Summer, 1981

“You were in here a long while ago, Yang -” you state, looking up from the already clean counter. “And barely four hours ago -”

You cut yourself off, noticing how the blonde looks a bit...weary.

“Family?” You guess. Noting her vague form of surprise, you quickly add, “I understand, I understand – I have a few relatives who really wear me down, so I’d recognize that look anywhere.”

At this, she sighs, affirming your story. “Well, you know how it goes then...”

“Believe me, I do,” you mutter. Yang is hardly one to be...mulling over things like that – with the exception of her mother, from what you’ve gathered. You place down her usual order, before sitting down beside her. “Well, who was it this time?”

The humid air encases the world like a bough, covering your heads with its leaves and heat. The lemonade would hopefully help.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” she begins, taking up her glass of lemonade. “Apparently, I’ve got a twin.”

You cough at that. “Wait. Back up – twin? Now, where have I seen this before?”

She leans forward, fleeting bafflement evident. “Tell me about it.”

“...who’s your twin with? Your mother?” You almost fear the answer.

“Yep.”

“Ouch. I know that history has a tendency to repeat itself, but this is just ridiculous,” You pause, wondering. “Your uncle’s bound to have a heart failure at this rate. What about Ruby? What would she do? Have you told anyone yet?”

Yang points at you in a fairly accusative manner. “No one – except you.”

“Honoured,” you state, dryly. “Seriously, Yang – what went down? Did someone pull off weird stuff? Did you damage something...?”

Too many questions. Yang is starting to look a bit annoyed and amused at the same time. “Alright – alright! Fine...let’s start from here, then -”

A bit of a rundown, she tells you, short stuff. Simply put, Yang’s encounter with her twin was unexpected, naturally. Particularly considering she had been visiting her mother. Why, she won’t tell you. You don’t expect her to.

“I guess your twin’s name is ‘Yin’ or something. C’mon, spill the beans!”

“Can’t, I promised them I won’t.”

You relent. “Well, go on – how did you two meet?”

“Ran into each other – I was o my way out and -”

Yang remembers not exactly running into them, truth be told. Just, coming across them, and how they instinctively seemed to register recognition in their features. How they seemed eager to leave. They were timid, withdrawn – and frankly, it took her moment to realize that yes, they did belong to the tribe.

No words exchanged – but somehow, something bugged her.

“...so you asked her,” You interrupt. “And she told you right away?”

“Right away didn’t happen. I had to pressure her,” Yang is rather proud of her accomplishment. The sly grin disappears, however.

Well, to say she didn’t take kindly to the sudden announcement of her twin’s existence was an understatement. You can already tell there was something of a row -  possibly towards no fruit.

You learn that her twin was taken to the tribe – perhaps her mother was lonely. Perhaps she had other intentions. You don’t know.

“Did you talk to them, though?” You inquire gently. “Your twin?”

Obviously, she did, Yang tells you. But it appeared they were fairly indecisive – another source of frustration. “I told them they could...leave, maybe. They didn’t.”

You bite your lip, reaching out for Yang’s hand. “Give them some time, they’ll come around, eventually. These decisions need some thinking.”

You don’t have the whole picture – mere pigments of the paint. But they have more than what you ought to know.

The bell rings, even as the door to the shop opens. A single ray of sunlight dares to peer into the room through the low hanging vines, only to vanish, when the door closes.

The customer may as well be an university student - perhaps in his early twenties. You wonder if the jasmine green is right for him. "Welcome to Silk and Brews, sir. Would you like a menu or a recommendation?"

He glances at you rather dismissively. "A menu would be fine, thank you." Despite his polite mannerisms, you do get a rather cold wall around him - not that you mind, you are only meant to serve him, after all. You nod, giving him the menu. You suggest the jasmine green tea anyway, claiming it to be fresh and newly in. He agrees, after a moment of thought.

Yes, the tea is meant for him, after all.

You notice him staring rather intently at the menu, when you serve him the tea. You realize he is looking at the inscription on the front of the menu.

Little ghost, bathed in milk and honey, it reads. You smile. "I suppose you're wondering what that means." There is a fairly acknowledging pause. "When I built this shop, there were plenty of trees here. And one of them - a sycamore. It's still there, out in the garden. Apparently, there was a young boy who climbed it, to see the local vendor who brought in honey and milk candies, but plunged to his death.

"I'd like to think he isn't here anymore - but sometimes, I feel him. Odd, isn't it? Almost as though you can still linger on after death...so, I always keep a little bowl of milk and honey candies, and decided to write the inscription in his memory." You pause. "Oh, goodness - I suppose it was rather boring?"

"It wasn't." You notice that he is now done with his tea. "If you feel him again, keep the candies near the gate." You notice the forlorn, world weary look he has, and decide against questioning what he said. He knows, you think, what he's saying. Is he one of those who keep to themselves, but still show a plethora of their qualities, like a shimmering geode?

"Oh, of course." You trim of the question that begins to form, and take his now empty cup from him. He is rather like the tea you served him. Quiet, still but filled with essence and in it's own way -intelligence unfathomable.

You send him off with the the formal, "Have a good day," and wait. Wait for the little ball of emotions, of happiness that oddly seems to light up your days. The milk and honey sweets are left untouched.

"I'll definitely need counseling, after all this." You glare at Yakumo, seated beside, and grip the wheel.

He has a characteristic uncaring, near expressionless face on.

"You're going to kill us." You grumble. "I'm going for a good movie, if we survive this."

"You are being melodramatic," he snipes.

"Well, I don't think I enjoy being bait for some dumb murderer!" You retort. "For once in your life, would it kill you to stop being sarcastic and cynical?"

"I wouldn't have asked you to, if it would have put you in danger." He states, simply. You know he means it, when you notice the sombre expression he has. You gulp. He instructs you to simply dial his number, when the culprit approaches you, and that he would be near by, but out of sight.

You nod mutely.  You aren't entirely sure of how this seemingly unrelated, on the loose murderer, could have any relation to a spirit he was trying to - uh, liberate. But you have learnt never to question his ideas, and choose to stick to his guns. And if you do get killed, well - at least you would then have a free ticket to haunt him for the rest of his life.

The situation has most certainly gotten out of hand.

You sit on wet, tar highway road, while the night air is filled with sirens, questioning police officers, and the revolting stench of blood. Not yours, but of another victim, related to the case. You had been near close to getting killed, thanks to the fact the killer had already been quite aware that it was all a trap (how, neither you nor Yakumo are sure).

The other victim was in the car trunk of the man.

You are aggressively fighting out of the shock blanket, and rapidly answering the questions the police officer is asking you. You just want to get over with this, and head home. And preferably yell at Yakumo a bit, and talk to a friend or two.

Once you are done, you begin to move to the other end, where you notice Gotou berating Yakumo. Going by his choice of words, it wouldn't be the first time he has crossed a few lines. When the two sight you, you are met with two different reactions. A bit too much for you to take in.

Gotou is openly relived, asking you a flurry of questions. Yakumo, on the other hand...

He doesn't look unconcerned like you expect him to be. Not worried, but guilty. This jars you a little, certainly. "I'm, alright," you sound sleep-deprived, but you do mean it. You keep your gaze on Yakumo the whole time. I don't blame you.

Gotou had been kind enough to drop you off at your home. Yakumo didn't quite accompany you, but you understood why. He still had things left to finish. You decide to call Haruka for updates later. But right now, you are curled up in front of the television, quite glad that you are alive, breathing, and watching A Patch of Blue.

It's past midnight. You should be asleep. The music's on. The TV's all black and white. The phone is ringing.

The phone. You scramble for your mobile. A glimpse at the caller ID shows you it's Yakumo. You blink in surprise, but pick it up, either way.

"Hello?"

"Oi, are you alright?"

"I am," You blink in surprise. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"No - what happened to you?" You choose to elaborate, when you can feel the question hanging in the pause, "You sound - off."

He sighs. You can picture him, running his hand up his hair. You wonder if he's at his home. Or still in the campus building.

"I'm glad you're fine," he says, finally. The words are the most cliched ones you have heard, but him saying them was certainly a different experience.

"No hard feelings," You say, slowly. "I mean, sure, you were stupid - even by your own standards, but I forgive you. Now quit acting like heaven's forgotten you, and get some rest."

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow in the campus, then. And please make sure to knock this time." He cuts the phone off, even as you begin to muster back a reply.