Part Four

The table is set. The mats, the crimson charger plate, the white platter.

The silver cutlery glimmers beneath the candlelight from the chandelier above.

Mother rolls out the cart, but something’s different. Something’s wrong.

Tonight's sacrifice doesn’t have a white sheet covering them. They’re dressed in a blue-and-white school uniform. The uniform from my school.

Dusty copper hair. Warm brown eyes. They’re watching me, terrified and filled with tears.

I know that hair. I know those eyes. His soothing voice, now muffled and strained, calls out my name.

I sat up in my bed and gasped for air, as if I had been drowning. I slapped a hand over my mouth, feeling my intestines contract and writhe like a snake. Throwing off the covers, sending my pen and a notebook skittering across the ground, I rushed to the bathroom and emptied what remained in my already-empty stomach until I started dry heaving.

A few excruciating minutes later, I rinsed my mouth and looked in my washroom’s mirror. A pair of horrified eyes stared back. My face was more gaunt than usual. I wiped a trace of water from my mouth with the back of my hand.

That was Hikaru Sogo, the boy from my class.

In a mix of adrenaline and panic, I raced back into my room and snatched my cell phone at my bedside table, ripped out the charging cable, and opened the list of contacts. Before, I only had three.

Now, I had four.

I held the cell phone to my ear and waited, pacing around my room impatiently. Even in my haste, I knew I couldn’t be too loud, so I tried to tread quietly in my slippers. It took a few tones before he picked up.

“…Yadome?”

“Are you okay? Where are you?” I asked quickly.

His voice carried weakly over the speaker. “Yeah…? I’m fine. I’m at home.”

“Good,” I whispered. My knees buckled, and I fell back onto my bed. “That’s good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine, why?” I said breathily.

“Really? Because, it’s like three in the morning.”

“Oh.” I turned to look at the analog clock that hung next to my dressing table. “Oh my goodness,” I whisper-yelled with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Hikaru!”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled. “But really, is something wrong?”

I hesitated. It felt like déjà vu. How much could I share? “Yes, I suppose there is.”

“Wait, are you serious?! What is it, are you safe?”

“I’m safe! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you. It’s something that’s been on my mind all night, that’s all.”

“Sounds serious,” he responded. I could almost see him nodding knowingly in my head. It brought a small smile to my face. “Anything I can do to help?”

“…Maybe there is,” I decided. “Hikaru…”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do when you have a problem you feel like you can’t solve?”

“Hm, that’s kinda vague.”

“I can’t be specific right now, I’m sorry.” It’s too long of a story, for one thing; too dark, for another. Tucking my phone between my head and shoulder, I reached down to pick up my pen and leatherbound notebook from the floor, turning to a blank page.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I understand. Let’s see…well, first, I try to make sure I understand the problem completely. I define words that I don’t understand. …wait, this is starting to sound like a math problem, isn’t it?” he laughed, and I remembered the raindrops again. “Well, whatever, I’ll just treat it like one. So first I understand the problem, identify the goal, then I…define the variables, I guess?”

“Okay, that makes sense.” I copied down his words. Even if it seemed obvious now, it could be helpful later.

“…Wait a second, are you writing this down?”

My hand stilled. “So what if I am?” I asked defensively, then my eyebrows furrowed. “How could you tell?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, I guess. And I could just tell.”

“Okay, never mind that, go on,” I urged.

“Okay! So, after I’ve defined the variables, I think of the best method for the type of problem it is. After that…I do that method and check if the answer makes sense. That’s it!”

My eyes widened. “That’s it?”

“That’s it!” he confirmed chipperly. “Was it helpful?”

My shoulders sagged. “Yes, I think it was. Thank you, Hikaru.”

“You don’t have to lie.” He sounded a little peeved.

“I’m not lying!” I insisted. “I really think it was helpful.” Well, if not right now, maybe it would be in the future. “Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome.” He yawned. “…is it cool if I sleep now?”

“Oh, of course! Please rest well.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Yadome. Or, today, I guess?”

“Yeah. See you then.” I hung up and hugged my phone to my chest.

It was that warm feeling again. Hope. I skimmed over my notes.

Understand the problem. Easy. The problem was Father. It was the tradition, Banquet Day, that was held once at the end of every month.

Identify the goal. I’m not sure how broad the the goal is, yet. I at least want to get Malcolm to safety.

Define the variables. The first ones I can think of are Mother and Aunty Brea. They’re the silent bystanders that maintain Father’s status quo. They’re part of the reason Kairi’s plan to escape, brazen and flawed though it was, ultimately failed.

Find the best method for the type of problem. The best method? I didn’t really see how that applied. There wasn’t exactly a quadratic formula for this. I could figure that out later.

Check if the answer makes sense. It will.

Layer by layer, even if I don’t have the end in mind.

This image will reveal itself.