"What are you doing here?" she demands, voice shrill as Rindou's face crumples.

She must've been loud because the next thing that they hear is the rapid footsteps of Eishi— Who looks out of breath from running up a flight of eight stairs. "Rindou," he hisses. "I told you not to sneak around."

But her best friend— Rindou is still frozen as Eishi wounds a hand around her arm and pulls her out. He motions for her to wait outside. "I'm sorry," he begins, hands up as a sign of surrender. "I just thought Rindou would—"

Thought Rindou would what?

The jealousy flashes through her hot and cold, sharp and biting and before Mahiru realizes she waving a hand. "Stop," she says.

Eishi startles. "W-what?" he asks, something deceivingly hopeful in his eyes.

Mahiru throws up her arms. Too comfortable, getting caught up in the rhythm— "Do whatever," she snaps. "I don't care."

And it's then she sees the shift in his eyes. From a hesitating lilac to a flinty violet. "Okay," he says in a customary soft voice. "Dinner is at six."

She doesn't go. But this time, she does hear the sharp clack-clack of Rindou's heels as she sets a plate outside Mahiru's door.

x

It's a cycle of viciousness— A circle of evil, a devastating and destructive lifestyle, a wild-fire taking everything in its path.

They prod. Mahiru remains resistant. Or she tries, anyway.

There's a knock at her door, and by the sound of it— She can already tell it's Rindou and she wants something. She'd ignore it, but what the hell, at least they're being polite.

"What?" she demands.

The door opens, and Rindou gives her a winning smile. "Can you drive us?" she asks hopefully, lips curved and teeth out for extra puppy-effect.

Mahiru offers her an unimpressed gaze and an air of immense superiority. "No," she says immediately and rummages around her drawer for three seconds. "Here." She tosses Rindou the keys.

Rindou ducks and it hits Eishi in the face.

Mahiru gives them another apathetic glance. She curves her lips for them. "Have fun," she says and slams the door in their face.

They try again next afternoon. "Please, please please," Rindou begs as she puts a plate of handmade croissant on the table beside her. "I really need to go to that teashop."

"Go then," Mahiru replies detachedly.

Rindou smacks her head against the ground beside her feet. She's kneeling, Mahiru thinks. But she isn't entirely sure because she's currently typing.

Rindou murmurs something. And oh. Mahiru is caught between smirking and just leaving her to wallow.

"What was that?" Mahiru challenges, finally giving the redhead her full attention.

Rindou picks her head up, a redness marring her pale forehead. With teary eyes, she clutches her hands and whimpers. "Neither of us can drive."

Mahiru glances at the word count that's remained the same number for the past twenty minutes. She stares at Rindou. "Fine," she relents. "Let's go." She swings her jacket onto her shoulder from the hook and steps outside. Immediately slapping on her sunglasses.

Behind her Rindou bounces. A lot. Alongside some more babbling.

Mahiru sighs and gives her a look just before they get in. Rindou smiles a bit nervously. "I'll behave," she says. "I promise. Anyway, Tsukasa's at that grocery store on the left road?"

It's typical of Rindou not to remember street names. But luckily for her Fukue only has two roads. That and Mahiru's higher than average IQ.

The BMW pulls up smoothly beside a shell-shocker Eishi and before Mahiru can do anything, Rindou rolls down the window (despite the fact that she's on the other side) and yells in English. "Get in loser! We're going shopping."

Mahiru is regretting this by the second.

"But I just went shopping...?" Is the first thing he says as he gets in. Mahiru sighs, Rindou bangs her head against the head dash.

x

"You're cooking."

"Excuse me?" And then Mahiru stops. Her head hurts. By the Gods her head hurts. She sighs and drops onto one of the chairs in the living room. "I'll make you a deal," she says dryly. "I'll take a four-hour nap and cook dinner. How does that sound, shishou?"

This time, she actually bothers to look up for Amami's imperative nod (which she gets), but she also sees the softening and worry in grey eyes flanked by crows' feet. Mahiru grumbles and shuffles up the stairs.

She wakes up to several cups of tea beside her bed and sighs. She takes it, and the smell wafts up: chamomile, a light pleasant scent. Generic headache cure — Mahiru's pretty sure she saw it in the garden somewhere. Probably hand brewed, she decides, because the old hag didn't have the decency to pick filter out the petal and the roots.

Mahiru gets dressed in a formfitting navy overall. With mindless effort, she puts on her watch and goes about brushing her hair, applying her concealer. She remembers that there was a time that Rindou had been surprised when Mahiru first did her makeup in front of her.

Aren't you supposed to be perfect like, twenty four seven?

I am. Because of the makeup.

I see, so you are human after all.

...Did you think I was an alien?

She needs to get out of here, she thinks when she enters the kitchen and sees Rindou animatedly storytelling on the couch and Amami playing along. She sees Eishi somewhere out in the garden and tells herself just this. Just one last time.

Mahiru strides past them all and into the rustic little kitchen. The wooden cabinets and the hand-painted flowers (hers and Amami's, a child's laughter. Wrinkled paper, dulled by shadows of half-opened blinds and saturated by yellow sunlight. Stray tulip suns, soundless records.)

Just this once more, she thinks as she begins to prep the vegetables.

Mahiru's done washing and beginning to chop when there's a click of heels and a lowing humming.

"Mai," Rindou purrs. "Need help?"

Before Mahiru can open her mouth to refuse her, Rindou sweeps past her in a wind of spiced vanilla and promptly takes the knife in her hands. She's not wearing an apron, only a red, shoulder-less sundress that works well with her pale skin and racer red hair.

Mahiru sighs and before she knows it, Rindou has a board of chopped carrots in front of her. They work together so well— Well oiled cogs of machinery. Rindou is smart, picking up what Mahiru's making from a few ingredients (to be fair, she had been a taste-tester when the recipe was in creation), but Rindou isn't Second Seat because she's inferior to her and Eishi by any means.

Rindou doesn't try, and even thought Mahiru will deny until her dying day, Rindou's potential terrifies her. And by no small amount.

"The prepping is done," Rindou pipes cheerfully. Mahiru moves aside to allow Rindou use of the stove. She stirs the sauce slowly and methodically. Mahiru's counting the seconds inside her head with her eyes closed when she hears Rindou's sharp intake of breath.

"You kept it."

Mahiru opens her eyes and follows Rindou's gaze down to her wrist.

Fuck.

A handmade watch Rindou and Eishi had banded together to make on the summer of her seventeenth birthday. The fitting together of cogs, the painting of watches, the rough nooks on the band of the watch—

Mahiru takes a breath. "Can," she begins and Rindou's face falls. "Can you—" She breaks off. "Can we not?"

Rindou bites her lip. "I'm sorry," she says. And the spiced vanilla is gone alongside the sauce— Oh god, her mother. You create the food with your hope for people to enjoy them. They will, and when they do, you will have created a connection.

Mahiru doesn't have that luxury.