#coriana

"I'm not a liar."

Shibuya-san's eyes stared straight into her own. His dark eyes knew more than she had ever thought to consider before it was too late. He had seen through a façade even she couldn't see through. It was those dark eyes that she had first noticed about him, but had been too unreadable to decipher what was hidden behind them.

Kuroda covered her mouth with her hands, the intensity of the situation pounding on her with no remorse. She already felt beaten and bruised. She didn't know what would be left once they were done with her.

"At first I thought that you had just been pretending to have psychic powers," he said, "But I honestly felt perplexed over the events transpiring, plus Hara-san confirming there was no presence of spirits."

Don't compare me to her, Kuroda begged within herself. There's nothing to compare.

He continued to speak, but so much of it faded into the background. Memories squirmed in the back of her mind, people laughing and pointing and jeering. Girls that would pull her hair and throw the glasses off of her face. If Kuroda hadn't been quick enough to grab her glasses before one of the girls stepped on them, they stepped on her hand instead.

She was never too sure when it really started, but she would imagine it was around that time.

"Since junior high school you were always able to get peoples' attention because of your strong psychic powers. You told people there were evil spirits in the old school building. But… what would have happened if there were no such thing in the building? And if all events that were believed to be spirit-related had actually occurred due to land subsidence?"

Yes, it was around then that she would do anything, and everything, to be noticed, even if there were consequences. Telling everyone she could see spirits and was able to share cool paranormal facts with people had worked for a time, until Kuroda had begun to believe it was true herself. Had begun to think that maybe she could see spirits and wasn't making it all up. It seemed to be after her realization of this when everything crumbled and she had suddenly become an outcast again, but connected with the words 'weirdo' and 'idiot' and the knowledge that she really could see ghosts.

But maybe when she thought about it, perhaps it was what they had always called her behind her back, anyway.

 Spirits are here… They must be. A poltergeist is going to manifest. It must happen.

"The unconscious mind acts on its own," Shibuya-san was saying.

Taniyama-san raised her hand. "Before exams I always wish the entire school will collapse, but it never happens," she said.

"It depends on your talents. I believe Kuroda-san is a latent psychic." He turned towards Kuroda, his eyes regaining her full attention. "You probably do have some form of PK, even if you're not aware of it."

The sentence released a breath Kuroda had been holding. But it was deeper than releasing a breath of air captured in her lungs. It was releasing a doubt and a fear she had been holding onto for many years.

"For Kuroda-san, the existence of evil spirits in the building was necessary. In order to obtain attention from others… no matter if it was good or bad."

Kuroda tried to hold any tears back, tried to hide them behind her glasses. Her glasses, which she had from a young age, had always been there to hide the emotion that was evident in her eyes.

"Wow, I can relate to how that feels," Taniyama-san said. Kuroda turned towards her, only to see her smiling. "The truth is, deep inside… all we want to be is special, I think."

"So you're saying she wouldn't have been stressing out until you mentioned land subsidence," Miko-san said, sending Kuroda's stomach into knots. "Then how do you explain me getting locked in the classroom and Kuroda-san being attacked by the spirit?"

Shibuya-san looked towards Kuroda, "Shall I explain?"

Kuroda swallowed hard, not trusting her voice, and nodded.

"The reason you got locked into the room was caused by this being stuck in the doorsill." Shibuya-san held up the nail, which Kuroda could only assume that he had been carrying around since he picked it up. He knew more than she even wanted to admit.

"I suspected this a while ago, but I didn't think it important enough to tell you."

"A nail?" Miko-san snapped, looking like her entire face exploded. "Someone intentionally did that to me. Who would… you?" She rounded on Kuroda, making her step back in fear of Miko-san jumping her.

"I'm sure it was meant to be a small prank," Shibuya-san said. "Right before that, you were giving her a hard time."

"And then what about the broken videotape?"

"It wasn't broken. The footage was intentionally erased."

"Did she do that, too?"

"By the time Mai arrived at the lab that day, Kuroda-san was already there. So most likely, yes." Shibuya-san looked directly at Kuroda, but so was everybody. Miko-san's eyes especially looked like daggers.

Kuroda held her hands tightly, trying to relieve some stress inside of her in any way possible. Her heart was thudding so bad. How could this be, she had never been caught so badly before. She was a better actor than this. No, that's not true, she wasn't acting.

They didn't understand. The spirit really had attacked her. But when she had gotten to the computers to rewatch the footage, excited that she would have the proof to show them… there had been nothing there. It had not shown a spirit pulling at her hair or strangling her. It only left Kuroda confused. She wasn't lying. Had she erased the videotape? She couldn't remember.

A warm hand patted her on the back. A comforting gesture. But Kuroda was too cold to feel any warmth from Taniyama-san's actions.

"But what about the Principal? We were supposed to prepare this building for demolition."

"I plan to tell him many spirits of war victims existed in the building, but we exorcised them all so it's okay to begin."

He looked towards Kuroda again. "Are you okay with that, Kuroda-san?" He prompted a nod from her.

Perhaps his actions seemed kind to everyone in the room, but Kuroda believed he was mocking her. She could see it in his eyes.

"I'm still not convinced," Hara-san said. "Why don't we just tell the Principal the truth?"

Kuroda felt like her lungs would not hold air anymore, like too many holes had been punctured into them by each word spoken, keeping her from drawing a full breath. She glared at Hara-san from behind her glasses, her blood seeming to boil. If people thought Kuroda was a liar, she knew a doll-like person as phony as Hara-san wasn't telling the truth, either.

"Kuroda-san's already feeling bad enough, I don't think we need to make things worse for her," Shibuya-san said.

Kuroda looked at him, and felt relief, and yet fear. They could hide the truth, but they all knew. They all thought that they knew. And there was something about looking into his eyes for the last time, and realizing how truly unreadable they were, so indecipherable. Were they lying to her? Were they trying to convince her of something that wasn't the truth? Trying to tell her she was a liar?

Maybe she was a liar… maybe she really had only been a magician on the stage.

No, she refused to think like that. It was what they wanted her to think.

Ah, I frankly hated when it was my turn, every three months, to supply something for Masako, Ayako, and I's get-togethers.

I couldn't help it that my taste buds were of higher quality, even though all I could buy from the store was mochi and bancha. Masako and Ayako on the other hand were able to afford their (and mine) expensive taste buds.

Thankfully it wasn't my turn to choose the tea (although, really, Masako and Ayako 'happened' to bring by sencha these last few times). I can't help that I still choose to purchase my lesser-class, strongly scented green tea. It had grown on me. I told them even though it is a cheap tea, it's still good for you. But remembering Ayako's priceless face, which had been raised on the expensive green leaves of gyokuro and shincha tea, would always remain a precious memory from when I had served her bancha.

But Ayako would not be coming tonight.

And it wasn't because I had served her bancha that day.

I mean, sheesh. Seriously, who would stay with their husband on a girl's night out…?

Hm. I wondered what type of tea for two Masako would bring, since it was her turn this month.

Every month for the past few years the three of us would get together (at traditionally, my house, but now that I think about it I don't know why) and we'd bring tea and sweets and simply just watch movies and talk. These times were always bubbly, happy memories that I held onto.

I've tried so many different treats and teas thanks to them these last few years. Ayako even bought me my own dobin teapot for my birthday last year.

So here I was at the confectionery shop trying to decide what I would bring that may or may not compliment Masako's tea. I settled on daifuku. Soft, round mounds of dusted rice cakes filled with sweet red bean paste. I kind of wanted to buy uirō, too. Thick, chewy, steamed rice bricks of all colors, just like what Ayako brought last time (except she had made them…) but I thought that was maybe over doing it.

As I was walking home, I again got distracted by my local convenience store, as I had when I had walked by it previously. I really wanted to do it as a joke, but… I really shouldn't.

Before I knew it I was walking back to my apartment with the box of sweets tucked under one arm and holding a case of canned Chu-hi in my other hand. 9% alcohol isn't that much, right? Besides, I liked the flavor of strawberry. It kind of made me laugh to think of whatever high-class tea Masako will prepare and then handing her a can of sugary alcohol.

Ha.

When I got home I changed into shorts and a loose tank. I had managed to clean and tidy my apartment earlier this Saturday. Hey, this has actually been really good for me that we always did it at my house – it always got cleaned once a month.

I started setting out the daifuku and wished that I had bought the uirō. I hope next month Masako brings monaka wagashi again like she had last time she had brought the sweets. Sweet bean jam sandwiched between thin wafers? Mmmm.

I filled the kettle with water and put it on low. Ayako basically bashed into my head that water for tea should always be near boiling but never actually boiling. Even though I told her you were supposed to boil water for bancha, she would hear none of it.

Yada, yada.

I wanted to bring out my dobin. I loved my dobin. I kept it in my only closed glass door cabinet, and I took it out during our monthly gatherings, or any time I felt the need to be special. It's the cutest little rounded teapot, an earthy green with delicate yellow flowers surrounding its darker banded girth. It had an upturned spout and a flat lid. Its domed handle was woven wood.

Yeah.

Basically I just liked to hold it.

Masako would usually bring her high-quality sencha and her round delicate pink kyusu with its short, cubby handle that jutted out of its side.

Her sencha laughed at my bancha.

I sat on the couch and ate a daifuku, rearranging them on the plate so that it didn't seem like I had eaten one. It was odd for her not to be here yet, she was normally prompt. I had turned off the water in fear of it boiling and the wrath of Ayako if she heard the rumor that I had boiled water for tea.

This wasn't the first time that Ayako hadn't come, but maybe Masako was deciding that she didn't want my personal company this evening.

I accidentally consumed another daifuku as I thought.

Feeling a tad lonely in the guise of anxious waiting, my wandering mind drifted to Ayako and Monk getting married three months ago. It had been the first real wedding that I had ever attended and really been a part of. Masako and I had gone with Ayako and her mother to look at dresses and cosmetics. I had even gotten a dark blue sundress bought for me for the occasion. I got to go to the salon, too.

I was mysterious in blue with curled and crimped hair. Make-up on my face, my lips dabbed in red, my eyes outlined in shadows. Black high-heels on my feet. I was nothing compared to the real bride, with her silky red hair rolled into curls and her stunning white lace and chiffon dress.

Ah, Monk and Ayako's wedding album was to die for, it was so artistic and dramatic. Amusing, too, in a way, with Ayako's posh and poised friends and family. Monk's family was respectable. His friends were another story.

Masako and I were in a few pictures, too. Close-up shots of us side-by-side, cheek-to-cheek, looking very poised. And of course with the bride, too. It made me pleased to see how much of a counterpart doll I looked next to Masako with make-up on.

It was a day where I had felt good about myself, where I actually felt beautiful and alluring.

So it happened to be the day that Noll didn't show up.

The door emitted knocking sounds as I pondered if anyone would notice another daifuku had disappeared.

Masako both looked exhausted and happy. She immediately slipped off her high-heels and ran a hand through her hair as she let out a gust of a sigh. "I landed the movie role."

"Ehhh? You did it this time!" I was pleased I was the first (or, well, almost the first, I'm sure) to have heard this news. I spread out my hands to emphasize big letters. "Masako Hara makes massive splash into the movie industry with debut title."

"I'm not even thinking that far yet," said Masako as she unpacked her tea caddy and kyusu.

Oh! I should turn the water back on!

Masako had been trying for movie roles these last few years, landing minor ones. She did modeling on the side, but her TV show had its last episode three years ago. I think the main problem was her agent apparently thought she should only be doing horror movies, due to her background, as if Masako had needed any more horror in her short life. This was one of the three romantic comedies she had auditioned for, and her looks obviously suited the needs of the character's role.

Oh, and perhaps her talent did, too. Haaaah…

Masako stuffed a daifuku in her mouth and already had another one in her hand as she chewed. She was probably starving from her busy day. Maybe I should make her rice or something…? Nah, the daifuku should fill her up.

Before turning the water back on for tea, I thought this was a perfect time to make my surprise. "Well, since we're celebrating," I said. I went to the kitchenette and pulled two cans of Chu-hi from the fridge. "Congratulations."

She laughed, but didn't accept the can. She didn't look as shocked as I would have liked, either.

Instead she leaned back into her bag and brought out a tall slim bottle of Umeshu. 15% alcohol, steeped ume fruits in shochu (they were still in there at the bottom), sweetly tart tanned liquid... She had planned ahead.

"Ah, you always have to outdo me…" I said as I set the little cans on the small table and went to get glasses for the fruit liqueur.

We watched mostly romantic comedies. Or, well, we dissected and analyzed and laughed at them all the way though. We were doing it for research for Masako's upcoming role.

Maybe the movies we picked were just bad. Maybe we were just a little tipsy and everything seemed funny.

At the end of the last movie, Masako's happy laugh turned into a sad sigh as the credits rolled.

"Eh? Everything okay?"

"I guess," Masako said, looking downcast and solemn, the stark opposite that she had been a moment earlier. "I might not be able to come to these gatherings anymore. I guess that I might get too busy."

I kept my smile on, the alcohol dimming the truth of the words. "Oh, you know it's fine. Ayako will still come and then you can come whenever you can –"

With a halt, I contemplated. The last daifuku seemingly jumped into my hand. "I guess Ayako is going to get busy, too." It felt a little weird to me. Masako was moving forward in her life and career, and so was Ayako.

Things were changing but I was still me.

Masako patted my shoulder. "It's okay, Mai, it's not like we won't ever see each other again. We're going to keep in touch. We can still get coffee together like we do now. And we're still going to be able to get together. We're not going to be busy all the time."

"That's right," I said, "I know that. It just felt a little weird all of the sudden. You know, Masako, my door is always open, okay? So you don't have to feel lonely."

Masako smiled. "Thanks, Mai. Maybe you'll be able to come see me on set, too? Wouldn't that be cool?" Masako's eyebrows waggled. "Maybe you can even land a role, you know?"

I lightly punched her in the arm. "Oh, please. I can't act at all. You learned that when you were practicing your script with me. I'm terrible."

In the end, we decided to watch one more movie, but it ended sadder than we had both anticipated, so then it was time to call it quits. It was time for Masako to catch the bus, too.

At the door, I watched her put her heels on, carrying her tea caddy. I was leaning against the door frame, kind of toasted and thinking sleep was a really good idea.

"Listen, Mai," Masako said, after our final hug goodbye. "I won't forget about you, right?"

"Of course, Masako, I know that. You too, 'kay? I've been living alone almost all my life, I won't be bothered by it. I'll be waiting here for you guys, someone has to keep the group together, right? Bye, Masako."

But once she was gone, and I was left alone in my apartment, I felt different. Masako had a new job career. Ayako and Monk were together and moving on. John had to return to Australia. Yasu was super busy with college still. Noll and Lin kept to themselves, like always.

Already I had failed in keeping the group together.

Here I was, comforting and telling people not to be lonely, when it might actually be I who was seeking the comfort of having them close, so that I would not be lonely.

Ah, I'm so selfish and I don't even realize it.

"I'm fine," I told myself as I finished cleaning the aftereffects Masako's visit. "They can all take care of themselves."

But then it happened, and I didn't even know what was happening. Tears pooled from my eyes and spilled down my cheeks and I stifled my quiet sobs, afraid someone might hear me.

 But who's going to take care of me?