One grey day in mid-October Kyoko left the funeral with lips a thin line on her face as she tried to keep her thoughts together.

In difference from most her age she wore a set of proper mourning clothes; one morbid benefit of being raised as a proper girl.

It took some time to accept the black irony. More than just time if she was to be honest with herself. The unexpected death of a friend left her strangely empty and more than a little ashamed.

One misstep during an act of celebration was all it took. One relieved laugh too many and one glance in the wrong direction.

Three of them were hit by a drunk driver. One of them died on his way to the hospital where the other two shared a room next to Urufu's, the very person they were on their way to visit when fate dealt them a dirty hand.

Kyoko knew she should feel grief, but she didn't. She never got to know Urufu's and Yukio's dead classmate that well to begin with, and from the little she had seen he was a rather shy member of Kuri-chan's fan club, one who hadn't chosen to join the club to get closer to her.

There was the matter of her shame as well. The reason her heart was full of relief rather than grief. That day Yukio had pulled her back when she almost stepped into a puddle, and in doing so he spun around just enough to avoid the swerving car. Or almost avoid it, because a rear mirror caught his blazer and tore it off him.

Kyoko still remembered her entire world filled with cloth and Yukio's surprised shout. She hadn't even seen how Yukio's classmates were mauled by the car.

They hadn't told Urufu yet. He was still unaware of the two classmates only a wall away from him, and in the end Kyoko found herself forced to cajole Yukio into telling his best friend the bad news. And that was the reason she was on her way from a funeral to a hospital with an unwilling boyfriend in her tow.

“If you don't I will,” Kyoko said to Yukio. “Tell him, that is,” she continued just in case she had understated the obvious. He wasn't going to wriggle himself out of it this time, and with her in mourning dress he didn't stand a chance.

Yukio grimaced but held on to her hand and followed her. It felt strange leading him on. Usually he was the one to decide, but it created a balance of sorts.

'Improper for a woman' her parents would have said. Thinking about her parents Kyoko admitted to herself that her mother wasn't as meek as Kyoko once had believed. Her mother would still have said those words, but Kyoko remembered how she bulldozed right over her father that evening when Yukio got hurt.

I guess she's behaving improperly in a proper way. Gods! I hate that kind of deception.

“What's on your mind?” Yukio wondered.

Kyoko tugged her coat closer around her and pretended she hadn't heard anything. As if I'm over being deceptive myself, she realised. It couldn't be helped. She had no reason betraying her parents that way when she wasn't certain they deserved it.

From the way Yukio tightened his grip on her hand she suspected he understood.

They took a bus, changed to a local train and from that to a bus again. Almost two hours later they walked the last bit to the hospital. Most of that time they spent in shared silence.

Will Kuri-chan be there?

She had spent time by Urufu's side, but not to the degree Kyoko initially had suspected. Apart from that Monday after they spent a night in the waiting room Kuri-chan hadn't missed a single day in school, and Kyoko knew her friend had taken up her modelling job as well.

It's as if Urufu would be angry with you for wasting time with him, Kyoko thought. I don't understand you two.

She herself missed most of a full week when Yukio was hospitalised, and for once her parents hadn't said a word about her skipping school.

“Yukio, you know when he'll be discharged?”

Asking that question wasn't fair. As if being best friends with Urufu automatically gave you more information.

“Sorry, no. Maybe they'll tell us today,” Yukio said.

Kyoko said nothing. She only held on to his hand when they entered through the sliding doors and walked to the elevators.

Several floors later they left the lift and came out in a corridor much like the one they spent a night by, but Urufu was moved from ICU to some kind of convalescent area. Kyoko didn't understand the hospital organisation all that well.

Before they visited Urufu Yukio had to go to the room adjacent to his. Kyoko chose to wait in the corridor while Yukio went inside and chatted with his classmates.

He came back out with a smirk on his face, walked a few steps and slid open the door to Urufu's room.

Kyoko looked inside searching for Kuri-chan, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead Sato-sensei sat on a stool and turned when the sound of the sliding door caught her attention.

“Kuri-chan's not here?” Kyoko asked before thinking of how that question could be insensitive in itself.

Sato-sensei shook her head. “She left earlier.”

But you were here earlier after all. Good! “I see,” Kyoko said instead.

From his bed Urufu gave Yukio and Kyoko both a weak wave.

“How are you man?” Yukio asked.

Urufu tilted his head a bit and grinned. “A bit more winded than usual, but it's healing well they promise me.”

“You know when...” Yukio began asking to Kyoko's shame. He was fishing for and answer to her earlier question.

“Maybe this week,” Urufu said.

Kyoko hid her face behind Urufu's back.

“They're running the elections for the student council now. Next week is midterms,” Yukio said. “Principal Nakagawa wants you to run for president.”

“As if,” Urufu said and laughed.

***

After he kissed Kyoko goodbye outside her house Yukio went in search for a convenience store before heading home.

Urufu's black eyes when he told him about the car accident still haunted Yukio.

As if he thinks it was his fault, Yukio mused. Damn it man! Stop trying to carry every burden yourself! Yukio growled and muttered a few choice curses. Don't you see that you're insulting your own friends if you don't share some of the shit with us?

Because friendship didn't care about over thirty years difference in age. Friends should help to their capacity, and they should be allowed to do so.

Yukio listened to his footsteps in the darkness as he walked between islands of light under the street lamps. From time to time a car overtook him and flooded the street ahead of him with white brightness until it passed him and waved goodbye with red rear lights.

Some ten minutes later he came up to a dimly lit parking place where a few cars waited for their owners who were inside the convenience store.

He walked in and took a right turn to get to the newspaper stand. A magazine and a bottle of water later he stood making a choice between future microwave victims. Eventually Yukio took something that made a good effort at pretending to be curry on rice.

Kyoko would yell at me for declining dinner at her place. But the truth was her parents made him feel uneasy. While it seemed Kyoko's mother more or less had accepted her daughter's new boyfriend it was all too clear her father hadn't.

Yukio whistled tunelessly, held on to his booty and made for the cashier.

A couple of thousand yen poorer and with a plastic bag holding too much for a snack but too little for dinner he lined up his feet in the direction of his home and started walking.

'Next week' Urufu had said, but Yukio thought that was unlikely. Five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and both lungs punctured didn't sound like something that healed in two weeks. If Urufu was let out of the hospital while it was still October he would be lucky. At least that was what Yukio believed, but he wasn't a doctor.

It didn't take all that long to reach the apartment block where he lived during the week with his mother. His father's flat was out of the question this late in the evening.

Yukio climbed the stairs hugging the wall and walked to his door. He could have knocked for his mother to open, but it felt better to use his keys so as not to disturb her unnecessarily.

“I'm home,” he called when he came indoors.

“Welcome home,” his mother answered and let him know she was in their small living room.

Yukio went to the kitchenette and put his meal in the microwave. Three minutes would be enough, and it gave him time to drop the water into the fridge and put his magazine in the room where he slept.

“Any news on your friend?” his mother asked from where she sat in a sofa watching TV.

“Nothing much. He thinks he'll be discharged next week. I think he's too optimistic.”

His mother rose from her seat.

“Have I ever said I'm sorry we put you through Red Rose academy?”

Yukio shook his head. “It's OK. You couldn't know. I'm sure it looked like a good school.”

“Mm, it did.”

The microwave chimed and Yukio fetched his heated dinner and sat down by the kitchen table.

“Mom, midterms are coming up and after that there are parent meetings.” He looked at his mother who waited for him to finish. “Can you get time off or do you want me to ask dad?”

She got her handbag and picked up a phone. “No it's fine. Just make sure to tell me the time at least a week in advance.”

He nodded and started gulping down his meal. It was about as lacking in taste as he had feared, but it filled him up and banished the worst of his hunger.

While he ate his mother got the bottle of water and two glasses. She filled them both up and sat down across the table.

“How are things with Kyoko?”

“Fine,” Yukio said between two mouthfuls.

He finished his meal and downed his glass of water.

“Mom,” he began, “mind if I bring her over this weekend?”

His mother gave him a long glance. “For a visit, not at all, but sleeping over, very much.”

That suggestion made Yukio's face flare red. “Mom!”

“Sorry, just teasing. Please do. She seems to be a sweet girl. Hold on to her, will you?”

He had no plans doing otherwise. “As long as she wants me.” Strange, before I met you I'd say she's mine, he thought wondering how Urufu spent yet another lonely evening in the hospital. But you and Kuri taught me love is something you share. “I'll work hard to make her want me,” he added.

“Yukio, you're growing up.”

Maybe because my best friend is an adult. “Yeah, maybe I am. That's good, isn't it?”

His mother suddenly smirked, and for a moment Yukio saw something empty in her eyes. “Don't be too much in a hurry. You want to remember that you were still a child during these years.”

What was that about? I'll ask Urufu when I meet him. “OK,” Yukio said. He didn't really understand what his mother had meant, but for some reason she looked like an abandoned child when she spoke.

Yukio felt discomfort filling him, as if he had seen something in his mother he wasn't supposed to see. Rather than continue the awkward conversation he stood and prepared the dishes. After that he spent the rest of the evening doing homework.

Tomorrow he'd check with Kuri before he told Principal Nakagawa that Urufu flat out rejected any involvement with the student council.