All the way back on the train, Naru thought about showing the painting to Umino. He would think it was cool that there was a painting with someone in it who looked like her; he would have no idea that the other person in the picture was someone she knew. He would just think it was a nice painting, they would enjoy looking at it together. It would be something they could share, that might bring them a little closer.

After she got off the train, Naru hurried to Umino's apartment, awkwardly carrying the large paper-wrapped painting. At his apartment she rang the doorbell and waited anxiously. After several seconds he opened the door a crack. "Um, Naru," he said. "I wasn't... I thought you were going to that gallery place."

She pushed sideways past him through the door. "I did. I'm on my way home, but I wanted to show you something first."

Umino squinted at the painting through his glasses. "What is it?"

"It's a painting from the gallery."

"A painting? Naru, you can't afford to go around buying paintings."

How did he know what she could and couldn't afford? she thought with a flash of irritation. She was the one who was working. "I didn't buy it. The artist gave it to me."

"Well, whatever. Look, I'm busy here, I've got to get this paper ready for our seminar tomorrow -"

Naru finally managed to step past Umino towards his kitchen table, then stopped cold. Perched on the edge of the table was Yuki, wearing only a towel. In a towel she looked curvy rather than stocky. She gave Naru a rather self-satisfied smile.

Naru looked at Umino. "Preparing a seminar paper?"

"The water in her apartment has been cut off since yesterday afternoon. She needed to borrow my shower."

Naru looked from Umino to the towel-clad Yuki and back to Umino. "I guess this means you aren't interested in seeing my painting, then, so I'll just get out of your way. See you later, Umino." She pushed back past him and out through the door, which he was still holding open.

* * * * * * * *

On the way home on the bus, Naru didn't know whether to cry or explode in anger. Borrow his shower, yeah right. If Umino couldn't see that Yuki was making a play to steal him from Naru, then he was just stupid. If it was that innocent, then why couldn't Yuki put her clothes back on while she was still in the bathroom? Or maybe Umino did know, and that was why he hadn't wanted to go to the gallery with Naru, and why he always let Yuki sit so close to him at parties. Maybe he had lost interest in her, maybe he felt that as a shopgirl instead of a university student she wasn't good enough for him any more...

By the time Naru got home, her mother had closed the shop and was preparing dinner in the apartment. "You're just in time," Osaka Midori called out as Naru shut the door. "Want some supper?"

Naru almost never ate supper at home lately. Suddenly the thought of sitting at the table with her mother, sharing a meal of Midori's delicious cooking, brought a lump to her throat. "Sure," she said, trying not to burst into tears. She set the painting down, leaning it against the wall of the front hallway, took her coat and shoes off, and went into the kitchen

Midori took a look at her and frowned in concern. "Naru! What's the matter?"

All at once the one thing Naru wanted more than anything was to confide in her mother. "I stopped by Umino's place on the way home - I was at an art gallery today, I had met the owner and she personally invited me to visit - and this girl from his department was there, Yuki, and she was wearing a towel. Umino said she needed to use his shower because her water got shut off, but she didn't even put her clothes back on. Just the towel. They were supposed to be working on a paper together. How do you write a paper wearing nothing but a towel?"

Midori set two bowls of hot-and-sour chicken soup down on the table, then quickly came over to Naru and hugged her. "Oh dear," she said. "Do you think Umino's interested in this girl?"

Naru rested her head against her mother's shoulder. Suddenly she didn't feel as much like crying. "I don't know. She's interested in him, that's for sure." Hungry now, Naru sat down at the table along with her mother and they started eating.

"How do you feel about that?" Midori asked.

Naru wanted to insist that it made her feel terrible, that she wanted Umino to be interested in her and no one else. But... "I don't like it," Naru said, slowly swirling her spoon through her soup, "but, I don't know, I think that what bothers me the most is I just don't want to be alone. He and I have been together so long, I'm just... I'm afraid I'll be too lonely without him."

"Naru," her mother said gently, "it's better to be lonely than to trap your heart in a situation where it isn't happy. Now, you know I'm not one to say 'I told you so'" - That was true, Naru thought. Whatever their disagreements, her mother had never thrown them in Naru's face. "But I've always felt like you and Umino have very little in common, and no real bond between you. Now it looks like maybe he's found someone he does have something in common with, and who likes being with him for himself. Don't you think he deserves that, and don't you deserve to be with someone you're truly happy with?"

Finally confronted with the truth she had been afraid to acknowledge, Naru started crying. Her mother was right, she knew it, and it was a relief to hear her say what Naru had been trying not to think for a long time. But at the same time, anything was better than the aching black pit of loneliness inside her that had been there since Nephrite died, and that Umino had managed to fill, even if incompletely and imperfectly. And then there were the wasted years, the lost opportunities, everything she had given up for her relationship with Umino...

Her mother patted her on the shoulder but didn't say anything until Naru stopped crying. "Finish your soup and go to bed, dear. You look tired. Oh, by the way, what was that package you brought in?"

Naru wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater. "A painting from the gallery. The artist saw me admiring it and gave it to me since I liked it so much."

"Gave it to you?" Midori said in disbelief.

"Yeah. I was surprised too. She said she painted it for me. There's a girl in the painting who sort of looks like me, so I guess that's what she meant. She's pretty famous, so I suppose she can afford to give away a painting every once in a while if she feels like it."

"Well, you'll have to let me see it sometime. Off to bed now," Midori said as Naru spooned up the last of her soup. "Get some sleep, and you'll be able to think about things more clearly in the morning."

"Okay. Good night, Mama."

"Good night, Naru-chan. I love you."

Naru looked at her mother. It seemed like years since they had said those words to each other, and since her mother had called her by the endearment. "I love you too, Mama." She collected her painting from the front hall and walked down the hallway to her bedroom, thinking about the things her mother had said.

* * * * * * * *

Naru knew she was tired and upset and she should get some sleep as her mother had suggested. She knew she should just put the painting in the closet and forget about it and all the memories and questions it dredged up. Maybe on Thursday, her next day off, she should just take it back to the gallery and explain that she had nowhere to display it. She definitely shouldn't unwrap it and look at it, Naru thought as she found herself doing just that.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, the painting lying before her on the pink bedspread. First she examined the girl. Naru had never worn her hair that long, but the color was right, and the large blue bow on the back of the dress reminded her of the ribbon she still wore in her hair. Sometimes Naru wondered if she should stop wearing the bow and switch to a more grownup-looking style. But the thought of giving up something so familiar was too difficult.

Then the man - though his features were unclear and the color of his hair was shaded, his build, the shape of his face, and the waviness of his hair were all too familiar. The dark blue military-style uniform, trousers tucked into gleaming boots, was very similar to the one he had been wearing the night he -

Naru forced her mind away from those thoughts. There was no point in going over it again and re-experiencing the pain. It was over and done, eight years had passed, nothing could change what had happened. She turned her attention instead to the fiery background, which she hadn't really noticed before.

Why fire? she wondered. Was there a war or some sort of disaster, and they were escaping by air from a burning city? Or did it represent something else? She knew that redheads were often associated with fiery, passionate personalities, although she certainly wasn't anything like that. At least not lately, though once, years ago, she had been burning with passion and courage -

Naru clamped her mind down against the unwelcome thoughts again. She would probably never know whether the flames in the background were literal or symbolic, unless she asked the artist. Which she had no intention of doing. There was no point in dwelling on any of this. What she should be thinking about was how to sort things out with Umino.

But still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the flames, which seemed to be moving and alive even though they were nothing more than dried paint on canvas. There was a growing sense of familiarity about them, of something she wanted, though she couldn't remember what it was, but if she would only reach out her hand for it she might be able to grasp it...

Without meaning to, Naru reached out her right hand to touch the painting. Suddenly she felt something burning on her palm. Startled, she snatched her hand back from the painting and looked at it.

Her palm was glowing like a burning coal. Naru thought she saw a small flame dance briefly across it. Abruptly, she closed her stinging hand into a fist and shut her eyes. The heat faded and she opened her eyes again; her palm was red and blistered, as though burned.

An allergic reaction to the paint, Naru told herself as she hastily re-wrapped the painting and stuffed it into her closet. She would tell Yumeno-san that she was allergic to the paint and couldn't possibly keep the painting. And that would be that. She went down the hall to the bathroom, where she smeared some sunburn ointment onto her palm and wrapped her hand in gauze, then changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.

Umino. She had to think about what to do about Umino. She had to keep moving forward with her life, and that was the next step.