While Ryukishi has said in an interview that George would accept Shannon's "issues" if he knew what being furniture meant, I'm not sure that the relationship between them would have ever really been happy again. It certainly would have destroyed any semblance of trust. And considering that George tends to be pretty passive-aggressive in his resentment of others, well, here comes this. Needless to say, spoilers abound; be careful.

I own nothing.

She's stopped padding her bra, stopped wearing stiff skirts that give the illusion of curves where there are none, stopped wearing baggy clothing that hides her figure and hides reality. George says she shouldn't, says she shouldn't hide her body (Anymore, he says, in the overly bright, jocular tones that Sayo has learned to identify as false). Sayo supposes he's right. While she knows a lot more about these things than does George, George has always been a fount of wisdom and insight into human nature. He probably saw something she missed.

Ushiromiya Sayo, formerly Yasuda Sayo, also known by Shannon and other names, is happy. This she tells herself when she wakes up. This she tells herself when she goes to bed, when she is preparing the meals she and her husband eat, when she is in the shower, when she is at the grocery store and the department store, when she breathes. This is all she ever wanted, to come away from the island of Rokkenjima, to be married to Ushiromiya George, the man that she loves, to be human.

(Except she's still not human, no, no, never human. Always furniture, always disgusting, inhuman furniture, twisted and broken in the most fundamental way there is. She can not give him pleasure, and he has not tried to seek it since their wedding night. They couldn't figure out how. Sayo's mouth ran dry at the extent of her mutilation, realized so starkly in her mind.

So twisted and broken am I that he can't even decide how to proceed when we have sex.

George has not spoken of the incident since, changes the subject whenever she tries to bring it up, his smile fading. And while he does not condemn, has never spoken words of condemnation, Sayo does not think she imagined the flash of disgust when he looked her over, from pale, thin skin to flat, childish breasts, to mangled, mutilated sex organs.

Who wouldn't be disgusted, at such a pathetic, inhuman sight?)

She spends her days at home, keeping their large apartment clean. She spends her days cooking their meals. She spends her days running errands, shopping for groceries, or clothes as she needs it (Sometimes Sayo will go to a book store, leaf through mystery novels, and remember another time and place). Sayo does not work. George says that he will provide for her, that it's a man's place to provide for his wife and that she should not have to work outside the home. Besides, she brought him great wealth from the share of Kinzo's gold that she kept for herself, and the least he can do is support her as she has supported him. Sayo nods and agrees with a smile, letting none of her inner thoughts slip through as she says "Of course." Sometimes, she feels bored and lackadaisical (trapped and as thoroughly caged in her home as she is in her flesh) and unfulfilled, but then Sayo reminds herself that she has all the fulfillment she will ever need, right here in front of her.

There is nothing but this. She needs nothing but this. (She needs a way out, and sees none.)

-0-0-0-

Sometimes, Sayo gets odd looks in the grocery store.

She knows she must look strange. She wears a plain gold wedding ring and her silver, diamond-studded engagement ring upon her left ring ringer (Right where George said they should go, right where he insists they stay). She dresses like a grown-up woman, because she is one, nineteen years old, nearly twenty ('You lied about your age too?' was the first thing he said when she told him), in adult women's dresses. Sayo likes dresses in blue and gold and green and white, not low-cut, perhaps, but close in the waist, and after wearing the Ushiromiya maid's uniform for so long, skirts above the knee don't really bother her.

This person pushing a shopping cart along, humming absently to herself as she plucks tomatoes and apples from the produce section, selects a cut of mackerel from the meat section, she's dressed like a grown woman, but looks like a child. Her face is soft and rounded, dark blue-gray eyes wide and long-lashed. She has no breasts or hips, no curves to speak of. She is short, of small stature; her limbs are slim with delicate hairs only. Her voice is soft and high-pitched. Surely this is a child, they think. What is she doing away from her parents? Why does she dress like a woman?

Jessica had the same reaction (once she got over the anger, though Sayo does not think that Jessica will ever forgive her for Kanon—"Were my feelings just a joke to you?!"—not really) when she first saw Sayo's true form. 'Wow, no offense, but you look like a little kid.' That was what she said (hurtful without meaning to be), and Sayo had had nothing to say to her.

Jessica writes letters, sometimes. Natsuhi won't let Jessica come see Sayo in person; Sayo can no longer see Maria either, something that grieves her greatly. Sayo doesn't accompany George when he goes to Rokkenjima for the annual family conference (he does not take her with him, and does not ask her if she wishes to go), and they don't see it necessary to discuss what went on during the conference (If he is ridiculed on her behalf, Sayo does not think she wants to know). Jessica also can't call Sayo, since Natsuhi would find out about it and scold her harshly. Instead, Jessica sneaks letters off to the mainland when she has occasion to go. Her parents aren't letting her go to college as she'd wished; they say that that level of education is unnecessary for a young woman, and that it is her husband who will be well-educated, not Jessica.

It's nice, sometimes, to exchange letters with Jessica. Jessica will fill her in on news, about how she feels trapped in her life (Sayo can sympathize) and that she wishes she could do more. 'I think I might run away', Jessica writes, and the words around those words prove that she isn't entirely joking. 'Do you think George could meet me halfway and get me to where you guys live? I promise I'd get a job; having something to do besides getting scolded by Mom sounds like heaven, I just need a chance…'

So do I, Sayo thinks to herself. So do I.

-0-0-0-

"How's the tempura, dear?"

"It's great."

Though his family leans heavily towards western cooking in their preferences, George himself is heavily biased towards traditional Japanese meals; Sayo can only suppose that he inherited this trait from his father, who's always singing the praises of some traditional restaurant in Kyoto or Yokohama. Sayo grew up learning to cook western dishes, and nothing but, but she readily adjusts to please her husband (And fears the so blatantly disappointed looks that come over his face and never seem to leave when she serves pot roast or meatloaf instead of tempura or curry or tekkadon…).

They eat in companionable silence, chopsticks clinking against their plates. George occasionally asks Sayo about her day; she asked him that at the door when he came home, and nothing more need be said. Sayo says that it was good, the same as what she says every day. Her days are always good; she has absolutely nothing to complain about.

Supper is finished as it started, in silence. George watches some television while looking over the bills. Sayo washes the dishes, prepares his lunch for tomorrow, and finally sits down at the kitchen table to work on her favorite cross-stitch (As a servant of the Ushiromiya family, Shannon would have had her mystery novels to read during break times, but she always needed someone to discuss them with, and George doesn't read mysteries, so she derives no joy from reading them anymore, and it feels like letting a very fundamental part of herself die to admit that).

When they turn in for the night, they lie down on opposite sides of a large bed, saying nothing, and their bodies do not touch (May as well be a thousand miles away from each other, though Sayo can hear George's breathing pounding in her ears like the crash and fall of the sea). George falls asleep quickly, tired after a long day of work. Sayo lies awake, listening to the wind against the window, and remembering how once she would flit about the mansion on Rokkenjima. She was once the Witch of the Forest, shaking loose windows and doors. For a moment, Sayo wishes she could be that again, but shelves the memory, and tries to sleep.

-0-0-0-

Eva and Hideyoshi drop by without warning for a visit on a gray and rainy afternoon, shaking loose rain and trailing water on the carpet. Sayo's stomach twists into unrecognizable knots at the sight of them, and it's all she can do to smile.

Hideyoshi isn't so daunting as his wife. Sayo has always considered him kind and congenial; he doesn't act as though he considers her beneath him. He had supported George's decision to marry Sayo, even if he had to be careful about how he did it to avoid his wife's wrath. 'You're her only son', George tells her he'd said. ''Course she'll be angry, but she'll forgive you eventually. She loves you too much not to.'

But while Eva may love her son, she certainly doesn't love her daughter-in-law.

George's parents make themselves at home in the living room, while Sayo goes to prepare tea for them, struggling to keep her hands from shaking. Calm yourself, she thinks. This is not a meeting of Shannon and Eva-sama. This is a meeting of Ushiromiya Sayo and her mother-in-law. You are safe from her taunts. She will not go so far as to berate her son's wife. It is too much to suppose that she has forgiven you, or that she thinks of you are worthy for her precious son, or that she has forgiven you for stealing him away, but she will be polite, at least, in the company of her son and his wife.

After a while, Sayo finishes making her tea, drums up her courage, and carries a tray with ceramic teapot and ceramic teacups into the living room.

Hideyoshi accepts it with a nod and a smiled "Thank you." Eva, waving her fan upon her face, looks at the tray and smirks. "My, my, this is just like old times," she remarks lightly. "Tell me, my dear, what sort of tea is this?"

Sayo recognizes the old poison in her words, back stiffening, remembers times, so many times, when she, as Shannon, could not recall the name of the tea she was serving to the family guests, how Natsuhi would berate her and Eva would smirk behind her silken fan. But she is not that same person anymore, Sayo reminds herself, and things have changed. "It's peppermint tea, Mother," she replies quietly, proud of how smooth and unruffled her voice sounds. The smell of peppermint permeates not just the living room, but the entire apartment, obvious even before Eva asked.

Eva frowns darkly at being called 'Mother' by this wretched girl. Hideyoshi's booming laugh and his comment of "Do we need to have your nose checked, Eva? I could smell it from the kitchen!" brings her back to reality.

Holding her cup close to her lips, Eva shoots Sayo a smile that could cut glass. "Well look at you; you've grown up considerably since last we met. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were too perfect to be true." Her eyes rove over Sayo's flat breast, her narrow, childish hips, and her smile grows like one that could shatter diamonds and light instead of merely cut glass.

Sayo's heart seizes in her chest. She has to fight to keep her lips from trembling, to keep tears from springing to her eyes. Frantically her eyes turn to George, silently imploring him Help me! Help me like you would so long ago! Change the subject! Ask her to stop! Say something, anything! Please!

But George does not say anything, does not look at his wife as Eva starts asking him about his work, and Sayo is left as thoroughly forgotten and ignored as she would be if she were still the family maid, and not a wife of the Ushiromiya.

-0-0-0-

It's dark, but not so dark that she can't see him moving over her, nor so dark that she can't feel his hands fumbling at the ties of her nightgown.

'Let's try again,' George had said suddenly over dinner, face flushed as he stared her over, unsmiling but eyes very bright.

Sayo had immediately known what he meant, and she nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly but George seemed possessed of the same impatience she did and her a blush crawled up her skin as well. Oh please, oh please let this time be better. Please let me be able to do what I couldn't on our wedding night. Let me please him. Let me find pleasure.

Quick kisses, as brief and chaste as the ones she gives when he walks out of the door for work and walks back in come evening. Sayo wishes they were more drawn out, wants a better taste of his mouth and wants this to last longer than it is, but does not complain, her breath hitching.

There they are soon enough, naked and twisted together on top of the bed. Sayo would feel crushed under the weight of another atop her if her body wasn't curling up into his and her mind wasn't exploding with want. Her blood is racing and her heart keening a nearly unbearable scream of desire. This is it, this is it. Oh God, she would feel it this time, become human in flesh, become complete and one with the man she loved. Thought peters out, replaced only with anticipation and feverish joy. Almost there, almost there, almost…

Her hopes are crushed soon enough.

The act of penetration brings no pleasure, only a horrible stab of pain. Sayo shrieks into George's shoulder, tears of pain streaming down her face. All desire is lost, all hope is lost, replaced by that agony, that reminder that her body is twisted and broken, unable to give pleasure or be pleasured by a man. Not human, only furniture. Furniture can find no joy in sex. They can only be hurt by it.

George pulls away from her as quickly as he can, face flushed so dark that even in the blackness of night Sayo can tell. He says nothing, does not touch her, offers no gestures of comfort. She can hear him quietly pulling his clothes back on, and diving back down beneath the bed covers.

Sayo collapses on her side of the bed, shaking, whimpering, sobbing weakly into the pillow, feeling a trickle of blood run down her thigh. She lies there sprawled, bereft of even the strength to pull her nightgown back over her head. This is what futility tastes like, pure, undiluted, bitter.

-0-0-0-

The morning comes, gray and cold. Sayo fixes breakfast, kisses George goodbye as he leaves for work (he does not look at her, does not speak of last night, does not smile), feels utterly disgusting and vile. She washes dishes, feeling the silence seep over her skin like a wine stain. The blood on her thigh has dried, and pulls at her skin when she walks. She feels sore between her legs, and her heart aches.

Then, without warning, without even knowing how she came to be there, she finds herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her face.

It's not a good face, but then, it's never been a good face. Ushiromiya Sayo hates mirrors and what she sees there as much as Yasuda Sayo did, even though she's supposed to be a different person now, a clean slate that can cast off the baggage of the past, but things aren't so simple as that. She wishes she could still be Shannon, but can not, for George will not call her that and refuses to let her call herself that, no matter how much she begs to be let cling to something safe and familiar.

Is she not still Shannon, though? That's it. Sayo is basically still Shannon, however much she is denied the right to call herself that. She keeps the house clean, prepares the meals, makes tea for guests, and loves George without any hope of ever being able to be what he wants. She plays at being perfect, and never complains to anyone of her woes. She's still Shannon in everything but name, except now everything's splintered and broken into a million, tiny pieces, and she is left naked, exposed, vulnerable, without wrappings or masks or any protection.

She risked all, they risked all together, and look where it's gone? Sayo forsook all her other faces, Shannon, Kanon and Beatrice, to come to this place in time, and still she is furniture, and will never know true happiness. She loves George for forgiving her and offering her a way off the island, hates him for hurting her and not helping her and not denying the truth of her mangled body. She loves her new life for the freedom it offers, hates it for the way it's caged her as thoroughly as she was caged on Rokkenjima, hates it for the dead-end it is.

Her body is still a cage, she's just exchanged one cage for another, and look at that face, that ugly, inhuman, hideous face…

George will come rushing back up the stairs when he hears the crashing of glass, and will find Sayo huddled over the sink, face cradled in her arm as she howls blankly, moans piteously, and her right hand hangs bloodied at her side, the glass shards of the broken mirror glittering like stars of a forgotten life all around her, a diadem of stars to be set upon her head in another life. She must look a fright, Sayo supposes, oddly detached amidst her shaking wails, must seem pathetic, even mad, and not perfect at all, but she can't bring herself to care.

She hasn't been perfect for a long time. She may not have ever been perfect at all.