Chapter Text
We don't know that life is so different
We don't know that pain is so close
And after all we're looking for reasons
Not to die in this life anymore
The rainy season had not stopped. The same cloud that had been hanging over Tokyo for a couple of weeks before, when lightning lit up the city, was probably still there. An army of pedestrians with plastic umbrellas ran from one awning to another, fleeing from the spray of puddles from under the wheels of cars and sharp gusts of wind. A safe distance from the road, Akamatsu Kaede sat in a newly erected glass booth with a soggy cigarette in her teeth. The smoldering flame on it didn't allow for a full drag, but threw acrid smoke into her nostrils, making her eyes water frantically. Rubbing them and the irritated skin, Kaede flicked the lighter, trying to bring the raw tobacco back to life.
A figure separated from the crowd of pedestrians, walking straight through the puddles toward the booth. Leaning to avoid the glass ceiling with her umbrella, a girl banged her fist on the wall a couple times. Kaede didn't look up, staring at her brown shoes, darkened by the water.
“You're gonna catch cold in here. You've got a month's worth of rain in your hair.”
Her hair did stick unpleasantly to her back, water dripping off her shirt, but Kaede didn’t care.
“Well,” the girl folded her umbrella and squeezed in, “it's up to you. Like I said, I'm not your mom.”
The dim light at the end of the cigarette finally responded to her efforts, and Kaede took a drag. She held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds, hoping the bitterness would bring back her memories. The images around her were slow to change, nor did the cold inside her think to thaw. She felt dizzy, but that wasn't the worst thing she wanted to do to her body.
“You got ashes all over your shirt.”
The girl reached to shake it off, but Kaede lazily batted her palm away. She flicked the ash from her cigarette somewhere on the pavement, ignoring the ashtray, and looked the girl in the eye.
“What do you want, Otonashi?”
“I came to check on you.” Her eyes revealed no emotion. “You look like someone’s died.”
Kaede threw the cigarette butt with her fingernail, but instead of hitting Ryoko’s forehead, it settled on the girl's shoulder. Ryoko shook it off squeamishly.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Hey, hey, chill.” Ryoko raised her palms and sat down on the nearest bench. “I thought it would make you smile.”
Kaede sullenly took out a second cigarette. Under the glass canopy, it lit up without a hitch.
“I don't know what you expected to see, but I don't have the energy to argue with you. Do me a favor and get out.”
“What, you don't even want to hear the latest?”
“I don't give a shit.”
Ryoko cast a glance with a familiar slyness, but Kaede didn't try to look into it and see what was behind it.
“Miu-chan's legacy lives on, doesn't it? If you don't give a shit about the world, why did you come back?”
She wanted to throw another cigarette at her, but Kaede had only had two, and she wanted to smoke more. She wondered if she should smack Ryoko for daring to mention Iruma's legacy.
“That's an excellent question, Otonashi. I'll tell you when I find the answer myself.”
“Well, I've always said, if you can't remember, try to understand.”
Kaede shot her eyes at her. She hadn't tried, had she? She dug through her entire memory, though she couldn't remember anything from the moment she walked through the glowing door in virtual reality. She tried to find a logical explanation for it, but saw none. Why would she need this world if Iruma stayed there? Maybe something happened inside? Maybe Iruma needed help? No, why would she, this was clearly about something else. Why, then…
“And if that doesn't work out either,” Ryoko shrugged, “you can always go back.”
“Hell no.”
“Why?”
“There must be a reason I'm back here.” Kaede ran her palm over her face, trying to remove the cobwebs that hid the truth from her. “I'll find it.”
“Oh, well, good luck with that. Luck should be easier to come by now that–”
Breathing heavily, Kaede smacked Otonashi into the transparent wall with her left hand, squeezing her fingers around her neck. She scratched more than choked, letting her anger take over without a fight.
“Since we're talking about the new girl's legacy, I should break every bone in your body for good measure. Leave me alone. I'm sick of you mocking me.”
Ryoko stared at her emotionlessly, making no attempt to break free.
“Feeling better?”
“Nope.”
“Then leave my beautiful body alone,” she patted Kaede's wrist, sighing. “I've only gotten over the bruises from that time.”
Kaede snorted through her teeth and collapsed back onto the bench. The ash from the lit cigarette fell onto her pants, leaving a gray trail that she smeared even more. There were only a couple puffs left.
“I don't want to get my hands dirty,” Kaede mumbled, to which Ryoko laughed heartily. “I think Iruma would just push you off the roof.”
“I've already survived a fall from that tower! I thought I'd set some kind of record, but so far I'm losing to a Serbian stewardess.”
“Try jumping without a parachute.”
“I'd give that advice to you, Kaede-chan. Maybe a little adrenaline will give you back your zest for life.”
“What other advice do you have?” She took a drag. “Move on? See a therapist? Grow a bonsai in the urn with Iruma's ashes?”
“Yikes. Don't be rude, Kaede-chan, don't push your friends away. You're too dumb to have many.”
“With friends like these.”
Kaede had finished her cigarette, and now she was staring dejectedly at the butt between her fingers. She wanted to throw up, either in the trash can or all over Ryoko. The girl, meanwhile, rummaged through her purse, pulled something out, and tossed it to Kaede with a quiet sigh. Her dexterity had always been poor, but now she caught the keys without looking up.
“Wow,” Ryoko blinked. “Well, this is from Rantaro. He wanted to give it to Kirumi-chan, but she had her hands full.”
Kaede opened her fist. A bunch of keys rested in the palm of her hand.
“What's this?”
“What would you like them to open?”
Kaede wanted to snap at the evasive Ryoko, but she froze and looked at the keys again. Stomping the two cigarette butts on the pavement, she rushed to the exit.
“Her relatives are already out, so… hey, not even a thank you?”
“Fuck you,” Kaede muttered, stopping in the passage for a second. “And don't ever talk to me again.”
“Life finds a way,” Ryoko hummed, smiling with her different colored eyes. “Good luck on the roads, Kaede-chan.”
“Sorry for the intrusion.”
Kaede closed the door behind her and dropped her keys on the shelf by the entrance. The doormat wasn't designed for this much water, and even with her shoes off, Kaede's bare feet left wet footprints on the floor. She walked into the living room and froze because everything in here, even after two weeks, kept the smell of Iruma. She didn't turn on the lights because she remembered this room best in the dark. The couch where she and the new girl had fallen asleep, the TV across the hall, and the stack of DVDs. One of the cases was still lying open.
Running her fingers along the soft back of the couch, Kaede closed her eyes regretfully and retreated to the bathroom to wipe herself with a dry towel. She froze with it in her arms, burying her nose in the familiar shampoo. Then, forcibly pulling herself away from the soft fabric, she walked past the kitchen and into the next room. A switch flicked, and a light bulb illuminated things untouched even by grieving relatives.
All of this Kaede had already seen when she surveyed Iruma's room on her first visit. Seen countless volumes of basketball manga, textbooks, and a calendar. It remained unturned: this room was forever stuck in July. Only, it seemed, there had been a new entry—on Wednesday a couple weeks ago, Iruma had drawn too many exclamation points. Kaede, though no one could see her, covered her smile with the palm of her hand.
Knowing what the closet hid, Kaede sat down at the desk. Unfortunately, the new girl didn't keep diaries and didn't write much down—old school notebooks were for homework, not personal secrets. The new girl's handwriting was distinctive: hurried, sloppy, as if each line had been carved with a penknife. Kaede took a blank sheet of paper and wrote the new girl's name on it, comparing the smooth angles of her kanji to the Pisan towers of Iruma.
“Tell me you left something behind.”
Desperate to dig through her papers, Kaede started up the computer and hovered over a screen that required her to enter a password. The first thing she did, of course, was try Iruma's date of birth. It didn’t work, but the prompt popped up:
The Bitch.
“How did I not think of that,” Kaede sighed, typing in Enoshima Junko's name.
The screen faded out for a few seconds and displayed the desktop. Sure enough, the wallpaper featured some tanned basketball player in the middle of a game. There weren't many folders, mostly the classic ‘STUDYING’ (papers, e-textbooks, and pictures of the study board), ‘WORK’ (resumes, which Kaede had already seen), and ‘HP’. The Academy folder contained magazine articles about Junko, pictures of Junko, rumors about Junko, Junko, Junko, Junko. Kaede clicked through all this nonsense and reached for the browser icon. She didn't log into messenger, lest Iruma's mother and father have a stroke. No one was stopping Kaede from checking emails though.
Among the spam (‘Increase your talent!’) and newsletters, a few read email chains stood out. Iruma had sent out resumés to dozens of companies and received an equal number of polite rejections. Judging by the calendar, a small percentage of employers agreed to interview, each time with a dire outcome. Not surprisingly, the new girl didn't care for Kaede's snide remarks in the first few days: she couldn't afford to lose the job.
The most recent email was sent to someone named Kaito: ‘check out my resume? ’ with a file attached. Iruma got a smiley face in response. The new girl’s penultimate correspondence was with Celestia Ludenberg, who turned up just before the new girl took a job with Team DANGAN. Kaede thought it would be necessary to thank her and Kirumi. Then again, if the new girl hadn't contacted her, maybe she'd still be alive.
Kaede shut down the computer. She wanted to get up from the table, but noticed a daruma doll on one of the shelves and reached out to it. At the bottom, Iruma had written her name and painted over the doll's one eye. Kaede weighed it on her hand with regret, easily guessing what exactly the new girl had wished for and what she had never achieved. Or rather, she had, but at the very last moment, and simply hadn't been able to return home to celebrate her victory.
Kaede finished the other eye herself and returned the daruma to its rightful place.
“It should have been you,” she put her palm over its eyes, closing them like a dead man's. “I'm always doing your work for you, new girl…”
The last tether inside her snapped. Kaede lay on the bed, crumpling against the hard pillow and covering her face with her palms. Through the gap between her fingers, the ceiling was blurry. How often did the new girl lay like this and stare at it? She didn't look like someone capable of being sad for long. How long would Kaede's sadness last, she wondered.
Letting her arms fall to the bed and turning on her side, hugging the Iruma-scented pillow, she dozed off.
She woke to the sound of a slamming door and struggled to open her eyes. Her head was buzzing, her nose was stinging, and Kaede barely had the strength to move. She blinked, not believing her eyes, because standing in the doorway with a satisfied smile and some kind of bag was Iruma. She kicked off her shoes in the hallway and walked unceremoniously into the kitchen.
“You're really sick, Bakamatsu! I thought you had to be dying to miss school.”
“You don't think I can get sick?”
“You?” Iruma left the bag on the kitchen table and tilted her head snidely. “The first time in three years. Normal people get sick more often. Well, you're not normal, I could tell.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at Kaede. Kaede reciprocated her gaze. Her sleepy and cold-stricken brain was trying to comprehend that the new girl had actually found out her address through the teachers and, more importantly, wanted to come. She and this Iruma had gotten close a long time ago, almost officially dating, but Kaede was in no hurry to call her here. She had no concept of home, it was associated with something vile, and she didn't want to drag Iruma into her depression.
Well, now that she's here.
“Thank you for coming,” Kaede said, coughing and looking away. “Did you bring homework? Better get out of here soon, I don't want you to get sick too.”
“I’ll be fine.” Iruma was smiling so happily, as if she enjoyed seeing Kaede in such a state. She guessed, despite the circumstances, it was something special to her. “I know how prickly you are, but I'm not leaving until I make you some food and make sure you're resting.”
“You don't like me lying down? How else am I supposed to rest?”
“Silently.” Iruma gave her a flick, taking advantage of Kaede's arms being too heavy to lunge back. As she was about to get up, Iruma noticed something over her head and froze.
“What is it? Cockroach on the wall?”
“You got cockroaches in here?”
“Not really. So what are you looking at?”
Iruma reached over to the bedside table and placed the stuffed bunny on Kaede's chest. Iruma waited for some sort of reaction, but Kaede couldn't say anything to her, just stared into the worn black eyes of the toy. For some reason she didn't have the heart to get rid of it.
“It's torn right here,” Iruma lifted its head with her finger, showing a large hole at the neck. “Wow. You could hide your ego here.”
“That’s how it should be,” Kaede bit her lip and raked the bunny, turning away from the wall with it. Her eyelids were closing against her will. “If you intend to stay, I'll take another nap, okay?”
“Sure. You don't mind curry for dinner? I eat it most of the time.”
Kaede didn't answer. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but by the time she woke up again, the apartment smelled of food. Iruma, from the sounds of it, was still fiddling around in the kitchen while Kaede rubbed her eyes tiredly. She could still feel the tingle of the cold in her lungs, but she was rested enough to stop playing dead.
“Good morning, Bakamatsu. Feeling better?”
“A little. How long was I asleep?”
“I don't know. An hour? Did you have nightmares? You woke up a few times,” Iruma looked away and wrinkled her nose. “Maybe ten.”
Kaede frowned, trying to remember. She had nightmares too often for her to memorize them. No need to burden Iruma with this. Her worrying would only get her in trouble.
“Fever, I guess. It'll pass,” she sat down at the table in her pajamas. “Thanks for the food.”
“That's nothing,” Iruma wiped her hands on her apron and stepped back while Kaede lazily chewed on the rice, “Here you go!”
She was handed the stuffed bunny again. Kaede took it, giving the new girl a puzzled look, but she was even more surprised when she didn't see the familiar cut on its neck.
“You…”
That was all she had to say. Despite its pitiful condition, the new girl had managed to fix the bunny so well that you couldn’t see the stitches without a microscope. Kaede just sat there with her mouth open, unsure of how to respond.
“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Why did she do it? How could anyone do that? Did she just… stitch it up?
Maybe it was the cold, but something in Kaede's head was broken, and she sat there like a frozen computer, unresponsive to the new girl's attempts to reach her. Iruma even sat down next to her and turned her around.
“Kaede? What's wrong with you?”
“I need to–”
To go to the bathroom, because one more second and she would have burst into tears. Kaede locked herself in there, oblivious to the fact that she was dragging a bunny by its plush paw. She slid down the door and sat down on the cold tile, breathing heavily. Her head was spinning, some blurry spots floating before her eyes. Kaede dug her fingernails into her knee painfully to bring herself back to reality. It took her a few minutes to catch her breath, but another glance at the bunny brought everything back.
She wasn't mad at Iruma. Kaede was so grateful to her that she couldn't put it into words. And at the same time, the new girl had touched something painful inside that couldn't be touched in any way. Kaede wasn't ready for that. Even as she calmed down, she didn't know what she would say to her. What she would be able to say without bursting into tears.
“Kaede?” Iruma knocked on the door. “If you're not feeling well, I'll call an ambulance.”
“Don't,” Kaede said, rising to her feet. “I'm coming.”
She opened the door and ran into a flustered Iruma, who immediately pulled her against her. Kaede hugged her with one arm, the bunny still dragging in the other.
“You're scaring me, Bakamatsu.”
“Th… th… thank you,” she closed her eyes, snuggling up to Iruma. “Thank you for sewing it up.”
“You’re welcome.”
She'd explain to Iruma that it was like ripping down those Junko posters of hers on the closet door. Only there was no such closet in this Iruma's life. She probably didn't have anything that traumatizing, and it helped Kaede squeeze out a smile.
“It's an important thing to me, but I could never fix it myself.”
Iruma's fingers tightened on her back.
“Something from your parents?”
“Let's not talk about it. Not now.”
“All right.”
Iruma pulled away, cheering up a bit, and looked around.
“Do you have any clean clothes? I didn't bring anything.”
“Are you going to spend the night?”
“Yeah. Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor. I don't want to leave you alone,” Iruma scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. “Being sick is always lonely.”
Kaede laughed. She clutched her stomach, wiping away the no longer sorrowful tears.
“You’re such a… new girl.”
“What's that supposed to mean?!”
“I'd be happy if you stayed,” Kaede took her hand and looked into her eyes seriously. Iruma flinched, embarrassed. “I feel safer around you. Don't go, please.”
“I'm not leaving, Bakamatsu.”
“Promise?”
“Of course. Where would I go?” she laughed, squeezing Kaede's hand in return. “I'll always… … …you should probably eat.”
“I'll take your word for it.”
Overcoming her embarrassment, Iruma nodded and gently nudged her in the side.
“I keep my promises.”
“I know, new girl. That’s why I…” she froze with a breathless Iruma and smiled with the corners of her lips, “will go get my dinner.”
Kaede opened her eyes, not understanding why the walls in her apartment had changed color, where the kitchen had gone, or how she'd even managed to fall asleep. After a second, catching the orange stain of a basketball on the closet, she jerked up on the bed and looked around. Grabbed her head. Ran to the exit, yanked the door open, and peered into the empty living room.
The details of the dream slipped away from her with every sip of reality, no matter how hard Kaede tried to retain them. Bitterness and resentment squeezed her throat. Why was she dreaming this? Why couldn't she stay there? She no longer remembered what the dream was about, but she knew for a fact that she and Iruma had been there together. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
She walked back into the room and picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor. Straightening up, Kaede noticed some sort of book by the headboard of the bed. The pillow had been lying on top of it before.
There was a message written in sprawling handwriting on the front cover.
‘Happy birthday, Iruma-chan! Get well!
– Your secret admirer.
P.S. Yeah, it's Rantaro.’
Kaede held her breath before turning the page.
...
...
... The rising cheers will become your courage
So stand up now, no matter how much pain you feel
But in the end I'm sure you'll laugh
Everything will be swept away in victory and cheer
“What's that song, Akamatsu-san?”
Kaede stopped the playback and set the phone aside, slowly turning her head. Kirumi was crossing the roof, bundling up in her jacket and fixing her hair in the onslaught of wind. Before, she would have been worried that Kaede was sitting so close to the edge, but they had seen too much of each other lately to reprimand each other for petty things.
Besides, if she wanted to jump, she would have done it a month ago.
“Found it on Iruma's computer.”
“That's about how I envisioned her musical tastes.”
“So do I. When I listen to this,” Kaede was silent for a moment, waiting for another gust to pass, “I feel like the door is going to open and she's going to walk in like nothing happened.”
“...”
Along with Kirumi's cold fingers, her jacket dropped to her shoulders. It was no use. Kaede had been sitting on the roof for so long that she probably had pneumonia at the very least. There was something ironic about that.
“I'll see to it that Shinguji-san puts up a fence here after all.”
“It wouldn't have stopped me,” Kaede hummed as she dangled her feet over the Tokyo skyline below. She had come to watch the lights come on in the evening, but on a gray, cloudy day, everything blended into a featureless blur behind the overcast haze.
Kirumi crouched down next to her, hugging her with one arm.
“I'll leave you alone if you want, but please, Akamatsu-san, dress warmly. Did you enjoy being in the hospital so much?”
Her leg was barely healed, but Kirumi was exaggerating. Excluding how long Kaede's body had lain there while her consciousness lived in NeoWorld, she barely remembered her room. She wouldn't be able to go back there even if she needed another surgery. She was sick of coming to the office, too.
“You'll say I'm up to my old tricks, but I really need to feel something right now.”
“I realize I've been busy lately,” Kirumi pressed her lips together, “but if you need my services again, I'll find an opportunity. I didn't know that–”
“No, Kirumi,” Kaede shook her head tiredly, blindly tapping her phone, switching the song. “I already told you, our old relationship is over.”
As if the previous song wasn't motivating enough, this one began with the cheerful strumming of an acoustic guitar. Kaede wondered if music made days like this less gray for the new girl.
“If you want,” Kirumi said, “we can build a new one.”
Kaede frowned and reached for the phone again. You can't have conversations like this while some rock band is telling you to never give up. Surprisingly, Kirumi shook her head, “It doesn't bother me, Akamatsu-san. Judging by your phone battery, you've been listening to music all day. I don't want to spoil the moment.”
“Rather Iruma's spoiling it, as is her unwillingness to listen to anything slower than presto prestissimo.”
She found a compromise by scrolling through several songs and finding the one she liked best. Not least because of the keyboard intro.
“Well, I've put off saying that long enough,” Kirumi wrapped her arms around herself. Kaede would have given her the jacket, but it would be returned immediately. “I kept thinking that if I approached you first, I would take advantage of your weakness.”
She stopped talking and looked questioningly at Kaede. She chewed on the last word for a while. ‘Weakness’ was not something she was used to hearing addressed to her.
“We've never been afraid to use each other.”
“Yes, as long as our relationship existed.”
“If that makes you feel bad, so be it,” Kaede waved her hand, “I give you the unique right to use me for the rest of this day.”
It's easier than denying how down she looked. Kaede had eyes and enough mirrors in the house.
“It's as if you haven't changed,” Kirumi smiled in a way she rarely did, sincerely. “You're still so easy to indulge my whims.”
“Was I supposed to change?” Kaede looked at her wrists hidden by her shirt. All the scars were from long ago, and she had nothing left of Iruma. Even the marks on her knee were Junko's. “I don't remember anything. I mean, I haven't forgotten, but I can't remember. It's like someone put all my memories in a drawer and threw away the key. I can guess what's inside, but I'll never really know.”
The music let them down again with an out-of-place girl singing, so Kaede scrolled through a few more songs until she came across one that started with a sad guitar. Kirumi placed her hand over her right palm.
“It's like you haven't changed, but we both know that's not true. It hasn't been a long time for us, but you've been there, in the other world, so long that Gokuhara-san has lost count trying to explain it to me. I've known you all these years, but the last time we saw each other was in the hospital, Akamatsu-san, back when Iruma-san was still with us. Now I'm getting to know you all over again.”
When Kaede remembered Iruma, her wrists ached, but when someone else did, everything inside her twisted like in a blender. There was no one to scrub off the pieces of heart stuck between her ribs.
“Are you sure you want to? Maybe it's a sign that we shouldn't hang out in this new life. Even if I'm a different person in your eyes, I'm not less of a broken person. Probably more now. I can't give you anything, Kirumi. I have nothing.”
“That’s not–”
“NO!” Kaede yelled against with the wind. She threw her feet up on the roof and stood up, wobbling, ready to fall at any moment, but miraculously keeping her balance. “I don't have anything else. Ryoko was right. The best way to humiliate someone was to fill their emptiness with emotion and then take it away. Oh yeah, in our world it's called despair!”
Kirumi rose to follow her, guarding with her back the Tokyo beyond the roof's edge, but Kaede wasn't about to kill herself. She had already realized that the best punishment for her was to just sit and watch.
“Why do you think you have nothing?”
“Because,” Kaede choked on all the arguments she could throw at Kirumi if she chose the right one, “because–”
She grabbed her cell phone off the floor and jabbed her finger at the anime cover of another song from the new girl's playlist.
“This! Is everything I have! Her songs, her resume, her pictures and her basketball! I have nothing else, Kirumi.”
Stumbling backwards away from the hands reaching out to her, Kaede blinked frequently, trying to make out the right song on her phone. It had been added as one of the last, and it was almost certainly meant for her, Kaede. Who else did Iruma know who wanted to take off her mask and smile?”
“You still have your–”
“What, memories?! A whole week, of which I spent a couple days snapping at her in the office and a couple more hanging out with other people. We spent a total of a dozen hours alone together. I hate this world, and so does she, Kirumi. Why does it steal everything I like from me?” her voice was shaking, but with Kirumi she could afford not to hold back. “My music, my family, my… I could have told her everything back then, but I wanted to wait until it was over—and now it is! And there's no one else to say it to! Why am I so stupid, Kirumi?!”
“Akamatsu-san–”
“NO! NO! NO!” she lunged backwards, fell in the middle of the roof with the phone and slammed her fist into the concrete. “No! No! No! No! No! No! No…”
She wasn't as strong as Iruma. After a few blows and the first drops of blood, her knuckles hurt so badly that Kaede couldn't move her hand. She couldn't even push away Kirumi, who had run up to her, her insistent touch, not for the first time, stopping her from doing something irreparable. Kirumi helped her sit up, placed the phone in her left hand, and kissed the bloody skin.
“Kaede, I know that's not true. You have more than that from her.”
“What?”
A perfectly straight fingernail touched her collarbones right where Iruma had a scar.
“You. When we were going to stop Junko, I had time to talk to her. I was surprised she left you. I thought after everything that had happened, she'd be scared.”
Kaede sobbed in tune to another sad track.
“Without her, you would have lost.”
“Would it have mattered to Iruma-san? As far as I can remember, she didn’t show much desire to protect the people of Tokyo from another madwoman lately. Do you understand why she came with us that day?”
Kaede swallowed, nodding briefly. It had been so long since she'd cried, she was completely unable to stop when she started to sink.
“To protect me.”
“If Iruma-san wanted to steal you from this world, she would have done it right away. She would have gone to the other side of the planet with you. She wouldn't have let you leave NeoWorld, but here you are. And if you don't remember why you made that decision, think about why Iruma-san went along with it. All of your moments together, whether you remember them or not, have not gone unnoticed. I'm saying that you've changed, not to distance myself, but to remind you,” Kirumi lifted her chin; such a familiar gesture in a world where nothing was familiar, “Iruma-san chose you as much as you chose her. Try to honor that wish. Try to find meaning, even if it seems like it's in the past.”
Kaede's phone finally went dead, and the roof was quiet for a while. She sniffed her nose a few more times and rose to her feet, wiping away the remaining drops of tears. Kirumi followed her.
“And if you can't do it alone, I'll help you. You will always have me. Not as someone who refuses to heal your wounds in the name of her own desires, but as your friend, Kaede. And if one day that changes, I will not resist, but for now… for now you must know that in this terrible world, one flame has gone out, but dozens of others are burning.”
Kirumi hugged her, and Kaede closed her arms around her back as well. She knew that no words would stop her nightmares, no words would allow her to let go of her regrets, but now, perhaps… now those words drowned out something. Not just the pain—something more always came along with it. For the first time in her life Kaede was willing to sacrifice that for the sake of stopping the bleeding.
The door to the stairs opened quietly. A flustered Ryoko peeked out onto the roof, but when she saw them, she smiled faintly and closed the door. Kaede lowered her head onto Kirumi's shoulder, closing her eyes.
The pedestrians in Tokyo were hurrying about their business, glancing at their watches and crossing the road carelessly. Huge banners advertising Team DANGAN's new computer game peered from every pole. The teaser was playing on an old hoarder's small TV; he spat and changed the channel.
“In other news. Today, on the fifth anniversary of the Hope’s Peak Academy tragedy, when dozens of young talents died, Japan's security minister is holding a press conference to unveil a commemorative plaque!” The red-haired news reporter announced cheerfully. “Live from the scene is our special correspondent Otonashi Ryoko. Otonashi-san?”
The camera picked up a girl with scarlet hair in a light fall jacket, who rattled into the microphone like a machine gunner:
“Thank you, Rina. Indeed, today all of Japan is mourning the deaths of Hope’s Peak Academy students from five years ago. It was known as the best school in the country, and its graduates were expected to accomplish great things, many of them holding high-ranking positions in the government, winning prestigious prizes, advancing science, and excelling in sports. Soon after the Tragedy, the public feared new threats from the talented ones, but thanks to the concerted efforts of the security department headed by the late Amami Ren, the situation was brought under control. Now the participants of those events are being rehabilitated in special centers with the help of revolutionary virtual reality therapy.”
“So,” Ryoko continued, taking the microphone with her other hand as the cameraman showed the Academy building with its scaffolding and workers scurrying about, “the talent cultivation program has been shut down for the time being, but Japan is once again using the services of Academy graduates. The school itself is to be restored and converted into a cultural center for developing children and teenagers. Minister of Security Tojo Kirumi gives a speech at the unveiling of the plaque right now.”
The reporters surrounded a tall woman in a suit and dark leather gloves, who dutifully accepted the plaque from her assistant and helped place it on the front of the building.
“Today is a day of remembrance for a terrible tragedy,” she said quietly, but her speaker-enhanced voice echoed from every television set in Japan. “I offer my condolences to the friends and relatives of the victims, as well as to all those who were directly or indirectly affected by those events. I would like to observe a moment of silence in honor of the 78th class of Hope’s Peak Academy. The kids who tried to use their talents to stop the chaos going on in the school.”
Standing behind Kirumi's back, a blonde girl in a white shirt and pants rolled her eyes.
“ Kaede,” Kirumi said with just her lips, touching her palm reproachfully, “every gesture we make is photographed. Please be serious. This is a moment of remembrance.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, Madam Minister,” she whispered, smiling slyly. “You've just rehearsed that speech for so long it makes me laugh. Our country…”
“Our country must move forward,” Kirumi said, glancing at her assistant. “We will continue to nurture the talents of the younger generation, care for the elderly, and strive for productive coexistence with the world. I promise you that in this position, I will ensure Japan's security and prevent a repeat of the Tragedy. Thank you very much for your trust.”
She and Kaede bowed in sync, though the assistant held her stomach to keep from bursting into laughter.
“To conclude our report, I will interview a former Hope’s Peak Academy scout who is now the head of a computer game development company, Shinguji Korekiyo. Good afternoon, Shinguji-san. As far as I know, you also wanted to make a statement?”
A man in a cloth mask and brown cap nodded courteously to Ryoko.
“That's right. Today, on this memorable day, I would like to restore justice. You see, for all the Academy's efforts, some talents have gone unnoticed, despite their merits and invaluable help in resolving the situation. Today I, the Super High-School Level Scout, would like to award titles to those who, for whatever reason, did not become students of the main course of this once prestigious institution.”
There were two people in the frame. One was a tall girl with pigtails in a tracksuit, red, with drops of sweat on her nose, and the other was a short girl with scarlet hair who stared at the camera.
“Chabashira Tenko,” Shinguji announced, and the pigtailed girl stepped forward, bowing deeply, “I hereby proclaim you Super High School Level Aikido Master. Wear this title with pride! We expect you to defend the honor of Japan at the next Summer Olympics.”
“Th-th-th-thank you!!!”
“Yumeno Himiko,” the girl in the pointy hat now came out, “I hereby proclaim you Super High School Level Magician. I hope that your unusual abilities will continue to be used in the search for missing people!”
“Mm-hmm,” Himiko replied eloquently.
Reporters immediately surrounded them, but Ryoko shushed the cameraman who tried to change the shot. Shinguji coughed politely and folded his hands in front of him.
“With the last title the Academy will ever give out, I would like to honor the person who gave their life so that we can all feel safe today. I hereby proclaim Iruma Miu as Super High School Level Basketball Player.”
Shinguji continued giving interviews, taking the brunt of the reporters' fire while Kirumi and Kaede were squirming in their very nice-looking but never warm clothes.
“I have a coat in the car, Kaede.”
“I'm fine,” she snorted. “Let's go get Ryoko. I think she's the only one we didn't invite.”
Otonashi had found them herself. Handing the microphone to the cameraman, who was already breaking under the weight of the camera, she sprinted to meet the top of the current security department.
“And you said you'd refuse a promotion, Kaede-chan,” she murmured. “Wouldn't you be bored with a job like this?”
“She's not bored,” Kirumi smiled, and she and Kaede looked at each other knowingly. “Otonashi-san, we'd like to invite you to dinner. The others will be coming as well.”
“Ooh, a party! Can I bring Mukuro? And some friend of hers, they're so close now,” Ryoko wrinkled her nose, “I'm jealous.”
“Sure.”
“I see everyone's here,” Shinguji broke free from the reporter's grasp and walked over with a framed certificate, holding it out to Kaede. “Akamatsu-san, I thought I'd better hand this to you. I hope… you'll be pleased with it.”
“Thank you, Shinguji-san. How's the virus research going?”
“Come on, Akamatsu-san,” her former boss grumbled, “let's not talk about work, at least for now…”
Sunday evening was spent preparing for dinner. While Kirumi tended to the kitchen, Kaede cleaned the apartment and answered the numerous messages from invited friends who needed to know if their little get-together was going to happen. As Kaede lay on the couch, having polished the apartment to a shine, the doorbell rang.
“I'll get it,” she shouted and opened the door. Amami Rantaro stood on the doorstep, tanned but red from the cold, wearing a scarf and coat. He stretched out his arms, hugging Kaede, and nearly stomped on the freshly mopped floor.
“Akamatsu-chan! Where's Tojo-chan?”
“Good evening, Amami-san,” she looked out of the kitchen, “Come in, I'm still in the middle of cooking. Kaede will keep you company.”
“Wow,” he whispered as he changed his clothes, “Amami-san? She's learning!”
“We've been practicing for a long time,” Kaede grinned. “You can't imagine how hard it was to teach her to call me by my first name.”
“Oh, I can. Here you go,” he pulled a stack of music CDs out of his backpack. “All signed. Next time you'll go to your concerts yourself! And these are Tojo-chan's new gloves… don't tell her how much they cost.”
“Why are you mentioning it then, you dunce,” Kaede kissed him gratefully on the cheek. “Thank you. How do you like your snowboard?”
“Amazing! I just met a guy in the mountains, he's nice but noisy, he kept telling me about some kind of swamp spirits. Anyway, where are the others?”
Kiibo and Gonta arrived on time, and immediately went to help Kirumi while Rantaro told Kaede about his adventures. And if Gonta was a good help in the kitchen, Kiibo almost burned the salad (how and why…), so he was sent out the door.
“I'm trying to learn how to cook,” he said thoughtfully, “but since I don't have taste buds, it poses a challenge. I follow the recipes, but so far it turns out, as Celestia-san would put it, la merde.”
“Ignore her,” Rantaro said, “her taste for food is based on the number of zeroes in the price tag.”
Tenko and Himiko rushed in next. They proudly pulled out a six-month-old kitten with white fur and huge blue eyes.
“We wanted to introduce you!” Tenko's joyful voice reached the kitchen. “This is Miu-chan!”
Rantaro laughed, and Kaede raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Mm,” Himiko stroked the cat, “they do look alike.”
“We found her outside in the rain, she's so cute! Do you want to pet her, Kaede?”
“Uh…”
“Miu,” the kitten meowed and squinted her blue eyes. Kaede squinted back.
“Hi,” she said gently, taking her in her arms. The kitten hissed and scratched at her, leaving a long streak at the edge of her sweater. “Fuck! Get her away from me!”
“Hi, Miu-chan!” Rantaro chuckled, leaning over and gently stroking the cat's head. She immediately purred and began to rub against his legs. “She's so cute!”
“The hellspawn,” Kaede muttered, hiding a smile.
The apartment, despite its immodest size, was getting crowded. Ryoko, as promised, had brought not only her sister, but also her new friend. The dark-haired girl with the scarlet eyes stayed close to Mukuro, and the two of them looked at each other like introverts who had just stepped into the light of day.
“Her name is Harukawa Maki,” Ryoko whispered to Kaede, “I think they met at work.”
“What kind of work?”
“You know,” Ryoko scratched the back of her head, “that one. They're still trying to get used to peacetime.”
“Ikusaba-chan!” Rantaro rushed to hug her too. “You're Harukawa-chan, aren't you? Welcome to my humble abode!”
“This is not your abode.”
“Shush, Akamatsu-chan.”
“Hello,” Maki mumbled, and no one else heard her say anything else for the evening.
The last to enter solemnly were Shinguji in Buddha attire and Celestia in a dress as luxurious as if she had a reception at the imperial palace in an hour. She was the last to sit at the table, but Shinguji was the first to stand.
“Without further ado, I would like to tell you the glorious news,” he raised his champagne glass, “Celestia-san and I are getting married!”
Tenko and Rantaro clapped loudly, Kirumi joined them discreetly, the others let out an unsure ‘yay’. Rantaro poked Kaede in the side and whispered, “What's the holdup, Akamatsu-chan? Look, the clock is ticking…”
She silently showed him the ring finger with the ring on it, and the boy choked on his cider.
“How?! When?! And you didn't tell me?!”
“Six months ago, while you were in America,” Kaede said snidely. “We didn’t tell anyone, so that we wouldn't have to deal with… this.”
“I'm so happy for you!!!” Tenko sobbed loudly on Himiko's shoulder. “Yumeno-san, two loving hearts are finally together! Isn't that what every couple should strive for?”
“Mm,” Himiko pondered, “I don't think so.”
In the joyous commotion that ensued, no one noticed Mukuro and Maki look at each other, blush and hide their palms behind their backs.
The gathering of old friends continued until four in the morning, when even the most stalwart had to bow out and go home. Kirumi and Kaede silently collected the dishes and cleaned up. When they had cleared away most of the trash and Kirumi reached for the unwashed plates, Kaede touched her shoulder.
“Let's do it later.”
The woman caught her thoughtful look and nodded. She followed Kaede into their bedroom, where the certificate Shinguji had given her hung above the desk. Kaede pulled the very photo album signed by Rantaro out of the top drawer, sat down on the bed next to Kirumi, and began flipping through it. She wasn't as interested in the pictures of the other guys as she was in Iruma smiling from some of the photos. She was hugging her friends and looking directly into the camera, making Kaede grip the edges of the album tighter.
“Are you sure you don't want to visit her?”
“I told you,” Kaede shook her head, “if I go to her, I'll never go back. I don't regret anything anymore, but how could I… I literally gave up on heaven,” she raised her head, looking at the moon's disk outside the window. “Maybe she was the one who convinced me.”
“I think she wanted you to live your life to the fullest.”
“I think I've lived a lot of lives,” Kaede placed her palm on the photograph. “I dream of snippets every day, and I don't know if they were real. I dream about her every day.”
Kirumi was about to say something, but hesitated.
“You know, I can't sleep with dirty dishes. I'll be back soon.”
She kissed Kaede on the cheek and left her in the bedroom. Kaede looked back at the door gratefully and walked over to the synthesizer in the corner, pulling up a chair. She picked the last photo out of the album and set it in front of her instead of the music stand, her fingers over the keys.
“I don't know if I've played for you, new girl,” she whispered, “but I've always wanted to.”
The void that had once filled her entire existence had been long gone. She played with ease and elegance. Perhaps in some other life this would have been her talent?
Kaede smiled at the photo that Shinguji had secretly taken the first day they met. It showed Iruma with a plastic cup of tea in her hands, arguing with her boss.
The bedroom was filled with moonlight.