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Mei's always been quiet.
It's something she's had a lot of practice getting good at, see. She'd stay quiet when Mama and Papa were fighting, she was quiet when her teachers and friends asked her what was wrong, and she kept quiet so her big brother didn't worry about her. This skill comes in handy now more than ever, when so many of the people she sees want to admire her without words getting in the way. Just like a doll, they marvel, and Mei preens in response. Perfect and pretty. Silent and still. A little angel that never raises her voice in complaint, except for when that is what's asked of her.
Miss Maya—’Madame’ to the adults that come to see her—always has a smile on her face when she sees how Mei is so well-behaved. But it's not a nice smile. She offers praise and even pats Mei on the head whenever she does a good job. Though those things always gave her comfort before she came here, where she bloomed from a grin or stray touch from her brother, now it just gives her this twisty feeling in her stomach.
She’s supposed to be a good girl, so she doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Really, it’s an accident. But when she hears Miss Maya’s slippered feet making that soft shushing noise down the hall, coming to a stop a short distance away from her door, she can’t help it. Mei freezes on instinct and braces herself for what follows.
It turns out she’s talking to the doctor, a man that makes Mei shiver when he speaks to her during physical exams. Her voice is soft, as it always is, but she’s able to make out each word. “Haruto’s birthday is right around the corner.” This plants a seed of excitement that’s immediately crushed underfoot when she continues, “I want you to make sure he’s in top form to entertain our guests. I’ve got clients lined up ready to pay through the nose for this special event, and he’s not spoiling it by falling ill, do you understand me?”
Mei’s heart sinks into the pit of her stomach, lying there like she’d swallowed a stone. She knows what birthdays mean in this place. They used to be fun, a rare escape from the everyday that she and her brother spent together, their ages years apart but the dates close enough for them to celebrate as one perfect day.
Birthdays in Euphoria aren’t an escape. Mei was lucky enough to find that out only a few weeks after arriving.
She has to do something. Having a goal to work towards is loads better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself. What can she do to make Haruto’s day a bit better?
Mei casts her mind back to the birthday before last, when—oh, thinking about his name still hurts, so she doesn’t—when Big Brother spirited her out of the house and down to a bakery on his bike. She was already happy enough clinging onto him, feeling the breeze as it whipped past her. If she can give Haruto a day outside… But no, that won’t work. The consequences for wandering off are a far cry from Papa yelling at her or Mama pulling her hair, and she doesn’t have that broad back protecting her this time.
The bakery, then. Getting to sample pocket-sized bits of cake split between the two of them was more of a bonus as far as she was concerned, but the taste of those mouthfuls still lingers vivid on her tongue.
Mind made up and a plan taking shape inside her head, Mei pays a visit to her walk-in closet, a luxury that would have been unthinkable in her previous life. It’s identical to the one in Haruto’s room, both of them stuffed to bursting with costumes, accessories, and props to suit any mood. There was once a time when she’d spend hours hiding in here, among the mountains of lace and frills, holding her breath in the hopes that anyone looking would give up before they found her. As time goes on, she doesn’t want the reminder.
At least now she’s got purpose. She can do this. Digging through boxes for minutes on end rewards her with what she’s been looking for from the beginning: a gingham picnic basket complete with a little red riding hood wedged into the bottom, crumpled and sad. Mei tosses that into the corner and aims an indignant kick at it for good measure. It doesn’t accomplish anything past making her feel a smidge better, and that’s enough.
Now she’s ready to set off with her basket and fill it with goodies! All it’ll take is not getting caught. Easy peasy, she tells herself, hoping that saying it enough times will help her believe it.
The kitchens are a place she’s never had any reason to visit, too cowed by the clanging and shouting coming from behind its wide swinging doors to dare. Now, though, it’s calm with only the faint hum of distant machinery. Most of the staff don’t live in Euphoria like Mei, Haruto, and Miss Maya, so they’re able to go back to their warm houses and families at the end of the day.
She tries not to envy them.
Mei creeps into a gleaming chrome interior so unlike the cramped, dirty kitchen of her memories. Quiet as a mouse, alert for any sounds, she feels like a tiny creature poised to flee at any moment. Atop the counters are what seem like the answers to her prayers! Tiny versions of cakes like the ones on TV but a bit wrong somehow; a few of them lopsided and leaning toward the decorative plate, others bare of frosting and smelling burnt. Mei marvels at the variety for a moment, even reaching for one that looks closest to perfect, before something stays her hand.
This isn’t what she wants for Haruto.
Oh, she’s sure any of these would be delicious (except the crispy ones). There’s no shortage of treats that would send any kid her age into a sugar coma. She and Haruto have both had their fill of the gorgeous, glittering morsels provided to guests, hand-fed like they’re living in a petting zoo. They’re all made with exacting care from the finest chefs Miss Maya picked herself, but it all tastes the same going down. It always sits heavy in her stomach, until she wants to vomit, wants to cry, wants to beat her fists against anyone who will listen.
What kind of gift would that be for her best friend in the whole world?
Instead, Mei roots around the cabinets big enough for her to fit inside, finding bowls and mixers and contraptions she can’t fathom the purpose of in her quest for something, anything else. She even skitters her way past the huge whirring machine that stretches and pulls a wet, sticky glob of dough up and down in a giant metal basin.
It takes what feels like an eternity of searching before she hits the jackpot. A small wooden cabinet tucked away in the far edge of this drab gray and white space. It’s stuffed full of more ingredients than she ever thought possible, but of immediate interest are the things she recognizes as tasty and close enough to what she imagines could go on or in a cake. Bright packaging and colorful mascots, chocolate chips and a whole host of things she’s only experienced through the glass of a window or screen. She can’t read everything on the labels yet, but she dumps whatever might be useful into her picnic basket.
“And exactly what do you think you’re doing, little miss?”
Blocking her path to freedom is a man that’s enormous compared to her small stature. Dressed in all white, with watery blue eyes and a big, bushy mustache that reminds her of the walruses she’d sometimes see in picture books.
A cold jolt of fear licks up the length of her spine, but she turns with her best angel’s smile in place, voice syrupy and sweet in response, “I’m taking these to Madame. She asked for something nice and light. I think it might be, um—” Here, she pitches her tone to a bare whisper, balancing up on her tiptoes and cupping her mouth between two tiny hands. “Her monthlies.”
That does the trick. A magic charm Mei is only vaguely aware of as a future problem, but most men shut their mouths and immediately stop asking questions the moment she mentions it. Miss Maya is a terror when she’s in pain, but never to the point where she’d allow one of her precious darlings to run errands for her. This one’s an easy mark. He tugs at the furry length of his mustache in thought.
“A-hem, that’s the last thing we need. Let’s see what you’ve got there—” Mei resists the urge to hide her spoils when he reaches over, lets him rummage around in her basket. “Ah, seems the Madame’s got quite the sweet tooth. Are you sure you’re not the one looking for a midnight snack?” She’s about to open her mouth to protest, but before she can get a word in, he shakes his head. “Well, probably better not to pry into a lady’s affairs. You stay out of trouble, now, understand?”
“Of course, sir!” she chirps like a little songbird; just like with lady affairs, men are quicker to move things along when she’s respectful. Hefting her picnic basket, she wobbles a bit at its unexpected weight, but holds firm in order to ward off any offers to carry it to ‘the Madame’ for her. Another polite bow before she makes her getaway.
It isn’t until she gets back to her room that the frantic rabbit’s thump of her heart slows long enough for her to breathe. That was close. That was too close. She’s ready to count her blessings that she wasn’t immediately hauled in front of Miss Maya to explain her sudden taste for sneaking. For all that Mei might be a quick liar in front of other people, there’s no fooling the ruling queen of Euphoria. Her coaxing tone makes it impossible to keep secrets, and the only way Mei’s managed to avoid spilling everything is by staying silent and smiling like a good girl. A direct question would ruin everything.
But she’s here. She won. Everything she needs is right here in front of her. All that’s left now is to roll up her sleeves and get to work. It’ll all be worth it so long as Haruto is happy with what she makes him. Or so she hopes, at least.
The hours creep by in what feels like the blink of an eye. A peek at the sliver of sky her window affords tells Mei that the rest of the world is close to waking up, black deepening to blue and bringing the sun along with it. Despite the late hour, she's wide awake. Night and day are topsy-turvy here; the only time she's able to rest without being shaken awake is during daylight hours.
Instead of growing sleepy, she's electric, buzzing with accomplishment. It's done at last.
Mei stashes her prize safe and sound into an old shoebox, its original contents discarded. Then, she shimmies her way across the bed’s surface, pressing her ear against the wall with all the concentration of an old-timey prospector. A raised fist, rapping her knuckles against the wood in quick succession.
Knockknock-knock-knock.
Silence. She presses closer, shutting her eyes. Then comes a slow and hesitant response.
Knock-knock.
'Are you there?'
'Yes.'
Her heart hitches, and she taps out an answer with clumsy hands.
'Can I come over?'
Or maybe a more accurate translation for their shared language would be, 'Is it safe?'
What feels like the longest few seconds of her life pass in an hourglass.
'Yes.'
She's ready to start cheering until another message follows: 'Be quick.' It tempers her glee, but can't halt it completely.
As ordered, she's quick about her second excursion of the night. It's easy given that their rooms are right next to one another. Usually Mei is the one sneaking into his room, ever the more adventurous between the two of them, but a few times, she's woken up to Haruto nestling under her covers after a nightmare. Mei pretends not to notice when he curls up against her side and shivers. Maybe he's pretending too, whenever she takes his hand and rubs tiny circles into his back.
It's time she wouldn't trade for the world. She prays that her gift will get her at least some of the way there in showing how much Haruto means to her.
Though the next room down is nigh-identical to her own, it feels closer to coming home. Haruto waits inside, but not a moment after she pulls the door shut with the softest click possible, he’s already closing the distance between them. Mei can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from seeing him bound over to her like a baby gazelle still growing into his legs.
“Haru,” she starts, equal parts scolding and fond. “You didn’t have to get up, you know.”
“I know.” His cheeks turn that charming, bashful pink that everybody loves, but his smiles are all for her. “I wanted to walk with you.”
He’s perched up on his tiptoes to sneak a peek at what she’s got tucked behind her back. Finding nothing of apparent interest, he instead opts to loop his arm around hers, escorting her like they haven’t been here a thousand times before.
Their destination? A blanket nest of legendary proportions, situated mere meters away from the door and built layer by layer with whatever odds and ends they can get their hands on. A tiny pocket of peace where the rest of the world ceases to be and leaves the two of them to share space and secrets both.
It’s here that Mei settles onto her favorite pillow, poised with every bit of gravity she can muster, and offers up the fruits of her labor.
“I heard it was your birthday soon, so… I wanted to make something for you.” The tips of her ears grow warm as she tacks on, soft and shy, “I hope you like it.”
Looking at it now, in those barest hints of sunshine emerging through the fabric walls of their sanctuary, it’s not much of a cake. Not much of a gift at all, really. Crumbled bits of graham cracker to form a crust, milk that came in a can and took for-ever to open, thank you very much, sweetened with ample drizzles of honey and chocolate syrup, and dotted with butterscotch chips and coconut shreds to pretty it up a little. Does Haruto even like coconut shreds? It’s too late to wonder.
She almost can’t bear to look, but chancing a split second glance proves that her fears were all for nothing.
He looks at it like it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten, mouth working soundlessly in a way she might find funny if she wasn’t so darn nervous. His gaze flicks back up to her then down again, hands floundering in front of him as if he doesn’t know where to start.
“Can I—is this really for me?”
And just like that, the spell is broken. Poof! All her worries gone in a puff of smoke! “Who else would it be for, silly? Oh, I almost forgot!” Mei pats down her pockets, fishing around to produce a battered old soup spoon she’d swiped on her way out of the kitchens. It served double duty as a mixing tool, but still, better than bare hands. “Here, for the birthday boy.”
Haruto wolfs it down with so much speed, she’s half-worried he’ll choke. His cheeks are puffed up like a hamster’s, a sight so endearing it makes her want to giggle. Instead, she only watches him, chin cradled in her hands. It’s dizzying to think this must be close to what he—what Minato felt with her long ago. Maybe this is her chance to step up and be a big sister instead of a little one, even if he’s the one getting older. Big siblings are supposed to protect the little ones, keep them safe.
Seeing him so delighted all from something she made with kitchen scraps and prayer makes her heart clench. It’s not joy she’s feeling—even though she should be happy, why isn’t she happy? Instead it’s… It’s something else. Like when she was told she’d never be able to play at her grandparents’ house again. Like not knowing the last time she saw Minato was the last time at all. Like she’s already lost something, she just hasn’t realized it yet.
Mei puts her arms around Haruto, and like clockwork, without thinking he reaches back. They’re mirror images. A matched set. Rare jewels never to be separated. No matter what, this is the one thing that’s hers to keep. She buries her face in his shoulder, her words muffled by the fabric of his shirt and meant for his ears only.
“Hey, Haru? Do you want to go outside?”