This is set early in the second arc. It's kinda half-baked, I know; I was aiming for succinct but didn't quite end up with that. Also, I have to say, I really like Umineko so far, even if I've only gotten through the second arc; not as much as Higurashi, maybe, but it's still really good, and just as gory as Higurashi, which is always a plus. Also, has anyone else reading the Umineko manga scans noticed just how skewed the use of honorifics are? That could just be the work of different scanlators, but it's interesting. And the Doc Manager is pressing everything in italics together... again. Blast. I may be a while.

I own nothing.

In the entirety of his existence, Kanon has only ever been presented with one truth, one truth that he knows to be absolute. This is the truth that has been ingrained into him since he has been able to comprehend the words of the ones who raised him from infancy. It is this truth that sustains him through the long hours, the thankless work, and the strange, half-baked feelings he gets in the middle of the night.

The feeling that something's missing somehow. That's what Kanon feels in the middle of the night, when sleep escapes him. Everything should be fine, but he still feels angry, still has anger screaming beneath his skin, demanding release.

Truth sedates him, of course. Kanon is not of the same level as the ones he serves; to the Ushiromiya, he is roughly as important as the furniture they sit on, maybe less. Kanon's place is to be the furniture, something that supports the rulers of the house without giving voice to his wants.

There is nothing to change my reality, he tells himself, walking down stuffy halls filled with hot, golden sunlight and still feeling as though a touch of winter has pierced his bones. Kanon keeps his stony, submissive face up in the company of all but his sister, who it is safe to express emotion around, with those simple words.

(He cries in front of Shannon because he knows that from her, he will never hear reprisal, and she does the same.

"But why?"

It can be said by either of them in the midst of weeping, railing against their fates despite themselves. In the grip of despair, sometimes they forget that they are furniture and that furniture can not shed tears nor want something better.

Given time both siblings recover their dignity, wipe their eyes and go back to their business, and they say nothing about it to each other afterwards.)

It's useless, and knowing nothing else, Kanon can not imagine any existence other than what he has. He can not even imagine calling his existence "life". Furniture can not live.

That I even breathe is a malfunction.

Shannon is a fool, as is young George-sama. The latter for mistaking furniture for a human being, and the former for mistaking herself for a human being, and for consorting with Beatrice. Kanon looks at her starry eyes and his bashful smile, and he shakes his head in despair for his foolish sister. It will never end the way Shannon thinks it will. Even if George is serious about wanting to marry her, Shannon is the housemaid; she is beneath him, Eva-sama will never allow it to pass, and if she did, there would still be Beatrice to worry about. Kanon doesn't trust Beatrice; he knows her presence in their lives to be a blight on them, knows just from that smile that she revels in suffering. She will find a way to make this all go wrong, even if everything else goes right.

(And when Kanon strips away those excuses and looks at what of himself lies beneath, there is only jealousy and envy.

He is jealous because another man threatens to steal his sister's attentions away from him. He is envious because Shannon has discovered something Kanon can not pretend to comprehend.

She should not be able to feel these things, and Kanon comes as close as he ever has to hating her for it.)

After the trip to Okinawa with George, Shannon starts spouting nonsense when Kanon is alone with her. He does not pretend to understand what sort of transformation has overcome her in the time since she was away. Kanon does not pretend to understand how Shannon deluded herself into believing that she is actually a human being, though he suspects George had something to do with it. She even thinks the sea is blue; her eyes have even been damaged by her fantasies.

(Kanon stares out at the sea, eyes narrowed against the wind and the spray splattering on his face and collar. It's gray, he tells himself. The sea is gray. I don't understand how she could see anything else.

Her eyes were so bright, so happy.

He remembers his sister's happiness, her so simple, wistful happiness, and for a moment, even grounded in reality as he is, he wishes that he could see that endless blue sea Shannon described, melting into the sky.)

The lines between human beings and furniture should never, ever be blurred, but they have been, and in the ensuing confusion, Kanon finds himself with a problem far closer to his body than that of Shannon and George Ushiromiya-sama.

Jessica-ojou-sama.

The girl with sun-gold curls runs past, laughing and long tendrils of soft blonde hair escaping from her ponytail, knowing it's safe to run because her parents can't see. It's hard to believe she's so frail, Kanon thinks to himself, collapsing at least once a week with her asthma.

Though he doesn't realize it, his eyes linger on her longer than what the courtesy of furniture allows.

Jessica-ojou-sama is at Rokkenjima more often than the others of her generation, though her visits are still somewhat infrequent. A bit spoiled, a bit petulant when in a bad mood, but with a good heart and charm enough to make up for it. She chafes under Madam's ideas of what her behavior should be, finds that she does not fit the mould of what her mother wants her to be. She's not the type of daughter Natsuhi Ushiromiya-sama considers suitable to be her father's heir, and only tries to be because, at the root of everything, Jessica-ojou-sama is a child who wants to make her parents happy.

If you want to make them happy, ojou-sama, Kanon thinks grimly when he becomes aware of her eyes again, this is not the way to go about it.

Passionate and foolish, Jessica-ojou-sama turns out to make the same mistake as her cousin. Both are deceived by their eyes and mistake the furniture for something that can live and breathe. Kanon does not know what to say to her to make the scales fall from her eyes, and even if he did, he would not be able to give voice to his words. It is not Kanon's place to tell ojou-sama what she must or must not do; he can not dictate her thoughts or actions, no matter how much he wishes he could, not even if it would be for her own good.

She is the caged bird of the Ushiromiya, unwilling to accept her place, and he is the furniture who gives her medicine when she falls ill, wishing that the world that has gone mad around him would just fall back into its normal place.

And still, she sneaks glances at him.

I wish you would stop looking at me like that.

Jessica-ojou-sama is flustered and even apologetic as she asks the favor of him, to go back with her to the mainland and pretend to be her "boyfriend" for the benefit of maintaining a façade put up against her classmates. Kanon does not do this gladly, but he does do it. He is to obey the order of any member of the Ushiromiya family, no matter how frivolous or ridiculous. A human being has that right and power over him.

Kanon is furniture, to keep the house standing and uphold the honor of the Ushiromiya at all costs, including his own life. Never before has he wished it otherwise, because he has no basis to make that wish.

Then, he sees her. Really sees her.

A girl dressed in a frilly dress, lace-up calf-high boots and a floppy witch's hat. The sterile light makes her glossy blonde curls glow. Her voice echoes through the cavernous room, through the enthusiastically screaming crowd, and Kanon comes to a stunning realization. Jessica-ojou-sama can sing. Sing, and sing well.

The crowd goes wild with every word out of her mouth, swaying in time to the music, transfixed by the siren on stage. Kanon hates crowds, hates loud, cramped, sweaty places. He's dizzy, he just wants to go home, but when he looks at her, he can't tear his eyes away.

This is not the sheltered Jessica Ushiromiya-ojou-sama he has known, and Kanon looks at her for the first time with opened eyes, and wonders how he could have ever thought the sheltered girl he knew before was the reality. I really don't know anything about her, Kanon realizes, bowing his head, finally manages to rip his eyes away from her smiling form.

I knew nothing about her. I knew nothing about her and made judgments anyway.

He looks at her again, and understands what Shannon meant about the sea being blue, and not gray. Kanon looks at her and sees Jessica for the first time, not ojou-sama. A wild-haired, laughing, smiling girl, holding a guitar, singing like an angel, showering open, ingenuous smiles completely lacking in artifice on everyone she sees.

I can see her. It was not her eyes blinded. It was mine.

And he wishes he was human, so he could stand in the same light as her, see the same things (see what he knows she sees in him), and know the same joy.