At the end of it all, Emi thought, it was the nights that were her downfall. When the dark, starry blanket fell over the world, and everyone closed their eyes to sleep was when the doubts began to creep in. Like roots winding through cracks in the pavement and eventually buckling and ripping it apart, the doubts slipped past her defenses and took hold.

She didn’t know when she was little what was happening. All she knew was she got to dress in pretty kimonos of the softest silk and have tea parties with the adults. She was taught how to serve, taught how to be demure, taught how to be the very model of Japanese propriety. She could never have guessed each time she bowed as she entered and left the room she was in the middle of an interview.

She never could have guessed that while the men and their wives and sons her parents invited over were smiling at her and complimenting her on how she was a proper young lady their eyes were judging her. Judging her looks, judging her actions, judging the set of her shoulders, the light in her eyes, and even the straightness of her teeth to figure out whether she would be a good match for their son. Trying the whole while to decide whether they would one day put their bid in to claim her future.

By the time she realized what was happening it was already too late. Some man whose son was 19 years older than she was had won the sweepstakes and her parents had sold her off. Her mother had, obviously, not characterized the process as such. It was nothing like that, she insisted. It was simply a matter of fact. An insurance policy designed to protect the future of the Seto group.

Her mother couldn’t have any more children, which left Emi as the sole heir of the company and its thousands of employees and dozens of offices, warehouses and factories. She needed a man to run things. Or, at least, to appear to be running things. Ignoring the fact she had been allowed to choose her husband thanks to Emi’s grandmother, Yoko had made a deal. After all, there was a lot at stake, Emi was told.

At the end of the day Emi fully understood her worth. She was simply one more business deal her mother had to make. One more transaction she had to get the best of. Selling off an asset knowing she’d get a fine return on her investment. The man she’d chosen was the scion of a wealthy family with a sizable shipping empire under their control. A marriage would bring that company within the Seto sphere of influence. Lowering their transport costs and increasing their bottom line. 

Emi had fought it, of course. She had raged and howled and tried to run away from home and thrown tantrums. She had railed against the loss of her future in all the ways an eight-year-old could. It didn’t matter. Once a Seto made a deal, they honored it. Had her parents actually loved her? Was love of any kind allowed to be a factor or was everything calculated for minimum risk, maximum reward?

She was allowed latitude as she grew. Allowed to “enjoy her childhood” as her mother said. A way to enjoy her life until such a time as she was taken to the wedding ceremony to have it all ripped away from her. Vowing to enjoy her time to the fullest, she had surrounded herself with friends. She had made wonderful ones, at that. Kasumi and Saki and Mizuki, she’d thought, Aria as well.

In the back of her mind, she always knew her time was limited. The days when she could smile and laugh without tittering and covering her mouth were glorious. The times when she went to buy candy and had sleep overs and cried at sad movies were precious. Pulling her skirt on over ratty leggings, saying strange and often provocative things. Being a “witch”, in short. Each one meant everything. A memory to hold and cherish before being turned into a doll and put on the shelf to be admired from time to time.

She’d wanted to live a normal life. One her mother had promised she could have before all sense of normalcy vanished, replaced by a nightmare devoid of love, affection, joy, and witchiness. Of course, Aria had caught all those hopes up in her tsunami and dashed them onto the rocks.

It wasn’t Aria’s fault, Emi admitted. At least not entirely. Who could say what her motivations were? How much of what happened was a conscious effort and how much was the tide carrying everyone with it?

Emi had no idea. She didn’t pretend to understand the forces at work behind Aria’s actions, or Jun’s or Daichi’s, or any of the other people involved. All she knew was the fallout had dragged them all into the abyss and sent them spiraling into the void. Kasumi had been kicked out of her house, Saki had left for Korea before tsunami Aria made landfall, so she was spared, but Emi had been shuttled off to finish school here.

Ah, she thought, Kasumi. If she’d been able to recognize things for what they were, she would have had to admit she had a huge crush on her since the day they met. She was beautiful and smart. She was strong with a body that would have made Michelangelo weep at the chance to sculpt. For it all, though, she had a vulnerability which Emi found irresistible, to the point she would do anything to help her.

She also was the person who made her realize where her sexuality lay. Crushing hard on Kasumi and, eventually, lusting after her, had flipped a switch inside her. She knew intrinsically it was no phase. She knew when she looked at girls her heart fluttered. Boys simply didn’t have the same appeal.

They were coarse and unappealing, and Emi felt nothing but a vague sadness as society and her straight friends made excuses for their actions and forgave their baser instincts. As they grew from children into teens and their privilege manifested itself, Emi had recoiled in disgust at the idea of ever being forced to be in a relationship with one of them.

As Kasumi drifted further from her, Emi found her crush settling into a very deep friendship instead. Of course, that was before Mio.