Yukio slid open the door to Urufu's room, or rather the room he shared with another two patients.

One look inside told him one of those patients had been discharged. The bed was neatly made and still untouched for the day. Urufu sat in his bed by the window and looked out. He barely turned to wave Yukio welcome before he returned to staring outside.

The third bed was currently unoccupied; it's owner away for rehab or something.

Next week they promised, Yukio thought. You look like a bird in a cage here.

“Urufu, I have the midterm results,” Yukio said and zipped open his bag.

“What's the fallout?” Urufu wondered, but he still didn't look inside the room.

Yukio took the long way, grabbed a chair and positioned himself by the window. He quickly produced Urufu's five exams.

“You won't end up on the wall, that's for certain.”

“Top fifty? No, no I guess not.”

Yukio smirked. It wasn't like he was anywhere close to placing among the top fifty himself. There were close to 350 freshmen, so if he made it into the top hundred and fifty he'd be happy. As it was he scored number 160 overall.

Urufu leafed through the papers. “Fuck! Oh well, could have been worse.”

“How bad?” Yukio asked.

“Three make-up exams. Should have been two, but our beloved basket case keeps screwing me over.”

“English again?” Yukio asked already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, the retard doesn't know the language in the first place, and it shows in his grading.”

Yukio avoided meeting Urufu's eyes and stared at a tray with the leftovers from a nondescript hospital meal. Stop being so damn cocky! You're deliberately misinterpreting his tests and receive poor grades. But truth be told Yukio did suspect that Urufu's English was superior by far compared to their teacher's.

“You look down,” Yukio said to change the subject.

“Don't worry. Just feeling restless. How did the rest of the gang do?”

“Kyoko scored number 130. She's pretty unhappy about it.”

Urufu grimaced before saying anything. “Soz, but if she ever makes it into the top third that's her cap I'm afraid.”

“Like you've been a teacher!” Yukio said and barely managed to keep his voice down.

“I have, and you know it. Learning assessment was part of my job. Top third in this school if she makes an effort. Push her to make it into double digits.”

Yukio didn't respond. Urufu could be a condescending arsehole, but he was very seldom wrong.

“The others?” Urufu wanted to know.

“Don't know about Kuri, but you can ask her yourself. I think she bombed pretty badly.”

With a sigh Urufu slowly started to laugh. “Yeah, I could see that coming. OK I'll ask her when she comes here next time. The twins?”

“Ryu just made into the list. Number 48.”

“Noriko?”

“Make a guess.”

“Hmm, she's been worried lately. Should cost her. She made fifth place and is sulking about it?”

Yukio stared at his friend. “Are you some kind of mind reader?”

There was a short laugh but no answer. If Yukio was honest with himself he wasn't all that surprised Noriko had dropped two positions given all that had happened during October.

He looked out the window, over the small park greeting visitors to the hospital and across a jagged landscape of low-rise buildings in their dirty, yellowish grey. Behind him Urufu stayed strangely silent and Yukio turned and looked at his friend.

For the first time he noticed that Urufu's eyes were tinged with red.

Have you been crying? “What's wrong?”

This time it was Urufu who didn't meet his eyes. Instead he looked through the windows at a grey autumn sky. There was something empty in that stare, a desolation Yukio knew from earlier.

“Man, are you back home again?”

Urufu drew a deep breath. “Yes, but it's only a memory now. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back.”

Did you give up? When was the impossibility of anything a reason for you to give up? “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Urufu began with a voice that was barely more than a whisper, “we've met a couple of arrivals, but I've never even heard a story about anyone going back.”

“Huh?”

“I've been thinking a lot. There should at least be some kind of unconfirmed rumour. Some kind of wishful magic thinking, but there's nothing.”

Yukio wiped his mouth with his hand. He didn't share Urufu's information network, and to be honest he didn't put all that much thought into Urufu's old world. For him Urufu was his best friend, an adult caught in his teenager body but no matter what Yukio truly saw Tokyo as Urufu's home.

“What's wrong,” Yukio asked again.

“I miss them.”

“Sure, you've said that lots of times before.”

“You don't understand. I can't even visit her grave. My little girl, she's gone for good and I can't even honour her memory!”

In the self-deprecating way that was Urufu's he sniffled and cried like a girl. For some reason it never looked like a weakness to Yukio, not once even including that first time a year ago when Urufu cried his heart out longing for his lost wife. This time, however, it looked like a deeper crisis.

“Urufu, man, what's wrong.”

“She's gone, they're all gone!”

From the door the sound of a sudden gasp got Yukio's attention and he looked up from Urufu's face. In the door opening he saw how Kuri slapped her hands to her face with a stricken look before she turned and ran away.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

***

That was a bad memory. The memory of Ulf's body shaking with tears and loss still occupied her mind whenever she wondered if she had the ability to solve a problem. And that was a bad problem in itself. Never before had she allowed herself to become dependent on anyone else this way.

She wondered. He never said he loved her, but he always acted with love. Still she needed those words. Ulf, are you so afraid of losing me that you don't dare having me?

Something was breaking apart inside of her. The love she felt consumed her. It burned from the inside, and if he didn't speak soon, if he didn't provide that fuel, the fire would take her love and twist it into something she didn't want so see.

I can't compete with your memories.

That knowledge was what finally made Christina make up her mind. As soon as Ulf was discharged from the hospital she'd make certain he spent the night with her, and not just sleeping together with her like they had done before. She wasn't sure it would be enough, but sharing her body with him should bind them closer together, and after watching him grieve in the hospital she was desperate to make him hers alone.

She shook her head and forced herself back to reality. Make-up exams weren't exactly the most fun way to spend her time, but flunking four out of five exams gave her little choice.

Math, I always hated math. She bent over her paper and attacked the next question as if it had been an especially disgusting bug.

Half an hour later she was done and left for the toilets. With a bit of luck she had managed a passing grade. Next lesson was English, and even if her spelling and grammar was poor she had enough professional experience from using the language to avoid doing the same mistake twice in a short span of time. That make-up exam ought to be a breeze.

When the day was over Christina left school with just one exam she needed to retake for the second time. With problems of a normal degree of importance she'd go home and study, but right now smearing Red Rose left and right took precedence.

She arrived at Stockholm Haven café and immediately went inside the inner room. Inside she sat down by the large table, fired up her laptop and placed her smart-phone beside it on the table. James having installed Wi-Fi and a decent internet-connection helped a lot.

Let's see how much damage we've done this far, she thought and started browsing through the latest communities she had seeded with partially truthful accusations.

Superb! Anxious mothers joining a weekly digital gathering for preschool parents embellished the seeds she had sown. Now it'll start spreading by word of mouth. Another week and I'll accept Nakagawa's promised help to pour fuel on the rumours among their husbands.

“Water of coffee?” James' voice said from the door.

“Coffee,” Christina replied. “Make it strong!”

“Any news on your boyfriend?”

“Day after tomorrow. I'll be there when he's discharged.”

“Does he know what you're doing?” James asked and made no move whatsoever to make her coffee.

Christina looked up from her laptop and stared at him across the table. “Doing?”

“Yes, all of you kids, including those who really are kids.”

The café had to be all but empty with not a single guest sitting close to the counter, or James would never have dared voice that aloud. Still it made Christina uncomfortable hearing it spoken in a clearly audible voice by anyone else than her closest friends.

“Was it that easy to trace?” Christina said. She didn't like the implications it carried.

“That photographer of yours come here from time to time.”

“Yes?”

“Says he was a big-shot at a major newspaper back in the days. He recognised an organised smear campaign.”

He would, wouldn't he? Well, he's a pro so it's not that bad.

“You know that people with money and status to lose also know professionals in the media?” James continued relentlessly.

Pushing her laptop aside Christina gave James the attention he so obviously wanted. “What are you trying to say?”

He stepped inside and closed the door. “I'm saying that whatever you're doing is going to backfire big-time.”

“That we're screwed?”

“No, but that it'll cost you. Even if you win this war you'll pay. Are you ready to go through with it anyway?”

What a strange question. It was far too late to back out now.

“Any suggestions?” Christina said.

James grimaced and looked down. “Not really. You two are out of my league anyway, but I wanted to warn you.”

Christina nodded at him. “I'm grateful for the warning,” she said. “Strong, did I say I wanted my coffee strong?”

“You did,” James answered and left the room.

With a flick of her wrist Christina brought her laptop back into vision. Maybe she should be a little bit more careful and not steam-roll the communities with her rumours? Her experience came from marketing fashion, and discreet didn't really come to her mind when she planned her campaigns.

Can I hide it by being glaringly obvious? I've done that before. But before she continued that line if thinking she shook her head. Guerilla marketing had never been her strong side, and now that was exactly what she was involved in. Maybe I should have told Ulf before I started.

She grimaced much like James had done just short moments earlier. Maybe I should have thought before I started. But then thinking in excess wasn't her style neither. She acted and conquered. Possibly not the smartest course of action when applying anything with the word 'guerilla' in it.

With a smirk Christina pushed her laptop aside and picked up her phone. Maybe 'guerilla' wasn't the only way to go. There were other, more public channels to abuse.