—regardless of what my occupational file looks like.” The girl scowled into her coffee mug as she drank. “I have a feeling Dad intends to put pressure on the Ministry of the Economy to fuck with the placement recommendations and send me packing for some stuffy old business university. All for the good of the family.”

“What are you going to do if he tries?”

“My best bet is to get to him through Kevin.” Marisa grimaced as she swallowed the last of her coffee. “Like I said, he's a sweetheart and a lot less domineering than Dad. If I tell him I want to pursue my own career path, I think he'll help me. Dad might complain, but with Renfield and Eldridge so cozy, he'll have to tread carefully when dealing with my new husband. I'm only a woman, after all.”

I wish I had your confidence, Fumiko silently added. Aloud, she said, “Risa, when do you get out of class?”

“I'll be done for the day by five.”

“Do you want to do something tonight?”

Marisa's smile returned in full. “Yes! Let's go shopping! You really need some new clothes. We should be able to find a good restaurant in the area, then maybe check into a nice hotel together.” The girl licked her lips suggestively. “I don't know if I'll be able to last all day. I want another taste.”

Fumiko's blush returned in full and she looked away. “Y-you can do whatever you want to me, Risa.”

“Damn it, Fumiko, don't blush at me like that right now,” Marisa whined, making an exaggerated pouty face. “I'm already running short on time as it is. Let's change the subject before I get any more worked up.”

“Um, is it really okay to stay with me again tonight? Won't your family be suspicious?”

“Not really. As long as I'm there to say goodbye.” Marisa's expression was weary and sad all at once as she sat the empty coffee mug down. “It's been hard already, but I think… this is going to be the hardest part.”

“I'm sorry, Risa.”

Marisa shrugged as if it didn't matter. “I'll manage.”

“You shouldn't keep it all bottled up inside,” Fumiko pointed out.

“I haven't, don't worry.” The younger woman sat back down on the edge of the bed, regarding Fumiko with flat, empty eyes. “It's just… I wanted to feel something positive amidst all of the negatives. I didn't want to bring any more of that than I already have.”

Fumiko hugged Marisa tightly. “It makes me happy to see you happy.”

“Thank you,” Marisa murmured. “I'm sorry I'm being so needy.”

“You don't have to apologize for that.”

“But it's not fa—”

A fingertip pressed against Marisa's lips, silencing her. “Don't say it's not fair to me. You helped me when I was hungry and cold. You wiped my tears away when I cried.”

“Mm.” Marisa's lips parted slightly and she sucked lightly on the fingertip, a flush quickly coming to her own cheeks. After a moment she drew back, her eyes glimmering with moisture. “Kiss me.”

Fumiko moved her hand down, grasping Marisa's chin between her thumb and forefinger, drawing the girl closer. Her lips brushed against her friend's, almost tentatively, before pressing them together. Marisa was uncharacteristically passive, her body pliant and yielding, as Fumiko kissed her.

A few heartbeats later, Fumiko drew back, a concerned expression on her face. “Risa, you're not 'fine' and you won't 'manage.'”

“I know.” Her slender shoulders shrugged again. “I wouldn't be able to get through this without you, Fumiko.” Marisa leaned down and slipped her shoes on. “I need to leave now. My first class is in an hour and I'm supposed to meet with my instructor first.”

“Okay. I should get in the shower.” Fumiko smiled as Marisa stood face to face with her. Marisa's high heels added a few centimeters to her stature, but Fumiko still towered over the younger woman. “Try to have a good day, Risa. I'm worried about you.”

“I know.”

“Don't just say 'I know' with that look on your face,” Fumiko admonished, wagging a mock-chastising finger. Her smile faded quickly, however. “I wish I be there with you at the med center, but… I'll keep you in my thoughts. I'm sure we'll have lots of fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Marisa brushed her fingertips against Fumiko's cheek. “I'll come pick you up after work. See you then.”

*

Luminia Systems, the company Fumiko worked for, was a successful engineering firm that designed starship subsystem and propulsion components. It was her teenage interest in space travel—and the vessels that facilitated such travel—that led her on the path here, three years ago. Bright-eyed with a heart full of hope, she'd attempted to get in on an internship while she was finishing up her degree.

Unfortunately, many doors were closed to nameless, despite the fact that she'd managed to claw her way into university and score extremely high on the occupational placement tests. There were few large companies that would risk hiring nameless for anything more important than sweeping the floors.

That didn't deter Fumiko, however, and she pressed on, determined to make it happen through sheer perseverance. She did end up getting the internship, but what followed her victory was a depressingly common reality. Fumiko became an escort both to survive as a nameless minor, and to amass enough creds to enroll in university without the all-important clan sponsorship.

What followed was three years of enduring indifference and veiled hostility from both instructors and peers, occasionally escalating to outright harassment. At the start of every single year, she was expected to fail and be dismissed from the university. In the end, Fumiko proved all her detractors wrong with near-flawless coursework scores, earning an intermediate degree in starship systems engineering.

She'd already been interning with Luminia for a year when, through some cruel twist of fate, her department was taken over by one of her former clients! The old man recognized her and Fumiko's career took an immediate turn for the worse. The respect she'd earned through over a year of hard labor was gone.

It was a subtle thing. Luminia Systems allowed her to finish out her internship and even offered her a position in the company—as an entry level reception clerk.

Fumiko was one of the top five students in her class. She'd always imagined that once she finished her degree, that she could return to the headspace she'd lived in as a young teenager. Those exciting days she spent in the electronics and optronics lab, learning the basic fundamentals of modern technology…

All of that was lost. Her status and history ensured she would never become more than an “office lady,” a piece of decorative furniture. Her duties were an insult to her talents. She worked only six hours a day, typing reports and keeping the company's various databases orderly. The work was simple and mind-numbingly tedious.

Fumiko's heels clicked on the tiled floor of the lobby lobby as she walked to the elevator and tapped the button. Her desk was on the fourth floor, the management floor. Every day she would pass the design and implementation floors on the way up. No matter how many days went by, it never seemed to get any easier.

I should be on 2F, in the testing labs, or on 3F in the design workshop. That's the job I'm trained for, the dream I hoped to realize. The lift doors opened and she stepped inside, closing her eyes as the transparent-walled conveyance ascended. She didn't want to see the other floors today.

The fourth floor was the heart of the Luminia company management machine, where members of the Norris and Yamada families held absolute sway. Fumiko stepped off the elevator as the doors opened and made her way to her desk. It was situated out in the open, ostensibly so that she could greet the client representatives who came to negotiate agreements with management. Fumiko wasn't stupid—she knew the real reason why they put her on display like this.

Her desk was already laden with a stack of paperwork waiting to be transcribed and filed into the system. The wired comm terminal sat nearby, her headset dangling from a hook mounted to the side of the desk. Fumiko pulled her chair out and sat down, her hands sweeping up under her thighs to keep her too-short skirt from riding up.

Not that it mattered. It was made indirectly but abundantly clear that she was there to be visually consumed. Her eyes narrowed sharply in anger at how her boss made a point of dropping things around her desk and asking her to retrieve them. It happened at least once or twice a week; she'd long since learned that the better view she gave him the first time, the less likely it was to happen again on the same day.

“Fumiko,” a gravelly masculine voice called out. Fumiko didn't even have to look up to know it was Norris, but she did out of feigned respect. Her boss carried a thin tablet computer, his multicom and a stylus, modeled to resemble an antique metal-bodied pen, resting atop it. Handsome even in his later years, with dark brown hair that was stylishly razor-cut and always dressed in a fine tailored suit, Richard Norris exuded masculine charm and sex appeal and was rarely without a mistress or two.

To Fumiko, though, there were few people in the world she considered uglier.

“Good morning, Mr. Norris,” Fumiko responded tonelessly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that the sector database is in need of a thorough audit. One of our accounting people from the Cerulean III branch informed me of several discrepancies.” Norris tapped the screen of his tab and a densely-populated directory appeared inside her network share.

Fumiko glared at the new window with carefully-masked irritation. She already had hours worth of tedious nonsense to plow through—performing an audit on the sector's export database would take at even longer than that!

“Yes, sir,” Fumiko agreed, but inwardly she was fuming, especially since Norris came to her workstation in person, rather than simply sending a memo. She knew why.

Norris leaned forward and his fancy stylus went sliding off the smooth surface of the tab's screen. He caught his multicom easily—too easily. It was so obviously intentional that it seemed Norris didn't even feel the need to at least feign the appearance of propriety any longer.

“Pick that up for me, Fumiko.”

There was a cold look in the man's eyes that sent an involuntary shudder through Fumiko's shoulders. She rarely noticed the looks the highborn men gave her, but today was different. It was impossible not to contrast the gaze of her perverted boss with the look that Marisa wore the night before.

It was the antithesis of how Risa gazed at her. The joyful desire, the hunger, the undiluted physical and emotional need that exuded from her friend's pleading gaze wasn't present here. Marisa cherished her, didn't view her as cheap eye candy to be consumed casually and discarded just as easily.

Pick it up yourself, you disgusting piece of shit, Fumiko snarled silently. But she couldn't do that—if she refused to yield to him, she would lose her job. It might not happen immediately, but she knew it would happen. The stars only knew how many veiled threats Norris had dropped to that effect.

“Yes, sir.”

Fumiko slipped out of her chair and spotted the stylus resting on the floor less than a meter away. She took two slow steps and bent down, picked up the pen and stood back up, handing it to Norris with the most demure smile she could manage.

“That's a good girl,” Norris 'praised' in a rather condescending tone. He looked up at her—she was a bit taller than him, after all—and smiled. “Keep up the good work and I'll put in a good word for you at your next performance review.”

Fumiko somehow maintained her cutesy fake smile despite the fury raging inside. Most of her coworkers weren't anywhere near as flagrantly abusive as he was—but then again, Norris's direct supervisor, a high-ranking member of the Yamada clan, was also the man who routinely paid thousands of cash credits to have sex with teenage girls.

After Norris disappeared into his own office, Fumiko sat down and shivered in disgust, both at Norris and at her own willingness to play along with what they wanted. She desperately needed to escape her circumstances, but she was trapped.

The Ministry of the Economy, under lobbying pressure from lowborn clans and their highborn superiors alike, permitted companies to pay nameless workers at a minimum wage forty percent lower than the general population. Fumiko's take-home pay was so low she could barely afford to keep her head above water.

She woke her terminal again and started processing the records Norris assigned to her, performing her duties without really thinking much about it. This sort of work Fumiko could probably do in her sleep. As she manipulated the contents of the files, her mind wandered, as it usually did.

Escape was currently out of reach, but Fumiko thought of it all the same. There were other places, other star systems with other worlds where the culture was different, where a person's name was irrelevant, their sexuality not questioned and their capability was all that mattered. In a place such as that, Fumiko would do more than survive, but thrive.

Here, on the surface of New Calista, there was no chance at all. Even if she tried to take a position with another company, only the names and faces would change. This was the best she could hope for on her homeworld—doing mindless, menial administrative work and stoically bearing the brunt of a torrent of blatant sexual harassment.

Still, her hopeless fate didn't dampen Fumiko's spirits completely. She thought of her beautiful Marisa and couldn't help but smile. Her friend-turned-lover was about to marry the eldest son of a very wealthy clan. Was there some way that Risa could use her husband's resources to help them both defy their fates?

Maybe.

Would Risa even consider doing such a thing? That they were entangled in a secret affair—between two women, no less—while Marisa was engaged to be married was bad enough. Manipulating her husband out of the resources to leave New Calista forever…

The thought of such dishonest manipulation left her feeling uneasy and uncomfortable, but Fumiko was becoming increasingly desperate for a way out of this hell. It would only get worse if the affair was discovered. At best, Marisa would end up just as nameless as Fumiko. The Eldridge clan would not let such a grievous insult pass without retribution. The thought of someone so dear to her experiencing the same suffering—

Stop it. Focus on what needs to be done. This work won't do itself.

.3

Fumiko felt a surge of warmth as she spotted the car that pulled up into the loading zone in front of the Luminia Systems building. With a gleaming, dark chrome color skin and a small parking authorization holo glowing in the corner of the windshield, she would have recognized her friend's car even if Marisa wasn't currently sitting behind the wheel, beckoning for her to get in.

Her heels struck the concrete rhythmically as she crossed the sidewalk and opened the passenger side door. The interior of the car was a wonderful respite from the already blazing heat.

Marisa smiled. “Ready for a night on the town, lovely lady?”

“Sure, but can we go back to my apartment so I can change first?” Fumiko gestured to the clothing she wore and made a face. “I don't want to keep these clothes on for any longer than I have to.”

“Not necessary,” Marisa assured her. “I swung by your place on the way and grabbed you something a little more cool and comfortable to wear.”

“And here I thought you'd want me to dress sexy for you.”

“Well… not that I'd be opposed, but I think both of us could use a break.” Marisa tapped the accelerator and the electric vehicle smoothly picked up speed. Spinning the wheel slightly as she applied brakes, Marisa put the car on a wide thoroughfare headed for the wilder, more colorful part of the city.

Fumiko turned away to gaze out the window. It was like Risa could tell exactly how she felt without the need for words. She had planned to vent to her friend all about the harassment she received from Norris, but that could wait. For now, Fumiko just wanted to enjoy some much-needed relaxation.

Marisa wore casual clothes primarily intended to beat the sweltering heat. Her shorts had a scant inseam, but they were somewhat loose around her hips and butt. Instead of a blouse or tee, Marisa wore a frill-trimmed pale blue bikini top. Though she'd obviously chosen her brief outfit for practical purposes, Fumiko couldn't resist stealing glances.

A few moments of silence passed before Fumiko sniffed the air, catching the faintest hint of a distinctive chemical smell, nearly buried beneath the light floral scent of Marisa's perfume. It was a sharp, slightly cloying sweet scent that anyone who had ever been badly injured would recognize: the smell of cellular regeneration fluid.

“So… how did it go?” Fumiko asked, tentatively.

“About as… well as could be expected.” The younger woman swerved gently to pass a cargo drone and the car sped its way through the city. “It was awkward. I knew it was going to be, but I didn't think it'd be this bad. Dad sent us all out of the room for half an hour and then left the med center. Mom was too devastated by the… situation… to realize her husband just left us there.”

“Did they…?”

“Disconnect life support?” Marisa took a deep breath and focused her attention back on the road. “Yes. They did. He passed only a few minutes later. The machines kept him alive, but he was in terrible pain—and all Dad could talk about was the clan. All he could fucking talk about was how Cole's passing weakened Renfield. It's like he doesn't even give a shit that his child just died.”

“Maybe he just doesn't know how to deal with his grief,” Fumiko suggested. “Your father was raised from childhood to lead the clan. It's the only life he's ever known.”

Marisa's eyes flashed dangerously. “I doubt he even has grief. When the accident first happened, when I called him from the med center, he didn't rush to his son's side. He called an emergency convocation of the clan leadership. It wasn't until three hours later that he actually fucking showed up.”

Fumiko didn't respond to that.

“Nothing matters to him but power, money, influence. You think it's any different for the Tachibana clan? Or any highborn family? You were thrown out of your own family for fucking a lowborn girl.”

“I know.” She turned back to look out the window, trying to keep her volatile emotions from bubbling up to the surface. “Risa, can we please not talk about this now? We're supposed to be out together to have fun and enjoy each other's company.”

“Yeah.” The younger woman took a deep breath. “You're right.”

Less than ten minutes passed in silence before the car slowed even further. Marisa pulled the small car into a ground-vehicle parking garage near their destination. Fumiko waited patiently while her friend spent the next minute or two trying to find her assigned spot in the crowded garage.

“Should I just change in the car?” Fumiko asked as Marisa engaged the parking brake and shut off the engine.

“Go ahead.”

Fumiko started stripping off her work clothing, tossing it into the back seat of Marisa's car without caring whether it wrinkled or not. The clothing Marisa picked out for her was appropriate for hot weather—a mint-colored camisole and a pair of thin shorts studded with pockets. Flat sandals rounded out the ensemble.

Fumiko struggled to change in the car's cramped interior, but she managed to get it done without hurting herself or accidentally smacking Marisa in the face. Sliding on the sandals and adjusting the back strap, Fumiko opened the door and stepped out onto the concrete surface of the parking garage. Even deep within the structure where the sun's light could not reach, the air was uncomfortably warm and stifling.

“It's miserable out here,” Marisa complained as she got out of the car herself and activated the security sytem. “Come on, let's go. Food or shopping first?”

Fumiko considered for a moment. “Shopping first. I'm not all that hungry right now, but I'm sure I'll be able to eat something in a little while.” She paused and gazed at her friend for a few seconds, a pale pink flush touching her cheeks. “Honestly, I really appreciate this, Risa. It's been impossible to buy new clothes recently…”

“After seeing those grimy old panties you were wearing, I sort of figured that out for myself,” Marisa agreed. “Come on, let's take the lift down. Some of my favorite stores are in this block, so I'm sure we'll find some really cute things for you to wear.”

The two made their way to the elevator and waited as the conveyance descended to street level. Primer-gray metal doors slid open and Marisa took Fumiko by the hand, pulling her gently along.

Fumiko felt a smile curving her lips. She may have been older, but Marisa always seemed to be far more poised and mature. The daughter of the Renfield clan possessed a much more commanding presence yet remained friendly and approachable. Perhaps it was all a side-effect of being raised as a highborn daughter, but Fumiko didn't think so. The girl was just plain strong, all on her own, nobility not necessary.

Marisa made a sharp turn and dragged a flustered Fumiko into a clothing store that seemed to exude an aura of “expensive.” Feeling suddenly self-conscious as she was pulled through the aisles of clothing, Fumiko was grateful that Risa was with her. She felt terribly out of place and tawdry amidst all the beautiful garments on display.

“Pick out whatever you want,” Marisa instructed.

“But it's all so… so…”

“Expensive? I don't care. I want you to have a good life, Fumiko. I want to see your happy smile more often.” Her expression became a good deal more sultry and her lips curved into a coy smile. “Besides, I'm sure I'll get my money's worth.”

Fumiko's blush intensified, but she didn't reply. Instead, she started to push through the racks, searching for anything that caught her eye. Marisa reached into a nearby rack and pulled out a hanger laden with a casual and cool dress with a flouncy skirt. On someone Fumiko's height, it would be daringly short.

“That's really cute,” Fumiko blurted.

“Isn't it, though? Do you want to try it on? Don't look at the price—I told you not to worry about that. I'm handling the credits.” Marisa shook a chastising finger. “Stop thinking about money you think you owe me. Just let me spoil you already!”

Fumiko smiled and suppressed her feelings of anxiety and guilt as Marisa draped the dress over her left arm. The two spent another few minutes searching the racks, piling dresses, skirts and other outfits into Marisa's waiting arms. Weighed down with enough clothing to last a full week, the pair made their way to the changing room. A bright-eyed attendant handed Fumiko a placard with the number of garments printed on it.

“Can I go in with her?” Marisa asked the attendant.

“Of course. Right this way.”

The shop attendant led them to a larger changing room in the back of the store. Fumiko walked through the open door and started hanging her selections on the various hooks and bars provided for that purpose.

“Will you need any assistance with fitting?”

Marisa smiled at the attendant and waved a dismissive hand. “I'll help her if she needs it, thank you.”

Fumiko closed and latched the door, sitting down on the bench seat to slip out of her sandals. “What should I try on first?”

“The first dress,” Marisa suggested. “It's the one most likely to have fit problems, so let's get the disappointment section of the exercise out of the way first.”

“Makes sense.” Fumiko stripped down to her bra and panties and started to pull the dress over her head, but the younger woman held out a hand to stop her.

“Take it all off.” Marisa held the dress's bodice and attached halter strap out for emphasis. “This isn't meant to be worn with a bra like yours—the straps will show and look weird.”

“We're just checking the fit, Risa.” The tall, busty woman grimaced at her chest. “I'm not really capable of going without, unlike certain people I know. Do you think it'd work with a strapless one? The back doesn't go down far enough to show the band.”

“That should work, but you're not wearing one now. Come on, take it off so we can see how it's supposed to look.”

She couldn't argue with Marisa's logic. Fumiko reached back and unsnapped her bra, letting out a sigh of relief. There were many times when she envied Risa her small breasts; this was definitely one of them. Now clad only in her panties, Fumiko tried to take the dress, but again Marisa shook her head.

“Take it all off.” Her voice dropped low enough that no one outside the dressing room could hear. “Your panties, too.”

Fumiko blushed fiercely as she finally realized what Marisa had in mind all along. “I—I'm not sure about this, Risa…”

“Shh,” Marisa whispered. “It'll be quick, I promise. Nobody will see us, trust me. It'll feel really good. I want to eat you so much—I can't stand it any more.”

Cheeks burning bright red, Fumiko wordlessly slipped her panties off and stood naked in front of her lover. Her breathing became heavy and ragged as Marisa stepped closer and kissed her hard on the lips.

“Mm—” Fumiko's hoarse moan was cut short as Risa shoved her tongue inside. She could feel those soft, slender arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer as they kissed. Far too soon for Fumiko's liking, the petite girl pulled away and licked her lips.

“Sit down,” Marisa ordered—and it was definitely an order.

Fumiko felt a delicious, muscle-weakening thrill run up her spine and spread throughout her body. The way Risa casually and confidently took control had Fumiko's heart all aflutter, charging her entire body to the point where her lover's touch made her shiver in delighted anticipation.

She did as she was told, spreading her legs wide to allow her lover easy access. She watched as Marisa knelt down and got on her knees between those long, shapely legs. Unlike the previous night's activities, Marisa didn't waste any time at all. She pressed herself deeply into Fumiko, the curly brown hairs tickling her cheeks and nose as she pushed her tongue inside as deeply as she could.

“A-ah!” Fumiko gasped, gripping the edge of the bench. A tidal wave of pleasure exploded from between her legs. With great difficulty, Fumiko willed herself to be silent as Marisa ate her fill. Releasing her grip on the bench, her hands moved to her own breasts, squeezing and clenching them forcefully. Bright, rainbow bursts of intense ecstasy burst within her and she felt her nipples swelling and becoming stiff.

Marisa's tongue dragged its way up Fumiko's slit, feeling the tall woman grow more and more turned on. Hot, viscous fluid slicked her cheeks as she dove deeper inside; from her position, Marisa couldn't see her lover's face, but the involuntary movements of Fumiko's body told her all she needed to know.

Soft moans escaped Fumiko's lips. Her fingertips teased her swollen and erect nipples, twisting and pulling on them, sending jolts of delicious soreness through her body that only amplified her euphoria. She could feel the need, the desperate craving, in the urgency of Risa's movements, the way that clever, fiery tongue attacked her pussy aggressively.

Oh, it's coming… it's happening! Fumiko exerted a titanic effort of will not to cry out Marisa's name as the climax came rushing through her, bursting from between her legs and spreading throughout her entire body. Her breasts ached wonderfully from her self-stimulation.

Marisa felt Fumiko's hips jerk up, mashing against her face and smearing clearish liquid on her cheeks. She didn't stop, continuing to mercilessly lick and suck. The tensed muscles in the tall woman's thighs and hips relaxed as Marisa slowed the strokes of her tongue.

Somewhat uncharacteristically, Fumiko reached down, taking hold of Marisa by the hands and pulled her up into a kiss. Risa's lips and cheeks were smeared with the remnants of her own orgasm; she blinked in pleasant surprise as Fumiko started to lick the mess from her lover's lips and cheeks.

Marisa giggled softly. “You can eat me next time, I promise. Tonight, you can eat as much of me as you want.” She stood back up and wiped the last remnants of sex and saliva from her cheeks, taking the dress back from the nearby hook. “Now, though, you should get to trying on these outfits before the shop girl gets suspicious.”

“But I want to eat you now,” Fumiko whimpered.

“Oh, my, aren't we getting adventurous?”

“H-hey, it's not my fault. You were the one who got me all turned on.”

“Shh. I know.” Marisa leaned forward and gave Fumiko a quick peck on the lips. “I want to make you wait until you can't stand it. I want to make you need to eat me. I want to make you need it so much it hurts.”

Fumiko blushed profusely.

“You're so adorable.” Marisa handed her the dress. “Come on, we need to make sure all of these fit. There's more shopping to do, after all—and then it's time for dinner and drinks.”

*

The pair returned to the car nearly an hour later. Her arms burdened by several full bags, Fumiko fumbled as she carefully loaded their evening haul into the vehicle's smallish cargo compartment.

Along with the selections they picked out at the pricey boutique, Marisa insisted on stopping by several other stores to buy various clothing staples: new panties and bras, socks, basic tees and skirts. Marisa picked out two pairs of girlish flat shoes that would be cute and comfortable at the same time.

“Where are we going to eat?” Fumiko asked.

“There's a place nearby that I really like. Don't worry, none of Dad's people hang out there and Kevin would never set foot in a neighborhood like this.” Marisa giggled and opened the driver-side door of her car. “Not without a very good reason, anyway.”

Fumiko blinked, confused.

“It's in the wards,” Marisa explained, invoking the unofficial name for the “unsavory” section of the city populated by lowborn families and nameless citizens. “A cute little cafe and bar that I'm sure you'll love.”

“Just a cafe?” Fumiko echoed dubiously.

“Well, no. It's special, and not just because the waitresses are cute and dolled up in frilly dresses.” The petite girl shrugged as she started the car's engine. “It's one of my favorite places to hang out, and also something of a queer refuge, so nobody's going to freak out if we get a little affectionate. Or a lot, even.”

“Shouldn't you be more worried about your family?” Fumiko pulled her seat belt down and locked it into place. “I don't know about public displays of affection. What if someone recognizes you as a Renfield? We could be handing them a blackmail weapon to use against your family.”

Marisa shrugged. “I doubt it. I don't really stand out, looks-wise, and besides, my clan affiliation isn't exactly something I'm real public about.”

“That's not entirely true. What about the university? Your classmates?”

“Those highborn kids?” Marisa let out a chuckle. “None of those prissy little things would ever be caught dead in the wards. My friends who know aren't going to do anything, since they're my friends.”

“But what if someone does?”

“Please just trust me, lovely.” Marisa gave her friend/lover a plaintive look. “The place is safe; that's why I chose it to begin with. I'm not so visually distinctive that people will instantly recognize me as a Renfield. In fact, I'd say any stray eyes would be far more interested in you.”

Fumiko felt her cheeks grow hot. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're really cute, Fumiko. Plus, you're mixed-blood. That makes you special, exotic, novel—especially here.”

She sank deeper into her chair. “Wouldn't that make things worse for me?”

“At a highborn gala? Sure. In the wards? No way.” Marisa switched operating modes and the car surged forward as torque was exchanged for speed. “You may not have noticed, lovely, but the lowborn and nameless aren't especially fond of nobility.”

Fumiko rolled her eyes. “You don't say.”

“Look, it's going to be fine. Really.”

“Did you ever find anything out about… about my mother?” Fumiko asked, abruptly changing the subject. “You were going to look for me…”

“No, I'm sorry.” Marisa's jaw bunched up from remembered frustration. “It's not a matter of access, either; Renfield's been auditing all the lesser allied clans for the past six months. We have access to everything in the Tachibana records, and even then I couldn't even find so much as a mention of your real mom.”

Fumiko didn't respond immediately.

“Do you think my father… did something to her?”

Marisa nodded her head slowly. “It's definitely possible. After all, you happened—and that put your dad in an embarrassing position. There wasn't much else he could do but claim you as a Tachibana, then make his mistress disappear one way or another.”

“I'm surprised he didn't force my mother to terminate,” Fumiko said, her tone thick with bitterness. “He must not have known about the pregnancy until it was too late for medical intervention.”

“Rumors fly around,” Marisa agreed, “but they're just rumors. I wouldn't bet a bent cred against some of the things our fathers' colleagues say.”

“His peers knew?”

“Yeah. Everybody knew. Dad and my uncles all used to talk about how Naoki Tachibana was 'fucking some dirty barbarian whore with big tits'—their words—even though he thought he was keeping it quiet. They didn't care to find out where she came from and your dad obviously didn't keep any records of an illicit affair with a foreigner.”

Fumiko didn't respond to that. Neither woman spoke until the car pulled into yet another parking deck and the electric motors powered down. She opened her door and stepped out onto the concrete. The air was still heavy and hot, but the temperatures had come down enough to be bearable.

“Did something happen to you at work today, lovely?”

“What makes you think something happened?”

Marisa sighed in exasperation and placed a hand on her forehead. “I could tell just by lookiing at you. When I picked you up at the office, you looked depressed. Resigned. Like you were just acting out the motions, but nothing was left inside.”

“Nothing is left inside,” Fumiko mumbled. “I'm supposed to be an engineer.”

“We're going to have to have a talk about this, later.” The younger woman gave Fumiko a brave smile and extended a hand with a gallant flourish. Fumiko giggled a bit despite herself and took the offered hand. Marisa bent low to kiss the back of it in parody of ancient courtly gestures once used by highborn families on Earth.

“Does that mean you're the heroic prince and I'm the damsel in distress?”

Marisa let out a short bark of laughter. “No. We're both princesses. The despairing younger princess, forced to marry a neighboring kingdom's prince. The exiled older princess of a strong allied kingdom, who refused to give up her freedom, cast out by the king.”

“Clearly, our fairytale would be the best.”

“The best ever!” Marisa held up a hand in a mock-triumphant fist pump. “Not suitable for children, though.”

The two metaphorical princesses made their way through the parking area and out onto the streets. These grimy, poorly-lit streets, choked with people and the smoke of various types of mind-alterning substances, brought back a rush of memories.

“Remembering the past?” Marisa asked.

Fumiko nodded numbly. “I never made much money here, but… I don't know. There's just something that feels cleaner here, even with all the garbage everywhere.” She fell silent, drinking in the nuances of this place while turning her own memories over in her thoughts, trying to find the right words.

“Names don't mean much here,” Marisa agreed.

“No, they don't. People respect strength, but here strength means something different than it does in the world of wealth and abundance. My clients here were… kinder. They treated me with at least some measure of dignity.”

Marisa's gaze sharpened. “They were still taking advantage of you.”

“I know, but it was just… I didn't understand. I do now, of course, but I still have these memories that make me feel… not 'good' exactly, but not bad, either. There were a few times where I didn't even have to fake it—it really did feel good.”

Her friend seemed skeptical. “With men? Really?”

“Well… no,” Fumiko admitted. “But not all of my clients were men. Where else would women like me even be? If they hadn't been born nameless already, that is.”

Both women fell silent as they picked their way through the crowded, narrow streets not intended for vehicle traffic. Cars did occasionally attempt to bully their way through, but in this place, the poorest part of the city, most of the residents walked.

Fumiko was only mildly surprised that Marisa looked cool and comfortable amidst crowds of lowborn and nameless. She'd been right after all—no one would know to look at her that she was a member of the Renfield clan. Fumiko suspected that this had to do with the fact that this was a place where outcasts of all types could vanish into the general strangeness—and Marisa could shed the practiced artifice of a highborn daughter.

“Nervous about being back here?”

“Anxious,” Fumiko corrected. “But not really in a bad way.”

“Good; we're almost there.”

“Risa, why do you really want to bring me here?” Fumiko shook her head, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “Was it because you thought I'd like to look at the pretty waitresses?”

Marisa's lips twitched in amusement. “What, you don't like looking at pretty girls?”

“Risa, I'm being serious.”

“I am, too. I chose this place because Kaori works here. Nothing unpleasant will happen to you at Suzume's café. This is a place where the both of us can relax without having to worry about being seen by anyone who cares.”

“That's it, then?”

“Well, that and the food is good.” Marisa pointed to a smallish establishment wedged between two stores, one that sold various types of inexpensive multicoms and another that sold specialty sex toys. “This is the place. Come on, it's not that busy right now so we should be able to get quick service.”

Fumiko shrugged and followed her inside. The cafe was a lot larger on the inside than it first appeared; she immediately noticed that the stairs on the far right-hand wall led up to a second floor of tables. A floating holo that read, “Please wait for an available table” glimmered prominently at the entryway, next to a battered wooden podium.

“Table for two?”

A girl of middling height with a rounder build stood behind the podium. Fumiko felt her cheeks warm at the sight of the girl and her frill-decked dress. Tailored to be considerably more provocative than the ancient porcelain dolls that inspired it, the skirts were quite short. Fumiko's gaze dropped lower to the creamy exposed flesh of the waitress's thighs, between the hem of her skirt and the tops of her ribbon-trimmed stockings.

Marisa cleared her throat abruptly, jolting an embarrassed Fumiko out of her pleasant reverie. Straightening up and trying desperately not to look too self-conscious, Fumiko nodded.

“Right this way, please.” The waitress shot a knowing look at Marisa. “I never expected you to bring a girl in here. From the look in your eyes I'm guessing she's someone very… special.”

“Wait—you came here with men?” Fumiko blurted.

The waitress and Marisa both burst into laughter.

“No. She usually comes here alone,” the waitress clarified. “You're the first person I've ever seen Marisa bring with her. Seems significant to me.”

“It does.” Marisa gestured to Fumiko. “This is my dear friend, Fumiko. Fumiko, this is Kaori Akiyama. We've been jointly causing trouble for over two years now.”

“Dear friend?” Kaori Akiyama studied both Fumiko and Marisa for a long moment. After a full thirty seconds of silence, she laughed out loud. “Oh, of course—her. You're fucking her, aren't you?”

Fumiko blushed profusedly and sputtered out something that could have resembled a denial had it been intelligible. Marisa just smiled and shook her head slowly in mock-exasperation. “You don't miss a thing, do you?”

“I do have a functional brain, you know.” Kaori rolled her eyes and gestured to a small table for two, situated in the back of the cafe near a partitioning wall. The space was about as private as one could get inside a public establishment. “Here are your menus. I'll give you two a few minutes to decide what you want.”

“Kaori, wait.” Marisa jerked a thumb at her anxiety-ridden date. “I can tell she's about to explode if she doesn't ask.”

“H-hey!” Fumiko protested.

“Don't try to tell me I'm wrong; I can see it plainly on your face.”

“F-fine.” Fumiko's hurt look was quickly smothered by anxiety. She turned to Kaori and bit her lower lip nervously. “How did you know we were, um—?”

“Fucking?” Kaori supplied.

“Yeah.” Her blush darkened several shades at Akiyama's blunt observation. “T-that.”

“Oh, just simple deductive reasoning.”

“Bullshit,” Marisa cut in, laughing. “You just assume I'm fucking anyone I spend more than a little time around. How many more shots in the dark are you going to make?”

Kaori scoffed at that and crossed her arms. “How many times have I been wrong?”

“Only once,” Marisa admitted in a grudging tone.

“Then I rest my case.” The woman turned her attention back to Fumiko and offered an apologetic smile. “Apologies for the little comedy routine, but Marisa's had a crush on you for years longer than I've known her. I'm amazed it took her this long to act on it, and besides, laying her childhood friend is hardly the most scandalous thing she's done—”

“Really, Kaori?” Marisa sighed and placed a hand to her forehead theatrically. “You're just jealous that I make your love life look dull and uninteresting by comparison.”

“Hey, I like my 'dull and uninteresting' love life. What it lacks in excitement it more than makes up for in convenience and stability.”

Marisa snorted derisively.

“You're not worried about this getting back to your dad and whats-his-name?” Kaori inquired in a more serious tone.

“Something like this would never even enter into their mind, I'm sure.” Marisa gestured to Fumiko, ignoring her obvious look of bewildered discomfort. “Dad knows how close Fumiko and I are, and hates it, but he really can't do a thing about it. Doing something about it would draw attention to it.”

That was an accurate observation if there ever was one. Kemper Renfield was the type of person who would rather burn the whole world down around him than even hint at an admission of failure. The glimmer of the Renfield name might lose a little of its luster if it became known that his daughter was out carousing with a nameless former prostitute.

“Take some time to figure out what you want,” Kaori said, breaking Fumiko out of her cynical thoughts. “I've got to go take care of my other tables. I'll be back in a few minutes.” She flicked her gaze over to Marisa and nodded approvingly. “It's good to see you smiling like this again.”

Marisa grinned. “Thanks, Kaori.” She glanced at her friend/lover and pointed at a section of the menu in the upper-right hand corner. “The specials are really good and not too expensive. I know you love curry and they've got a great one here.”

“It does sound good,” Fumiko murmured as she read over the menu. “Is it spicy?”

“It's pretty hot.” The small woman winked. “Just like you.”

Fumiko rolled her eyes.

.4

Fumiko picked up the last piece of deep-fried pork cutlet and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The curry was good, better than any she'd ever had before. In a departure from the more common flour-thickened type, the cafe's special curry used a coconut cream sauce. Made from a garlicky paste that blended the tongue-searing fire of fresh red chilies with the cool smokiness of roasted red sweet peppers, Fumiko was sorely tempted to lick the inside of her bowl.

“Apparently it's a big hit with Fumiko,” Marisa observed with a giggle.

“That was delicious. I wonder if I could get the recipe?”

“Ask Kaori when she comes back. I'm sure she could get you a copy.”

“Good idea.” She felt satisfied but not so stuffed as to be uncomfortable. The cafe's chefs obviously understood the value of moderation. Fumiko sipped at her beer and sighed softly. Marisa lingered over a house cocktail, a bright orange concoction made with some fruit native to the world that had a sharp, grassy citrus scent.

“I want you to tell me what happened today at work,” Marisa said without preamble.

“It's not that big of a deal.”

Marisa's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don't give me that shit. I know it's a big deal because I saw the look on your face. Those assholes you work for are harassing you again, aren't they?”

“Again?” Fumiko snorted in derision. “More like 'still.'”

“What do you mean?”

“What it means is I'm pretty furniture.” Gray eyes closed and she leaned back in her chair. “That's what I get paid for. Oh, I do data entry. I answer inquiries sometimes. That's what's in my job description. But that isn't my real job.”

“Tell me.” The small woman across from her reached out and placed a hand on hers, squeezing it lightly. “You've always tried to avoid talking about work as much as possible. I'm not going to put up with deflections any longer. Things are different now.”

“They're not even subtle about it,” Fumiko muttered. She picked up her glass and drained half of it before she set it down again. Warmth began to spread from her midsection outward as the alcohol took effect. “They all know I can't do anything but take it. Because I'm nameless. I don't have a choice. I can barely afford to keep my apartment as it is. If I resist, I'll get fired and I'll be on the streets again in less than a month.”

“You have no savings?”

“Hard to save credits when I barely make enough to live off of.” Fumiko's voice was bitter. “I don't have a way out, Risa. It's absurd. I went to university—to a good school. I graduated in the top of my class. I should be working on starship systems, not sitting pretty for old perverts to ogle.”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean, 'hmm?'” Fumiko demanded, her voice slurring just slightly. “You asked, so I told you.”

“You need to quit that job.”

“I just told you I can't.” Fumiko scowled at the younger woman. “Unlike some people, I don't have the resources and influence of a highborn clan any longer. I'm not the one being set up with the scion of a disgustingly wealthy famly. I can't quit.”

Marisa ignored the angry retort and let out a slow breath. “How much is the rent on that flat of yours?”

Fumiko named a rather steep figure.

“Seriously? For that?” The petite woman stared at her with wide eyes.

Fumiko drained her beer glass and set it on the corner of the table. “I barely make twice that. I can keep the power on, pay for the comms, get my transit pass, keep at least something in the pantry. But there's nothing left after.”

Marisa held a hand up to halt the rant. “Kaori's coming back.”

“Good. She can get me another beer.”

“Really, Fumiko.” Marisa placed a hand to her forehead and shook her head slowly. “I had no idea you'd get like this once you had a few drinks in you. I wish I thought of this years ago.”

“You two want another round?” Kaori asked as she stopped next to their table.

Fumiko giggled drunkenly. “Please.”

“She had a bad day at work,” Marisa explained, but slid her empty glass to the edge of the table. “But yes, we'd like another.”

“Sure thing.”

Kaori turned and started to walk back toward the wait station, but Marisa reached out and tapped her arm. “Wait, I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

Marisa glanced sidelong at her inebriated friend/lover. “Do you have any openings right now?”

“Actually, yeah, we do. Nika had to move down south—her grandmother's taken a turn for the worse—so we're down one for the day shift. I've been helping the other girls cover it, but almost all of us have other obligations. Why do you ask?”

“I might know someone who would be interested.”

Kaori's eyebrow rose curiously. “Oh?”

“Risa, I'm not so drunk I can't tell what you're plotting.” Fumiko regarded her with an acid glare. “I told you already, it's not that big a deal. I can take care of myself. You don't have to coddle me like this.”

Marisa paid no attention to Fumiko's objection. “How much does it pay?”

Kaori named a figure.

“Wow. I didn't expect it to be that much.”

“We do pretty well here,” Kaori replied with a slight smile. She turned to appraise Fumiko, nodding to herself as she did. “Yeah, I think you'd be popular here. Do you have any experience waiting tables?”

Fumiko shook her head. “N-no.”

“That's fine. It won't take long to get you trained. This job is hard work, but our duties are pretty simple to learn.”

“B-but I'm too old for something like this,” Fumiko objected. “And I'm too tall and gawky… and I'm a mongrel…” She trailed off self-consciously, sinking deeper into her seat underneath Kaori's scrutiny.

“You wouldn't be the oldest one here, nor the only one with foreign blood.” The waitress let out a short bark of laughter and spun around slowly, presenting her body for inspection. “Look, if the boss hired a fat lowborn girl like me, do you really think she'd turn down a statuesque goddess with a rack like yours?”

Marisa burst into laughter as Fumiko sputtered and stammered in response to Kaori's blunt assessment of her bust size. The tall woman knew her looks drew eyes onto her, but she always felt terribly self-conscious of her height, of her abundant freckles, of the size of her breasts, of the fact that she was a “mongrel,” a mixed-blood bastard. She couldn't deny that the eyes of men were drawn to her, but the way they looked at her always left her feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“Just do it, Fumiko,” Marisa pressed. “It's not any less than you already make and you'd work with people who actually treat you as a person. Kaori likes the idea; I'm sure she'll be able to convince Suzume to bring you in.”

“B-but—”

“If you're worried about harassment, don't be.” Kaori gestured toward the eclectic crowd filling the tables on the ground floor. “The last punk who tried to cop a feel nearly got a broom handle shoved up his ass sideways. Suzume looks out for us, and we look out for each other. You'll get a lot of attention, sure, but I doubt any of the skinny runts would dare lay a finger on a girl who looks like she could break a man in half.”

“W-what?!”

“You do look pretty intimidating when you scowl like that,” Marisa pointed out. “Look, we both know you get fucked with at Luminia, but that won't be an issue here.”

“Let me know what she decides.” Kaori took the glasses off the edge of the table. “I've got to get back to work. I'll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.”

Marisa turned back toward Fumiko, a knowing look on her face. The older woman still looked faintly alarmed and embarrassed.

“Risa, are you sure about this?”

“You've been with Luminia for how long?”

“Three years,” Fumiko mumbled, her shoulders slumping visibly.

“Three years with no advancement, no chance for advancement.” Marisa's brows angled down in a scowl, but her anger wasn't directed at Fumiko. “It's a dead-end job and you know it. They're never going to promote you. You're never going to get transferred to the design team. As long as that piece of shit Norris wants to keep you around as a stress-relief toy for the company leadership, you're going nowhere.”

“What if he tells—”

“Nobody's going to give a shit!” Marisa's voice rose sharply, but none of the nearby patrons seemed to notice or care. Her voice fell to a near-whisper. “Listen, Suzume is nameless, too. She used to do the same thing and then some. Trust me, that's not going to matter to anyone here.”

Fumiko shrugged helplessly.

“I can't stand to see you stuck in this situation,” Marisa went on. “I care about you so much and it really hurts me to see you stuck like this. Please, if you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. I'll think about it.”

“Don't think about it. Just do it.”

Fumiko held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you win, Risa. I'll do it. I'll ask Akiyama for an application when we leave.”

Marisa nodded approvingly. “Good. It looks like our next round's coming. You want to stay a bit longer or do you want to go after these?”

“If I have too much more I'm going to regret it in the morning.”

“Not to mention you won't be lucid enough tonight if you get any drunker than you already are,” Marisa purred, licking her lips slowly. Both women burst into a fit of alcohol-aided giggles as a different waitress came by with their drinks.

The next twenty or so minutes passed with little of any substance spoken. Fumiko sipped at her beer without much interest—she doubted she'd even be able to finish the drink. They made small talk, keeping the subject matter light.

When Kaori returned to the table to collect payment, bearing a light grayish sheet of recycled paper, Marisa gave her friend a satisfied look that brought a smile to the veteran waitress's face. She handed the application to Fumiko.

“Just fill it out and bring it back in whenever. Suzume is usually here in the mornings and she should give you an interview on the spot. I'll make sure of that. One look at you in an outfit like this—” Kaori motioned to the white-trimmed-black dress she wore, “—and she'll bring you into the family for sure.”

“O-okay. I-I'll do my best.” Fumiko felt the familiar flush return to her cheeks, which only made Kaori's smile grow wider.

“Marisa, you're a genius. We get her in one of these and the regulars aren't going to know what hit them.”

*

The hotel room Marisa procured for the two of them was larger than Fumiko's entire apartment. A large queen-size bed dominated one side of the long rectangular space, with a small table for eating or sitting and talking sat to one side. Flowers filled a vase in the center of the table and a small glass ashtray rested nearby.

It wasn't by any means ostentatious—actually it was a little worn, with peeling paint and scuffed-up furniture—but it was comfortable and private, and that was enough for the two of them.

“So…” Fumiko began, unsure of what to do or say.

“Here.”

Fumiko blinked at the object held out to her. Confused, she took the pen from Marisa and regarded the other with a querying look. “What's this for?”

“Fill out that application,” Marisa said.

“Wait—right now?” Fumiko's expression became anxious. “Aren't we going to… to… you know?”

“Of course, but first I want you to fill out that application. I'm not going to let you put it off for weeks hoping that I'll forget about it so you can just go back to your comfortable misery.”

Fumiko scowled. “Risa, that's not fair. I already have a terrible job. I didn't see much point in trying to find a different terrible job. I've been submitting my occupational placement file to other companies, responding to engineering postings. It's not like I'm just doing nothing.”

“And have any of those companies responded to you?” Marisa threw her hands up from sheer exasperation. “It doesn't matter how high your placement scores are, lovely; those companies are too bound up in clan politics. They're not going to hire nameless for anything other than sweeping the floors and cleaning the toilets.”

Fumiko's wounded silence was telling.

“Fumiko, I'm worried about you. I can't stand seeing you this depressed. It makes me feel depressed. I want to help you break out of this rut and try to catch a piece of happiness, even if it's just a small one.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” Fumiko rubbed her eyes and sat down at the table, laying the job application on the wood-paneled surface. She clicked the pen and started to write, etching small, clean characters onto the page.

“Good girl,” Marisa purred, leaning forward to kiss Fumiko on the crown of her head. The tall woman blushed and felt a warm tingle run through her at the affectionate touch.

The application was a standard form type, vastly different than the dizzyingly-complex selection processes Fumiko endured in her attempts to find work in her field. She filled it out with the appropriate information without really needing to pay attention, instead focusing her thoughts on Marisa.

“I have a question that might be hard to answer,” she murmured.

“Oh?”

“What will the future hold for us, Risa?” Fumiko looked up from the half-completed application and fixed the younger woman with a curious gaze. “I love being with you, more than I ever thought was possible, but…”

“But what?”

Scrawling several lines of text, Fumiko sighed. “You're still going to get married to Kevin. We'll be able to see each other once a week or so, but… not outside of that. Doesn't that bother you?”

Marisa gave her reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It's not all that dire. Kevin's the heir to the Eldridge clan; he works twelve, fourteen hours a day, sometimes more. I'll have plenty of time for myself—and you.”

“I don't know,” Fumiko mumbled.

“What's with this sudden serious turn?” Marisa's voice grew sharp. “Look, it's just the way things are. I care about you deeply, plus you make me so incredibly hot, but… things just have to be this way, or they won't be able to be at all.”

“Yeah…” Fumiko started to fill out the work history portion of the application, listing Luminia Systems as her only employer.

“I can't see any better solution than this one.”

“What if Kevin finds out, though? What if your father finds out?”

“We already talked about this.” Marisa's expression darkened. “It's not going to happen, even if Dad ever found out we were sleeping together. We could get naked and sticky on his desk while he sat behind it and he still wouldn't be able to do anything without risking public embarrassment.”

“It may not be up to him. What if someone opposed to Renfield finds out? What if Eldridge finds out—and uses our involvement as blackmail material?”

“As long as we're careful, it won't happen. That's all there is to it.”

With a slight feminine flourish, Fumiko signed the completed application with her government ID number and her single name. “Okay, Risa, I'll drop it, but you should really think about what the future holds for you, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“You'll be able to keep the life you have for a year, maybe a little longer. After that, though, things are going to change—even if Kevin's always working long hours. You'll be expected to be at home, managing the Eldridge manor affairs as not just a highborn lady, but as a wife and mother.”

Marisa didn't respond to that.

“The Renfield and Eldridge families won't let you keep living the life of a free spirit who spends most of her time hiding her clan affiliation and having fun. Your future will be centered around uniting the Renfield and Eldridge clans through the blood of your children. Isn't that the whole reason we started… um, what we're doing?”

For the first time, Fumiko could clearly see the real fear and vulnerability in Marisa's wild, untamed eyes. The older woman turned away as she realized that she'd struck on the one thing Marisa was most afraid of. The one thing she avoided even thinking about, despite knowing that it was inevitable.

“Risa, you had to have known this,” Fumiko observed. “Eldridge's influence isn't nearly enough to demand you assume their name. As a new Renfield consort, Kevin won't be able to exert his father's influence on your child, but your father will, through you. The heirs to the combined clans will be far more loyal to the Renfield side.”

Disgust and horror was plainly visible on Marisa's face. Fumiko sighed inwardly, her own expression remaining neutral. This sort of behavior was familiar to her—after all, she had worked for three years in the management structure of Luminia Systems. To powerful and wealthy noble families, the feelings of the individual were crushed beneath the goals of the family itself. Standing was all-important and children were often used as pawns for much of their lives, indoctrinated for decades to take over the family business and their fathers' roles as chessmasters themselves.

Fumiko reached out and brushed Marisa's cheek lightly. The girl let out a plaintive sound that was almost a whimper as Fumiko leaned forward to kiss her. It was a slow, gentle and comforting kiss, lacking the forcefulness that Marisa exhibited the previous evening.

Some time later, Fumiko drew back, breaking the kiss. Her lover's eyes were filled with tears. Gentle fingertips wiped the building moisture from Marisa's eyes before it could stream down her cheeks.

“I don't want that,” Marisa muttered, her lower lip trembling. “How could they—how could Dad reduce me to that? To just produce heirs… just a way for him to absorb another family and strengthen Renfield—”

“It's the game. The lowborn, the nameless, even the women and children of highborn clans—we’re all pawns, pushed around the board.” Fumiko took hold of Marisa's hand and kissed the slender fingertips. “If I hadn't been 'dirty,' hadn't been stripped of my name… it may have been me in the same or similar position.”

Marisa's expression became even more dull and lifeless. “I can't imagine you in a situation like this. At least I think I could learn to love Kevin. He is the type of man I prefer and he's… nice. I might be able to achieve, if not happiness, at least peace with that sort of life. But you… you couldn't do it.”

“I would have ran,” Fumiko admitted. “Even if I hadn't been forced out.”

“If it was just Kevin, I think I wouldn't be unhappy with that life.” Marisa closed her eyes and Fumiko practically felt the tension drain away as she showered Marisa's hand with tiny little kisses. “I think even having kids… wouldn't necessarily be bad. I mean, I'd want to wait. Maybe when I'm your age.”

Fumiko cracked a slight grin. “Is that supposed to be a comment on my age, Risa?”

“Of course it's not.” Marisa giggled, the sound pure and clear like silver fairy chimes. “Besides, who says twenty-six is even old at all?”

“Men do,” Fumiko answered without hesitation.

“Lucky for you, you have no interest in men, so what difference does it make if they have no interest in you?”

“That interest stretches to approval in areas outside of romance,” Fumiko grumbled in a tone that made it clear she was speaking from personal experience. “If you're over twenty-five and unmarried, you're useless, shameful, rejecting years of tradition. They don't say it aloud, but they make sure you know it. Even if you're highly competent at what you do, it doesn't matter. All that matters is women have an expiration date, and I've long since passed mine.”

“Kevin isn't that kind of man,” Marisa said after a moment.

“I don't know him as well as you do, but I trust your judgment, of course.” Fumiko smiled and leaned forward to kiss her again. Neither spoke for a long moment until Fumiko drew away, gazing at Marisa with hazy, dreamy eyes.

“I want to eat you right now,” she whispered, her voice sultry.

“Mm, you're making me so hot.” Marisa's cheeks flushed faintly pink as Fumiko took her hand and drew her up off the chair next to the table. Fumiko led her partner to the nearby bed and pushed Marisa lightly down against the mattress. The younger woman smiled as she was lowered to the sheets.

“So you want to be on top this time?” Marisa's blush deepened a shade. “I'm totally okay with that, if that's what you want to do.”

Fumiko nodded. “I saw Risa's worries and fears tonight. Looks like my protective instincts might be taking over a little.”

“I might like that.”

The laces securing Marisa's bikini top were removed slowly, the garment still resting atop her small breasts. “I was a little worried you wouldn't be okay with taking a more submissive role, to be honest.”

Marisa favored Fumiko with a wry grin. “I'm versatile when it comes to this sort of thing. Mixing it up keeps things interesting, after all.”

“Shh, Risa, just let yourself relax. Let the mask fall away and show me how you really feel. It's okay to cry when you're with me.” Fumiko unbuttoned the denim shorts and started to draw them slowly off of Marisa's body. Underneath she wore a coordinated bikini bottom—Fumiko brushed her fingers across the hip ties.

“I can't wait to taste you,” Fumiko breathed as she loosened the ties, but still didn't remove the bottom or the top. Both garments simply sat on Marisa's body, remaining in place only through gravity.

That changed a moment later as Fumiko's hands slid slowly up her lover's body and cupped underneath her breasts. Gently she squeezed and kneaded, causing the bikini top to fall away to one side.

“Um—mm, that feels wonderful,” Marisa grunted, her voice hitching just slightly on her words.

“Just you wait. I promise it'll feel even better.”

.5

Fumiko's fingertips slowly traced a line down Marisa's side as she nestled in closer. The plaintive moaning sounds increased slightly in volume as she bent down and started to tease the nipples. Soft lips left smudges of cherry-red behind as Fumiko expressed her affection through slow, gentle movements.

She'd taken her own clothes off quickly, eager to feel Marisa's body against hers. Her hips pressed down into the mattress—a bit nicer than the shabby twin bed she slept on at home—and she leaned her torso across Marisa's flat tummy.

“So lovely,” Fumiko murmured before wrapping her lips around one of the erect, pink nipples. Fumiko felt a soreness in her own breasts as they were mashed against soft skin. Her own nipples were quickly stiffening themselves as she became more and more aroused from the attention she lavished on Marisa.

Fingertips dragged slowly down the dusky tan expanse, settling on gently-flaring hips as Fumiko changed her tactics just a little. She would bring Marisa right to the edge of her climax and draw back, little by little, teasing her tenderly, until she couldn't stand it any longer.

Marisa's loud squeak brought a gratified smile to her lover's face. Fumiko's wavy locks of honey-brown hair brushed against Marisa's torso, dragging delicious lines of fire behind them that elicited a series of contented moans. Hands moved inexorably downward, amplifying the hungry anticipation that showed clearly on Marisa's face.

“I can't get over how cute it is,” Fumiko purred, tracing a small circle over the bare mound between Marisa's thighs. “I should start removing it again, too. What do you think, Risa?”

Marisa smiled dreamily. “If you want to.”

“Would you like it if I did?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Then I'll do it for you,” Fumiko promised. “Now… how does it feel when I do this?”

Sudden moans of pleasure were her only response as Fumiko dragged a single finger across, sliding just barely between Marisa's labia. Only the tip of her finger was inside, but that was all she would need for now. Fumiko traced small, careful circles, making certain not to lose contact. Warm wetness seeped from inside Marisa and her hips bucked once, sending the finger in even deeper.

“Um—oh, that's good.”

“Mhm.” Fumiko hooked her fingertip and started to work on the sensitive velvety folds inside. Marisa's hands sought something to grasp and her attentive lover provided, guiding the girl's grasping toward her own breasts. Instantly she was struck with the mingled sensations of pleasurable warmth and painful soreness.

Fumiko continued her slow teasing for a few long minutes before she decided it was time to push Risa to her limits. The single finger dipping into the girl's pussy easily slipped deeper inside, aided by a great deal of lubricating fluids. Putting a slight amount of upward pressure, she thrust in and out of Marisa, feeling the muscles around her clench as the tiny trickle of pleasure intensified abruptly.

Sharp grunts escaped Marisa's lips as she released her hold on Fumiko's breasts, instead gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles whitened. The sudden release of her lover's grip elicited a gasp of euphoric relief.

Throbbing aches started to subside, sinking into a gentle, dreamlike haze, but Fumiko frantically struggled to keep her focus, despite the overpowering desire to collapse nervelessly to the bed and just let Marisa take control. Face it, Fumiko—you're a bottom and you'll always be one.

“Fumiko—don't stop, please,” Marisa pleaded between rapid intakes of breath.

“S-sorry.”

Fumiko felt her cheeks heat up; the motion of her finger inside Marisa had ceased as her own thoughts turned to her anxiety with taking the lead. It felt good, that much she couldn't deny, but it didn't feel as right as it had the previous night.

“I n-need you to eat me. Now. P-please.”

Marisa looked rather peaked, as if she were becoming tired. Perhaps the choice to slowly tease her, stopping short of orgasm, wasn't the best one. It was possible that Marisa was the type who peaked powerfully and fast but had little stamina… but more likely it was the natural result of Fumiko's inexperience.

“Of course, Risa,” Fumiko murmured, trying to keep the nervousness out of her tone. She gently pried her lover's legs apart and shifted her own position on the bed—a much easier task on a mattress designed for two adults rather than one. Kneeling between Marisa's spread thighs, she sank down to the sheets.

It had been years since she'd last performed oral sex on a loving partner and even then, with Emi Hisakawa, neither had any real idea what they were doing. Over a decade later and Fumiko was still considerably less experienced than Marisa.

Doing her best to mimic what Marisa did to her last time, she pressed her lips against the wet flesh and thrust her tongue inside. Fumiko felt clumsy and awkward, but the sudden jump of Marisa's hips and the loud gasp that filled her ears drove her onward.

Fumiko's body remembered what it was like to make love. She let her weight sink to the mattress and felt her tongue push even further inside. Her lips made solid contact with the velvety folds, making it feel as if she were becoming a part of Marisa.

“Um—yeah, yeah, that's so good,” Marisa slurred. Soft thighs clamped tightly around Fumiko's head as she repeated the same dragging strokes upward through the slit, the same attentions that she herself received each time Risa partook of her.

Moans were joined by plaintive whimpers; Fumiko could tell her partner was approaching climax at a very rapid pace, further cementing her earlier theory that Marisa was the sort who burned hot and fast. Determined to make it a memorable one, Fumiko's hands slid up under Marisa's butt, pulling and clenching forcefully.

“Oh, um—yes!” Marisa cried out, breathless and husky. “I'm going to… going to… mm! Yeah, yeah, more, more!”

Fumiko's hearing was muffled by the thighs that clamped around her head, but she had no trouble understanding or complying with that demand. Her world was a hot, wet, sticky mess and she could barely breathe—but it didn't matter. Marisa wouldn't be able to last more than a few seconds at most.

She drew her tongue out and kissed Risa's mound a split second before she set the tips of two fingers against the swollen folds. Her tongue and lips carefully attacked her lover's little pearl, alternating attention between Marisa's clit and the fingers that thrust deeply inside.

The moaning girl's whole body began to tremble and Fumiko knew the climax was coming. She redoubled her efforts, putting more force into the movements of both her tongue and fingers. Muscle clenched powerfully around those fingers and Marisa let out a high, wordless cry of exultation as her orgasm exploded within her.

Fumiko's movements started to taper off, slowly drawing Marisa down back to a state of rest. Words were lost to the girl; all she could manage was a mangled, slurred mess of faint whimpers and squeaks. Fumiko found the sounds adorable.

“H-how was that?” Fumiko inquired after a moment. She knew she wore her anxiety plainly on her face, but she didn't care. To Marisa, she would gladly and freely bare every dark corner of her heart.

“It was good.”

Fumiko gazed at Marisa with wide eyes. There was a bit of a hesitant quality to the girl's words. “You're not just saying that to placate me? Please, tell me the truth. I want to know for real, Risa.”

“If you insist.” Marisa sat up with some difficulty and reached out to place a comforting hand on Fumiko's shoulders. “It was good—really. I'm not just saying that. But it's obvious that you're not really that comfortable with taking the dominant role.”

“I'm sorry,” Fumiko mumbled. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but Marisa brushed them away and favored her with a wide, happy smile.

“No need to apologize. That is completely okay, lovely. There's nothing at all wrong with wanting to be on the bottom. I don't expect you to be exactly like me. We're different people with different personalities.”

“You're barely twenty and you're like an expert,” Fumiko muttered bitterly, “and I'm practically a lonely old maid—”

“Fumiko, stop that.” Marisa's scowl cut off further argument. Fumiko felt her lip wobble slightly as she started to cry in earnest—it was rare for Risa to take such a tone of voice with her unless she was legitimately upset.

“S-sorry…”

“I'm only upset because you put yourself down.” Marisa brushed a disheveled lock of red hair from the crying girl's face. “I would never, ever think of shaming you for your inexperience. You wanted to try something different, but it didn't work out as well as you'd hoped, and that's fine. I know you want it to be good for both of us.”

“Y-yeah.” Fumiko sniffled and wiped her eyes.

“Don't feel bad because you like to follow my lead. It's nothing at all to feel guilty about. It works for you, doesn't it? It feels really good?”

Fumiko nodded.

“That's more than enough for me. You had fun last night, right?”

“Mm.”

“Last night was amazing for me, too,” Marisa pointed out. “Listen—it's okay. Really. This isn't a chore or a duty we have to complete equally. I know you'll be receptive to what I want you to do, so you don't have to worry one bit.”

“But I don't want to feel like you're the one doing everything.”

“I know. Just try not to think of it that way. I love being the one in control. It makes me so hot when you get that unfocused, dreamy look in your eyes.” Marisa cupped Fumiko's chin in her fingers and kissed her, bringing an anxious smile to Fumiko's face. “I love seeing your shy smiles, the cute way you blush when I touch you, the fearful excitement that lights up your face when I tell you what I'm going to do to you.”

Though Fumiko was much taller and looked down into Marisa's eyes, she felt as if she were looking up into them. Her imposing physical size had always been at odds with her gentle and reserved personality.

Throughout their friendship, Marisa had always been the firebrand, the loud and brash little ball of energy. Fumiko was much more quiet and studious. Contrasted with Risa's forceful personality, she was painfully shy and tended to listen and think far more often than she acted or spoke.

“I think you might be trying too hard to be the strong one,” Fumiko murmured, her voice sounding thick and childish in her own ears. “I'm worried about you, Risa. You haven't even said anything about Cole since last night.”

“I'm coming to terms with what happened,” Marisa insisted. Her tone acquired a harsh, bitter quality. “Trying to, anyway. It's been easier the more time I spend away from Dad. I don't want to hear about the clan right now. I don't care about noble houses; I care about my brother. And now he's dead.”

“Risa…”

Marisa looked away. “Our society makes so much fuss about the power of the family, but it's such an empty sort of power. I'm not just a rich girl slumming because it's trendy or novel. It's because I know the power and influence my family lives for is a hollow thing. For all its supposed power, the mighty Renfield clan couldn't save my little brother.”

Fumiko felt her eyes stinging again and tried to stifle the tears. Evidently Marisa also noticed—and reacted accordingly. Letting out a muffled squeak, Fumiko closed her eyes as Risa's lips pressed forcefully against hers.

When Marisa pulled away some time later, Fumiko's cheeks burned with bright color and that strange, wonderful emotion came rushing back into her heart—that “fearful excitement,” as her dear friend had put it.

“Now that's the face I love to see you make,” Marisa purred. “Let me take care of everything for you, lovely. Don't you dare start making yourself feel guilty, or else I'll have to punish you.”

Fumiko looked faintly alarmed, sending the other into a fit of giggles. She was pushed down onto the mattress and straddled, Marisa's creamy-white flesh contrasting sharply against Fumiko's. Clever little fingertips traced sinuous paths around the tall woman's broad torso.

“You're just so beautiful.” Marisa leaned forward and blew softly against the stiff nipples. “I can't even understand why all the girls aren't beating your door down.”

“Mm… Risa, that feels nice.”

“It's supposed to. You make me so hot, just laying there looking up at me like that. So innocent, so sweet, so willing to be taken. I can't stand it anymore.” With a fox-like grin, Marisa slid down across Fumiko's body. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to taste you again.”

Complying with Risa’s wishes just felt so good. Fumiko pushed away any feelings of guilt or weakness in allowing Marisa to take the reins and just did as she was told. Marisa repositioned herself between long, shapely legs and bent down to touch her lips to Fumiko's pussy.

A small whimper was all Fumiko could manage, as her lover wasted no time at all in diving right in. Her hips bucked violently as Marisa's tongue thrust itself deep into her. Her back arched, her toes curled—Marisa was apparently determined to bring her to orgasm in record time.

Hands gripped and kneaded against Fumiko's thighs and butt, clenching and releasing in time with the motions of her tongue. The euphoria-addled woman struggled to pry her eyes open; she wanted to watch, to see what Marisa was doing to her. It took a great deal of effort not to toss her head back and squeeze her eyelids shut as she was enveloped in a deluge of sensation that threatened to completely overwhelm her.

Marisa was on her knees, her face jammed between Fumiko's inner thighs. Through the mental haze that dominated Fumiko's perceptions, she could hear the wordless sounds of satisfaction her lover made.

And it was indeed over for Fumiko. The pulsating, mind-scrambling power that raged between her legs started to climb sharply to the peak. She kept her gray eyes open, locked on Marisa's enthusiastic attentions, as she clutched the bedsheets with such force that her nails indented her palm through the fabric.

“Yes, Risa, yes! It's—it's happening! Mm!” Fumiko cried out as Marisa's tongue changed focus and dragged out of her slit. Sharp, almost painful jolts thrummed through her as her lover shifted her attention to her most sensitive spot.

It only took a few moments before Fumiko's entire body spasmed from the crashing wave that blew through her body and mind. She couldn't call out Marisa's name any longer, her mind reduced to mush and her words reduced to nonsense vocalizations interspersed with panting gasps for air.

Fumiko was dimly aware that she'd collapsed to the mattress, completely spent. A distant tingling between her legs told her that Marisa was cleaning up. There was some movement and then Risa's face was next to hers, the girl's cheeks and lips glistening and sticky.

“Do you want to taste?” Marisa leaned in closer, putting their lips bare centimeters apart. Though it had been phrased as a question, Fumiko knew it was more a declaration of intent, and one she would permit eagerly. She nodded and weakly drew her arms around this wonderful girl.

Warm, wet lips pressed against hers. Fumiko could taste the mingled flavors of herself and Marisa on the kiss. She licked at her lover's lips and cheeks each time they separated briefly for air, gathering up the sticky fluid that clung to Marisa's face.

“This is how I love you the most.” Marisa's voice was supremely satisfied. “This is the real Fumiko. I'm so lucky to have you. I missed you so much when you were sent away.”

“I'll always be here for you, Risa,” Fumiko promised.

Marisa giggled and tapped her partner on the tip of her nose.

“I know, silly.”

*

When Fumiko awoke the next morning, she was alone in the bed. A half-formed fear lanced through her that was immediately quashed when the door to the hotel room opened and Marisa came back into the room. Two disposable cups of coffee, no less richly-scented for being synthesized rather than grown, were in her hands.

“Here you go, sleepyhead,” Marisa teased, handing her one of the cups. Fumiko took the offered beverage and sipped greedily. It was brewed strong and earthy and finished with lots of single cream, no sugar—just how she liked it.

“T-thank you.”

“I saw the look on your face when I walked back inside.” Marisa was fully dressed already, her hair styled and her makeup applied. She wore a short black pleated skirt and a mint-colored blouse that managed to look both playful and professional all at once. “For a moment you thought I left you here by yourself, didn't you?”

“W-what? I did not!” Fumiko sputtered indignantly.

Marisa rolled her eyes. “You're not fooling anyone with that face.”

Fumiko's panicked expression sent Marisa into a fit of laughter.

“You have to work today, right?”

“For the next four days,” Fumiko replied, eager to change the subject. She sipped at her coffee for a moment before swinging her legs around off the mattress, her large feet touching the plush carpet.

“Well, I have exams and prep, so I want you to take the application over to the cafe before you go into work today. Suzume should be there, and with both Kaori and me vouching for you, you'll get an interview pretty quickly.”

“I'm kind of excited,” Fumiko said. A nervous smile curved her lips. “T-though I'm a little embarrassed about wearing one of those fancy dresses. What if they don't have one that fits someone my size?”

“Nika left hers when she quit. Suzume will have you use that.”

“Is Nika also very tall like me?”

“A little taller actually, but slimmer, so it should still work out,” Marisa explained. “Nika is trans, and the shop had to special order larger sizes for her. So yeah, she's pretty close to your size. Not as curvy as my cute Fumiko, but I'm sure the dress will still fit. If not, Kaori will make sure you're taken care of.”

Fumiko's expression was pensive. “I've never met a trans girl before.”

“You're sure to meet some if you get hired on,” Marisa noted. “The café is a popular place with the underclasses. Queer folks, poor lowborn clan types, laborers, artists, starship crewers and of course plenty of people without names. The place also gets a fair amount of business from foreign tourists who wander off the beaten path.” She chuckled softly to herself. “The tourists are always good for a laugh.”

Fumiko smiled nervously. “I hope I don't get overwhelmed by all of that.”

“The other girls will help you out, don't worry. Suzume takes good care of her employees and everyone's kind of a big family there.”

“How long have you been going there?”

“Since I met Kaori,” Marisa replied. “When I got into university, she took me under her wing, introduced me into her circle of friends and that included the girls at the café. I've been going there at least once a week ever since.”

“I wish you could come with me.”

“I would certainly like to be there when you try on the dress,” Marisa agreed with a grin, “but I can't break away like that. Final coursework and exams are coming up and there's always a lot of nobility politics bullshit I have to attend. I'll be thinking about you the whole time, of course.”

“You're too good to me, Risa.” Her words sent a dreamy warmth surging through Fumiko's heart. “But you should make sure you think about your exams first.”

Marisa leaned forward and kissed Fumiko on the forehead lightly. “Don't worry, of course I'll be thinking of my exams. My brain is so full I feel like my head's about to burst. Go on, get in the shower and get dressed. We need to be checked out of here by twelve or I'll get charged for another night.”

“What time is it?”

Marisa tapped her multicom. “It's a little after eight.”

“Are you going to come see me Friday?”

“No, Dad called me this morning and told me to make sure I was free for the entire weekend. There's some kind of retreat for the allied clans happening over the weekend that I have to attend as a member of the Renfield family.” She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “It's at some fancy lodge up in the mountains. I'll have to parade around and look pretty for a bunch of rich old farts. Probably have to pour their drinks, too.”

Fumiko's expression fell slightly. “I guess that's fine. I mean, your life is pretty hectic right now. And once you move into the Eldridge manor, you won't be able to see me more than once a week…”

“Shh, don't be sad.” Marisa took hold of Fumiko by the chin and tilted her head up, gazing into her eyes. “I'll make absolutely, positively sure that our nights together are the most wonderful, amazing, fantastic nights ever. Promise.”

Fumiko didn't say anything as Marisa gave her a quick goodbye kiss.

“I have to get going or I'll be late for class. The room's already been settled, so you can just leave the keycard at the front desk. I left a little something for you on the table under the application. Good luck!”

The door opened and Marisa walked out, leaving Fumiko alone with her thoughts and her cooling cup of coffee. Rather than indulging in those thoughts, she spurred herself into action. Get a shower, get dressed, get ready to go.

The bags of clothing were gone, loaded into the cargo compartment of Marisa's car. She left behind Fumiko's work clothes, expertly laundered and pressed by the hotel staff. They actually looked better than they did the day before.

Fumiko padded into the bathroom and adjusted the shower panel, stepping under the water before it had time to fully warm up. The cold shock brought her fully into wakefulness while the steadily heating jets soothed the aches from her body. There wasn't time to linger, so she washed up quickly and got out, patting her hair as dry as she could.

A few minutes later, she was dressed, her wavy locks tamed and pulled back in her usual high ponytail, makeup applied—as ready to face the week as she could possibly be. This time, though, the smile on her face wasn't so easily dispelled.

Fumiko slipped her sandals on and gathered up her purse. The application was on the table; she picked it up and folded it into thirds, slipping the document into a fresh envelope and sealing it shut. Underneath the application was a smaller envelope.

“What's this…?”

Fumiko picked it up and peered inside. Her eyes widened as she counted the edges of several high-denomination cash credit notes. Marisa's little “surprise” was four thousand credits, just a bit over what she made in a month at Luminia… and something else. She slid a hard plastic card out from inside the envelope and recognized it as a brand-new rapid transit pass, probably stuffed with enough money to keep her mobile for weeks.

There was also a note.

Fumiko, here's some money and a new transit pass. Make sure you go take your application to the cafe before the end of the week! But I also want you to have some fun while we're apart. Try to take at least one day for yourself, go eat something delicious, go to a bookstore or something. Try your best to have fun without me. You won't be lonely for long. I promise.

Lots of love, Marisa.

Fumiko giggled at the sparkly pink imprint of freshly-glossed lips. It wasn't exactly sealed with a kiss, but Risa left one all the same. Fumiko folded the sheaf of cash credits into her wallet and pocketed the transit pass along with her multicom. The two keycards that opened the hotel door she held in her hands, intending to drop them off on her way out.

Only a few minutes later, Fumiko stepped out into the brilliant white sunlight. She shielded her eyes and resolved to buy a pair of sunglasses somewhere on the way. Since Marisa had taken the fruits of last night's shopping binge in her car, Fumiko had no need to go back to her apartment until she was ready to turn in for the evening.

A hotel shuttle stopped at the curb and Fumiko got in, settling down into the cushy seat and staring out the window as the vehicle's electric motors whirred softly. The shuttle would take her to the nearby tram station and from there she could get just about anywhere in the city without much trouble.

Putting her headphones in, Fumiko called up a network music service and started something playing. The soothing, slow tones filled her ears and she let her mind wander as the shuttle navigated around traffic.

.6

Squeezing through the tightly-packed tram, Fumiko stepped out onto the platform and checked the time on her multicom—she'd gotten to the first leg of her destination a lot sooner than she'd expected. No longer needing to rush, she set out from the station at a relatively sedate pace.

The sounds of the living street were muffled through the barrier of her earphones and music. Fumiko wasn't the best at dealing with large crowds, especially when they were compacted into a confined space. Most people who lived in the city got used to the crush.

Unfortunately, Fumiko wasn't most people. Her tiny flat was an island of safety; a big part of why her social life was essentially nonexistent centered around her anxiety at being surrounded by people she didn't know. It was easier and safer to keep herself isolated and insulated.

Fumiko's life would be considered doomed from the start by most metrics. Without a clan, a year past twenty-five and unmarried, society largely viewed her as a useless existence. Even had her name not been stripped from her, the fact that she had no husband or children at her age would have been unseemly enough. Under the rules of this society, Fumiko should have been pulling out all the stops to find a husband, even one of a lowborn clan.

It couldn't happen, though, even if she wanted it. Not with everything else draped across her soul. Plenty of dishonor would be heaped on her simply for being a dark-skinned mongrel of mixed blood, for being a lesbian, for being taller than most men.

My teenage thoughtlessness just brought everything out into the open, where the Tachibana clan couldn't avert their eyes. She scooted between two separate knots of young men in suits chatting amicably with each other. Other than a few odd looks, they barely acknowledged her existence. That, too, was common in a place with so many people living in such a small area.

Fumiko took the next left and rounded the block. The stores on this street were somewhat less shabby-looking than the rest of the 28 ward, something she hadn't noticed before. Of course, last night Marisa drove her here, giving her less time to study her surroundings. Everything looked different during the day—the bright graphic displays and advertisement banners seemed far less intrusive under the sun’s brilliant glow.

She spotted the little cafe easily and changed direction, crossing the street with a gaggle of what appeared to be foreign tourists. Judging by the number of shopping bags the young people were burdened with, Fumiko suspected they were firmly under the bazaar district's mercantile spell.

Fumiko glanced at her multicom—it was a few minutes before nine. She didn't have to be at work until twelve and the appetizing scent of freshly-brewed coffee reached her nostrils, casting a spell of its own. Pushing the door open, Fumiko stepped inside the cafe and let out a soft sigh of relief. The interior of the store was cool and comfortable, a welcome respite from the rapidly rising heat outside.

It was after the breakfast rush, so the cafe wasn't too busy. A few people sat at tables near the coffee bar, but most of them were empty. A projected fence stretched across the stairs leading up to the second-floor dining area with a glittering holo that instructed patrons to remain on the first floor.

Fumiko queued up behind two other people at the coffee bar. She peered at the menu for a long moment, trying to decide what she wanted to order. The number of options were dizzying—this place clearly catered to the district's rather colorful younger crowd, with a laundry list of trendy coffee beverages.

“Good morning,” a bright and cheerful voice chirped. “What will you have today?”

Fumiko blinked and realized the people in front of her had already left, waiting at the side of the bar while the barista made their drinks. She turned her attention to the cashier who had jarred her from her idle thoughts.

The girl at the register was positively pixie-like, shorter than Marisa by two or three centimeters. Her glossy black hair was cut in a chin-length short style that seemed to enhance her infectious smile. Huge, liquid brown eyes dominated a dark face full of energy and enthusiasm. Delicate but full lips were adorned with red gloss that shone under the warm lighting.

Unlike the other barista, the cashier sat on a stool and leaned against the counter. As Fumiko got closer, she could make out more details. Thin, faintly visible scars speckled her cheeks and around her mouth. One particularly visible scar traced up toward her left eye, the raised area of tissue somewhat lighter than her otherwise-even skin tone.

Fumiko almost didn't notice the scarring—and once she did, her piqued interest was unaffected. This girl was lovely, and Fumiko was nearly struck speechless.

“Um, t-this menu is ridiculous,” Fumiko managed after recovering her wits. “Do you have any, you know, coffee-flavored coffee?”

The register girl laughed sweetly. “Of course. We have two house blends; would you prefer a dark or blonde roast?”

“I'll have a dark roast, please.” She nervously glanced at her multicom and estimated the time it'd take her to get to Luminia Systems from here. There was still plenty of time for her to enjoy a cup of coffee before she had to get back on the tram. “No sweetener, a double shot of single cream.”

“Sure! That'll be three credits, please.”

Fumiko opened her purse and pulled out three single-credit notes. Her hand brushed against the cashier's as the currency was exchanged; Fumiko's eyes widened as she felt a bit of an electric tingle as they made contact.

“S-sorry.” Fumiko could feel the inevitable blush starting to form.

“Don't worry about it,” the girl said, but Fumiko noticed there was something else in her eye that hadn't been there before. “Jessie over there will get your coffee. If you need anything else, just let me know.” As she leaned closer, Fumiko could see her lashes were naturally very long and beautifully curled. “My name's Mi-yun.”

“Fumiko.”

Mi-yun's eyebrow shot up and an intrigued look entered her eyes. “It's nice to meet you, Fumiko.”

“Wait… Fumiko?” Jessie studied Fumiko for a long moment before a look of triumphant recognition crossed her face. “Marisa's childhood friend, right?”

“Y-yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, really?” Mi-yun stared openly—and up—at the tall woman. “She wasn't kidding when she said you were big and tall!”

“Not to mention the rest of it,” Jessie mused, tapping her index finger against her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen anyone so dark with eyes like yours. And that hair—you’re a foreigner, aren’t you?”

Mi-yun looked horrified. “Jessie! That's rude!”

“What?” Jessie shrugged at Mi-yun. “It's true. She looks like one.”

“W-well, my mother was apparently from a different world,” Fumiko said, trying not to succumb to the desire to hide under a nearby table. This sort of attention she received wasn’t unusual and she expected it, but that didn’t mean Fumiko liked it. “I don't remember her at all, though.”

“That's so sad,” Jessie murmured, apparently oblivious to the embarrassment plain on Fumiko’s face. “Oh, here's your coffee, Miss.”

Fumiko accepted the cup with trembling hands. “T-thanks.”

Mi-yun beamed at her. “Enjoy your coffee, Fumiko!”

With a nervous smile, Fumiko turned and nearly collided with another customer, almost spilling her coffee all over the floor. Her cheeks turned an even darker shade of scarlet and she mumbled an apology as she made her way to one of the tables near the window. Fumiko sat down and sighed in utter relief as the incoming customers screened her from the coffee bar.

She pulled out her multicom and started to read her messages. Other than Marisa's, the list was devoid of people she knew in person. Most of her contacts were those she played online games with, people from all over the planet that she'd never met in person, only spoken to over comm calls and instant messaging.

After a few minutes, her heart rate managed to return to a calm rhythm. She sipped at her coffee, trying her best to enjoy it but also being mindful of the time. With about half an hour left before she had to leave, Fumiko blinked as someone pulled out the other chair at her table. It was Mi-yun.

“Can I sit with you?”

Fumiko swallowed hard and nodded. Like the other girls, she wore an elaborate, frills-and-lace-trimmed dress, but hers was of a different cut. The skirts were longer and a fair bit less puffy, but Mi-yun wore no blouse beneath the dress. Her neckline plunged low and offered an unobstructed view of some very nice curves. Fumiko felt her whole body start to heat up as she willed herself not to stare.

“A-are you on break?”

“Yep,” Mi-yun confirmed. “I'd usually just go back to the back room, but we had it repainted last night after closing. The fumes are a little bit much for me.”

“Do you have a sensitive nose, too?”

Mi-yun giggled at the awkward question. “I do. Strong chemical smells really get to me.” She eased herself down into the chair, wincing slightly as she did so. Her small hands clutched a glass filled with what looked like iced milk coffee.

“M-me, too,” Fumiko agreed.

“So you're the girl Marisa always talks about.” Mi-yun sipped at her drink. “Abandoned by your family and left all alone, she said. You poor thing.”

Fumiko knew she should have been mortified that Mi-yun knew far more about her than she did about Mi-yun, but the mention of her family instead caused a gloom to settle around her.

“I guess so.”

“Marisa didn't really go into too much detail, but I get the feeling that she's the closest thing to family you have.” Mi-yun set her milk coffee down, her liquid brown eyes wide and filled with sympathy. “That's easy to understand. We're all pretty close to her here, but most especially Kaori.”

“I m-met her last night,” Fumiko said. A thought occurred to her at the mention of Kaori's name. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

“Hm?”

“I-is the owner here today? Or Akiyama?”

Mi-yun shook her head. “No, Suzume was here, but she got a comm call this morning and had to leave in a hurry. Jessie and I are running the registers until Kaori comes in after the lunch rush. Why do you ask?”

“Um, I was supposed to turn in this application Akiyama gave me to fill out,” Fumiko replied, pulling the envelope out of her purse. Mi-yun took it and sat it on the table.

“I'll give it to Kaori when she comes in. Things have been really chaotic recently, but she'll probably be able to get you an interview in a few days.” Mi-yun shrugged and gestured back in the direction of the manager's office. “Suzume locked the office up before she left, since she didn't have time to make a bank run this morning. But I'll make sure Kaori gets this before I clock out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Fumiko said.

Mi-yun's smile grew. “So you might end up working with us! Mi-yun is excited!”

“W-what?”

“I'm looking forward to seeing you in one of these.” The look Mi-yun wore was almost exactly like the one she'd seen in Marisa's eyes. The other woman's gaze slowly traveled down Fumiko's body. “You're so big and tall! And cute! Can't wait to see!”

Crimson flooded into Fumiko's cheeks yet again. “Um, I—I should… I should probably get going. I need to get to the station or I'm going to be late.”

Mi-yun laughed. “You should come back when I'm on shift again.”

“M-maybe.”

“Come back tomorrow morning? Coffee will be on me if you do…”

Fumiko stammered out something that vaguely resembled words, only causing Mi-yun to laugh harder. She somehow managed to stand up without tripping and bowed to Mi-yun as she excused herself and made for the door.

*

Fumiko muddled her way through work without incident. She was approached at her desk by one of the young low-level managers who both informed her that Norris would be out of town until the end of the week… and that she needed to come in Sunday morning to handle a bunch of backlogged reports.

A mixed blessing was the best she could hope for here. With Norris gone, all she had to worry about were the cold stares of the upper management. The younger men, most of them a few years younger than she, paid her no attention whatsoever. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't bad either.

Unfortunately, her day turned depressingly unpleasant when the Yamada patriarch insisted on stopping her on her way out and spent almost ten minutes showering her with condescending praise for her “hard” work.

By the time Fumiko actually got back to her apartment, it was already past 20:00. New Calista's white sun hung just barely above the edge of the horizon, looking fat and indulgent as it slowly descended for its nightly rest.

With Marisa busy studying for her upcoming exams, Fumiko had little to do but what she normally did. She sat down at her cramped desk and turned her computer on. Her instant messenger accounts logged in and she launched her favorite online game. She felt a calm sort of fuzziness descend upon her as she watched her in-game avatar defeat enemies with the help of two of her usual playmates, neither of whom lived within two thousand kilometers of the city.

After the trio of mighty adventurers vanquished the evil undead, Fumiko let her character idle in the safety of a nearby town while she excused herself to use the restroom and retrieve some sort of refreshment. She opened her small refrigerator and pulled out a gold-colored can of beer—not her favorite, but cheap and decent.

Popping the can open, Fumiko took a long swallow and grimaced as she looked at the time. It was already almost 22:00. She knew she should probably go to bed if she wanted to wake up early enough to stop by the cafe and see Mi-yun—

Her multicom chimed an incoming call. Thankful for the distraction, Fumiko accepted the call and tapped the loudspeaker icon, setting the device on her desk.

“Hi, lovely!” Marisa's voice rang out from the speaker. “How was work today?”

“It was both awful and okay,” Fumiko replied. “Norris is out of town for some work related thing, but I have to come in on Sunday to do a bunch of extra work that they just dropped in my lap with no warning.”

Marisa made a disgusted sound. “By then you should have a spot at the cafe, though, so why worry? You took the application over this morning, right?”

“I did, but neither the owner nor Akiyama were there.”

“Did you leave it with someone?”

“A girl at the coffee bar, Mi-yun, took it from me and said she'd give it to Akiyama when she came in this evening.”

“Oh, perfect.” Marisa's voice sounded both satisfied and relieved. “I'll call Akiyama after I'm done talking to you and try to get her to give you an interview on Saturday sometime before the evening crowd shows up.”

“Thanks, Risa. I really appreciate you going to all this trouble for me.”

“All right, fess up. Something happened today, didn't it?”

Fumiko was thankful her friend couldn't see her face. “H-how did you know?”

“I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”

“Yamada,” Fumiko growled. “He spent almost twenty minutes telling me how proud he was of me, how Luminia was so very lucky to have such a loyal worker. It was all so fake-sounding and patronizing. I didn't know whether I should slap him or start crying, or both.”

“What did you do?”

“I'm sure you can guess,” Fumiko mumbled. “Nothing.”

“Don't worry; I'm not going to judge you. You do what you have to do to make it, even if what you have to do is awful. It's just life and we have to play with the cards we're dealt, no matter how bad a hand we happen to have.”

Fumiko sighed in relief. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course I understand—you do remember what's happening to me, yes?”

“I'm not likely to forget.” She sipped at her beer and leaned back in her chair, glancing idly at the clock indicator on her computer screen. “It's getting late. I need to get to bed soon. I want to be out of the house by eight.”

“Don't you go into work at twelve?”

“I wanted to stop for coffee before I go to work.”

Marisa was silent for a moment. “Fumiko, you have a coffee bar in your building and it has very good coffee that you don't even have to pay for.”

“Um, I—I wanted to… I mean…”

“Oh-ho,” Marisa gushed, her voice distorting slightly over the line. “You want to go back to the café… and just why would you want to do that, I wonder? It's not exactly out of your way, but getting there does take extra effort. So… who are you interested in chatting up? Was it Jessie? No, wait—I know! You're interested in Mi-yun, right?”

The uncomfortable silence told Marisa all she needed to know.

“I'm right, aren't I?”

“Geeze, Risa!” Fumiko wailed. “Don't tease me so much! We just talked a little bit, and I don't have many friends and she was nice to me.”

Marisa laughed lightly, then her voice turned serious. “I'm glad you're coming out of your shell a little. You need some friends who you can spend time with in person. Now before you object, I'm not trying to trivialize your gaming friends. I know you're close with them, too—but they don't live in the city.”

Fumiko finished off her beer, already feeling the pleasant warmth of alcohol start to flow through her. “I know that.”

“So it's good that you're already getting along with the girls,” Marisa continued. “You'll be working with them soon.”

“I know, I know.”

“I've got to go. I've been studying so hard today I can barely keep my eyes open—and tomorrow will be worse.” The younger woman's voice acquired a glum note. “Hopefully we'll be able to get together again soon.”

“I'd like that,” Fumiko murmured.

“I'm sure. Sleep well… and I'll be thinking of you, as always.”

The call disconnected. Fumiko set her multicom down on the desk and sighed at the computer screen. It was late and she really should be getting to bed—but while she felt weary, her body did not feel ready for sleep. Typing out a farewell to her friends, Fumiko logged out of the game server and powered her computer down for the night.

The next day would come far too soon… but at least, Fumiko thought with a dreamy little smile, she would get to see Mi-yun again.

part two

~

frequency

.7

The rest of the week passed mercifully quickly, in an exhausting sort of tedious blur that almost blended together into a homogenous mass. Even after collapsing into bed the moment she got off work Friday evening, Fumiko felt so weary that she felt as if she could barely stand, much less function normally.

Somehow she managed to force herself out of bed before noon; usually Saturday was her day of rest. Typically she spent half of the day in bed, a few hours doing household chores and the rest of it playing video games or reading a book. This week, however, Fumiko had a much more important task that needed to be taken care of.

After she'd gotten off work Thursday evening, Fumiko received a comm call from Kaori Akiyama, instructing her to come in Saturday before the dinner rush. She set her alarm for ten-thirty and managed to get up on time and muddle through her weekend chores two hours early. She had to be at the cafe by 16:00.

Fifteen minutes early, Fumiko walked up to the cafe entrance. It looked empty on the inside; she couldn't see even a single customer or worker through the large storefront window. She stopped for a moment, peering in through the tinted glass.

“Good morning.”

Fumiko flinched, startled, and turned around, toward the source of the voice. It was Akiyama. The woman had a cigarette pinched between her lips and blew out a plume of acrid-smelling smoke as she stood in the narrow alleyway that led behind the store. Kaori wasn't dressed in her usual frill-bedecked finery, but instead wore a simple pair of jeans and a men’s gray button-down shirt, the tails knotted up around her waist.

“Akiyama,” Fumiko said to her, bowing slightly. Kaori looked faintly horrified and held her hands out, protesting the too-polite greeting.

“Just call me Kaori.” The girl puffed at her cigarette for a few moments and stubbed it out in the nearby ash can. “You shouldn't bow to me or to Suzume, either. We don't stand on ceremony here, Fumiko.”

“So I'm here for the interview,” Fumiko began. “I assume you looked at my application, right? Risa made me fill it out after we left the cafe that night and then threatened me with inescapable doom if I didn't bring it in as soon as possible.”

Kaori chuckled. “That sounds like Marisa, all right.”

“I tried to bring it over a few days ago, but nobody was here who could take it.” Fumiko frowned. “Is the owner here today?”

“Unfortunately not; she was called to visit a sick relative. It's fine, though—she left me in charge. I've been working for her for five years and we're friends besides. Any time she has to go out of town, I'm the one who holds down the fort.”

“Don't you have classes during the week, though?”

“Only part-time,” Kaori clarified. “Mostly because I'm almost done with my degree, but also because Suzume wants to retire soon.”

“Will you be taking over the store?”

Kaori nodded. “Pretty good for a girl under thirty, right? My own store—well, Suzume will still be the owner, but I'll be running the day-to-day operations on site while she enjoys more free time with the grandkids.”

“What are you studying?”

“I'm a culinary student,” Kaori replied. “I figure with that and a few more years experience here, I can start saving up to open my own restaurant as chef-owner by the time I'm thirty-five.”

“I envy you the ability to chase your dream,” Fumiko mumbled. “Marisa told you, didn't she? About my situation? That I'm—”

“Yeah, she did,” Kaori cut her off, the woman's expression softening considerably. She gestured toward the entrance to the cafe. “Come on in, let's get you into your dress and see how you look. Did Marisa tell you—”

“Yes.” The corner of Fumiko's lips twitched slightly as she followed Kaori into the cafe. It was still early in the afternoon—apparently the lunch rush had ended already and the interior of the establishment was almost as empty as Fumiko thought. A few people sat at various tables, typing away on tablet computers or peering at multicoms.

“Let's go to the back; there's a break room with a large closet we converted into a dressing room. You can change in there.”

Fumiko kept pace with her new mentor as they made their way through the first-floor dining area. The break room was small but cozy, complete with a large table for taking meals and a clean but obviously well-worn and well-loved sofa. Her eyes widened in recognition as she realized one of the two was Mi-yun.

“Ooh, it's you!”

The other young woman looked up and studied Fumiko with an appraising eye. “Ah, Marisa's friend. New hire, Kaori?”

“Yeah. This is Fumiko—she'll be taking over Nika's old schedule.”

“Finally I'll be able to have my Thursdays off again,” the other girl muttered.

“And I won't have to practically run to class on Mondays,” Kaori agreed. “Fumiko doesn't have any experience, so I'll be training her for the rest of this week. You think you can work with her next week, Jessie?”

“I should be able to manage. I'll be done with third-year classes after this week.”

Kaori smiled. “Fumiko, I'd like you to meet two of your co-workers. This is Jessica Windham and—”

“She already knows me,” Mi-yun chimed in. She waved excitedly at Fumiko, a wide smile dominating her face. “And she sort of knows Jessie.”

“I wouldn't call making someone coffee 'knowing' them.”

“That's why I said 'sort of,'” Mi-yun retorted. Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she let her gaze travel up and down Fumiko's body. “She's so tall and cute… and her feet are big…” The woman let out a high-pitched squeal. “Aah, geeze, Mi-yun can't help herself!”

Kaori held a hand up. “Hey, now, don't tease the new girl too much. We need to ease her into things and make sure she's as comfortable as possible. She can't take orders or carry trays with trembling hands, now can she?”

“Wait—I'm already the 'new girl?'” Fumiko blinked at the three sets of eyes looking upon her expectantly. “Just like that? I thought I was just supposed to interview today?”

“Don't worry about it. We need someone to fill the schedule, Marisa recommended you, so it all works out. Suzume will probably want to talk to you a little when she gets back, but… consider yourself hired.”

Gray eyes shone wetly. “T-thank you.”

“Don't thank me just yet—this job isn't easy. Let's get you changed. I'll show you how to do your makeup quickly, too.” The veteran waitress turned back to the lounging girls and scowled at them. “Jessie, Mi-yun, break's over. Get back out there.”

“But there's almost no one in the dining room,” Mi-yun complained. “We already did cleanup after the lunch rush. The coffee bar's closed down for the day.”

Kaori frowned. “All right—Jessie, get the sample tray and hit the street. Get some bodies in here for the early-bird specials. Mi-yun, go ahead and go home if you want.”

Mi-yun blinked. “You won't need me working the register?”

“It'll be me, Will, Jessie and the new girl—and I'll handle the register. I can't have five front-of-house on the clock tonight, the boss would have a fit. Go on, shoo.”

“Aww,” Mi-yun whined. “I wanted to watch Fumiko get dressed up.”

“I don't care where you are so long as you're off the clock. Actually, wait—have you taken your lunch break today?”

“No. I was going to ask you if I could go eat, but you're sending me home.”

“Change out and go sit down in the dining room,” Kaori instructed. “You're officially helping train a new employee for the next hour or so. I'll comp whatever you order.”

Mi-yun's eyes lit up. “Booze, too?”

Kaori sighed and placed a hand to her forehead. “You get two shots' worth—and no, not any of the top-shelf stuff.”

“That's fine.” Mi-yun smiled cheerfully and scooted past Fumiko. She stopped next to one of the lockers and started sifting through the contents. Kaori gestured for Fumiko to follow, leading her to a locker sitting off to the other side of the dressing room.

“This was Nika's locker. It's yours now.”

“Wait—am I really going to work tonight?” Fumiko asked, confused.

“Only for a few hours. Think of it as a trial run in lieu of an interview.” Kaori opened the locker and pulled out a dress crafted from a pretty wine-red fabric with off-white lace trim. The dress was similar in style to the others, only sized for a taller, larger wearer. A number of accessories went along with it: opaque white stockings with matching ribbon trim, a short petticoat that would add volume to the outfit's skirt and a truly impressive hair bow.

Kaori turned to regard her new worker. “What's your shoe size?”

Fumiko blushed, recalling Mi-yun's earlier comment about the size of her feet. “Um, on the high end of 28, sometimes 29.”

“You're in luck—Nika wears a 29, so hers should fit you pretty well.” Kaori handed her a pair of exceedingly well-cared-for black patent leather Mary Jane shoes with medium-height, chunky heels. “Get dressed and I'll show you a few tricks to get your makeup done quickly.”

Trying not to think about how nervous she felt, Fumiko sat down on the bench in the dressing room and started taking off her clothes. Once down to her underwear, she pulled the dress on and settled it around her shoulders and bust. A curious expression formed on her face as she realized how high-quality the dress was—it was constructed from some sort of weighty and durable fabric, with shirring in strategic places to keep it conforming to her curves.

I guess that makes sense. I mean, a cheap costume wouldn't be able to hold up well against daily wear and tear working in a restaurant. Fumiko tried her best to keep her nervousness from showing as she tugged on the over-knee stockings, leaving a visible gap of skin between the hem of the dress and the tops of the stockings. The petticoat went underneath, filling the skirt out and raising the hem even higher.

Fumiko turned to Kaori and tapped her on the shoulder. “I'm done.”

“Wow. You really look amazing in that.” The veteran waitress reached out and took hold of the elastic band that held Fumiko's hair in her customary high ponytail, sliding it off. Long, wavy red-brown locks cascaded around Fumiko's teasingly bare shoulders. “Perfect. Cute, alluring, sexy… but also shy and reserved. It's a great look.”

“T-thanks,” Fumiko mumbled, feeling her cheeks flush hotly.

“We usually try for that 'innocent sensuality' angle. The boss wants to avoid problems with the clientèle; we've had a few girls here who tried to play the sexy up to inflate their tips, but it just caused problems with customers. Men see our bodies as okay to touch, especially if they're on display like that.”

“It's not okay.”

“Right. We don't want that kind of clientèle, anyway. We're just supposed to run the front of house and look pretty while doing it. Altercations with customers are bad for business.”

Kaori reached into her own locker—two lockers to the right of Fumiko's—and took out a long black makeup case. “I think I have some tints dark enough for your skin tone in here. Let's see… oh, perfect. This will work nicely.”

Fumiko remained silently attentive while Kaori quickly “upgraded” the abbreviated makeup job she'd done earlier. A little concealer here and there smoothed away blemishes; a rose-pink blush expertly applied gave her a doll-like appearance. Kaori selected a soft, pastel purple eyeshadow that brought out Fumiko’s silvery-blue eyes.

“And just a little two-stage gloss—there, that looks good. Take a look in the mirror.”

Fumiko turned to one of the full-length mirrors mounted on the walls of the dressing room and couldn't help but smile, her lips shimmering liquid pink. Her new mentor's efforts only took a few minutes, but they certainly did the job. She slipped the hair bow on and turned back to Kaori.

“Well? Do you feel ready to take your first order?”

“Don't I need to know the menu items first?”

Kaori shook her head. “I'll be with you, so don't worry about that. They'll know you're training—anyway, Mi-yun's playing the role of customer for your first table. If any actual customers want to know what's in something, I'll tell them.”

“O-okay,” Fumiko murmured.

“All right, let's get you out there and see what you can do.”

*

“So I have a small curry rice bowl, a side order of vegetable dumplings and a double tart cherry liqueur and cream,” Fumiko recited back off the screen of the small tablet computer. “Would you like anything else, miss?”

An impish grin stole across Mi-yun's face. “Oh, there's definitely something else I'd like, but it's not on the menu.”

Fumiko blinked. “Um, one of the daily specials?”

“Oh, no. Not food or drink, but… delicious all the same.”

Kaori groaned aloud and placed her palm against her forehead. Fumiko stared curiously at her mentor and then back at Mi-yun. The “customer” was unsuccessfully trying to suppress a fit of giggles.

“You can't order her,” Kaori snapped, rolling her eyes.

“But she's so tall and big and cute! Mi-yun wants her!”

Kaori gave Mi-yun a dirty look. “You're not allowed to flirt on the clock.”

“Why are you so mean to me, Kaori?!” Mi-yun cried, affecting an overly-exaggerated pout. “Fine. That's all I'd like.”

“V-very good, miss. I'll return with your drink in just a moment.” Fumiko bowed clumsily and turned away, heading back for the bar where she could retrieve the drink Mi-yun ordered.

The bartender nodded to Fumiko. “Double tart cherry with cream?”

“Yes… did it show up already?”

“No, the system's a bit laggy, but Mi-yun likes that drink.” With an expert's casual ease, the bartender retrieved a small bottle of tart cherry liqueur and started mixing the drink. It was simple, combining the aforementioned spirit with milk and a dollop of sweet whipped cream. Slapping the cocktail shaker down with one hand, he shook it with ice for a few moments before straining it into a martini glass.

“Here.” The bartender, a tall and good-looking man of obvious foreign ancestry, gave her a slight comradely nod. “Welcome to the madhouse, by the way. How'd Kaori rope you into this gig?”

His casual manner and wide, friendly smile managed to put her at ease. “Thanks. Actually, it was my friend Marisa's idea…”

“Oh, so you're the childhood friend? Fumiko?”

Fumiko's lips twitched. Seemed like everyone here knew who she was. “I guess.”

“My name's Will.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Will,” Fumiko replied. She was only a little surprised to see someone even more swarthy than she. To her, it was beginning to seem like Suzume did her best to seek out those rejected by society, including those the highborn elite considered barbarians.

From the faint traces of his clipped accent, Fumiko knew Will was not born and raised on New Calista. He was tall, easily 190 centimeters or taller, much taller than anyone Fumiko had ever seen. Next to the much shorter Kaori and Mi-yun, Will looked positively gigantic. His build was lean and long-limbed, though, slender as a willow. Fumiko doubted he weighed much more than she.

“Trying to figure out which colony I’m from?” Will chuckled as he handed the drink over to Fumiko. “Don't bother; I don't even know myself. I worked on an asteroid miner ever since I was old enough to drag a few kilos. Until recently, that is. Guess the bosses weren't paying enough in bribes or something, because Security impounded their ship and told us our travel visas were revoked. I've been stuck here ever since. Never did find out what happened to them, but I doubt any are still alive.”

Fumiko accepted the finished drink, staring dumbly at Will. “I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Will said, offering her an encouraging little nod. “I think you'll find this place to be a welcome respite from the rest of this world. Suzume has a bit of a savior complex, I think.”

Unable to come up with a suitable reply, Fumiko said nothing.

“Better get that out to Mi-yun before she starts climbing up the walls,” Will advised, his voice dropping low. “Want a little friendly advice?”

“O-okay.”

“It's not any different for anyone else here.” Will jerked a thumb at the table where Mi-yun sat. “Mi-yun is, well, lets just say she's 'delicate.' We've all been through hell and back, but… her more than any of us. I'm not trying to say it's a bad thing or anything like that, but I just wanted you to be aware. The boss lady would probably tell you more if you asked.”

“She seems cheerful, but her eyes look lonely,” Fumiko murmured.

“That's because she is lonely. Her cheerful-girl act is just that, an act.” Will picked up a glass and started to polish it. “You're her type, you're obviously not pure-blood and you're just as nameless as half the staff here. She's sure to take a liking to you.”

Fumiko's expression was thoughtful. “I don't think that's bad.”

“Really?” An intrigued look crossed Will's face. “Just keep what I said in mind.”

The newly-minted waitress didn't respond, but instead started back toward the table Mi-yun sat at, carrying her drink atop a tray in one hand. Fumiko's grip was rock stable and she managed to get to the table without spilling so much as a drop.

“Here is your double tart cherry liqueur with cream, miss,” Fumiko said, her voice only slightly lilting up as she managed to control her nervousness. She removed the drink from the tray and set it down carefully on the table in front of Mi-yun. “Your meal will be ready shortly.”

Mi-yun smiled up at her. “Thanks!”

“Is there anything else you need?”

The petite woman looked around a few times and leaned forward, lowering her voice so that only Fumiko could hear. “Hmm… how about your comm address?”

Fumiko's cheeks flushed faintly. “Ah, well, d-didn't Akiyama say not to do that?”

“She said not to flirt. I'm not flirting.” A conspiratorial grin spread across her face. “I'm trying to get your comm address… so I can flirt with you later. When we're not on the clock. What do you think? It's a good idea, right?”

“B-but I'm—”

“Spoken for?” Mi-yun's grin shrank a little bit. “Anyone I might know?”

“Um—”

“Mi-yun, what did I tell you?!”

Fumiko turned to see an irate-looking Kaori standing next to the table, glaring daggers at the hapless Mi-yun. From the girl's outward personality, Fumiko expected Mi-yun to immediately descend into a comically transparent denial of the charges against her.

That didn't happen. Instead, Mi-yun's eyes seemed to glaze over and she sank back into her chair, nodding to Kaori once. Her hand came out, mechanically, to take hold of her drink. She sipped the sour-sweet cocktail through one of the straws.

“Shit… sorry, Mi-yun. I'm not really that angry with you.”

“No need to be sorry. Mi-yun was being a bad girl.”

Fumiko didn't miss the sudden shift in Mi-yun's voice and recalled Will's warning, delivered only a few moments ago. The anxiety drained from her face and she gazed at Mi-yun. It was none of her business, but Fumiko couldn't help but worry and wonder just what was going on.

“You can go home after you eat,” Kaori said to Mi-yun. “Unless you want to just cancel the order and go home now?”

“Can't go home by myself.”

“Then you can stay here, or in the break room.” Kaori's expression softened even further, the irritation in her eyes replaced with concern and sympathy. “I'll walk you home after my shift.”

Mi-yun didn't respond. Kaori sighed softly and placed a comforting hand on Mi-yun's shoulder before she turned and strode off, heading to the kitchen to check on the few orders on the board.

*

For the next few hours, Fumiko took orders much the same way. Kaori accompanied her to half her tables, giving her assistance whenever she needed it. The menu wasn't very large and by the end of her trial shift, Fumiko had served all but two of the seventeen entrees. The evening had gone off encouragingly well.

The back room was empty—Akiyama was busy rallying the crew for the upcoming late evening rush. Two more waitresses showed up and changed out while Fumiko was undressing—she didn't get a chance to talk with them, however. It would only be a matter of time before she melded with the others and became a true part of the team.

Fumiko removed her dress and hung it in her locker. Somehow she managed to get through her shift without spilling anything on it. Kaori had mentioned the place had an arrangement with a local tailor shop that specialized in caring for intricate garments. All the cafe's dresses were treated with a chemical that prevented staining, but Suzume kept the cleaners on standby, just in case.

Her multicom chimed. Fumiko reached into the locker and pulled her purse out, sifting through the contents until she found the device. A dreamy smile spread across her face as she read the notification. It was a mail message from Marisa, received about ten minutes before she clocked out.

Hey, lovely! Hope you're doing well on your trial shift. Kaori told me she'd have you do a little when you applied. Congrats, you impressed her! Not easy to do.

Fumiko tapped out a response into the device: It went really well. Sorry if you're bored at the clan thing. Miss you already. She didn't expect Marisa to respond immediately—considering the formal nature of such clan gatherings, she was probably wearing some kind of fancy gown with no pockets, her multicom kept in her room.

The door to the changing room opened and Mi-yun walked in. Fumiko wondered if she'd left something in her locker. The other waitress had changed out of her uniform hours ago, before she played the role of customer for Fumiko's trial.

“I'm sorry for being weird earlier,” Mi-yun said without preamble.

“Um, you weren't being weird. I mean, I don't think so, anyway.” Fumiko turned toward the girl and shrugged. “You've been off the clock for two hours. Why are you still hanging around the store?”

“I was waiting for someone,” Mi-yun stated.

“Friends?”

“Was waiting for you to get done.”

Fumiko blinked, surprised. “W-what?”

“Kaori has to work until close because Suzume's still gone. She said I should ask you if you could walk me home. Can you? I don't live very far away. It'll only take a few minutes.”

“I guesss I could, but…”

“But why, right?” Mi-yun eased down onto the bench next to Fumiko. “I know it's a weird thing to ask. I guess I'm still being weird, aren't I?” She let out a short, self-deprecating chuckle. “It's okay if you don't want to. I'll figure something out.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Well… yeah. I was trying not to. Mi-yun surrenders.”

It was then that Fumiko noticed Mi-yun was holding a collapsible metal cane. The girl pulled her skirt up, taking hold of one of the opaque stockings covering her left leg. Mi-yun slid the top of the stocking down to her knee. Fumiko's eyes widened as she realized the leg was not composed of flesh and blood, but of metal and plastic.

“Some days it hurts a lot and I have to have help getting home. Today is one of those days,” Mi-yun explained, pulling the stocking back up to cover her prosthetic. “You really didn't notice until now? You couldn't tell by the way I walked?”

“N-no, I didn't.” Fumiko shook her head emphatically. “I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“N-no, I’m being serious. I didn’t even notice—and even then it doesn’t matter. I mean, not everyone has access or money for regeneration treatments and active implants… especially people who are—”

“Nameless,” Mi-yun finished for her. “Though I suppose you would know, since we are the same in that aspect.”

Fumiko blushed fiercely. “W-well, it doesn't bother me at all. Um, your leg—I mean, you not having an active prosthetic—that is, I don't think it matters if you did or not—”

“You're adorable when you get flustered. Are you naturally this cute or are you trying to seduce me?” Mi-yun's eyes sparkled as she spoke, her cheeks acquiring just the faintest hint of color. “Because if you are, it's working.”

“W-what? Um, that is, I mean—”

“Relax, Fumiko, I'm just teasing you.” The faint ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Mostly.”

Fumiko swallowed hard and changed the subject. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Mi-yun's eyes narrowed slightly, but Fumiko's expression was open and earnest, lacking the false sympathy that Mi-yun often encountered.

“Yes. It does. I'm supposed to go easy on it. It’s just strapped on, doesn't have much more than some thin padding between my body and the metal. That's why Kaori lets me take a lot of breaks during my shift and puts me on the register where I can sit down.” The girl shrugged and turned to gaze at Fumiko with huge, liquid brown eyes. “I'm nameless, but… my parents still take care of me. They help me out, financially, in ways the family won't look too closely at. It's not much, but more than enough to live off of. I don't have to work in order to live, but I need to do something.”

Fumiko opened her mouth to ask, but stopped herself before she could. There was a lot more to the situation and she could tell Mi-yun wanted to let it out. Nevertheless, Fumiko refused to press her further on the subject; the details of the events that led to her exile from the Tachibana clan were extremely painful. Mi-yun's past was likely no different.

Instead, Fumiko stood up, holding a supportive hand out for Mi-yun. “Come on, then. I'll take you home.”

“Can I lean on you if it gets worse?”

“Of course.”

.8

The two of them walked through the rowdy streets of the 28 ward in silence. Fumiko had a strong feeling that this wasn't normal for Mi-yun, that staying quiet was simply against her nature. She would have wondered why the girl was so taciturn if not for the occasional winces and soft hisses of pain, expertly hidden beneath an insouciant smile.

Mi-yun's apartment was about eleven blocks from the cafe. They'd crossed through tightly-packed blocks before coming to a strangely isolated street that somehow managed to exude a sense of peacefulness amidst the stressful, frenetic flow of the city's lower classes going about their business.

“My building's there.” Mi-yun pointed toward a three-story apartment complex with perhaps nine individual units. Even from outside, Fumiko could tell the dwellings were much larger than her place.

They waited at the weathered crosswalk until the signal changed. Fumiko shortened her usual strides so that Mi-yun could more easily keep pace with her. About halfway across the busy street, Mi-yun's face contorted in pain and she stumbled.

Without even thinking, Fumiko stepped forward and scooped the much shorter Mi-yun up in her arms, aborting the fall before it could really begin. The girl's body seemed to relax utterly as Fumiko held her securely, her expression containing only gratitude and not a trace of awkwardness.

“Careful, now.”

“Mi-yun is glad you caught her,” Mi-yun mumbled. Fumiko caught the slight wobble to her companion's lip but chose not to dwell too much on what that meant.

“We're almost to your place. Can you stand okay?”

Mi-yun nodded.

Fumiko carefully lowered her burden, allowing Mi-yun's good leg to come in contact with the asphalt before she let go. “Here, lean on my arm.”

Neither woman spoke until they reached the door to Mi-yun's apartment. The ground-floor unit had a metal ramp built from what looked like scrapped-out deck plating—Fumiko suspected this was to allow wheelchair access. She didn't know much about how amputees lived, but it made sense to her that Mi-yun would have such a method of conveyance.

Mi-yun tapped her key against the auto-lock, the bolt disengaging with a loud metallic thunk. She turned to gaze at Fumiko over her shoulder. “You want to come inside? I have some good things to drink.”

“Um, I—I don't know if I should…”

“Oh, right. You're taken. Mi-yun forgot for a minute.”

The disappointment that spread over Mi-yun's face was heartbreaking. Fumiko's desire to accept the offer warred with her emotions for a long moment. She guessed that her internal conflict was visible on her face; a glimmer of hope burned in Mi-yun's eyes.

“I'll stay for a little while,” Fumiko blurted.

“You will?” Mi-yun's grin returned in full. “Yay! Come on inside.”

Fumiko followed the limping girl into her apartment and closed the door. The interior of the dwelling was just as upscale as the building itself. Mi-yun's furnishings were plain but of reasonably high quality. The effect was somewhat stark and seemed at odds with Mi-yun's bubbly personality. Fumiko suspected the apartment furnishings had been purchased by her parents.

Next to the kitchen table was an archaism if Fumiko had ever seen one—a completely mechanical, unpowered wheelchair. She had no idea they were still being made, but then again, the lower classes were both the poorest and the most likely to suffer permanent loss of mobility from injury or disease. Likely some company or other smelled potential profit in such an underserved market.

Mi-yun sank into the chair and let out a groan of relief as she took the weight off. She kicked off her flats and pulled her skirt up, drawing the stockings off both legs and tossing them off to the side of the apartment's common room.

“Go ahead and sit down wherever you want,” Mi-yun offered. She started to unfasten the various straps and buckles that secured her prosthetic leg to her body and giggled as she noticed Fumiko watching her.

“W-what?”

“You're not looking away.” Mi-yun's tone was oddly cheerful. “Everybody else looks away when I take it off. Like it's something shameful or embarrassing that they shouldn't see. Even here, where nobody but Black Lotus muscle could even hope to have implants, where people should be used to it. But you didn't even flinch.”

Fumiko pulled one of the chairs out from under the table and sat down, watching with interest as Mi-yun removed the artificial leg and set it aside on an empty chair. Inside the sleeve was a shapely thigh that abruptly terminated roughly six centimeters above where her knee would have been. A tough, partly callused and scarred covering of skin closed over the once-terrible wound.

“It's been five years since I lost my leg,” Mi-yun stated.

“Um, if you're okay with—”

She held up a hand, cutting Fumiko off. “I don't mind telling you. I was wild when I was younger, before I was cast out of my clan. I was big into the underground social scene of the wards. Did a lot of partying, even more drugs.” Mi-yun traced her finger around the end of her amputated leg. “I didn't care about much of anything but seeking pleasure, thrills, anything that'd get me going.”

Fumiko's expression was pensive. “Were you in an accident?

“Yep.” Mi-yun deftly spun around and rolled into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I have beer, wine, plus stronger stuff. Jessie gave me a bottle of a really good dessert wine a couple weeks ago. Seems like a good night to open it.”

“T-that sounds good,” Fumiko stammered.

Mi-yun chuckled in response and drew a dark bottle from the conservator. She uncorked it and poured two very generous glasses. These she set on a small tray in her lap as she returned to the small dining area without spilling a drop.

“Here, tell me what you think.”

Fumiko accepted the offered glass and took a sip. The dark reddish-purple liquid was flavorful, possessing the full intensity of a classic red wine but without the sharp astringency. Hints of richly-sweet berries danced on Fumiko's tongue as a pleased smile spread across her face.

Mi-yun fairly beamed at her guest. “It's good, isn't it?”

“Delicious. I could drink a whole bottle if I wasn't careful.”

“Mi-yun will make sure you're careful.” The woman sipped her wine and her expression became wistful as she sank into old memories. “To continue the story… I was reckless, especially when I was getting high. I didn't think about my safety, just about cruising, hitting the clubs, dancing and of course the drugs—and I trusted her, loved her. I really believed she'd never do anything to hurt me.”

“Her?” Fumiko echoed.

“The leader of my set, I guess you could call her. Mimi, though that wasn't her real name. We… were sort of couple, I guess? We slept together; back then I thought she loved me, but now I'm sure she was just in it for the sex.” She tapped her fingertips against a prominent scar on her exposed thigh. “But I was going to tell you how I lost my leg, not how stupid I got over a girl I liked.”

“You don't have to tell me if—”

“I already said I wanted to,” Mi-yun interrupted. “Well, one night Mimi and I were club hopping in the 37 ward. We were already both wasted out of our minds—she was near falling-down drunk and I'd popped more than a few pills. We got in the car, intending to go to a party at an old converted warehouse. She was driving.”

Fumiko shivered as a cold chill ran down her spine. “Crashed?”

“Yeah. She lost consciousness, drifted into oncoming traffic… hit a big cargo drone, head-on. I don't remember what happened immediately after. When I woke up, I was in a med center. The techs told me I was in a terrible accident, that I was lucky to survive. She didn't.” Mi-yun let out a bitter laugh. “I sure didn't consider myself lucky.”

“I…” Fumiko's eyes were wide. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything. Just listening is enough.” Her voice became slightly ragged as she continued. “I was a mess. My left arm and half my ribs were broken. I had cuts from flying glass all over me—that's where all the scars on my face come from. But my leg was gone. The way the collision happened, it just got pinned between crumpled metal and—and was just crushed.”

“So they had to…” Fumiko trailed off meaningfully.

“Cut it off, yeah. I was lucky they even did that much. There was no way it could ever be the same again, even if my family would pay for the reconstruction work. And it hurt—it hurt so much, even through the sea of drugs I floated on. The doctors wouldn't talk to me. My parents visited me at the med center. Mom stayed with me most nights, but then one day, my grandfather came to see me. From the cold way he looked at me, I knew something was very wrong.”

Mi-yun paused for a moment and sipped at her wine before continuing. “He walked into the recovery ward, stood at the door to my room, and told me that I had brought disgrace to the family and was no longer a member of the Song clan, effective immediately.” She took a ragged breath and let it out. “Turned out 'Mimi' was actually a highborn girl, slumming in the wards under a false identity. Yayoi Shimizu.”

That name was instantly familiar to Fumiko—Shimizu was a powerful and influential clan of diplomats and politicians. Many of the clan's members had positions in the planetary government, easily placing them in the top ten most powerful clans on New Calista.

“From your expression it looks like you understand. Shimizu demanded retribution and redress; the Song clan had no choice but to capitulate. My parents are the only reason I'm not rotting in prison.” Mi-yun sipped at her drink and turned to regard her guest. “So that's it. That's what happened. Surprised?”

“I'm… more surprised you told me than anything,” Fumiko murmured. “We barely even know each other. This doesn't seem like the thing you just tell someone you just met less than a week ago.”

“I don't tell just anyone, sure, but… I don't know. I had a feeling.” Mi-yun took another pull off her glass of wine. “Talking about it makes it less scary, takes away the power it has over me, especially with someone who knows what it's like to be alone.”

Fumiko didn't say anything, instead retreating into her wineglass. Sweet-tasting it may have been, the dessert wine had a high alcohol content and already she was feeling the effects, a soft fuzzing of her perceptions.

“So, I told you things about me. I want to know things about you, now.”

“That's fair.”

Mi-yun's gaze grew more intense. “Tell me about your partner. You're with someone, right? That's what you seemed to imply.”

“Um… I, ah—that is…” Fumiko trailed off, feeling her cheeks heating up rapidly. Her first impulse was to obfuscate, to describe Marisa without actually naming her, but that was unlikely to work with one of Marisa's friends. “I'm not… really… 'with' someone, exactly. It's… complicated.”

“Now what's that supposed to mean?” The tiny woman's interest was obviously piqued by the evasive non-answer. “How complicated are we talking here?”

“It means, um—okay.” Fumiko gulped the rest of her wine and set the glass on the table, taking as much comfort as possible from the liquid courage. “You know Marisa and I have been friends since we were kids?”

“Of course. Most of Kaori's friends are also my friends, Marisa included.”

“We're… sort of… 'involved' now.”

Mi-yun's astonished look was not unexpected. “Wait—like, you're serious? You… and Marisa…?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You're dating Marisa?”

Fumiko's blush darkened. “I don't know if you could call it 'dating.' More like, we're just… um, having sex. I know it's… not right, she's engaged to Kevin Eldridge, but… I, um… I just—”

“Then it's fine!” Mi-yun exclaimed.

“It's—what?”

Mi-yun ignored the baffled Fumiko and wheeled back into the kitchen, her smile nearly stretching from ear to ear. She retrieved the bottle of wine and brought it to the table, refilling their glasses.

“A few months ago, Marisa and Kaori were talking in the back room. I was there, too, taking  a break. Marisa was talking about how she was crushing on a girl she's known forever, but wouldn't say who it was. She asked for advice. It was obvious she was going to try and see her crush on the side, arranged marriage be damned.” Mi-yun took a swallow of wine and grinned. “So I sort of knew something was going on with her. I think Kaori figured it out right away, but she wasn't telling.”

Fumiko was stunned speechless, but Mi-yun kept chattering on.

“But like I said, it's fine! If it's Marisa you're involved with, dating or just fucking or whatever, then it's not anywhere near as complicated as you think it is.”

“Huh?” Bafflement spread across Fumiko's face. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. You don't know, do you?”

Now Fumiko was thoroughly confused. “Know what?”

“Marisa is polyamorous. She won't mind at all if you see other people. Probably expects you to, actually.”

“W-what?!”

To say she was stunned would be an understatement. Until recently, Fumiko never would have guessed. Both the years before and after Fumiko was cast out, Marisa seemed to fall in line with what was expected of a proper highborn lady—in other words, completely monogamous and heterosexual.

Mi-yun's revelation had turned everything upside-down. Between the two women, it was beginning to appear that the simple lesbian and hopeless romantic Fumiko was the reserved one.

“What?!”

“Wow, you really didn't know? Back when Marisa and Kaori first became friends, she was involved with another couple she met in school. I guess she didn't talk about it to anyone but Kaori and me because of the whole betrothal/alliance bullshit.”

“Risa is really that… um… active?” Fumiko marveled.

“Mm-hm.” Mi-yun gave an exaggerated series of nods. “Marisa loves being loved and loves loving people, and she'll never happy with loving only one person. Which is a huge reason the arranged marriage bothers her so much—not just that she doesn't feel that way about the Eldridge kid, but the thought of being with only one person for life scares her.”

“Um… have you and… Risa ever…?”

Mi-yun chuckled and shook her head. “No. We're just friends. Friends who don't fuck each other, anyway.”

“Any reason?”

“Just not each others' types,” she responded as she absently tapped her fingertips against her left thigh. “Marisa likes people, not genders, but she does have particulars. She likes tall and big women, small and pretty men, and all sorts of different types in between and outside. I prefer girls who are bigger and taller than me.” Mi-yun licked her lips suggestively. “Especially tall, cute girls with big feet, stormy eyes and freckles everywhere.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps Mi-yun's unusual predilection, but Fumiko was unable to stop herself from bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What's so funny?” Mi-yun demanded.

Fumiko coughed once on her laughter and took a swallow of wine. “It's just… I mean… why big feet?”

Mi-yun blushed fiercely. “I-I just think they're cute!”

“My feet are cute?”

“So's the rest of you.” The wheelchair rolled a bit closer to Fumiko. “You're really great, Fumiko. You're not freaked out by my leg, you're not a jerk to me because I'm not a highborn pure-blood, you're a super sweet girl… and… I'm interested in you. Really, really interested.”

Fumiko swallowed hard.

“I know you're interested in me,” Mi-yun purred. “You were so flustered when we first met. I see how you look at me, at my body, and how you try to pretend you aren't doing anything.” She leaned back in the wheelchair and spread her arms wide. “Do you think I'm pretty, Fumiko?”

“Y-yeah, I do.”

“Even though I'm nameless and broken?” Mi-yun's whispered words acquired a faint cynical note. “That doesn't bother you? Not even a little?”

“N-no! Don't say that! You aren't broken!” Fumiko cried, sitting bolt upright in her chair. “You're really nice and beautiful and… I mean, so what if you lost one of your legs? So what if you're nameless? I am, too! That doesn’t matter to me at all.”

“It doesn't matter that I'm twenty-nine with a head full of issues?” Mi-yun shook her head in wonder. “Fumiko, now I know you're trying to get me to fall in love with you. You can't fool Mi-yun any longer.”

Fumiko stared at Mi-yun, disbelief written all over her face. “Wait—you're twenty-nine?!”

“I know I don't look my age at all… or act it, most of the time,” Mi-yun admitted. “Most of the time people think I'm in my early twenties, though I have been mistaken for a teenager more than a few times.”

Fumiko giggled softly. “I'm only three years younger than you.”

“What? No way!” Now it was Mi-yun's turn to gawk in disbelief. “I never would have guessed.”

“I guess we both don't look our age,” Fumiko observed.

“Mi-yun was just too overcome by Fumiko's beauty.” The petite woman laughed softly and her expression became more serious. “Honestly, I could get lost in those eyes of yours forever.” Mi-yun's wheelchair moved closer still, so that her right knee pressed against Fumiko's leg. A not-unpleasant chill ran through her as they made contact.

A trembling hand reached out. Mi-yun took hold of it, caressing the fingers and the palm before she guided Fumiko to place her hand on her left thigh. The smooth skin was warm beneath Fumiko's palm.

“That feels so good,” Mi-yun breathed, her voice hitching slightly. Low-smoldering desire burst into bright flame. “Damn it, Fumiko, I want you so much.”

Fumiko blushed fiercely, but chose not to respond with words. Instead she stood, a little unsteadily, and reached down, sliding her hands underneath. She cradled Mi-yun in her arms and lifted the petite woman from her wheelchair, surprised at just how easy she was to pick up… for half a moment, before the obvious dawned on her. This was not lost on Mi-yun.

“You just figured out why I'm so light, didn't you?”

“Um, I… I mean—”

“I'm teasing you, silly.” She looked up at Fumiko, her expression serene and filled with contentment. “Take me into my bedroom?”

“Of course.”

Fumiko didn't know the layout of the apartment, but it was only a one-bedroom, and thus there weren't too many incorrect paths to take. The beautiful girl in her arms cackled in amusement as she almost walked into the bathroom before discerning that the door across the hall led to Mi-yun's bedroom.

The bedroom furnishings were much more in line with the personality Mi-yun had displayed. It was as if a bomb had gone off, if bombs contained pink rather than explosive material. The bed was draped with a ruffle-trimmed pink comforter. Fumiko caught sight of several heavily-adorned, excessively-frilly and lace-trimmed dresses hanging in the smaller closet. Mi-yun caught her flicker of interest.

“You can probably guess why I chose to work at the cafe,” she said with a grin. “Mi-yun loves the style! All the pretty and ruffly dresses, I just can't get enough!” Her voice dropped low and sultry. “Especially when Fumiko wears one.”

Fumiko blushed and set Mi-yun down on her bed, attempting to gently disengage from her. Mi-yun was having none of that, however, and wrapped her arms around Fumiko's torso, pulling the startled woman down on top of her. Fumiko's eyes became dreamy as she noticed their lips were mere millimeters apart.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Mi-yun asked.

Fumiko nodded.

Warm lips pressed against hers. Fumiko closed her eyes as she felt Mi-yun's embrace shift and tighten, small hands grasping at her hips and pulling her down with an unexpected amount of strength. Fumiko moaned aloud as a velvety softness slid between her lips.

Mi-yun pulled away a moment later, gazing up at Fumiko with bright eyes and a wide, somewhat mischievous grin. “You're even a good kisser.”

“I'm good at other things, too.”

“Oh?” Mi-yun easily pushed Fumiko up off of her. She shifted on the bed, bracing herself with her right leg, and tugged off her skirt. Both it and her top went sailing through the air to land on the carpeted floor. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Ah—sorry, I was just, um… wow.”

Mi-yun giggled as she unsnapped her bra and sent that across the room as well. She was even smaller than Marisa in overall build, but much more toned and solid. Muscles rippled visibly beneath her skin.

A thrown pair of panties—pink, of course—struck Fumiko in the face, jolting her back to reality.

“Stop gawking at me and get undressed!”

Spurred into action by Mi-yun's subsequent laughter, Fumiko fumbled to strip down as quickly as she could. In moments she was naked, standing next to the edge of the bed, her cheeks still flushed with nervous excitement.

“W-well, this is me without clothes on,” Fumiko managed, trying and failing to sound clever. Her partner didn't seem to mind, however—a slender but strong arm shot out and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her back onto the bed.

Fumiko relaxed and allowed Mi-yun to take the lead. With a firm but gentle grip, Mi-yun guided her new lover's hand down her body, letting Fumiko feel the taut musculature beneath the skin. Spreading her legs to allow access, Mi-yun leaned toward Fumiko and set her left thigh against her partner's hip.

“It's okay?” Fumiko asked.

“Y-yes. It's very okay with Mi-yun.”

Fumiko's fingertips brushed the outside of Mi-yun's bare folds. They felt hot and deliciously soft, but not yet wet. Moving her fingers in slow circles around the outside, Fumiko applied a little force as she caressed Mi-yun's pussy.

Mi-yun's reaction was immediate and gratifying. She gasped once as the anticipation was shattered by her lover's touch. Her eyelids drooped and a series of moans escaped her lips as she let herself sink into euphoria.

“Um—mm, that's wonderful,” she grunted, her sweet, bell-like voice cracking and becoming husky. “Please, more. More. More!”

Traces of liquid coated her fingertips; Fumiko lifted them to her lips and licked them clean of Mi-yun's taste. This time, her fingers spread the folds apart and Fumiko carefully slipped two inside. Her lover's hips jerked back reflexively as the fingers were thrust in deeper.

Muscles clenched and crushed, pulsating around Fumiko's fingers as she worked them in more deeply. Mi-yun's whole body was shivering, her head lolling to one side and the toes of her right foot curling so tightly the joints made an audible pop. Her hips started to buck, at first intermittently, but it wasn't long before Mi-yun matched the rhythmic pumping with her own movements.

“Does it feel good?”

“Um—yeah, real good.” Mi-yun's lips parted and her mouth formed a small o as she moaned, and Fumiko went inside her. Fumiko pressed her palm to the mound, setting her arm firmly so that Mi-yun's jerking hips mashed her pussy against it.

Fumiko smothered Mi-yun's lips with hers, muffling the moans as they kissed. Her breathing was growing quicker, more labored, and Fumiko knew that it wouldn't be long at all before Mi-yun was pushed over the edge. Her left hand wiggled out from underneath her and shifted their bodies closer.

Gasping for breath, Mi-yun broke the kiss and forced her eyes open, gazing dreamily at her lover. “I'm going to… going to come… mm!”

“You taste so good… I can't let it go to waste,” Fumiko whispered. Her fingers slid up and out, tracing wetness across the woman's inner thighs. Mi-yun's rapturous expression suddenly became dismayed that the wondrous sensations had ceased.

“Why… why did you stop—oh. Oh…”

Rolled onto her back, Mi-yun spread her thighs apart as Fumiko scooted down on the mattress, laying flat on her tummy. Waves of silky, reddish-brown hair fell across Mi-yun's midsection, tickling her as Fumiko tossed them from her face. The intoxicating scent of this lovely woman, mingled with sweat and delicate floral perfume, filled Fumiko's nostrils as she took a deep breath.

Mi-yun's back arched hard and she groaned aloud in sudden pleasure. Fumiko wasted no time at all, unwilling to deny her new lover more than a few moments of their shared bliss. Her lips pressed against Mi-yun's pussy; she dragged her tongue slowly, teasingly, up the length of it.

The moans became pleading whimpers, then deepened into growls. Fumiko felt Mi-yun clenching her thighs around her head, felt the comforter tug underneath her as her lover grabbed the bedsheets and hung on for dear life. Inarticulate cries of ecstasy reached Fumiko's ears, muffled beyond her ability to decipher, but she could tell from the rough sound of Mi-yun's voice just how much her attentions were appreciated.

Fumiko felt a weight on her shoulders as her lover's legs came up and wrapped even more tightly around her, pulling her deeper. Mi-yun's right leg bent at the knee and shoved against Fumiko's back.

“Um—Fumiko, yes, yes! Going to—going to—” Mi-yun's ability to form coherent words completely disintegrated as Fumiko's tongue shifted focus to her lover's clit, intent on pushing her over the edge. Mi-yun shuddered violently, her back arching, hips thrusting forward, burying Fumiko's face between her thighs.

And then she collapsed to the bed, gasping in great gulps of air. Mi-yun went limp, her arms and legs splayed out wide, looking utterly content and sated. Fumiko slowly drew away, sitting up between her lover's legs, a dreamy look in her gray eyes.

“That was… amazing,” Mi-yun managed after she took a moment to recover. “I didn't realize just how deprived I was until now. It's been… a long time.”

“How long?”

Mi-yun blushed faintly. “About six months.”

“Until two days ago, it was eleven years for me,” Fumiko admitted. She felt her confidence build as she spoke, unafraid to open up to Mi-yun about her past.

“Eleven years?!” Mi-yun's jaw dropped. “So… you lived your entire adult life, with no sex at all? Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.”

“Not… no sex, just… no sex that… I actually enjoyed.”

A flicker of interest crossed Mi-yun's face. “Oh?”

“Did Risa tell you very much about me? Like, anything about my past?”

“Not really. She mostly just gushed about how great her best friend was.” A devious grin started to form on Mi-yun's face. “At the time I thought it was nothing all that interesting, just a regular childhood friendship. Now that I know, well, what I know… and after what you just did to me, I think I agree with her.”

Fumiko giggled and twisted around on the bed, nestling in behind Mi-yun and draping her tall frame around her petite lover. “It was before I was cast out of the Tachibana clan, not long after Marisa and I became friends. My family was a prominent ally of Renfield and we were often guests at the Renfield manor. Marisa spent a lot of time at my home, too. I wasn't the most socially aware or the most mature. I guess that's why we became friends without any age-related hierarchy.”

“Wait—you were a member of the Tachibana family?” Mi-yun blinked, astonishment written all over her face. “I would never have guessed—I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but your skin is way darker. That the Tachibana clan even allowed you to carry the name at all—”

“It's complicated,” Fumiko agreed, cutting her off. “I don't know much about my mother or any of what was really going on back then, but I assume it was about money or some other sort of scandal.” Her tone soured. “I'm sure they were looking for a reason, any reason, to get rid of me legally and without loss of standing.”

“What happened?”

Fumiko took a steadying breath. “When I was thirteen, a first-year in intermediate, I met a girl… Emi Hisakawa. We started dating, became intimate, but we weren't very discreet about it. About a year after we first started seeing each other, we got caught having sex in an empty classroom. My father was… absolutely furious. A daughter of the Tachibana clan, even a mongrel obviously whelped from some barbarian whore, had been caught being fucked by a lowborn girl. My actions 'brought shame' to the Tachibana family.”

“Ugh.” Mi-yun's disgusted expression spoke volumes. “That's… that's horrible.”

“I was pulled out of school. That night, my father beat me until I was too weak to even cry out. Locked me in my room for almost two days with no food or water. When I was finally let out, the heads of the family had all gathered and unanimously moved to strip me of the Tachibana name, forbidding me from ever returning. I was sixteen, with no clan name, no home, no money and no occupational placement file.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Mi-yun observed.

“Um… you do?”

“You worked the love hotels in the wards, didn't you?” Mi-yun's expression softened as she watched old memories resurface on Fumiko's face, bringing with them her shame and fear. “Yeah, that has to be it. There's no other way you could have survived at that age without the backing of a clan and a work file.”

Fumiko turned away. “I… I'm sorry. I should have told you—”

“Fumiko. Look at me.”

Her lip trembled more than a little as Mi-yun's fingers took hold of her chin, pulling her gaze back around.

“I only have one thing to say: you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you had to do to survive. That's it. That's all there is to it. The dishonored, disgraced and disenfranchised of New Calista… we all fight to survive, every day.”

“That's what Risa tells me.”

Mi-yun giggled. “You should listen to her. She's a pretty smart girl.”

“I'm aware of that.” Fumiko's blush was quick to return—and it only grew more intense as Mi-yun sat up on the bed and playfully shoved Fumiko's shoulder, rolling her over onto her back. “W-what are you—mmf!”

Fumiko found herself unable to speak as Mi-yun's lips mashed against hers. Her field of vision was dominated by dark hair and eyes; she couldn't see anything, but she could feel her lover's body as Mi-yun straddled her hips.

The kiss ended abruptly with Mi-yun pulling back, a wide grin on her face that told Fumiko just what this beautiful woman had in mind—but Mi-yun purred out her intentions regardless.

“I'm going to eat you all up.”

Before Fumiko could even start to voice a clever response, words became difficult and her lips rounded in a drawn-out moan. Her head was propped up on the pillow behind her, tilting her head enough so that she could watch. Mi-yun lay on her tummy as she licked down and into the already-wet slit. It was not easy for her to hold out for very long in this state.

Fumiko felt a hot ache that burned deep inside her, a physical need to orgasm as quickly as possible. She was already terribly aroused from the attentions she'd lavished on Mi-yun, a fact the petite woman seemed to understand perfectly.

“That's it, Fu-chan. Don't resist it, just let it happen,” Mi-yun encouraged, her voice growing husky with desire. She looked up and licked her lips slowly. “Oh-ho… you like it when I call you that, don't you?”

Fumiko nodded vigorously.

“Mm. Fu-chan. That's going to be my name for you from now on.”

Moans became gasps, whimpers and cries. Fumiko's back arched as Mi-yun resumed her “work.” Her tongue swirled around, making the same sort of long, dragging strokes that Fumiko had used earlier.

The sensations were but a whisper compared to what followed. Fumiko reflexively shut her eyes and threw her head back as she felt Mi-yun bring her fingers into play. Those clever little fingers started to massage and caress, rubbing Fumiko's mound, edging around her outer folds.

Biting off a shrill, wordless cry, Fumiko felt her climax overwhelm her, a surging expulsion of pent-up desires and emotions that sent her swooning. Her breath became deep panting gasps, her muscles turned to jelly, but still Mi-yun did not stop, did not even slow down. Waves of euphoria rippled through Fumiko and her orgasm wracked her body again, nearly as intensely as the first.

Black spots danced in her vision and she felt as if she would pass out, but then Mi-yun was there, right next to her. She felt her lover draw close, nestle against her protectively, keeping her from slipping away.

“Stay with me, Fu-chan,” Mi-yun murmured softly into her lover's ear. “The faint feeling will pass—you just came really hard, that's all.” She kissed Fumiko lightly and gazed into her eyes. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Mm.”

“Yay! Looks like it was so good it made you speechless!”

Fumiko could only smile and weakly nod.

.9

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee drew Fumiko from her slumber. Gray eyes fluttered open and she yawned cavernously. A moment passed before the fuzziness cleared from her vision and she saw Mi-yun, sitting calmly in her wheelchair next to the bed. The tray on her lap held two white coffee mugs, steam wafting gently off the surface.

“Good morning, Fu-chan,” Mi-yun said, her tone bright and alert.

“How long have you been up?”

Mi-yun smiled and handed over one of the mugs. Fumiko accepted it gratefully and sipped at the hot beverage, sighing contentedly as the warmth spread through her core. It would only be a few minutes before the caffeine and the bitter, earthy taste brought her fully into the world of the waking.

“Only about an hour.” Mi-yun was already dressed, her hair freshly washed and brushed out but still a little damp. “How did you sleep?”

“I feel very well-rested,” Fumiko replied as she twisted on the bed, letting her legs hang off the edge of the mattress. Her feet touched the hardwood floor and she sat there for a moment, sipping at her coffee.

“I'm glad. You should get in the shower, though—I have to get to class pretty soon. I've got an advanced mathematics exam that I'm not looking forward to.” She gestured to the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Have to leave by eight if I want to get there on time.”

Fumiko followed the gesture; it was a little past seven. Plenty of time for her to get ready. “Mind if I finish this first?”

“By all means.”

“I should check the tram schedule, too.” Fumiko glanced around the bedroom, searching for her purse. “Where's my bag?”

Mi-yun extended a hand, the small cross-body bag dangling from her grasp. “You left it in the common room.”

“Thanks.”

Fumiko dug her multicom out of the purse, unlocking the device with her pass key. The battery was getting a little low—she'd been far too preoccupied the past week to remember to recharge it—and she had no new messages. That wasn't unusual; Marisa didn't particularly like communicating through network mail or instant messaging. Comm calls, or face-to-face conversation, were much more Marisa's preference.

Fumiko straightened her shoulders and took a deep, calming breath. Today was the big day—the day she would tell that disgusting creep Norris off and quit her job without notice. With her position at the cafe secure, surrounded by compassionate, kindhearted people, Fumiko dared believe that she might be at a turning point in her life.

She already had it planned out—she would come in late, intentionally. In three years, Fumiko had never been late, not even once. She was always there fifteen minutes early, her mask of phony cheerfulness firmly in place. Her rebellious tardiness, so unexpected and uncharacteristic, would infuriate Norris.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Fumiko stood up and gazed down at Mi-yun. The woman was reading some news feed on her multicom and sipping at her coffee.

“Mi-yun, I…”

She grinned broadly. “You're welcome, Fu-chan. I really enjoyed your company last night. At the risk of sounding too forward, I… would dearly love to see you again. If it's not possible, or you want to take things a little more slowly, I totally understand—”

“Let's go out for dinner,” Fumiko blurted.

Mi-yun stared up at the much taller woman. “A-are you sure? I mean, we did just meet recently and I don't want to rush you or anything and I want you to be comfortable with anything that happens between us and please be honest with me if I'm pushing too hard or making you feel uncomfortable—”

“Mi-yun, it's okay.” Fumiko knelt down next to the wheelchair and looked into Mi-yun's eyes. “Really. I know what I'm doing. I know that I like you. A lot.”

“Mi-yun likes Fu-chan, too,” she mumbled.

“And I want to spend time with you. I understand that people are usually told that they need to take these things slow or they won't work out, that a short courtship makes for a weak foundation, but… I don't think that advice applies to people like us. Our lives are so… ephemeral, and they're all we have.”

“Mm.” Mi-yun reached out and caressed Fumiko's cheek. “Not to mention we're both women. You know, something else society doesn't approve of.” She laughed softly, but there was a hint of bitterness in her tone. “At least my parents are supportive of me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The Song clan has been here for hundreds of years, but my parents were born on a Coalition neutral world, so they have a different way of looking at the world,” Mi-yun explained. “Something happened and Mom and Dad had to come back to New Calista. I was born here. The clan may have discarded me, but… Mom and Dad refuse to, even though it's risky for them to interact with me.”

“I wish I knew what that was like, to have a loving family,” Fumiko mused. “For me it was… well, I already went into that.”

“I'm so sorry that happened to you, Fu-chan. I'm sure you won't have any problems with my parents when you meet them—” She broke off, blushing profusely. “Wow, I need to shut up before I really stick my foot in my mouth.”

Fumiko giggled. “I'd love to meet them.”

“I should get going soon,” Mi-yun mumbled, embarrassed. “Do you mind locking up when you leave? Just the auto-lock is fine, I don't have an extra card to give you—” She broke off again, growling out a stream of what Fumiko assumed to be virulent expletives. Unable to help herself, Fumiko started to shake with laughter.

“I'm sorry!” Mi-yun wailed, covering her reddened face with her hands. “I just—Mi-yun really, really likes you! It's so easy to think of you like that!”

Still laughing, Fumiko leaned forward and kissed Mi-yun's cheek. “Go on, get out of here before you're late to class. I'll lock up.”

“And before Mi-yun embarrasses herself even more,” Mi-yun added, deeply chagrined. The woman took hold of her cane and stood up, taking a moment to steady herself. Satisfied she wouldn't need the wheelchair, she walked out of the bedroom with fluid strides, her cane only touching the ground occasionally.

“I'll see you later tonight, Fu-chan!”

Fumiko chuckled to herself as the front door clicked shut. She stood back up and padded across the hardwood floor into the bathroom, right across the not-quite-hallway that led from Mi-yun's bedroom to the common area. Like everything else in the apartment, the bathroom was very well-appointed.

Ten minutes and a quick but invigorating shower later, Fumiko toweled the bulk of the moisture from her hair before unhooking the hair dryer from the wall, finishing the job off and leaving her hair with a bright auburn shimmer. Makeup was quick and easy; she wasn't yet added to the schedule at the cafe and expected a comm call from Kaori with her shifts for the next week later tonight. Today would be her day.

She dressed quickly, throwing the dress from yesterday back on, as she had no other clothing with her. The rest of what Marisa bought was probably sitting on the floor in her little apartment. Her feet went into flat sandals and she grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder as she prepared to head out.

Her multicom chimed. Fumiko dug it out of her bag and glanced at the screen before answering it—it was Marisa, probably calling to find out her plans for the day.

“Hi, Risa,” Fumiko greeted.

“Morning, Fumiko.” The young woman's voice rang out over the link, as bright and cheerful as ever. “I heard from Kaori that you passed your trial shift with flying colors! How was it for you?”

“Tougher than I expected, but I managed, somehow,” Fumiko replied. “How did the retreat thing go?”

“Boring. It was so boring! Dad, Eldridge and Kevin and a bunch of people I don't really know well from both clans all talking about business stuff. I was basically expected to just stand next to either Dad or Kevin and look pretty, or help Mom pour drinks for all of these old men. Worst 'vacation' ever.”

Fumiko rolled her eyes. “Sounds like it.”

“So anyway, I'm back in the city. You want me to come pick you up and take you to the office so you can tell that gross old Norris where to shove it?” A sinister little giggle came over the line. “I'm almost sad I won't be able to watch it happen.”

“Um, I—I mean—I can take the train.” Fumiko swallowed hard. “Y-you don't have to go out of your way to—”

“Oh, don't be silly, lovely. It's no trouble at all.” There was a short pause; Fumiko could have sworn she heard a stifled giggle over the line. “You're at Mi-yun's place, right?”

“H-how did you know?” Fumiko blurted.

“A-ha! I knew it!” A triumphant note injected itself into Marisa's voice. “I knew I was right!”

“I—um, Risa—”

“So…” Her voice practically oozed with mischievous curiosity. “How was she?”

“R-Risa!”

Laughter rang out from the ear speaker. “I was right again! You and Mi-yun! That's so adorable, I could just die! Come on, tell me! Was it good? Did you have fun? Did she make you moan? Make your toes curl?”

Fumiko was eternally grateful that Marisa couldn't see how red her face was. “Y-you're really so happy about this?”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?”

“B-but you… and me… we're—”

“Come on, I'm being happy for you. It's not like I haven't dated more than one person at a time, anyway. Besides, I'm your friend, not your mother. I wouldn't even think about trying to control you.” Marisa's tone became faintly petulant. “Honestly, I'm a little annoyed that you would expect me to get angry over something like this!”

“I'm sorry,” Fumiko mumbled.

“You should be!” Marisa's voice softened. “But I'll forgive you, just this once. I'm pretty close to Mi-yun's complex. Are you ready to go yet?”

“I was just about to walk out the door when you called.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes. Oh, this is wonderful! I'm so happy for you, lovely!”

“B-but it was only one night—”

“Fumiko, just listen to me for a moment, okay?”

Fumiko blinked in mild surprise. Marisa's tone shifted; no longer was the girl's voice high and cheerful. Sincerity saturated her voice as she spoke. Never before had Risa ever taken this tone with her and Fumiko felt uneasy.

“O-okay…”

“You and Mi-yun are so good for each other,” Marisa went on, her tone deadly serious. “I want you to seriously take this seriously. Yes, it was 'only one night,' but let's be realistic about the situation. You don't like men and you don't have a clan backing you; we both know you aren't exactly flush with options.”

Fumiko swallowed hard. “Did you really have to put it that way?”

“There are considerations that are neither sexy nor romantic.” Marisa's voice lost some of its edge and she sighed. “Women in your position are expected to play along, at least on the surface. Find a husband, even if he's lowborn, adopt the accepted public facade, have a mistress or two on the sly. That's the best most can do in this place.”

“I'm not going to do that.” Fumiko's tone was adamant.

“And that's exactly why I'm telling you this is a rare opportunity.”

“But… what if things don't work out? What if I mess everything up?”

“How do you know that'll even happen?” Marisa countered. “Stop being so pessimistic. I really believe this could work out for you and Mi-yun. I know she wants to find someone to settle down with and I'm pretty sure you want that, too, right?”

Fumiko found she couldn't argue. “I do want that, it's just…”

“You don't want to get your hopes up, I understand. But trust me on this, Fumiko, it's worth the risk. Please, I want you to stop worrying so much about fucking it up and just let things happen as they will.”

“… okay, I'll try.”

“I need to hang up now; I'm almost to the complex. Come on outside and we can talk more in the car.”

*

The pristine two-door sedan pulled up to the curb. Fumiko smiled and opened the passenger-side door, dropping into the low bucket seat. She barely managed to shut the door before Marisa mashed the accelerator, sending the little car shooting off down the empty, narrow streets.

“I know a lot's happening in your life right now, a lot of changes,” Marisa began. “It's probably really overwhelming after so many years of the same depressing routine.”

Fumiko's expression was pensive. “It's a lot to process all at once. I expected my life to continue on in an empty state of drudgery until I died. Now there's all these possibilities, right out of nowhere…” She trailed off.

“Want to talk to me about it?”

“I'm not sure I can understand everything happening just yet… but… you being here for me helps so much.” Fumiko glanced at her friend as she deftly manipulated the steering wheel, merging the car into traffic. “I just don't know about… certain things.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I really love being with you. But I also love being with Mi-yun. I… don't know what to make of this. It's all new and confusing to me.”

“It's okay to be with both of us,” Marisa pointed out. “It doesn't bother me; just the opposite, in fact. I know it doesn't bother Mi-yun, either.”

“But it bothers me, a little.”

“Why?”

Fumiko didn't respond immediately. That single word, “why,” pierced her straight to her heart. She had no idea if she could even answer the question at all. Fortunately, though, Marisa saved her the trouble of having to voice the issue herself.

“It's because you've been told all your life that you're supposed to fall in love, get married to someone and live for your spouse above all else. But that's bullshit. It's an arbitrary little romantic fairy tale. Window dressing, really.” Marisa shifted the car into high gear as she accelerated onto the expressway that would take them out of the wards and into the wealthier districts of the city. “You need to read between the lines, Fumiko.”

Fumiko stared blankly at her friend.

“It doesn't matter who you're attracted to, who you actually love. The world doesn't care about that shit—just that you play by the rules, or at least make it look like you're playing by the rules. If you don't, you're a reprobate whore who doesn't know her place, who spits on the very foundation of our great culture.”

“I guess you're right.”

Marisa's expression darkened further. “It'd be even worse if you weren't nameless.”

“What?”

“You don't have the expectations of an entire clan resting on your shoulders… and uterus,” Marisa pointed out in a sour tone. “Also, you aren't 'pure' and Mi-yun is lowborn and nameless. It's not like the public perception of either of you can get much worse. They expect you to be 'perverse' and 'depraved,' and won't find it especially noteworthy.”

“I'm not worried about public perception.” Fumiko bit her lip nervously and turned to gaze out the window at the tall buildings passing by. “I want to be with Mi-yun… I like her a lot. I think… I hope… I wish…”

“There's no reason you shouldn't try.”

“But… I also want to be with you, too.”

The younger woman smiled warmly. “That's fine. I can be with you, but not all the time, nor can I promise myself to only one person. Not even you, lovely. Wouldn't matter if the situation was different, if I wasn't a pawn in Renfield clan politics, it would still be that way. Monogamy doesn't fit me.”

“What if it fits me, though?” Fumiko frowned, trying her best not to feel offended by her friend's words. “If I give every part of me to someone else, will their be any left for Risa?”

“You were flustered by my teasing.”

Fumiko blinked, confused by the seemingly irrelevant response. “So?”

“That tells me you didn't feel guilty about sleeping with Mi-yun. I know how you act when you feel like you did something wrong, and that wasn't it. That tells me you don't see me as your girlfriend—you'd much rather someone else bear that title. A rather specific someone else, at that.”

“Risa, don't tease me so much!” Fumiko wailed. “I really do love you, but… Mi-yun, and, well… but—” She shrugged helplessly. “I don't even know what to feel. I mean, I don't think it was wrong, I don't feel guilty for sleeping with Mi-yun, but… if things get more serious between us, will I feel guilty about being with you?”

“I don't know. Will you?”

Fumiko opened her mouth to answer yes, of course she would, but she found that she couldn't. Her jaw clicked shut and she stared out the window in uncomfortable silence.

Ever since she fell for Emi Hisakawa as a teen, Fumiko had created a picture of what her love should look like. It was a traditional picture, an image of two souls entwined forever, growing old together in a house full of cats. She'd always accepted that picture, was always comfortable with that image of the future she longed for.

Marisa's potent words changed everything. The frame and glass covering the picture, that idea of familiarity, of tradition, crumbled into dust. Her dream of a traditional romance was an illusion that she believed in for her whole life. What she wanted may have been domestic, but it was not traditional, nor would it be accepted as such.

“I'm such a child.”

“You aren't.” Marisa shook her head, her expression one of sympathy. “You've just never been given a chance. Before we can even write our own names, we're bombarded with a mountain of expectations about clan, gender, love, life. We're forced to play the game even if we don't want to, long before we even know all the rules.”

“How did you figure all of this stuff out?”

“I've always been smart and sneaky. It didn't take me very long to figure out how far I could push things before Dad would react. Living outside the Renfield manor opened up all sorts of possibilities.” Marisa smirked as she deftly swerved around a slow-moving cargo drone.

“I was too busy struggling for survival to contemplate the shape of the world,” Fumiko mumbled.

“You didn't have the same foundation to build upon. Right from the start, the deck was stacked against you. They were just looking for an excuse to cut you away, and then you had to focus on staying alive. Every day you live, every moment you take a breath, you're fighting them—and winning.”

“I wouldn't have made it without your help. All the times you sneaked out, paid for a week or two in the pods so I'd have a warm and safe place to sleep. All the weeks you gave me money so I didn't go hungry. All the times you met me at the tram station and spent time with me…”

“It's because I love you, silly.”

Fumiko turned away from the window and gazed at her dear friend, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I love you, too, Risa.”

“I know.” Marisa glanced at the clock on the car's dashboard and grimaced. “I'm supposed to meet up with Kaori in an hour. Going to be cutting it a little close. I won't be able to wait for you outside while you deliver the bad news to Norris.”

“That's okay,” Fumiko replied. “I still have the pass you left me. I'm used to taking the train to and from work, anyway. You dropped off all the stuff you bought me, right? I'd like to change my clothes before tonight.”

“I stacked it all on the table. Why, though? Is there something wrong with what you're wearing—oh, wait. I get it now. I know what's going on!”

“W-what?”

“You're going on a date with Mi-yun tonight! Aren't you?!”

Fumiko sank down into her seat. “M-maybe.”

“Aah, so cute!” The younger woman emitted a high-pitched, joyful squeal. “Where are you going to take her?”

“Um, I think… maybe that little bistro near the tram station, in the 29 ward. The reviews are good and people say it has a very, um, romantic atmosphere.” She let out a sheepish chuckle. “A-and the prices are reasonable.”

“I hope you two have lots of fun tonight,” Marisa gushed. The car pulled to the side of the street, coming to a halt in the loading area in front of the Luminia Systems building. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I hope you ruin Norris's day, too.”

“I'm really anxious, but I think it's a good kind of anxious.” Fumiko opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She waved to Marisa as the car drove off, heading back down the streets and toward the university.

Fumiko dug her multicom out of her pocket and grinned at the missed call list—there were two of them, both from Norris. She was already almost forty minutes late; her soon-to-be former boss had to be flabbergasted beyond belief.

I can't wait to see his ugly face when I tell him, Fumiko thought to herself as she walked up the steps leading to the lobby of Luminia Systems' headquarters.

*

When Fumiko stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor, she headed not to her own desk, but to Norris's office. The door was shut, but Fumiko didn't bother knocking—she just shoved it open and stormed inside. Her about-to-be former boss was sitting at his desk, spitting rapid-fire speech into his multicom. Fumiko couldn't make out most of what he said, but he sounded angry.

Norris's head jerked up at the sound and his eyes became huge. He stared at her in utter astonishment, ending whatever call he was on with a terse word. After a second or two of stunned silence, he got out of his chair.

Fumiko didn't bother hiding her smug little smirk. His expression was amusing enough now. It was about to get even better.

“Fumiko! What's the meaning of this? You were instructed to come in almost an hour ago! Why are you dressed so rudely?!” Norris's brow angled sharply down in a scowl that nearly caused his eyes to disappear. “Get to your desk immediately! The initial reports should have been completed already!”

“Mister Norris, I didn't come in today to do reports,” Fumiko retorted, keeping her voice firm and steady. “I came in to turn in my—”

It was as if she hadn't even said anything. Norris's black glare remained in place and he was obviously about to embark upon a furious tirade. “This flagrant disregard for the rules will be going on your next performance review, I can assure you that! If you ever wish to achieve anything in the industry—” He broke off suddenly. “What did you just say?”

The muscles of Fumiko's jaw bunched up around the grim set of her lips. “I said that I quit. If you didn't talk over me, you'd already know that.”

“W-what?!”

“I am terminating my employment agreement with Luminia Systems, effective immediately,” Fumiko ground out. “I have another job now. I'm done with this—and I'm absolutely done with being harassed by you.”

Norris's eyebrows shot up so far Fumiko half-expected them to go flying off of his head and strike the ceiling. His face went almost purple with rage and he clenched shaking fists at his sides.

“H-h-harrassed?!” Norris took a threatening step toward her. “H-how dare you insinuate—”

“I'm not insinuating,” Fumiko snarled, the forcefulness of her tone setting Norris back on his heels. “I'm accusing. There's a difference. This isn't coming to you with winks and nudges, Norris. I'm through. I'm done. And I'm leaving.”

Hissing through his teeth, Norris exerted a titanic effort to calm himself down. His scowl melted away into a bland, superior expression—the same sort of expression he usually had when dealing with a troublesome subordinate whom he had power over. Fumiko wondered exactly what pull he thought he had over someone who didn't even work for him any longer.

“Fumiko, this isn't wise.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “For three years you have been a loyal employee of Luminia Systems and in return, we have allowed you a career path that no one else would. We stand out among our competitors in that we value merit and capability above all else—their past indiscretions are of no concern to us.”

Fumiko expected this. Unable to intimidate her with his attempt at masculine dominance, he switched tactics. Norris wouldn't come right out and say it, of course, but the implication was clear: You're nameless, which makes you worthless. Shut up, sit down, know your place or you'll have no choice but to sell your body to survive.

Unfortunately for him, that particular sword of Damocles no longer hung suspended above her head.

“I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I haven't taken a position with one of your competitors,” Fumiko said, her voice mockingly sweet. “I recently accepted employment with a small but prosperous establishment in the wards, as a waitress. The compensation is sufficient for my current needs.”

Norris stared at her as if she'd just grown an extra head. From his perspective, such a move was ludicrous, unthinkable. From his perspective, accepting such low-class employment—especially in the wards!—was an insane relinquishment of status, and status was everything. Norris would sooner leap from the roof of Luminia Systems to his death than suffer such an “indignity.”

Fumiko suppressed a grin. Norris had been put off-balance by her admission. The perverted old oaf couldn't possibly imagine a worse fate, and yet Fumiko just told him that she'd chosen such a fate of her own free will!

“As you can see, there is nothing to fear about any possible breaches of my nondisclosure agreement.”

Norris's mouth opened, as if he intended to reply, but he clicked it shut without so much as a word. He almost fell back into his chair, having to crane his neck back even further to meet Fumiko's eyes.

“I will notify Mister Yamada of your decision and make the necessary adjustments to our systems. You'll need to turn in your pass—please leave it with the receptionist in the lobby as you depart.” Norris tapped a series of commands into his computer.

Fumiko bowed deeply to him, but she doubted Norris would even be able to see the subtle mockery in her gesture. “I'll go clean my desk out.”

Norris didn't respond as she turned and strode out of his office, the ruffled skirt of her short dress swishing around her hips as she walked. In truth, Fumiko was a little disappointed. She expected much more of an explosion from Norris, but it had certainly been satisfying to watch him go into complete lockup when she admitted to choosing a waitressing job at a lowly restaurant over the vaunted Luminia Systems.

Her desk was heaped with memory cards and stacks of hardcopy files—a result of her tardiness, no doubt. She ignored the paperwork and opened up the drawers beneath the work surface. Fumiko didn't keep much at work and only had to retrieve her spare charger, a pair of collapsible metal chopsticks and a small bag of hard cherry candies. She had no photographs nor random desk clutter to worry about.

A few minutes later, Fumiko stepped out of the elevator for the last time. She gave the lobby receptionist a bright smile and deposited her pass key on the desk.

“I'm no longer an employee of Luminia Systems, so I'm turning in my pass.”

“Whoa. You actually did it,” the young man said, staring at her with wide eyes. “When you came in almost an hour late and in casual clothes, I knew something was up, but I didn't think you were really going to quit.”

A derisive snort came from the weathered, gray-haired security guard. “I told you she was quitting.”

“Did you find another job?”

Fumiko nodded to the receptionist. “A friend of a friend helped me get a position at the restaurant she works for. I know it's not exactly a move up the ladder, but I just… well...” She trailed off. “I need to make a change in my life. This… well, it seemed like the best way to go about it.”

“Nothing wrong with working with your hands,” the guard put in, his gravelly tone holding a bit of approval.

“Good luck with the new job.”

Fumiko turned to wink and smile at the receptionist as she walked toward the door.

“Thanks.”

.10

It was almost two hours before Fumiko made it home to change. She unlocked the door to the tiny apartment and stepped inside, immediately opening the window to clear the stuffy atmosphere. She hadn't been home for two days and though Marisa had stopped by to drop off the spoils of their shopping trip, the inside of the flat felt stifling.

Fumiko pulled her multicom out of her purse and tapped an address entry freshly entered into her contacts. That lightheaded feeling of anxious excitement fluttered in her chest as she called Mi-yun. After a short pause the call was connected.

“Fu-chan!”

“I'm not interrupting your studying, am I?” Fumiko asked, a touch of nervousness entering her voice.

“No, I'm taking a break now, so it's fine. You're calling about our date tonight, right? Did you have a place in mind?”

“There's a cute little bistro near the station, not too far from work.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Do you have to work later?”

“Nope. I'm off today. Once you get on the schedule properly, you'll be taking over the weekend morning shifts and a few others. Did you talk to Kaori about it yet?”

“She's supposed to call me today with my schedule.”

“Better call her and ask yourself,” Mi-yun advised. “Kaori might forget, or call in the middle of dinner or something.”

Fumiko smiled. “I'll do that.”

“So I'd like it if you came over around 17:00 or so,” Mi-yun went on. “I've got to finish one more assignment and then I'll be heading back home to change and wait for you. Then we can leave together for the restaurant. How does that sound?

“Okay.” Fumiko let a note of concern creep into her voice. “How are you feeling today? Is your leg okay? In any pain?”

There was a pause.

“I… yeah, I am. I think I need to have things checked out, might need some adjustment or more cushioning or something. It's been giving me a lot more trouble than usual recently, so…”

“You might just need to take it easier,” Fumiko pointed out in a worried tone.

“I'm not sure how I can. Kaori already lets me take breaks whenever I need to and I try not to walk too much.”

“Well, we can always bring the wheelchair with us.”

“I… I don't really want to do that.”

Mi-yun's shuttered reply tugged at Fumiko's heartstrings. “It'll be okay, Mi-yun. We're going together, right? It's not a problem at all. If you're tired or in pain, I can push the chair and it'd be easier than you having to lean on me.”

“B-but Mi-yun wanted to look pretty for you,” she blurted. “I had this whole really cute outfit planned out but if I'm in the chair, I—” She broke off abruptly.

Fumiko sat down on the edge of her worn-out mattress. “I'm sure you'll be beautiful no matter what.”

“You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I'm being serious,” Fumiko reassured her. “You're always beautiful to me, no matter if you're all dolled up or worn out after a long day at work.”

Soft laughter prefaced a rueful, self-deprecating response. “You haven't seen me first thing in the morning, half-asleep and dazed with bedhead and no makeup on. Trust me when I tell you that I put a lot of effort into my appearance.”

“I don't care about all of that,” Fumiko countered. “I care much more about you being happy and comfortable and not in any pain. Besides… you'll still stop my heart with only one shoe and stocking on.”

“Y-you say the sweetest things. Mi-yun absolutely can't stand it.”

Fumiko had no trouble imagining the luminous blush that was currently forming on Mi-yun's cheeks. “I can't help myself. I'm shaking right now; I'm so excited about tonight I can't stand it. I'm just sitting here talking to you, thinking about just how—”

“—lucky I am to have met you,” Mi-yun finished for her.

“Yeah.” Fumiko chewed her lower lip absently. “Honestly, I've been thinking about you almost non-stop since last night.”

“Me, too. We should thank Kaori and Marisa.”

“Hm? Thank them for what?”

Mi-yun giggled in delight. “You haven't figured it out yet?”

“No…”

“Marisa called Kaori while you were on shift,” Mi-yun explained. “At first I thought she was just checking up on how you were doing, but I overheard the conversation. I wasn't eavesdropping or anything—I was just resting in the break room. Anyway, Marisa asked Kaori if she would get you to help me walk home—and call in one of the other girls to make sure I wouldn't be on shift for tonight.”

“So they were nudging us together the whole time.” Fumiko leaned back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't surprising, given what Marisa had told her earlier. “Though I'm not entirely sure that would have been necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I don't think last night would have happened the way it did without their meddling,” Mi-yun added.

“The wine helped, too.”

“Definitely. We should… share a bottle again. Soon.”

Fumiko's grin stretched from ear to ear. “I'd like that.”

“Mi-yun would, too!”

“I'll let you get back to studying, then,” Fumiko said, knowing full well that if she wasn't careful, she'd stay on the call with Mi-yun for an hour or more. “I'll call Akiyama and get my schedule. We won't be working the same shifts, right?”

“No, you'll be picking up the daytime shifts for Kaori and me. Jessie will stay on mornings for two weeks for your training, and then you'll be pretty much on your own. The kitchen isn't busy at all in the morning; most of the early business goes through the coffee bar.”

“I think I can handle that,” Fumiko agreed. “So, um… I guess I'll see you at seventeen, then?”

“I'll be waiting for you.”

“Talk to you then, and—”

Fumiko froze, cutting herself off before she say any more. She disconnected the call and let her arms stretch out across the mattress. Don't do it, Fumiko. Don't say it yet. No matter what else you do, don't fuck this up.

She picked her multicom back up and typed out Kaori Akiyama's comm address. Within about four seconds the veteran waitress picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it's Fumiko. I was just calling to find out what my schedule is for this week.”

“Oh, hold on.” There was a sound of rustling papers—Kaori must've been in the office rather than the dining room—and a clattering noise. Fumiko stifled a chuckle at the hiss of expletives from Kaori.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… almost knocked my multicom behind the desk. Okay, so, you'll be working 9:00 to 15:00, Thursday through Monday. The bar and second-floor dining rooms are closed for the morning rush; everyone walk-up orders at the coffee counter. From nine to ten-thirty you'll be helping finish up prep for the lunch rush, then you'll take your break. At eleven you'll change and serve tables for the rest of your shift.”

“Mi-yun said something about that. I was just talking to her on the comm and she said I should call you about the schedule,” Fumiko observed absently.

There was a long pause.

“Akiyama?”

Laughter suddenly erupted from the earspeaker. “So you have her comm address, huh? You didn't happen to… stay over at her place last night… did you?”

Fumiko mumbled something incoherent.

“Hah! I can't believe it! Marisa's ridiculous plan worked!”

“W-why are you both so determined to set me up with her?” Fumiko demanded.

“Oh, no real reason…”

“Don't try to deflect, Akiyama.”

Kaori's heavy sigh took Fumiko by surprise. “Well… all right. I'm sure she told you about the accident.”

“She did.”

“The Song family cut her off cold while she was still laid up in the med center. She was barely functional, had no support outside the money her parents were slipping her—which wasn't very much. She had no one to be there with her, no physical or emotional support. I'm sure you can guess how difficult it was for her.”

“Y-yeah…”

Kaori continued, her words thick with remembered sadness. “Things are better now than they used to be, but they're far from perfect.”

“I could tell she was lonely when we met,” Fumiko noted.

“You don't even know the half of it. About four years ago she managed to get her own place and recovered enough, physically, to take care of herself. She came into the cafe regularly during my shifts. Quickly developed the universe's biggest crush on me.”

Fumiko blinked. “Did you and she… ?”

“Date? Oh, no. I'm about as heterosexual as you can get—not to mention I was already with my husband, though we weren't married yet then. He came to visit me at work one day and Mi-yun apparently saw him kiss me goodbye. About ten or so minutes later, I found her crying in the restroom.”

“You talked to her?”

“Mm-hm. I know depression and loneliness when I see it. I couldn't stand just letting her suffer like that. So we talked, and eventually became friends.”

Fumiko was silent for a long moment, digesting the information that Kaori had given her. She assumed something like that was the case. In such a culture, where a person's group meant everything, being too divergent from the norm was seen as strange, unwholesome, even dangerous. She, too, had experienced a similar othering.

“I think I understand now,” Fumiko murmured through the comm. “Mi-yun has so much that separates her from the people around her.”

“I've been trying to get her set up with someone for years.” Kaori's tone grew rougher with obvious frustration. “It hasn't been an easy task. It's really infuriating how people can go from nice to complete asshole in a nanosecond. I watched too many girls fail to hide their disgust moments after meeting her—even in the wards, it's rare to see someone with only one leg. They just couldn't handle it.”

“Thank you for telling me this.”

“I hope you don't think I'm trying to push this on you. It's just… seeing how the two of you interacted…” She paused and took a deep breath. “I just thought maybe you might be the one for her. Marisa talks about you all the time, so I knew a little about your situation beforehand.”

Fumiko didn't respond to that.

“Look, I just want my friend to be happy and loved. That's all.”

“I… I don't know if I can do that,” Fumiko admitted. “This is all so new and it happened so fast. I mean, we just met, but already we're both—I mean, I don't know. I don't want to get hurt.”

“I don't think that's going to happen.”

I don't know what to feel or think. Fumiko closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. Should I be upset about this? That Akiyama's put this hope, this responsibility on me? That she and Risa have been manipulating the situation?

“Do you think I should try to slow things down?”

Kaori chuckled softly. “You're talking to a woman who stuck a ring on her boyfriend's finger after dating him for two months. I don't think 'slowing down' is even in my vocabulary—and yeah, we're still just as deeply in love as we were back then.”

“You really think it'll be the same for me and her?”

“I can't predict the future, but… do you think last night was just a one-time deal?”

Fumiko's response was an adamant denial.

“I thought not. You and Marisa are almost total opposites like that. Look, I need to get going—I've been on this call too long already. Work needs to be done and all of that nonsense.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I'll be rooting for the two of you from the sidelines.”

Fumiko pushed herself back up into a sitting position on the mattress. “I'll talk to you later, Akiyama. And… thank you.”

“Hey, I should be the one thanking you.”

The call disconnected.

*

Skirt rustling in the light artificial breeze, Fumiko stepped off the tram and onto the station platform. From here it wouldn't take her long to reach Mi-yun's apartment; the locations were rather convenient. She'd picked a restaurant primarily for its proximity to Mi-yun's place, reducing the distance necessary to travel. Fumiko tapped her transit pass against the card reader and stepped through the turnstile as it cycled.

Predictably, people were everywhere. It was still early in the evening, but folks were already getting off work. The platform itself was densely packed with commuters on their way back home and not a few intermediate academy students, marked by their easily-recognizable uniforms. Fumiko glanced at her multicom to check the time.

“Fifteen till seventeen,” she muttered aloud. Plenty of time to make it to Mi-yun's apartment before the agreed-upon hour.

Weaving her way through the crowds wasn't too difficult—Fumiko was a veteran rail rat, as it was nearly impossible for a nameless to obtain a vehicle license. Perhaps if she hadn't “disappointed” her family so much, she would be driving a car of her own. Such material displays of affection were common among highborn clans; Risa had certainly reaped the benefits of her status as a Renfield.

After so many years it didn't bother her. Fumiko certainly didn't resent her friend for taking advantage of the resources at her disposal. It was practical and Fumiko had long ago learned the value of pragmatism.

The surface streets weren't any less busy than the metro platform. Fumiko ducked around a family with several small children and stood at the crosswalk's edge, shoulder-to-shoulder with a half-dozen men in dress coats and pants. A few people here and there turned odd looks on her.

Fumiko didn't even react to the looks. It wouldn't get any worse than that. She lived in a culture that was generally uncomfortable with head-on confrontation. No one would say anything. No one would take direct action. They would only think of things.

Fumiko was very grateful that humans did not have the ability to read the minds of their fellows. As the crossing signal changed, she stepped out onto the street and started off at a brisk pace, her long strides carrying her through the knots of people and onto a smaller street. From here the pedestrian density would decrease the nearer she was to Mi-yun's complex.

“Such an anomaly,” Fumiko said to herself as she crossed over into the secluded little neighborhood. The frenetic back-and-forth of the wards was gone. Signs on the street proclaimed through traffic to be forbidden; the end of the narrow road was blocked off by weathered concrete pylons.

Mi-yun's building was one of the smaller on the block. Fumiko walked up to the gate and tapped out the code she'd been given. The wrought-metal door swung open and she stepped through. Mi-yun's apartment was unit number four, on the left side.

Before Fumiko could even knock, the door opened up on its own. Behind the door was Mi-yun, sitting in her wheelchair, looking up at her guest with a wide smile on her face.

“Fu-chan!”

Fumiko yelped in surprise as Mi-yun reached out with both hands and pulled her down to eye level. Without waiting for a response, Mi-yun leaned forward and firmly pressed her lips to Fumiko's.

“Mm…”

Gray eyes became unfocused, dreamy, and Fumiko felt as if she were floating. The contact was broken a moment later; Mi-yun's fingers entwined with hers and the tiny woman gazed at Fumiko lovingly.

“Fu-chan.”

“Mm?”

“You look so beautiful,” Mi-yun purred. A sly look crossed her face. “Did Marisa help you pick that dress out?”

Fumiko nodded sheepishly.

“Don't be embarrassed about it. Marisa has impeccable fashion sense.” Mi-yun pushed against the rims of her chair, sending it rolling back further into the apartment. “Come on inside!”

Fumiko did so, slipping off her shoes at the threshold and stepping into a pair of provided house slippers—ones large enough for her feet. She turned to Mi-yun and raised a querying eyebrow.

“I bought them this morning. For you to use when you come over.”

The significance of that statement wasn't lost on Fumiko.

“T-thank you.”

Mi-yun rolled her wheelchair toward the bedroom, stopping at the doorway. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“I, um, okay.”

Pleased laughter echoed through the hallway as Mi-yun pushed herself into her bedroom. Fumiko followed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The wheelchair rolled into the walk-in closet—for the first time Fumiko noticed the subtle design features of the room, to allow Mi-yun easy access whether she was in the chair or not.

Despite the sudden and pleasant greeting she'd received at the door, Fumiko noticed that Mi-yun wasn't wearing her prosthetic. She sat in the wheelchair, her one bare foot tapping lightly against the footrest.

“Hmm, I think I'll wear this,” Mi-yun called from inside the closet after a few moments of deliberation. She emerged bearing a rose-colored dress with black lace and detail work. Accompanying the garment were several accessories—a headband adorned with a large bow and a single matching stocking, both trimmed with black lacy ruffles to match the dress.

“I-it's really cute,” Fumiko managed. She was finding it exceptionally difficult to look at the clothes and not the woman holding them. After all, Mi-yun was sparsely clad in only her underwear; Fumiko's struggle did not go unnoticed.

“You can't keep your eyes off me, can you?” Mi-yun giggled.

Fumiko felt her cheeks heat up and she shook her head. She indeed could not take her eyes off of Mi-yun's bare body. Jagged whitish slashes were visible across her lower body and torso; a few much smaller scars also adorned her arms.

“Fu-chan, what are you thinking about?”

“Um?”

“Were you looking at my scars?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Tell me the truth: do they make you feel uncomfortable?”

Mi-yun pushed closer to the bed.

“No!” Fumiko shook her head emphatically. “I was just—I mean, you're—what I want to say is—”

“Fu-chan.”

“Aaaah, I'm so bad at this!” Fumiko wailed. Tears welled up in her eyes and she let out a single, choking sob. “I just—”

“Shh, it's okay. I didn't mean it… just calm down, take a deep breath.”

Fumiko seemed to deflate, her rapid breathing slowing and becoming deeper, regular and even. Her cheeks and ears still felt as if they were on fire and her thoughts were a jumble of chaotic noise that made no sense.

Mi-yun reached out and took Fumiko's hand, entwining their fingers together. It was as if a switch had been thrown; all of her stress and anxiety seemed to instantly drain away. Her eyes widened, in awe of the woman across from her.

“I… I'm sorry.” Fumiko swallowed hard. “I just wanted to tell you… that you're the most wonderful girl I've ever known. B-but everything got all fuzzy and I couldn't say the words for some reason.”

Mi-yun's eyes lit up. “You really mean that?”

“O-of course I do!”

“I should really be the one apologizing,” Mi-yun said, squeezing the hand she held lightly. “I just… can't seem to believe my ears when you tell me that none of this bothers you.” She gestured to her scarred limbs, to what remained of her left leg. “It's not something I'm used to hearing at all.”

Fumiko squeezed back. “I'm not lying, or humoring you. I'm being honest.”

“It's just… hard. After so many years of being seen as broken, it's almost unbelievable. I feel like things are moving so fast between us, and I'm worried that we might not work out and yet, and yet I hope—”

“Mi-yun, I love you,” Fumiko blurted.

“I really wish that—” Mi-yun broke off suddenly. Her eyes grew as wide and round as saucers. “W-w-what d-did you say?”

“I said, I love you.”

“Fu-chan…” The tiny woman seemed to become even smaller, or perhaps the entire world around her suddenly increased in size. “To say something like that… it's so soon…”

“I don't care,” Fumiko insisted. Her voice did not quaver. All of the anxiety was gone from her expression. “I'm not confused about this. I know it's hard to believe, and I know that these things are supposed to take more time but… I can't be silent about how I feel about you. Happiness is… rare… for people like us. I don't want to waste any more of my time being afraid to admit how I feel.”

“Fu-chan… you're serious.”

Fumiko nodded firmly. “Very serious.”

Mi-yun said nothing. For some reason, it didn't shake Fumiko as much as it would have a few moments ago. Confessing to Mi-yun, actually voicing that most difficult of phrases, had somehow changed the dynamic, strengthened her resolve and made her feel as if she had nothing to fear.

Neither Fumiko nor Mi-yun spoke for a long moment, but Fumiko was not afraid. Their hands were still joined, their fingers still entwined together. Mi-yun did not pull away, nor did she avert her eyes. Her expression did not become sad.

“Well, that's good,” she murmured.

“It is?”

Mi-yun moved closer.

“Yes. Because I love you, too.”

.11

The place Fumiko had chosen was roughly the same size as Suzume's cafe, but it had only one floor. It was surprisingly busy for a Monday night. Fortunately, she had made reservations in advance; the host ushered them through the lined-up crowds, blazing a trail through the dining room so that Mi-yun's wheelchair had plenty of clearance.

The table Fumiko reserved was in the back of the restaurant, somewhat near the kitchen and situated away from the main dining area. It was much quieter back here, owing largely to the heavy fabric draped across the walls, muffling the din of dozens of diners conversing.

“Here is your table. Someone will come by to take care of you in just a moment.” The host slid one of the chairs out from under the small table, making room for Mi-yun. Fumiko gave the man a grateful nod and took her own seat on the other side of the table.

“This is a nice place,” Mi-yun observed, speaking only slightly above her normal speaking voice. She placed her hand atop the table, well within Fumiko's reach, and gave her date an expectant look. “I didn't expect to find a place like this in the wards.”

Only a faint flush colored Fumiko's cheeks as she placed her hand atop Mi-yun's, giving it a gentle squeeze. “The reviews were good and it was close to your place, so I thought it would be a good choice.”

“The smells coming out of the kitchen testify to that,” Mi-yun added.

Fumiko was vaguely aware of the host returning to the table nearest theirs, bringing with him a much more conventional-looking couple. She watched them with mild interest for a moment: a tall and somewhat burly man, escorting a plain-looking woman of slightly above average height. Neither were particularly remarkable amidst the restaurant's other patrons. They were situated far enough away that neither table would intrude upon the other, and so Fumiko turned her attention back to Mi-yun.

“What else do you like to drink, besides wine?” Fumiko inquired.

“Actually, I'm not much of a wine drinker, except for dessert wines. I do more cooking with wine than drinking.”

“Oh?”

Mi-yun's lips curved into a broad smile. “Mi-yun is a beer girl! What about Fu-chan?”

“No matter what I'm eating, nothing beats a good beer.” Fumiko chuckled. “I'm okay with lighter beers, but I definitely prefer ales over lagers. The hoppier the better.”

Mi-yun made a sour face. “Ew, hoppy beers are so bitter! Mi-yun doesn't like!”

“I like bitter drinks. I bet you put sugar in your coffee, don't you?”

“Of course. Two heaping spoons and lots of milk.”

A well-dressed young man approached the table, a small tab in one hand and a tray bearing two glasses of chilled sparkling water in the other. “Would you like to start with something to drink? An appetizer, perhaps?”

Fumiko nodded. “Drinks, yes, appetizers—Mi-yun?”

“No appetizers, but… how's the house lager?”

“Exceptionally smooth, miss,” the waiter replied. “Would you like to give it a try?”

Mi-yun gave him a thumbs-up. “Sounds good!”

“And for you, miss?” The waiter turned to Fumiko. She dickered with him for a moment, asking several questions about the beers they had on tap. Eventually she decided on dark and rich copper ale with a potent alcoholic kick.

“I'll return with your drinks in a bit.”

The waiter turned and walked off, using the same sort of darting, agile gait that Kaori had demonstrated just the other day. Fumiko wondered if it was a sort of skill learned by being on the job—a special “waitstaff walk” or something of that nature. She hoped it would come to her quickly; the short trial shift was tougher than she expected.

Neither Fumiko nor Mi-yun said much of anything until the waiter returned less than two minutes later, bearing two tall glasses filled to the brim. Mi-yun's lager was set down first, topped with a moderate head and with a pale golden tint.

Fumiko accepted her ale. The color was darker than she'd expected and the first sip had her sighing in pleasant contentment. “This is really good. It's earthy and rich, but also sharp and bitter.”

“It's a favorite of the evening bartender,” the waiter remarked. He turned his attention to Mi-yun. “And how is yours, miss?”

“Not bad,” Mi-yun pronounced of her lager as she took a healthy swallow. “It's a bit more delicate than I prefer, but very refreshing. Wouldn't be too hard to upend this entire thing into me.”

Fumiko shot her date a knowing look. “Pace yourself, Mi-yun.”

“Sound advice.” The waiter stood beside the table expectantly. “Are the two of you ready to order?”

“Not sure about Fu-chan, but Mi-yun is!” Mi-yun pointed to an item on the menu, the pan-roasted duck breast with fresh sage and crispy bacon, served on a bed of new potatoes, caramelized onions and garlic.

“Excellent choice, miss. And for you?”

“I think… this.” Fumiko tapped the menu, indicating the house specialty, a slow-cooked concoction of mushrooms and lamb, stewed away for hours in a dark sherry and seasoned with bacon, leeks and fragrant herbs.

“Very good. I'll get these sent to the kitchen right away. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

Mi-yun shook her head. “I think we're okay for now.” She turned back to Fumiko after their server had departed for his other tables. “So… Fu-chan…”

“Mm?”

Mi-yun sipped at her beer. “About earlier…”

“You mean when we confessed to each other?” Fumiko smiled warmly and reached across the table to squeeze Mi-yun's hand lightly. “Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Um, I hope I'm not being too presumptuous or anything, but… I wanted to see if maybe you'd be interested in… maybe staying at my place, with me? At least part of the time—I mean, it'll take you a while to get to the cafe from your apartment. This way, you could walk to work in just a few minutes.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Y-yeah,” Mi-yun stammered. “I mean, it would be a good way to see how we get along, right? It just seemed like a smart thing to do, to see how we get along together in the same place, so we can become more accustomed to each other.”

“Is that really the only reason?”

“W-well, no,” Mi-yun continued, a slight smile spreading across her face. “You could also… you know…” Her voice dropped and became sultry. “… help me get things down from high shelves?”

Fumiko rolled her eyes. “The eternal curse of being tall.”

“Come on, it was funny! Admit it! You're trying not to laugh!”

“But you don't have any high shelves,” Fumiko pointed out.

“That's entirely besides the point!” Mi-yun crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Fumiko with mock indignation. “And you didn't answer the question!”

“Which question was that? Something about getting things down from high shelves?”

A wadded-up napkin hit Fumiko in the face.

“Fu-chan knows what Mi-yun means!”

Fumiko managed to stop laughing long enough to hold a hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay, but remember—you started it.”

“Then just tell me already!”

“Yes, I will stay over at your place as often as you'd like.” Fumiko leaned back in her chair, uncrumpling the napkin and spreading it back out on the table. She took a long swallow from her beer.

Mi-yun sank back into her chair, a contented smile on her face. “That's more like it. My bed is more than big enough for the two of us, so you can sleep with me. Um, unless you'd rather sleep on a futon or something…”

“Don't be silly,” Fumiko said. “Besides, I don't have a futon.”

“I do, in the hall closet. For when I have guests staying over.”

“But I'm not a guest, exactly.”

Mi-yun reached into her purse and pulled out a small object, setting it on the table next to Fumiko's hand. It was a brand-new keycard, slipped into a paper sleeve that Mi-yun had adorned with doodled flowers and hearts.

“No, you're not just a guest.”

Fumiko picked the card up and felt a warmth surge through her that she hadn't felt in well over a decade. The last time she experienced such was with Emi, in the heady months they spent together… before the world tore them apart.

“You're thinking about something awfully hard,” Mi-yun noted.

“Yeah… I haven't felt like this since… since I was a teenager.”

“What about Marisa, though?”

“It's not the same. With Risa, it's like… we're friends and have been for years, so that changes the whole dynamic.” Fumiko frowned as she considered how best to describe how she felt. “For sure she can heat me up with a touch, make me melt with a smile, but it's… I don't know. It's not the same.”

“There's love there, there's lots of attraction there, but I bet Marisa already made it clear to you that she's not the settling-down type,” Mi-yun put in. “But Fu-chan does want all of the fluffy romantic stuff.”

“Am I really that easy to read?”

Mi-yun giggled. “Couldn't be more obvious if you tattooed 'hopeless romantic' on your forehead.”

“It does make a lot more sense when you put it that way.” Fumiko sipped at her drink; it was already half empty at this point. “Hisakawa was the first person I ever loved. It was so long ago, and I'm sure she's moved on as well, but in some ways I still miss her.”

“That's natural.” Mi-yun propped her elbows up on the table. “I still miss Mimi, even though she lied to me, used me to get her thrills. She wasn't my first partner, though, but she was the first that really made me feel.”

“Did you have anyone close when you were younger?”

“Yes and no. There was a boy… he was special to me in that I cared deeply about him—Ryan was his name. His family and the Song clan did business together, so we were around each other a lot. We were close, definitely good friends… then we decided to try becoming more. It… didn't work out very well at all. He and I used to joke about it after the fact—that he was my platonic closet key.”

Fumiko blinked, confused.

“The first and only time we ever tried to be intimate together, it was terribly awkward, forced and just not good at all. Neither of us got anything out of it, but after, we talked for hours.” Mi-yun closed her eyes, sinking into the old memories. “At the time I didn't really know what my sexual orientation was.”

“Because of that, you figured it out?”

Mi-yun nodded. “I thought I was just a late bloomer. I'd always assumed that eventually I'd start feeling the same longing for boys that my classmates were already experiencing, but it didn't happen. I didn't even have my first period until I was fifteen, so I just assumed it would come in time. Ryan and I attempted our little experiment in my second year of intermediate, and it was… enlightening.”

“How so?”

“It forced me to think about things, things I hadn't really considered but Ryan and my other friends saw clearly.” She let out a soft chuckle and stretched her arms over her head, the toned muscles standing out clearly. “He told me that I was definitely into women. I was shocked, I wanted to deny it, of course—but he started going down this really long list of all the little cues that I was apparently oblivious to. When he just put it all out there like that, I just had this moment of epiphany.”

“What did you do about it?”

“At first, nothing. I needed time to process things. We eventually went back to being completely platonic friends, as if none of this had ever happened. I knew myself better at that point, and with that knowledge I was able to grow.”

“Your parents really weren't upset about it?”

“My parents didn't care; they'd love me no matter what. The rest of my family… was a different story entirely. I remember after they found out, Granny went off on a tirade and got into a big argument with Mom after she called me 'a disgrace, a perverse and unfilial whore.'” Mi-yun cringed as she caught the pain flashing through Fumiko's eyes. “I'm sorry if saying that reminded you of hurtful things.”

“I know. It's not your fault.” Fumiko felt a stinging in her eyes that faded at once as Mi-yun traced small circles on the back of her hand.

“It didn't get any better as I got older and fell into the wrong sort of crowd. Mom and Dad were both scared and furious. The Song clan considered my 'dissolute behavior' to be a direct result of my attraction to other girls, and the harder they fought me, the more rebellious my behavior got.” Mi-yun's expression went dreamy as her fingertips massaged her lover's hand. “That's why I'm still attending classes at my age. I failed out of school the first time.”

“I wondered about that.”

“But you didn't want to ask?” Mi-yun suggested.

“There's really not a… diplomatic way to ask a question like that. Just posing it at all is an implied accusation.” Fumiko grimaced and she took a healthy swallow from her glass.

“You're a kind person, Fu-chan.”

“Now you're just trying to make me start blushing again,” Fumiko accused.

“I have noticed the frequency at which your face turns bright red has decreased somewhat since you confessed to me.” She burst into a fit of laughter. “Mi-yun should say more nice things! Fu-chan is super cute when she gets all blushy and flustered.”

Predictably, Fumiko's blush darkened. “T-that's not fair!”

“I don't play fair,” Mi-yun retorted, batting her long lashes.

*

The next half hour was spent discussing less weighty subjects—and a good amount of teasing from Mi-yun. Their waiter returned with their meals and they ordered another round of drinks. Both Fumiko and Mi-yun ate with a good deal of enthusiasm.

“Ah, this is really good!” Mi-yun sighed and her expression became blissful. “I eat at work often and our food is tasty, but it doesn't come close to this.”

“It's been a long time since I've eaten something this rich,” Fumiko agreed. She took a long swallow from her second beer before spooning more of the savory stew, thick with chunks of slow-cooked meat. “This dish isn't that hard to make. Maybe I'll cook it for us and next time we can have a cozy night in?”

“It's a fancy sort of stew, right?”

Fumiko swallowed, nodding, “Basically.” She sat her glass down and started to look around the dining room. “Um, would you excuse me for a little bit?”

“Need to use the restroom?”

She nodded. “Mm. Thought I could hold it until we were ready to leave.”

“Beer makes you pee a lot,” Mi-yun commented in a matter-of-fact tone. “Go on, Fu-chan. I'll be fine by myself until you get back.”

Fumiko excused herself and started to weave her way through the tables and toward the far wall, where the niche containing the restrooms were situated. It was more a small hallway than anything with two doors leading to the men's and women's restrooms and a third, unmarked door that likely was a storage closet for cleaning supplies.

She stepped inside and locked the door, handling her business quickly. Not only did her bladder scream for the relief of release, but she didn't want to let her food get too cold, nor did she wish to leave Mi-yun alone. She washed her hands and checked her makeup in the mirror—no repairs needed.

As she unlatched the door, the knob turned and it was pushed open by someone else trying to get in. Fumiko was unable to move fast enough and collided with another diner, the woman's shoulder striking her in the chest.

“Ow!”

“Ah! I'm so sorry,” the expected apology came. Fumiko's eyes followed the sound of the voice—it was the woman she saw earlier at the adjacent table. “I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I'm fine—it'd take a lot more than bumping into someone to hurt me,” Fumiko assured her. She stopped for a moment and frowned. There was something maddeningly familiar about this woman…

“Just a little nervous tonight, is all,” the woman continued, avoiding Fumiko's eyes. Her voice sounded a little odd, a little rough and slightly squeaky, as if she were forcing it up into a higher register than was natural.

The sense that Fumiko knew this person only increased.

“Wait. Do I… know you?”

“Um, I don't think so.”

The woman scooted past, placing a hand on the restroom door to stop it from swinging shut. On the back of the hand was a small but highly distinctive birthmark, a dark purplish blotch that Fumiko had seen before, had heard Marisa describe before, on several occasions. Her eyes grew huge and round as saucers.

“Kevin?!” Fumiko blurted.

There was a sharply-hissed curse. A hand jerked out from inside the restroom and pulled Fumiko inside, shutting and latching the door behind her. Thoroughly confused and not a little bit scared, Fumiko whirled toward the other person. She opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to find words.

“What are the fucking odds,” the person muttered in a much lower tone of voice, one that Fumiko had heard more than a few times. “I never expected to run into you of all people. Guess I should have.”

“W-what's going on? Why are you dressed like that?”

“I'd say it's none of your business, but it's too late for that.” Eldridge sighed heavily. “It probably doesn't matter. It's not like you have anything to do with my family. Just… promise me you won't tell Marisa. Not until I can figure things out. Please, promise me this?”

“I… okay, I promise. I won't say anything to Risa.”

“I'm… not Kevin. Please, don't call me by that name. That name belongs to a person who doesn't exist, the person my father wants me to be, not who I really am. This—” The person gestured to themselves and the conservatively-cut but quite feminine dress they wore. “—is who I really am.”

Fumiko stared in bewilderment. “What should I call you, then?”

“Amy.”

“You're a girl?” Fumiko gasped.

Amy nodded.

A thought occurred to Fumiko—and a question. One that she likely already knew the answer to, but she had little choice but to ask. “Um, who was that man you were sitting with at the table?”

Amy averted her eyes. “My boyfriend. We've been dating for almost a year now.”

The world seemed to shift underneath Fumiko's feet—again. After most of two pints of strong ale, she wasn't at her clearest and most rational. She started to giggle, but choked on her laughter and coughed. Amy gazed at her with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I've just… had a lot to drink.” Fumiko cleared her throat and turned back to Amy, who still stood in front of the restroom door. “Excuse me, I need to get back… my date is waiting for me.”

“Wait.” Amy gave the tall woman a plaintive look as she pulled a small, inexpensive multicom from her handbag. “Let me give you my private comm address—it's unlisted.”

Fumiko blinked in confusion, but dug her own multicom out. Amy tapped the back of her handset to Fumiko's, eliciting a confirmation chime from both devices.

“Why… why are you giving me this?” Fumiko inquired.

Amy nervously tucked a strand of brown hair behind one ear. “I… need your help, Fumiko.”

“With what?”

“With… telling her… about me,” Amy mumbled. “I care a lot about Marisa, but… I just don't have any attraction to women. I want to try and work things out, but I don't want to hurt her feelings.” She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. “This whole betrothal and the negotiations between our clans has been incredibly stressful for me, but the last thing I want to do is break her heart. It's obvious that she's deeply in love with me, but I… don't feel the same way.”

Words formed ready on Fumiko's lips, but she couldn't say them. Even in her partially inebriated state, she knew that the situation had gone from merely delicate to something far more explosive. She wanted to reassure Amy, to tell her that the whole thing could be resolved with a simple conversation between the three of them, but…

Fumiko understood that promises had been made—and broken, on both sides. Despite the fact that those oaths had been sworn under duress, there would be severe consequences if the truth became known. Fumiko knew that this wasn't something that could be solved quickly or easily. Neither the Renfield or Eldridge clans would look kindly upon them if this secret was broken.

It would take a very delicate touch—one she wasn't entirely sure she possessed.

“O-okay,” Fumiko murmured. “I can't… promise that I'll be able to help, but I'll try my best. I'll send you a message later tonight. You can message me whenever you want—Risa doesn't try to snoop on my multicom.”

Amy looked positively relieved. “Thanks, Fumiko. I truly appreciate it.”

“I… I've got to get back.”

Fumiko slipped past the other woman and returned to her table. Mi-yun was sipping at a fresh glass of beer—her fourth one for the evening. It amazed Fumiko that such a tiny little faerie of a girl was able to consume so much alcohol and remain not only conscious, but completely in control of her faculties.

“Fu-chan is back!” Mi-yun cooed. “Is your tummy okay? You were in there for kind of a long time.”

“I, um, ran into someone I know. We talked for a minute.”

“Oh? Anyone Mi-yun knows also?”

“I'll… tell you later,” Fumiko evaded. “After we leave here.” She started to finish off her stew without much interest, no longer tasting the food. Her thoughts were kilometers away, focused on the brewing disaster, with both Marisa and Amy caught in the middle.

Mi-yun frowned. “Fu-chan looks troubled.”

“I am.”

“Want to settle the check and go?” Mi-yun didn't bother waiting for Fumiko's response, but lifted her hand to signal the waiter. “Whatever you talked about with that person, it's really got you upset.”

“Y-yeah.”

.12

By the time Fumiko and Mi-yun got back to the apartment, most of Fumiko's alcohol haze had worn off. Her mind was working overtime and seemed to drag her body's metabolic processes right along with it. Immediately after unlocking the door, Fumiko went into the kitchen and poured herself a huge glass of chilled water and downed half of it in one go.

“Fu-chan, tell me what's wrong.”

Mi-yun's wheelchair was next to the kitchen table. Fumiko poured a second glass of water and refilled her own before sitting down, placing the extra glass within Mi-yun's easy reach.

“I don't even know how to say this properly.” Fumiko shrugged helplessly and gulped down a third of her freshly-refilled water. “I'm still trying to process what I just accidentally found out.”

“I'm listening.”

Fumiko took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Everything is completely, totally fucked. Risa's marriage, the clan merger, everything. It's like a time bomb waiting to go off and I think I'm the only one who can stop it from blowing up and taking Marisa and… her betrothed with it.”

“I know the situation is tense, but…” Mi-yun scooted closer. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Okay… at the restaurant, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I ran into a woman I'd never seen before, but… somehow felt familiar.” Fumiko slumped in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. “Then I saw it—a birthmark on her hand, distinctive and completely unique. I'd seen that exact birthmark on someone else before, but that someone… wasn't a woman. At least they didn't present as one.”

Mi-yun stared at Fumiko in pure bewilderment, but said nothing.

“It was Kevin—but not. Her name is Amy,” Fumiko blurted, unable to keep the words from just spilling out. “The man that Risa is supposed to be marrying to unite the Renfield and Eldridge clans—isn't even a man! She doesn't have any interest at all in women! She was at the restaurant tonight with her boyfriend!”

“Wait, slow down, Fu-chan,” Mi-yun urged.

“S-sorry.”

“It's okay.” The small woman took a healthy swig of her water before turning wide eyes on Fumiko. “So you're saying that you ran into Kevin Eldridge while we were on our date, but… that he's really a woman? And she has a boyfriend? Wow! Mi-yun is shocked!”

Fumiko nodded wordlessly.

“Fu-chan is right; this could be extremely dangerous for both of them,” Mi-yun agreed after a moment of consideration. “I don't know, um, Amy. I only know what Marisa and Kaori told me. You met… her… before, with Marisa, right?”

“Only a few times, but… as Kevin. I never knew any of this… until tonight.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I don't know, but it's not going to be good,” Fumiko muttered. “Before I went back to the table, Amy gave me her unlisted comm address. I don't know what to do yet, but I think I should try and talk to her about this, see how she feels about everything, just to confirm. But… it's obvious what's going on.”

“Neither want to be married to each other, but both of them think the other is deeply in love. Did Mi-yun get it right?”

“That's not even the worst of it.” Fumiko's voice was thick with bitterness. “Renfield's entire long-term plan to absorb the Eldridge clan is bound up in this marriage and Marisa's ability to produce heirs. If neither finds out about the other's true feelings, the marriage will proceed as planned, all for the sake of politicking. Renfield and Eldridge will still get what they want, but my Risa… and Amy… will be destroyed.”

Mi-yun frowned. “But if they do talk with each other…”

“Marisa will absolutely reject the whole thing. She wouldn't let it happen if she knew the real Amy, knew how she really felt.” Fumiko leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms high over her head. “If she does that… they'll be very lucky if their names are all they lose.”

“What should we do, Fu-chan?” Mi-yun asked, her eyes wide.

“I don't know. I don't want to see Risa get hurt, but I know her. I know she'll be furious if she knew what I know. I know she'd march herself right up to her father and Eldridge and tell them exactly what she thinks. Then… I don't know. I don't even want to think about what might happen.”

Fumiko drained the rest of her glass of water, taking several deep breaths to try and steady herself. “Risa isn't independent by any means. She doesn't have a job, nor does she have any savings to speak of, and she's only halfway through school. The Renfield clan is paying for her tuition, her apartment, her meals, spending money—everything.”

“And you think she'll ignore all of that in her anger?”

“I know she will. She's already put off by the whole thing as it is. If she meets the real Amy, she won't be able to stay silent.”

“We should talk to Kaori about this.”

Fumiko recoiled at the suggestion. “What? To Akiyama? Why?”

“Kaori won't say anything. She may still be young, but she's very mature and logical. If we bring it up to her in the right way, she'll work with us to try and figure out a way to help both of them make it out of this alive.”

“You seem so sure about this.”

“Mi-yun is super sure about this. Fu-chan should trust her.”

There was no way Fumiko could argue with that face. She sighed and leaned forward to kiss Mi-yun's cheek. “I trust you. I love you. I'm glad you're here to help me with this… this mess I somehow fell into.”

“Mi-yun loves Fu-chan a lot. So of course I'll help you. Don't forget that Marisa is my friend, too—I don't want her to get hurt any more than you do.”

Glimmering moisture gathered in the corner of Fumiko's eyes. Mi-yun reached out with a finger and wiped the unshed tears away. Those delicate fingertips traced down Fumiko's jaw and cupped under her chin.

“Fu-chan needs comfort,” Mi-yun observed.

Fumiko was unable to answer as her lover's lips pressed against hers. Her eyelids fluttered and drooped as she was unable to resist being drawn in. Mi-yun's lips felt soft and wonderfully warm, dispelling all of the tension and worry.

Too soon—far too soon!—Mi-yun pulled back, breaking the kiss. She gazed up at Fumiko, a dreamy smile on her face.

“Carry me to the bedroom?”

The tall woman stood up and took hold of Mi-yun, feeling her relax as she was lifted from the wheelchair. Slender, wiry arms wrapped around Fumiko's shoulders, drawing closer against her. The door to the bedroom was open; Fumiko stepped inside and slowly eased her lovely burden to the pink-draped mattress.

Mi-yun shifted on the bed and cast a faint smile at her lover as Fumiko started to undress. The flirty little dress she wore for their date came off, leaving her in matching lingerie that Marisa had also helped pick out. Intricate, pale mint lacework cupped her large breasts and covered her mound. Fumiko could see the approval in Mi-yun's expression.

“Pretty!” The faerie-like woman clapped her hands excitedly as she started to remove her own clothing. “Mi-yun likes those very much.”

Fumiko giggled softly. “I'm glad you do.”

“Mi-yun likes what's under them even more, though.”

“Then I should take them off.”

Slowly she reached around behind her and unsnapped the hook-and-eye closures securing the undergarment around her torso. Fumiko let the fancy bra fall away, freeing her breasts from their delicate confinement. She slid her hands down her sides and removed her panties.

“Fu-chan is already wet,” Mi-yun purred. “So is Mi-yun.”

Fumiko felt lightheaded from her excitement as her partner drew off her own panties, revealing what was hidden beneath. No longer able to resist, Fumiko climbed up on the bed and pulled Mi-yun close, pressing against her body.

“Mmm!”

Velvety-soft lips touched, gently at first, and then more forcefully. Confessing to Mi-yun had changed something in Fumiko—she no longer felt quite so anxious. She kissed this girl with a passion that was confident, not tentative. Apparently the shift wasn't lost on Mi-yun, who let out a muffled but still-loud moan.

Gasping for breath, Mi-yun broke the kiss—from the look in her eyes, Fumiko knew it was because she needed oxygen, not because she wished for the contact to end. Soft, full lips pursed slightly, her expression one of tremendous longing and desire.

“Fu-chan, you're… different,” Mi-yun observed.

“It's because of you.” Fumiko tapped her on the nose lightly, eliciting a soft, breathy giggle from her partner. “When you told me that you loved me, too, it was like all the worry just disappeared. I felt so much more confident, as I'm sure you noticed.”

“Mm-hm. Mi-yun likes this change.”

Fumiko grinned. “I thought you might.”

“Of course—oh! Mi-yun likes that, too!”

Hands clasped around a slim waist, Fumiko lifted Mi-yun up over her hips. The small woman eased herself down lower and moaned as a pair of fingertips darted between her slick folds. Her eyes went unfocused and dreamy.

Fumiko wrapped her left arm behind the small of Mi-yun's back, caressing the point at which her torso merged with her rear while her fingers thrust in more deeply. Mi-yun grunted at the sudden, intense feeling of pleasure.

“Fu-chan's inside Mi-yun,” she managed, the still-tipsy woman slurred her words, more from the euphoria than the alcohol. “Feels so good.”

“I'm happy it does.”

Mi-yun responded to the attention by rocking her hips back and forth, pushing Fumiko deeper into her. Her head tilted back and she gasped, shuddering as a thumb bumped against something rather sensitive. Fumiko was perfectly happy to let Mi-yun control the pace, speeding up the rhythmic motion of her fingers.

“Y-yes, more, please,” Mi-yun demanded. Her lips parted as she ground herself against her partner, faster and faster. Fumiko knew she wouldn't be able to last much longer and was determined to make sure she didn't. The smell of sex became heavy in the air; Mi-yun's head lolled back, a trickle of drool escaping the corner of her open mouth.

Fumiko giggled and started to indirectly massage her lover's clit, rubbing her thumb around the erect little bud. Moans turned into squeals of ecstasy as Mi-yun was shoved over the edge and fell into her orgasm.

“Fu-chan—!”

Hips bucked against Fumiko. Her left arm strained to pull Mi-yun against her harder as the little faerie shuddered violently. The climax subsided almost as quickly as it began, but Fumiko wasn't willing to stop at just one.

With a gentle shove, Fumiko pushed Mi-yun to the mattress. Her partner was still not quite coherent enough for speech, instead emitting a dismayed whine that spurred Fumiko into action. She got up on her hands and knees, her head between Mi-yun's thighs.

“Mm—Fu-chan, please…” Mi-yun begged.

Fumiko felt those strong thighs clamp down around her head as she dove right in, the tip of her tongue teasing the outer folds. She could still hear Mi-yun's squeals of delight even with the muscular limbs covering her ears.

It was hot and wet and a lock of her hair was pinched between them; Fumiko could barely breathe, but she didn't care. Whatever discomfort there might have been was well and completely overwhelmed by the need to hear Mi-yun sing. Her tongue slipped inside, between the folds.

Mi-yun's voice rose in a wordless cry. Fumiko took this as a good sign, licking her lover's pussy in long, slow strokes. Each little movement sent a shudder, stronger than the last, through Mi-yun's wiry frame. There was no way she would be able to last very much longer.

Fumiko's hands found her partner's rear, taking Mi-yun's weight so that she might feel every last mote of pleasure. Those hands squeezed and kneaded even as Mi-yun hooked her right leg around Fumiko's back, lifting her body up off the mattress. She let out a high-pitched whine as the tongue inside her moved upward and started to ever-so-gently flick against her clit.

“Oh! Fu-chan, yes—!”

The woman's words were quickly lost amidst a slurred series of whimpering moans that started to fade as her body relaxed. Mi-yun's grip around Fumiko's head eased and she collapsed to the mattress, her arms splayed out from her torso.

“That was…”

“Good?”

Mi-yun nodded vigorously, still gasping for breath. “Really… super good! Mi-yun feels like she's floating on a cloud high in the sky!”

“I'm happy that I make you feel good,” Fumiko murmured. She leaned down and kissed her lover on the cheek lightly. “Being with you… makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Fu-chan should definitely feel lucky. Mi-yun is a strict judge of character!”

Laughter spilled from Fumiko's lips. She had originally thought it rather odd, even somewhat off-putting, that someone older than she would have such a cutesy affected speech pattern, but now Fumiko saw it as one of Mi-yun's most endearing qualities.

Still breathing hard, Mi-yun managed to push herself up into a sitting position. She leaned forward and kissed Fumiko lightly on the lips. “Now it's Fu-chan's turn! Lay down and get nice and comfortable…” Her voice dropped into a low, soft drawl. “Because this is going to take your breath away.”

Fumiko grinned at her partner's boast and did as she was told. Scarcely a second went by before Mi-yun was between her legs, already leaning down toward Fumiko's pussy. Her breathing hitched as that clever little tongue teased around the edges.

A groan escaped Fumiko's lips and her hips jerked once. Mi-yun repositioned herself, laying flat on her tummy. Her lips mashed against the mound, gentle fingertips spreading her lover wide open. She looked up and offered a crooked little smile before her face disappeared beneath shiny brown-black hair. Fumiko couldn't see what Mi-yun was doing, exactly, but she didn't need to—she felt every little motion, every caress, every flick of the tongue.

“Mmm—oh, that's really good,” Fumiko slurred out, her head lolling back against the pillow Mi-yun provided to prop her head up. Even at this angle, she couldn't see anything. Her hands clenched involuntarily around the heavy comforter, but Fumiko willed them to relax and move—

Her lips parted and a loud gasp was torn from her throat as she placed her hands on her own breasts and let her body do as it wished. The nipples responded to her rough manipulation by growing hard and she nearly swooned as the dull soreness in her breasts spiked sharply.

“Careful, Fu-chan. Don't hurt yourself.”

Fumiko blinked and shook her head as Mi-yun peered up at her. She must've been crying out in a way that caused her partner some worry. “N-no—I like it. It… feels really good. Hurts, but also feels good.”

“Oh-ho.” Mi-yun dragged a fingertip along the outside of Fumiko's slit, gently working her lover while she spoke. “So Fu-chan is like that, then? I'll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

“J-just a l-little,” Fumiko stammered. “Not too much.”

“Don't worry, Mi-yun is always careful.”

Fumiko opened her mouth to reply, but it was too late—Mi-yun had already returned to her task, rendering the tall woman completely unable to form coherent words. Slurred sounds that could have been whimpers or moans poured from Fumiko's parted lips; Mi-yun was a patient lover, her ministrations both forceful and gentle at the same time.

“I'm… going to—oh!”

Muffled giggles drifted from between Fumiko's thighs. Unlike Mi-yun or Marisa, she didn't clench up tightly the closer she came to orgasm. As Fumiko felt herself pushed ever closer, inexorably to the edge of her stamina, her muscles tensed and her hips jerked, but she instead dug her heels into the mattress.

Crying out from the sudden, rapid release as the climax struck her with knee-weakening force, Fumiko's back arched up off the mattress. Her hands released her breasts, leaving the imprint of her fingers where she had clutched them, collapsing nervelessly to the bed.

“I'm not letting you get off just once,” Mi-yun promised—or was it threatened? Fumiko couldn't tell. Before she could even respond, her lover's lips were shoved against hers. She tasted herself in Mi-yun's kiss and moaned loudly into her lover's mouth as three small fingers shoved up inside her.

Fumiko was in no condition to resist for long. Deft little movements pulled her up the rise; a strong palm applied pressure and started to massage in slow, forceful circles. Her lungs burned for breath, but Fumiko wouldn't have pulled away for anything. Coherent thought was long since lost to her and Mi-yun was relentless in her efforts.

The world around her, only dimly perceived, shattered as her second orgasm crashed into her with even more intensity than the first. Fumiko's reflexive moans became greedy gasps of air as Mi-yun drew back enough to break the kiss. Dreamy, hazy gray eyes struggled to focus on the lovely face above.

“How was that?” Mi-yun queried. “Did Fu-chan have fun?”

Fumiko nodded vigorously.

*

Some time later, Fumiko sat at the kitchen table and sipped slowly on a glass filled with tart berry juice. Both were freshly showered; Mi-yun sat across from Fumiko in her wheelchair, clad only in a thin robe as she towel-dried her hair. Fumiko's much thicker and more troublesome mane had required blowdryer attention. She set her glass down and started to draw it out with her fingers.

“You have a lot of hair,” Mi-yun noted.

“No kidding.” Fumiko separated out three sections and started to plait them together in a simple tight braid. “Sometimes I think about getting it cut short. Long hair is annoying to deal with.”

“Short could be a cute look on you.”

“It took a long time to grow out, though, so every time I think about cutting it, I end up not doing it,” Fumiko mused. She extended the sections out and held them so that Mi-yun could properly appreciate their length. “I usually keep it in the ponytail or in a bun, but if I let it loose, it falls past the middle of my back.”

“I know. Kaori had you let it down for your trial shift, remember?”

Fumiko's lips twisted. “Yeah, I'm hoping she doesn't expect me to do that all the time. Keeping it out of the way is tough when I let it loose.”

“Put it up in a messy bun, get a pair of glasses.” Mi-yun licked her lips. “What do you think—Fu-chan the naughty teacher?”

“I don't know.” Fumiko chuckled softly as she secured the end of the braid with an elastic band. “Would it make you hot? I've never done any… role-playing like that. Is that something you're into?”

Mi-yun grinned impishly. “Maaaaybe.”

“Would you put on a cute little school uniform, white stockings and shiny black shoes? You could play my eager student…”

“Oh-ho.” Mi-yun's grin widened even further. “Mi-yun is definitely liking what Fu-chan is thinking.”

Fumiko laughed and sipped at her drink. Mi-yun turned the wheelchair around and pushed her way into the kitchen, retrieving a small bowl containing well-fermented pickled vegetables. She set the bowl in the center of the table and selected a long green chili, savoring the crunch of the spicy-sour morsel.

“Want some? They're nice and spicy.”

“I love spicy food,” Fumiko agreed, selecting a chili of her own. She bit off the end of it, letting the salty brine linger on her tongue before chewing and swallowing. “Did you make these yourself? They're really good.”

“Yep!” She beamed proudly. “Mi-yun makes the best pickles!”

“I can't argue with that.” Fumiko snagged a spear of radish, the white vegetable's calm flavor augmented by the heat absorbed from the chilies.

“I make my own kimchi, also. Mom's recipe, with extra fish sauce. Super salty and spicy and savory. There's a big crock of it in the fridge, if you want something a little more substantial—I can put on some rice to go with it.”

“We ate a pretty big dinner not too long ago,” Fumiko reminded her. “I'd love to share a meal at home, though, just the two of us—”

“Home?”

Fumiko blushed. “You're the one who asked me to stay here with you, remember?”

“I know, it's just… I didn't think you'd be able to think of it that way so soon.”

“It's easy to think about things like that when I'm around you.” Fumiko chewed on her piece of daikon and frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe a little too easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm just… nervous, is all,” Fumiko murmured. “Worried that we're both falling so fast that… I'll mess everything up somehow and I won't be able to be with you anymore. I'm sure you know that I don't really have much… experience… in this sort of thing.”

Mi-yun took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I don't, either—but I want to try with you. It's funny that you're telling me that you're afraid you might mess it all up, and I'm the one feeling like it'll be me that messes everything up.”

“I think that's a good sign.”

“Oh?” Mi-yun finished off her pickled pepper and her expression turned pensive. “I think with you staying here part of the week, we can really find out how well we work together. It'll be a good next step.”

Fumiko nodded and drained the last of her cranberry juice. “I don't know what to do about… about Risa.”

“You mean the thing with Amy?”

“No—I mean, yes, I don't know what to do about that, either—but I was more referring to our, um, friendly intimacy. So much has happened, and all at once, that I'm just… not really sure what to think or say.”

“I told you already that it doesn't bother me at all,” Mi-yun insisted.

“You say that like this has happened before.”

“It has.”

Fumiko blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I dated one of Marisa's 'bedroom friends' a while back—Alyssa is her name. Marisa sort of set us up on a blind date together. I think she just likes to play matchmaker.” Mi-yun chuckled under her breath. “Anyway, they'd spend a night together here and there, but Aly and I were a couple. I never felt threatened by the time they spent together. I knew their relationship would never become exclusive or threaten us as a couple. That's not how Marisa operates.”

“Why didn't you stay with Alyssa, then?”

“Completely unrelated reasons.” Mi-yun yawned and took another chili pepper from the bowl. “She just couldn't get comfortable with me. She'd pick fights constantly—she didn't like the way I talk or how I dress, nor did she like that I worked at Suzume's cafe.”

“B-but how you talk is one of the cutest things about you!” Fumiko blurted.

“You always say the sweetest things.” Mi-yun smiled shyly. “Asuka would tell me that I should grow up, act more mature and adult, take her to clubs and shows. I really didn't want any part of that. I spent a lot of my prime years being that kind of 'adult' and it cost me my leg and my clan. It very nearly cost me my life. This is who I am now.”

“So you broke up with her?”

“More or less.” Mi-yun took a bite from her pickled chili pepper, a little of the brine dripping on the table. A sly expression crossed her face. “There is a question Mi-yun has for Fu-chan…”

Fumiko glanced at her partner anxiously. “What question?”

“So… since you've been there at least once… just how good is Marisa in bed?”

“Um, I—that is to say, I…”

Mi-yun burst into a fit of giggles.

.

.a word from the author

Hi there!

Thank you for buying and reading my story! My name is Corinn Heathers, and I'm the author. Most about-the-author blurbs are written in the third person, which I think is silly and so I don't do it. So, a little about me: I'm a queer trans woman, a resident of the SF bay area, a silly nerd with a very wide girly streak who loves writing, reading and playing RPGs and visual novels. When I'm not filling my brain with other people's stories, I spend my time writing my own.

Falling Colors: Amity is the first volume of a new original series and my sixth published novel. It's also my first foray into the realm of erotica. For the longest time I was a little anxious to write something like this, out of fear of public perception, but I eventually just decided to go for it! I have to admit, it was a lot of fun to write (and not just when people would look over my shoulder and give me a funny look).

That said, I still think it's important for this kind of thing to have an engaging plot and strong characters. With Falling Colors, it's my ultimate goal to tell a compelling story with interesting characters—while also indulging in some seriously hot love scenes! I hope that one day, through the effort of content creators and their fans, we can all enjoy stories of love and intimacy without feeling like we're doing something “wrong.”