Katawa Shoujo Forums

We don’t deserve Misha. I’m interested in seeing how everyone’s reactions/the fallout will develop.

seannie4 wrote: ↑Tue Mar 05, 2024 9:31 pm

Not sure how that went.

Very good actually. I was not sure how you were going to portray Shizune after the last chapter, but what you did is what makes the most sense given her character.
There is some attachment to Hisao despite only knowing him for two days, but it is muted and not her main problem.
If anything I wonder how the school could fail to check up on her, after she a) was at the scene when it happened and b) was missing classes and the mandatory assembly. Those should have been very red flags and caused a counselor to show up at her doorstep - though of course that would have robbed Misha of her part here...

Excellently done! Kept me engaged from the start all the way through so far! Looking forward to whatever comes next!

Mirage_GSM wrote: ↑Thu Mar 07, 2024 5:07 pm

seannie4 wrote: ↑Tue Mar 05, 2024 9:31 pm

Not sure how that went.

If anything I wonder how the school could fail to check up on her, after she a) was at the scene when it happened and b) was missing classes and the mandatory assembly. Those should have been very red flags and caused a counselor to show up at her doorstep - though of course that would have robbed Misha of her part here...

I think it's pretty reasonable for something to possibly slip through the cracks in such an extreme, unprecedented situation. I can only imagine how overloaded the staff, particularly the counselors, already would be. Of course, Misha getting to play her part is the real reason, but I still think it's plausible.

Chapter 5: Blame

“Alright people, let’s do the roll call. Adachi?”

“Present.”

“Asagawara?”

“Here.”

“Awaji?”

“Yo…”

The sound of answering voices punctuates the afternoon air, echoing around the empty track field. A tall, tanned girl stands somewhat aside from the group at the edge of the running track, her long brown hair swaying in the gentle breeze.

It’s an unusual position for this particular girl, but what in the past few days hasn’t been deeply unusual?

“Ejima?”

“Here.”

“Esaki?”

“Yeah.”

“Fubuki…”

There’s a tension in the atmosphere, enveloping the gathered crowd like morning fog. The side-eye glances, the fidgeting, the kicking of heels, the unanswered questions waiting on silent lips. The tension remains even as the track team captain attempts to maintain the façade of normality, steadily working his way down the list as though nothing is wrong in the world.

She clenches her fist and grits her teeth. She can feel the side-eyes being thrown at her from every which way. Silently judging, observing, waiting for the girl who stands just a meter further apart than usual, as though she’s a bomb that could explode at any minute.

“Higaru?”

“Here.”

“Hosoi?”

“Here.”

“Ibaraza- ah… uh…”

The captain’s voice catches, stumbling, stuttering as if he wants to rewind time and take back that sound.

It’s too late. It’s as if all the tension instantly crystalizes, freezing as the one name that has been making its way through the halls and the mouths of every Yamaku student instantly becomes the center of deeply unwanted attention.

There’s a pregnant silence. The captain swallows, flustered, his desperate expression pleading with his own team to drop the issue, not to ask any further questions, and let him get on with it.

Most seem to get the message, the team’s eyes averting as the captain clasps his clipboard and clears his throat.

“What… exactly happened to Ibarazaki, captain?”

Most.

A second year’s innocent question startles the captain yet again, who scrambles to respond.

“Uh… w-well… she-”

“She killed the new kid in the hallway just outside the 3-3 classroom, that’s what happened!”

Miki Miura’s voice rings loud in the still air. A few gasps sound from the crowd; all eyes are well and truly on her now, but she can’t help herself. It feels good to finally cut the crap, to put a halt to this ridiculous tiptoeing around the issue and have them face the facts.

It’s because she’s sick. Sick and tired of people simply not taking this seriously. Sick and tired of people defending her. Sick and tired of people giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, give it up, Miki! This is bullshit and you know it.”

Miki whirls around on the ball of her foot to confront the voice, hot anger shooting through her veins like fire.

“The hell did you just say to me, Noriko?”

The girl shakes her head in response, the bangs of her boy-cut brown hair flicking from side to side.

“You seriously don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, do you, Miki? You go on about how crappy it is that everyone’s spreading rumors, and then a few days ago you suddenly change your tune and start spewing this bullshit about Emi to anyone who will listen.”

Miki grits her teeth. It’s the same things people have been telling her for days now, to calm down, to let it go.

But she can’t let it go, not when everyone’s so hell bent on sweeping the entire thing under the rug. Not when everyone’s so concerned with keeping the image they have of Emi safe in their heads, detached from the cold reality of the floor outside the 3-3 classroom.

“You think what Emi did was bullshit? You seriously think Emi killing the new kid is just some locker-room gossip? The police are walking around in the goddamn hallways for crying out loud!”

A huff of frustration issues from Noriko’s lips, her face clenched in a scowl, eyes ablaze.

“God, just stop going on about Emi killing the kid for one second, will you?! I can’t believe-”

“Guys, guys, please, there’s no need for any of this.”

The slightly frantic voice of the team captain cuts through the commotion, briefly deflating the argument between the two girls, his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture.

“Miki, Noriko, please, we’re here for a track club meeting, not a… kangaroo court on what may or may not have happened, alright?”

Miki suddenly becomes aware of the stares she’s getting, the concerned and disgusted looks from the gathered crowd. It does little to dampen her anger, but she relents slightly, stepping back and folding her arms.

“Kenta, stay out of this. Miki’s been doing this shit for days now and it’s pissing everyone the hell off. I’m not gonna keep letting her drag Emi through the mud just because of some rumour.”

Noriko and her posse evidently have no such compunctions. Her fiery glare cows the team captain into silence, before her group turns back towards Miki, surrounding her in a semicircle.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve to be throwing around murder accusations against a team member, Miki. Did you even listen to the principal at the assembly? There was an incident. The kid died. That’s all. Anything else is just pure speculation.”

Noriko’s dismissive tone sends the heat shooting back through Miki’s veins. She boldly steps forward into the semicircle, an upturned finger pointed at her teammate’s chin.

“Dead wrong, Noriko. There’s a damn good explanation for what happened. Emi was running in the hallways again, like she’s been doing for years. Some of 3-3 were already saying things to that effect. Seems that this time, karma caught up with her.”

Noriko and her group stand their ground.

“Right, and I’m supposed to trust the bullshit you spew over everyone else? Tch, you gotta be out of your mind. I’ve heard a million different versions of events this past week. Just ask the second years.”

Miki wheels around and advances on the group of cowering second year team members, confronting them with a scowl.

“Just what are you guys saying about Emi?”

The second years glance nervously at each other, before a bespectacled girl with twin pigtails responds shakily.

“… p-people in the common room were saying that Ibarazaki and the new guy got into a fight in the hallway. A l-lot of the girls were saying that it was the new guy who started it…”

Miki can’t help but scoff, incredulously. Is this what the rumors had mutated into? Is this what people are so desperate to believe?

“A fight. Really? You think this new kid would get into a fight with Emi? You think she killed him out of self defence? Are you even listening to yourselves?”

She turns to the crowd.

“Tell me, what comes to mind when you think of Emi? Fastest Thing On No Legs and all that shit, yeah? How about her recklessness? Tell me the one thing Emi is known for in the academy hallways. The one thing she gets her ass chewed out for the most.”

Murmurs rise through the air. Emi's well known and respected even amongst the second and first years for many reasons- her athleticism, her legs… and her tendency to treat the indoors as merely an extension of the racing track.

Miki continues, blatantly ignoring the captain’s futile attempts to grab her attention.

“I’m telling you all, right here, right now, that Emi ran over the new kid like a bulldozer and killed him on the spot. The principal and the academy can cover their ass as much as they want, but that’s the cold, hard truth.”

A nervous atmosphere settles over the crowd. Even Noriko’s own posse begin glancing at each other in consideration.

Noriko herself only gives a disdainful snort.

“What, you expect us to believe that Emi just bumps into this kid and poof, he drops dead? Be serious, Miki.”

Miki gives an exasperated sigh.

“Look around you, Noriko. You’re in Yamaku Academy. The premier dumping ground for the nation’s malfunctioning teenage bodies. Who knows what the new kid had. Is it that hard to believe he was that fragile?”

Her bluntness causes the crowd to recoil slightly. Noriko’s face turns to disgust.

“Holy fuck, you’re insensitive, Miki.”

“Insensitive or not, it’s true. Bottom line, Emi was there, and the new kid couldn’t take the fall. Maybe she knew about what he had. Maybe she didn’t. Doesn’t matter. Emi. Ibarazaki. Killed. Someone. That’s the reality of it.”

Another girl in Noriko’s posse pipes up.

“You think because you’re the queen bitch of the school, everyone has to believe what you have to say, Miki? That’s not how it works. You say all this and yet you still don’t have any proof that Emi was even involved!”

“Shut up, Shouko, you’re not even in his class! I am, and I heard Mutou-sensei, with my own ears, say that Emi was involved. He was there, for God’s sake. Don’t tell me you think I’m lying about that, too.”

Miki turns and points to a boy separated slightly from the commotion, staring off in a different direction as though totally unconcerned with the unfolding situation.

“Come on, back me up here, Haru! You were in class when Mutou said Emi was involved. Tell them!”

Haruhiko, jolted from his reverie, glances from side to side as he uncrosses his arms, eyes filled with the usual disinterest, hands fiddling with his trademark yellow hair ribbon.

“Well… it’s true that Mutou-sensei did mention Emi was involved in the incident.”

Miki raises her eyebrows and looks across the crowd, gesturing repeatedly at Haruhiko for emphasis.

“But… he really didn’t say anything more than that, Miki. I didn’t see what happened myself, either, so I can’t comment. And, by the way, could we get this over and done with? Listening to you guys argue is starting to drive me crazy.”

Haruhiko turns around to gaze at something more interesting in the distance, signalling the end of his involvement in this debacle.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. The team captain clears his throat, and immediately loses control of the situation when Shouko pipes up again.

“Even so, just because you’ve always had this agenda against Emi doesn’t mean you get to accuse her of murder, you psycho!”

This is a new angle. Miki is momentarily blindsided by the implications- clearly, any pretense of fact-finding has long been dropped.

“Wha… you… you think I’m saying all this because… you think I’m out to get Emi?”

Noriko, sensing an opening, advances on the reeling Miki, pushing the intervening captain out the way until they’re almost eye to eye.

“It’s obvious, Miki. From day one, ever since you’ve got here, you’ve always had it out for Emi! Don’t lie to me. Everyone knows about it. You’ve always done a shit job of hiding it.”

“What…? How does that have anything to do with-”

Miki is confused, off-balance. Noriko bears down on her with the intensity of a shark hunting a small fish.

“It’s because she’s better than you, isn’t it? It’s because she’s just faster than you, so you’re always taking second place while she gets the spotlight. You’re jealous.”

Noriko’s smirking now, like she’s just found Miki’s weak spot. The crowd is spellbound, frozen by the spectacle.

Miki feels physically sick. None of this is relevant… is it? Something beyond anger- rage; pure, hot rage- boils in her gut. It renders her speechless against Noriko’s verbal onslaught.

“You’ve always been jealous, Miki. You always wanted her place, her popularity, her spotlight. It’s… it’s why you’ve been so… gleeful about the whole thing, isn’t it? Your anger is all just for show. This is just character assassination.”

The boiling, bubbling rage, building and building. It’s beginning to block out everything around her, save for Noriko’s smarmy expression and her piercing words.

“You hate her so much that you’re willing to accuse her of murder in front of her own damn teammates?”

Noriko shakes her head, leaning right up to Miki’s face with a look of sheer disgust, as though she were looking at an insect.

“You’re sick. You’re beyond sick, Miki. Sick in the head. I can’t-”

“SHUT UP!!”

Miki erupts. She can’t take it anymore. She’s furious, incandescent, at their attempts to turn a murder into more girl drama. At their attempts to paint what happened as just the fevered imaginings of a jealous outsider.

She hates it. She hates them. She looks over the stunned crowd with unconcealed disdain, spitting the words she’s been longing to say.

“You guys can make up whatever bullshit explanations you want. She got into a fight. It was the new kid’s fault. The new kid just dropped dead in front of her for no reason. I don’t care. You’re all just finding excuses. In all your heart of hearts you know Emi ran. You know she was careless. You know we all ignored the problem until it was too late. None of you want to take responsibility.”

A tiny part of her realizes that she does sound sick, she does sound crazy, rambling and spewing like she is. But Miki’s always been a passionate person, for better or for worse, and she will not, can not, let what Emi did go.

But there’s an element of disgust there, too. Disgust at what Emi did, sure, but also at everything else. At the academy. At the staff. At everyone. For letting this happen in the first place. For allowing things to get to this point.

Disgust at her own teammates.

Disgust at herself.

Noriko laughs, cruelly, bitterly, as though she can’t believe what she’s hearing. The entire crowd, the captain, even her own posse, however, is shaken, stunned, hanging on to every word.

“Oh, now you start putting the blame on us? Now we’re the ones at fault? You think you’re so damn perfect, you get to tell us all our sins? I’ve seen you run in the hallways too, you fucking hypocrite.”

Noriko’s counterattack is haughty, desperate. Miki no longer cares. The rest of the team can hate her for the rest of her life, for all she cares.

“Yeah! I’ve run down the hallways! And you too Noriko! And Shouko! And Hana! And all the rest of you! I can personally attest that I’ve seen a good three-quarters of this team go flying down the hallways on several occasions. We’ve all flaunted the rules because none of us care enough! And now that your lord and savior in track and field killed someone because of it, you all want to sweep everything under the carpet and pretend you all had nothing to do with it?! It’s disgusting!”

Miki briefly wonders why her vision has gone so blurry when she belatedly discovers her tears- hot tears of rage streaming down her face, the droplets flying in all directions as she looses her words at her shocked adversary.

“You think I’m a hypocrite, Noriko? You think I’m sick in the head? That’s just fine too. The way I see it, we’re all sick. We’re all hypocrites. We let Emi run like a maniac through the halls of a school for the fucking disabled, and no one bothered to lift a finger for two whole years!”

She feels as though aflame, her anger at the entire mess spilling out onto the track and into the afternoon air.

She takes a step backwards. She can hardly bear to look at her own teammates any longer. Noriko and the rest of the crowd seem simply astonished at Miki's tirade.

“Emi murdered Hisao through her own stupidity. We all just stood by and let her! You all want to keep your hands clean. You all want to keep the image of innocent, talented Emi safe in your heads. You all want to pretend everything will just go on like before.”

Another step. More tears. Rage, rage, rage that they could possibly hope to ignore reality. Rage that they called her crazy for not doing the same. That she dared lift a finger against their athletic idol.

“It won’t! I can tell you that much! You can deny it all you want, but it won’t change the facts! Emi Ibarazaki killed the new kid! Nothing’ll ever be the same again!”

One more step backwards, her right arm outstretched, her one good index finger sweeping over Emi’s former teammates as she delivers her final, cutting verdict.

“You guys make me sick.”

Overcome with her emotions, Miki turns on the ball of her foot, and runs.

She runs. Away from the track, from the gathered crowd, past the bleachers and onto the academy grounds, blind, desperate, aimless.

She knows the risks. She knows that she’s being a total hypocrite, just like everyone’s saying. She knows that it’s the exact sort of stupidity that killed her own classmate.

She doesn’t care. She runs.

She runs.

She runs.

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Aaaaand we're back!

Apologies for the long delay, everyone. Work, military training, and injury (in that order!) all conspired to consume my life for the past few months. However, I'm now more or less back on my feet and able to start writing again .

Clearly, none of these kids are going to be justices of the court anytime soon. Yamaku is mentioned several times in the VN as having a very robust rumour mill in the best of times, so one can imagine the sheer insanity that would be unleashed in this sort of situation. I wanted to explore what that chaos would do to the student body- how quickly rumours mutate, and how quickly people take serious situations and use them for drama and politicking. Combining a matter this grave with the emotional maturity of teenagers and the byzantine web of school politics... it's a recipe for disaster. I may or may not be drawing from some of my own secondary educational experiences with this one... ha ha!

High schoolers can be scary, y'all.

The next chapter is a bit more straightforward, so I hope to get that out to you guys in a more reasonable timeframe (fingers crossed).

Once again, thank you all so, so much for your comments and support. It's so good to be back in the driving seat after a hiatus.

Stay safe, everyone.

Chapter 6: Condolences

“W-we’re here, Lilly.”

The sound of a passing car rises to a crescendo, the crisp mid-morning air rushing around her, rustling at her long, wavy hair done up in its usual ribbon.

She tucks an errant strand behind her left ear, before turning her head to the warm presence wrapped around her right arm.

“Thank you, Hanako. Are we in front of it now, or do we cross the street?”

There’s a brief hesitation. She can feel Hanako’s head turning side to side, rubbing against her shoulder as though for protection.

“I-It’s across the street. There’s a c-crossing a little further up we could use.”

“Excellent. Lead the way, please.”

The steady sound of their footsteps on the pavement fills the tranquil atmosphere, broken only by birdsong and the occasional road traffic.

It’s a quiet, unfamiliar part of town to Lilly. Ordinarily, she’d have no reason to venture into this patch of unremarkable suburbia.

Of course, this is no ordinary situation.

Hanako tugging on her arm indicates their arrival at the pedestrian crossing. They stop at the edge of the pavement, Hanako’s hand pressing against the call button with a dull metallic thunk.

“Hanako, thank you for guiding me all the way here. It’s been quite a trek... you’ve been very brave.”

“It’s n-nothing.”

It’s true. The journey has been little short of an odyssey, actual distance notwithstanding. The train ride to Kuzuoka Station was manageable enough, but Lilly knows that she wouldn’t have lasted five minutes navigating the foreign maze of streets and alleyways without Hanako acting as a reliable, if extremely timid, GPS.

The crossing signals change, the high-pitched warning tone reminiscent of a birdcall, piercing the air at regular intervals.

As they cross the street, Lilly turns her mind to the grim task at hand. The reason why she and her best friend have come to this out of the way suburb in Western Sendai on this fine Sunday morning.

Hisao Nakai’s funeral.

Lilly is no stranger to this sort of thing. At Yamaku, the death of a classmate is hardly unknown- an unpleasant, ever-present spectre that hangs over every year group like an unwelcome houseguest.

Of course, it’s the manner of Hisao’s death that has captured the student body’s imagination, setting the common areas, hallways and classrooms aflame with rumour, speculation and debate.

Five days in, Lilly is absolutely done with gossip. In her privileged position as the representative for Class 3-2, she’d happened to overhear confirmation of the grievous details: the expulsion of Emi Ibarazaki, and the commencement of a prefectural police investigation for manslaughter.

She’d kept the information to herself, not wishing to make a fuss, but the constant droning about what happened, who did it, over and over without pause- it saddens her.

What saddens her the most, though, is that, amongst the endless discussion, not once was the name of the now-departed boy ever mentioned. To the academy’s collective memory, it’s as if Hisao Nakai had never existed as a student, only as a maypole around which rumour dances.

Perhaps, if things had gone a little differently, she would have done the same, pushed the new student out of her mind, remembering him only in impressions and whispers, trying to get on with her life.

But she can’t. Not quite. Because she did meet the living, breathing, flesh-and-blood Hisao Nakai, if only for a brief moment. She can’t deny his existence so easily.

He had stumbled into the tearoom by pure happenstance, the door creaking as he entered, lost, confused, drifting. He’d sat down to tea with her, his gentle tenor voice betraying his awkwardness around her blindness, his hesitation at social interaction in what must have felt like an alien environment.

Regardless, she could still sense his earnestness, even in the little time they had to converse. They had gone to the library together, where he’d evidently run into Hanako. She’d almost immediately proceeded to bolt, as she was wont to do, yet his halting attempts to explain the situation were born not out of fear, but of genuine concern.

Lilly knew Hisao Nakai. As acquaintances at best, but she still knew him. She can still recall his words, his footsteps on the carpeted floor, his body heat radiating vaguely from across the table.

It’s for this reason she feels so strongly that she must attend Hisao’s funeral.

When word came down about the funeral (ever the literary pedant, Lilly noted it was technically a wake), it was as subdued as humanly possible. The teachers mentioned it only in passing, clearly not wishing to rock an already unsteady academy situation. For their part, the student body totally ignored the half-hearted invitation, carrying on as if nothing had been said at all.

Lilly understands why they did so. Hisao had only been a student at Yamaku for a mere two and a half days, and most students hadn’t even seen him. At maximum, they’d heard rumours about his entry into the academy, which barely had time to germinate before everything else came to a head. Most students would have no reason to attend the funeral of someone they knew next to nothing about.

Still, it rankles her that that none of Hisao’s classmates, regardless of how briefly they’d known him, would come pay their respects. It would be an insult to his memory. It seems to Lilly, therefore, that attending the funeral on behalf of the student body would be the only proper thing to do.

She’d gone up to her homeroom teacher, Miyagi-sensei, for the details, who responded kindly but with a clear, unspoken question: are you sure you want to do this?

Lilly had been insistent, and so was confronted with the herculean task of finding her way to a place deep in the Sendai suburbs which she hadn’t even heard of, much less been to. She had half a mind to venture here by herself, damn the consequences, or at least to prod one of her better sighted classmates into acting as her guide.

So, it came as a real shock when Hanako requested she be allowed to come along.

Lilly was taken aback. Hanako would never normally travel into unknown territory on a whim, let alone for a funeral, even less so for the funeral of a classmate. Considering Hanako’s background, she really wasn’t sure if the girl could handle something so… emotionally taxing.

To her regret, Lilly had hesitated at first. Sure, they’d shared the same class, but she was quite sure none of 3-3 had made much of an attempt to reach out to Hisao, let alone the reclusive Hanako. It seemed likely that the only real interaction between the two had been that aborted conversation in the library.

The only group Lilly knew for sure Hisao had fallen in with was her own cousin and her loudmouth interpreter. The prevailing rumour was that both had been present at the actual incident, which seemed to be confirmed as neither Shizune nor Misha made an appearance in the ensuing days.

But when questioned, Hanako had uncharacteristically stood her ground.

“I want to see Hisao, Lilly. Please.”

No stuttering. Hanako’s voice was filled with a firmness Lilly hadn’t heard in years. Clearly, this was something of serious import for Hanako. What could she do but accept?

“Lilly?”

Hanako’s voice shakes Lilly from her thoughts. They’ve stopped walking.

“Have we arrived, Hanako?”

“Y-yes. We’re at the front gate.”

Lilly takes a deep breath through her nose, smoothing out her blouse and skirt with her left hand.

Then, she makes a request- something that would not only benefit her, but hopefully help take Hanako’s mind off her anxiety around her scars.

“Hanako, could you do a favour for me?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to know my surroundings when we enter the funeral home. When I ask you, could you describe to me where we are and what’s happening? It doesn’t need to be too detailed, just something brief would suffice.”

Hanako takes a deep breath, too.

“O-Okay. Ahh… we’re f-facing the funeral home… it’s really large actually, it’s t-two stories with large windows… there’s a large carpark in front of it which is sort of half full… t-there’s a row of nice trees on the left… uhh…”

“That’s perfect, Hanako, thank you. Shall we be off, then?”

As they approach the entrance, Lilly can feel Hanako tighten her grip on her right arm and shrink behind her shoulder.

“Lilly, t-there’s a man in a suit at the entrance…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him.”

The two advance until Lilly can feel Hanako pulling back, telling her to slow down. Simultaneously, a young male voice rings out from just in front of her.

“Morning, ma’am. May I ask who you are here for?”

Lilly turns her head to the approximate source of the voice, putting on an ingratiating smile.

“Good morning, sir. My name is Lilly Satou, and this is my friend, Hanako Ikezawa. We’re here to see Hisao Nakai… we’re classmates from his high school, Yamaku Academy.”

“Ah, in that case, you can come right inside…”

There’s a pause as the young man’s tone becomes uncertain, as though he’s considering something.

“… d-do you need assistance, ma’am?”

Lilly keeps her smile.

“That’s quite alright. Thank you very much for offering.”

“If you insist. The room you’re looking for is just to the left, past the entrance.”

Stepping through the automatic doors, Lilly’s right hand reaches for Hanako’s left, encircling her fingers in a reassuring gesture.

“Are you ready, Hanako?”

She knows her friend must be fighting through her anxieties to remain here and not flee at the first opportunity. She can feel Hanako tense, breathe, and tighten her grip on her arm.

Hanako is fighting to be brave.

“Yes. Let’s go, Lilly.”

She’s certain.

With a small smile on her lips, Lilly indicates for Hanako to lead the way.

Upon entering the room, the first thing Lilly is confronted with is the sweet perfume of flowers, hanging in the cool, air-conditioned air of the funeral home. The lights are bright- that much even she can tell- and she can make out the low murmurs of scattered, distant conversation.

She whispers to the girl at her side, who seems to have shrunk almost entirely behind her back.

“Hanako, what am I looking at?”

She whispers in reply, her breaths quavering slightly.

“Ah! Uhh… i-it’s a really bright room with h-high ceilings… you’re standing in f-front of the central aisle with lots of chairs in r-rows on either side…”

Hanako seems to hesitate, before gathering up the courage to resume.

“… a-and at the end, there’s a l-large table with lots of flowers… s-so many different species and colours… and a p-portrait of…”

Hanako’s voice peters out, but it’s clear what she’s referring to.

“Thank you, Hanako, you’re doing very well. Can you see Hisao’s parents anywhere in the room?”

It’s a bit of a tall order, considering neither have ever met Hisao’s parents before.

“There’s n-not that many people around… m-maybe about a dozen or so… most of them are gathered in a group at t-the front row of seats.”

“That’s going to have to do. Let’s go, Hanako.”

As they approach, Lilly briefly wonders why Hisao’s parents elected to have his funeral all the way out here. From what she’d gathered, Hisao was definitely from the big city, likely Tokyo or Osaka, so would it not make more sense to have the funeral closer to his home?

Perhaps it had something to do with the logistics of the thing; she doesn’t know. She tries not to imagine having to organize such a grim affair for someone so young.

The sounds of murmurs and rustling clothing emanate from the gaggle of mourners, overlaid with a gentle but persistent high-pitched sobbing from what could only be Hisao’s mother.

Again, Lilly feels Hanako shrink ever smaller behind her back, but she has a duty to perform, and she will execute it to the best of her ability.

The murmurs die away as Lilly and Hanako approach the group, the shuffling of feet indicating a path is being made for them.

The sobbing too, quietens down to nothingness. A final tug from Hanako tells Lilly to stop, and she can vaguely sense the heat of two people seated right in front of her.

A sniffle, the rustling of cloth, the clearing of a throat. A female voice, hoarse from crying but attempting a semblance of dignity, issues to her front.

“… m-my apologies. Have… you come here for Hisao?”

Lilly’s mouth has turned unusually dry. She swallows, breathes in and out, gathering all the poise and elegance she can manage.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Lilly Satou, and behind me is my friend, Hanako Ikezawa.”

She pauses for a moment, for the tiny chance Hanako would like to introduce herself. The latter’s tightening grip on her right arm gives Lilly her answer.

“Both of us are third-year students at Yamaku Academy. Hanako is in Class 3-3, which was Hisao’s homeroom, and I am the class representative for 3-2, which is next door. In short, we are Hisao’s classmates.”

With her left hand, she unzips her skirt pocket and pulls out an embossed paper envelope, her fingers sweeping the mizuhiki knot over the surface. It is bushūgibukuro- condolence money, from both girls, in a black and white envelope Hanako provided.

Lilly takes a deep breath.

“Please accept this on behalf of both of us and our classmates. I am truly, deeply sorry for what has happened.”

Lilly bows, as deeply as she can manage without losing balance, offering the envelope with outstretched arms. After a brief hesitation, Hanako slowly follows, her long hair draping over Lilly’s neck and back.

The sobs start up again, choking, turning into a heaving cry right over her head. It’s painful to listen to, and Lilly worries that it may be affecting Hanako, who up until this point has stood her ground admirably.

There’s a shuffle of footsteps- the group must be surrounding the mother in comfort- and a low male voice whispers something Lilly can’t make out.

The mother sobs, and sobs, and sobs, for what seems to Lilly like a small eternity, continuing even after the bushūgibukuro is gently plucked from her fingers and both girls relinquish their bows.

Soon, there is only the sound of teardrops falling softly against the carpeted floor. The same male voice, calm but tinged with an accent Lilly recognizes, speaks to them.

“Thank you very, very much for your kindness, Miss Satou, Miss Ikezawa. As you have probably gathered, we are Hisao’s parents. I’m Takeshi Nakai, and this is my wife, Hana. It’s… very comforting to know that Hisao’s classmates are thinking of him, even if he was a part of your school for only a short time...”

The father’s voice loses its steadiness towards the end, and Lilly doesn’t have the heart to contradict him.

Instead, she begins to recall the little time she and Hisao spent together.

“I didn’t know Hisao very well, but I did have the opportunity to meet him. He had tea with me on his second day by chance, and we discussed little things for a few hours, such as what clubs there are and how he was fitting into Yamaku. I brought him to the academy library for the first time, where he met Hanako, and they too had a little conversation.”

Lilly decides to avoid going into the specifics out of consideration for Hanako. It’s not necessary in any case.

“He was very kind, very considerate of both myself and Hanako. Hisao was an interesting boy, and I wanted to get to know him better. It’s a great shame I did not get the chance.”

It’s jarring to be referring to someone she had tea with on Tuesday in the past tense, the impermanence of a human life laid bare. Look away for but a moment, and a whole existence just disappears.

Hisao’s mother suddenly speaks, fighting through her choked voice to get the words out.

“… thank you. Thank you… so much for reaching out to Hisao and getting to know him. Ever since… well, what happened to him before he came to Yamaku… he was so depressed, so lost, we didn’t know what to do with him. We were so scared he wouldn’t be able to handle going to this far away boarding school and would lock himself away….”

Evidently, the reason for Hisao’s entry into Yamaku, and very possibly the reason for his untimely demise, is still too raw a nerve for his parents to touch. Lilly doesn’t know what condition Hisao might have had- though not for want of speculation, if the constant academy rumormongering is any indicator- and she will probably never know.

The mother’s fears speak to something within Lilly, however. She wants to put them to rest.

“If I may speak plainly, ma’am, I did feel he was quite lost, both literally and figuratively, when I spoke to him. He hardly had any time to adjust, after all. But there was definitely still that spark in him. He hadn’t given up on friends, his schoolwork, or his life. He went to classes, explored the academy, and tried his best to fit in. I only met him because he was heading to the library after meeting the student council and happened to get lost. I can assure you, Hisao did not lock himself away when he arrived at Yamaku. He was simply ‘new.’ Other than that, he seemed a perfectly normal student. You had nothing to worry about, ma’am.”

Lilly finishes her little speech with as much tenderness as she can manage. She hadn’t intended to go on for so long- the words had tumbled out of her, driven by a need to comfort this mother who is clearly going through absolute hell.

The sniffles emanating from right in front of her indicate Hisao’s mother’s tears must have started up again, but there’s no keening wails like before. She seems much calmer this time around, which relieves Lilly to no end.

“You’re very eloquent, Miss Satou. And so very kind. Thank you…. I… I really needed to hear that.”

A gentle quiet lingers between them.

Then, an interruption from a most unexpected source.

“C-can I say something, Lilly?”

Hanako’s voice, shaky but resolute, catches Lilly off-guard, briefly disrupting her usual placid demeanour.

“Ah… Hanako… you can… if you want to.”

Lilly is uncertain, giving her reluctant permission, her tone carrying the clear, unspoken question, like Miyagi-sensei did to her.

Are you sure you want to do this?

She can feel Hanako tense, as though bracing herself for a great struggle. She really intends to follow through.

“M-Mrs Nakai… ah…”

The sounds fight to leave her lips. It must be taking everything she has to stand in front of these virtual strangers, at a funeral no less, and deliver these words of comfort.

“H-Hisao was… v-very nice to me… even if I didn’t a-appreciate it… at the time…”

Hanako’s voice is halting, her stutter coming back in full force, yet Lilly can feel the inner strength in Hanako’s words. Her right hand grabs her friend’s left, squeezing it in reassurance, encouraging her to continue.

“I… I wish n-none of this h-had happened to him…”

Lilly is yet again surprised by the uncharacteristic initiative on display. She can’t help but be impressed. Clearly, she’s been underestimating her friend this entire time.

“I-I’m really sorry, Mrs Nakai…”

Hanako’s voice trails off, and she begins to hide herself once again behind Lilly’s back. Clearly, she’s said her piece, her exhaustion evident.

“Miss Ikezawa, thank you. I… I’m sure Hisao would have loved getting to know you. Both of you…”

The mother’s kind words seem to relieve Hanako, who relinquishes her tense death-grip on Lilly’s arm.

Hisao’s father clears his throat.

“If I may ask, Miss Satou, and please forgive me if I’m being blunt or offensive, but it seems to me that you are…?”

He stumbles, trying to find a tactful way of putting his clear implication. Even surrounded by strangers, however, Lilly finds no point in hiding it.

“That’s correct sir, I’m blind in both eyes.”

Her straightforwardness must have surprised the gathered crowd, as there’s a short but uncomfortable silence.

Hisao’s father, on the other hand, seems unperturbed.

“Then we must thank you doubly for coming. Making your way here from the academy must not have been easy, so you both have our deepest gratitude.”

Lilly shakes her head.

“It’s nothing, sir. I’m so sorry that I can’t offer you more.”

“There’s no need. You and Miss Ikezawa have done more than enough already.”

He audibly swallows before continuing.

“If you’d like to offer incense, there’s an urn right underneath Hisao’s portrait. Would you like me to guide you?”

“That’s quite alright, sir. Hanako will help if I require it.”

Feeling the weight lift off her shoulders slightly as Hanako guides her away from the crowd and towards the table, Lilly steadies herself for her final, and probably most difficult, task.

Saying goodbye.

The smell of flowers here is strong, almost overwhelming. Hanako clearly wasn’t exaggerating when she said the table was filled with them.

“You’re in front of the urn, Lilly. Th-There’s a small box of incense right in front of your left hand.”

With practiced ease, Lilly extends the fingers of her left hand, deftly tracing the edge of the table, feeling for the wooden box, her fingertips brushing the pebbled surface of the incense grains. She may be of a different faith, but her ever traditionalist father ensured his children were well versed in all manner of Japanese traditions. It’s training that has never failed her before.

She pinches a small measure of the incense, her dainty fingers lifting the grains up and over the side of the bowl, searching for the dim heat radiating from the burner in the centre of the urn.

The warmth inside the urn reaches her fingertips and she releases the incense, a musty, smoky aroma immediately filling the air and her lungs as it burns.

She takes two steps backwards, placing her hands together with fingers pointing skywards, and bows once.

The end of a ritual. Like the making of a pot of tea.

Lilly starts to pray, and then stops herself.

Who does she pray to?

She’s Catholic, but she knows she’s in the tiny minority, and it’s highly unlikely Hisao shared her faith. She doesn’t even know what religion Hisao adhered to, if he did adhere to one at all. The spice of the incense burning before her provides no answer- it’s as much cultural as it is spiritual. Shinto or Buddhist, with her limited information, she cannot tell.

Divorced for some years now from her Catholic school of old, thrust into an academy filled with so many different peoples from across the country, she’s uncertain if God listens to the prayers of salvation for people of different religions, or quite possibly no religion.

Cliché as it sounds, she wants to believe in at least an afterlife, that Hisao is in a better place than the lost wanderer he was in Yamaku.

Lilly decides to split the difference. A prayer to God, and then a prayer to Hisao, directly. It’s unorthodox, but, for some reason, it feels like the proper thing to do.

Lord, guide and shelter Hisao, who has returned to You long before his time. Even if he does not know You, he is a kind and gentle soul, and needs your grace as much as any other. Forgive him his sins and his trespassers, so that he may find Your glory and join You in everlasting peace. Amen.

She pauses, taking measured breaths. Hanako stands almost stock still by her side, clearly trying not to disturb the moment.

Hisao.

I never got the chance to get to know you, but I’m glad that I managed to talk with you, at least once.

I hope, wherever you are, you can find what you were looking for.

Lilly’s lips quiver with silent words, hoping that her sentiments have reached beyond the veil, whatever it is.

She notes, with a sudden tinge of regret, that she doesn’t even know what Hisao looked like. She can only discern faces by tracing their features with her fingertips, which of course never occurred with Hisao, but even Yamaku’s endless sea of gossip never produced a consensus of his looks beyond ‘ordinary.’

Despite lying mere inches away from her fingertips, he remains but a voice in her memories.

“Hanako… could you describe one last thing?”

“Yes?”

“Could you describe what Hisao looked like for me?

Silence. A heavy, hanging silence. Lilly briefly begins to worry she’s pushed her luck with Hanako, when the girl finally, haltingly, answers.

“H-He had short, light brown hair… with a sort of sprig at the top t-that drooped sideways… he w-was about as tall as you are, Lilly… with dark brown eyes…”

Hanako falters, evidently scrambling for words.

“I… I guess he’s sort of… ordinary?”

Despite the situation, Lilly can’t help but give a suppressed chuckle, a small smile finding its way onto her lips.

“Yes, all descriptions of Hisao inevitably end up at ‘ordinary,’ it seems.”

The sound lightens the air a little. It’s a welcome relief.

Hanako’s voice again unexpectedly pierces the quiet.

“L-Lilly, I’d like to talk to Hisao.”

She takes a breath.

“Alone.”

Like the Denial of St. Peter, Lilly doubts Hanako for the third time that day, and again, the scarred girl, ordinarily shy in the extreme, stands her ground.

Lilly relents. This girl who she’s mothered over for years now is far stronger than she first imagined.

The warm presence that has been wrapped around her right arm ever since they departed the academy now releases its grip. Lilly feels strangely naked without it, but she doesn’t interfere, stepping back to give Hanako some privacy.

Lilly wonders, again, what sort of connection, if any, Hanako might have had to Hisao to provoke such a strong response. Her own time with Hisao was fleeting at best, let alone what occurred in the academy library. Maybe something had happened in their shared classroom? It seems unlikely, considering how Hanako endeavours to make herself as much of a non-entity in there as she can.

Perhaps, Lilly concludes, Hanako is here out of a sense of duty, like she is. It seems rather impersonal to put it that way, but the uncharacteristic firmness of the dark-haired girl lends itself to that theory. She can’t help but feel like the ferryman across the Styx, solemnly guiding the boy to wherever his soul goes.

Two thin arms wrap around her right side, the familiar warmth reasserting itself.

“I’m finished, Lilly.”

Lilly smiles, giving Hanako’s long hair a stroke with her left hand.

“Good job, Hana-”

The sound of footsteps passing behind interrupt her, rapidly moving to the place where she met Hisao’s parents.

Hanako tenses, her head turning against shoulder to see what’s happening. Lilly’s razor-sharp hearing, however, can pick up what is being said, even at this distance.

“I-I’m sorry… who are you?”

Hisao’s mother. Her tone is surprised, confused. Lilly frowns.

Another voice answers, an older woman’s, lower in pitch but bearing a suspiciously familiar accent.

“Look, I… I wanted to come here to say… I’m so, so sorry for what happened to Hisao. Please, please forgive us…”

“Th-That’s fine but… I don’t know who you are…”

Lilly’s heart is racing. Something in her brain is sounding the warning bells, even if she doesn’t quite know exactly what is wrong.

Hanako must have figured it out already, for she’s shaking Lilly’s right wrist, her whispers rapid and urgent.

“Lilly, Lilly, that… that woman… sh-she looks… she looks like…”

A deep breath is drawn.

“Mrs Nakai… I… I’m Meiko Ibarazaki. I’m the mother of Emi Ibarazaki.”

The bombshell is dropped. A stunned silence reigns. Lilly’s breath catches in her throat.

“I… I’m so, so sorry Mrs Nakai… I know it means nothing to you but… please, please forgive us, please accept my apologies…”

Meiko’s words turn to choked sobs.

“None… none of this should have happened to your son… he’s so young and… I can’t. I don’t know… I don’t know what to do anymore…”

Her speech loses its coherence, the tears clearly overcoming her composure.

“Please forgive us, please, please, please…”

Meiko’s voice dies away to nothing as she repeats her words, desperate, pleading, broken.

Everyone’s frozen. No one moves to support or remove Meiko, whose muffled sobs fill the heavy air.

Everyone seems to be waiting for the response of the mother.

“…”

Nothing.

At first.

“…”

“… get out.”

Lilly shudders. The mother’s voice is so low that she isn’t sure she heard it correctly. The tone, however, is unambiguous.

“… what?”

Meiko’s sobs cease instantly, replaced by a quiet but shocked confusion.

“Get out.”

Louder this time. Hisao’s mother seems to be spitting venom with every word. Icy, hate filled. That such a tone could come out of a lady who had minutes before offered them gentle comfort utterly shocks Lilly. Hanako seems to be doing little better, her entire body shuddering.

Meiko struggles to form words, clearly blindsided by this rapid turn of events.

“I… I…”

“GET OUT!”

The mother’s high-pitched scream reverberates like a shockwave across the gathered crowd. Lilly jolts, taken totally aback, a hand going up to her mouth in horror. Hanako quickly retreats behind her back, trying to shield herself from the unfolding chaos.

“Your daughter killed my only son, and you think you can come in here and ask for forgiveness?!”

The dam has well and truly broken. Lilly can hear the crash of a chair being flipped backwards, and the stamping of heavy footsteps. Hisao’s mother is yelling, screeching at the top of her lungs, directing all her rage at the lone parent of her son’s killer.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!”

There’s a loud thumping noise, followed by the muffled sounds of a scuffle, fabric and hair rustling together. The two girls are frozen, frozen, unable to do anything but stand as witnesses to the heart-wrenching scene.

Shouts go up from the surrounding group, frantic, yelling at them to stop, to get away, footsteps echoing as they try and separate the brawl, and over it all, the wretched cries of Hisao’s mother.

“Your daughter is a murderer!”

Over and over and over. Each time, the words stab into Lilly’s heart.

The sounds of the scuffle cease as the women are evidently pulled apart, gasping, sobbing. The shock of the brawl still dominates the air. For a long moment, there is no other noise.

Finally, Hisao’s father breaks the silence, his voice shaky yet filled with firm intent.

“Ms Ibarazaki, I… I must tell you to leave. At once. Please. Do not try to contact us again.”

Despite it all, there’s still one last bit of hesitation in Meiko.

“But…”

“Now, Ms Ibarazaki.”

There’s the sound of someone slowly coming to their feet, the sound of one person’s footsteps, the sound of tears gently falling onto the carpet growing gradually quieter as they disappear into the background.

It’s as though Lilly is back to when they first arrived, with the quiet sobbing of a mother once again filling the air.

“C-Can we leave, Lilly?”

It’s Hanako’s voice, trembling, shaken from what she’s just witnessed.

Lilly sighs. It does feel a little improper to up and leave now, as though they had merely dropped by to pay their respects.

But Lilly knows that Hanako is probably well past her emotional limit, and she herself has heard more than enough for the day. In any case, there’s not much point in hanging around.

What’s happening to Hisao’s family, though tragic, is beyond them.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

They turn their backs on the boy, the boy who had been a living, breathing classmate of theirs a mere five days earlier, and make for the exit.

Hanako’s hand grips the handle, the door opening with a rush of cool air.

Lilly turns her head, one last time, towards where the boy lies, never to wake again.

Goodbye, Hisao.

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Turns out I write in bursts. Once I get in the groove, I just have to keep writing until I've exhausted it.

Lilly was not the ideal POV character for this chapter, but I wanted to challenge myself not to rely on the visual language that I'm very accustomed to. It was a rather fun exercise.

I had to really juggle the tenses at the beginning, especially with the flashback parts. If you see any glaring issues, please do let me know.

This is the second last chapter! We're almost to the finish line. This has been a journey from beginning to end.

Looking forward to writing the finale for you guys.

Stay safe, everyone.

You handeled the Lilly PoV quite well.
One thing to note in the previous chapter is that despite Miki being quite right about the events themselves, that does not make what happened a murder nor Emi a murderer.
What happened was an accident, though one caused by negligence - some attorneys might go for gross negligence, but given what we heard about many people running in the hallways without consequences for years it might be hard to stick that on Emi rather than the school itself.
It is one thing for Miki or Hisao's mother to call her a murderer, but even those who defend Emi are not calling her out on that misrepresentation.
And at times even your narrators voices seems to be quite partial in this regard...
One more minor thing: When doing roll calls they would do so according to the kana alphabet (A, I, U, E, O, Ka, Ki, Ku; Ke, Ko...), which means "Ibarazaki" would come before most of the names mentioned up there.

Mirage_GSM wrote: ↑Thu Jun 20, 2024 6:14 am

One thing to note in the previous chapter is that despite Miki being quite right about the events themselves, that does not make what happened a murder nor Emi a murderer.
What happened was an accident, though one caused by negligence - some attorneys might go for gross negligence, but given what we heard about many people running in the hallways without consequences for years it might be hard to stick that on Emi rather than the school itself.
It is one thing for Miki or Hisao's mother to call her a murderer, but even those who defend Emi are not calling her out on that misrepresentation.
And at times even your narrators voices seems to be quite partial in this regard...

100%. These schoolkids are making assumptions based on limited information and are extrapolating wildly from there. Also in the mix is the usual politics and relationship troubles, which colours perceptions even more...

It's the odd position where Miki has the best intelligence on the event, so to speak, and yet draws the most extreme and incorrect conclusions because of her pre-existing biases, while it's the opposite for the others.

I'm aiming for a third person limited POV, so the biases of the view character are the biases of the narrator's voice, but my natural disposition is third person omniscient so I'm probably letting that bleed through in a lot of places.

Thanks for the feedback

Well, that was horrifying to read. Don't get me wrong though, it was good, it was excellent. I enjoyed every line of it.
I will never go through the "Emi bumping into Hisao" scene the same way again.

Well done, can't wait for the end !

Kanashikute, kanashikute,

Totemo yarikirenai,

Kono yarusenai moyamoya wo

Dareka ni tsugeyou ka?

Chapter 7: Run

The streetlamps blaze brightly in the dim murk, making shadows of the surrounding houses.

A man with purple hair stands under one, dressed in a puffy green jacket, rubbing his hands together for warmth. It’s cold, bitterly so, his breath releasing white clouds into the dark pre-dawn sky with every exhale.

Small piles of white snow gather along the curbs and fences, lightly dusting the branches of bare trees and evergreen hedges along the roadside. A fairytale picture of late winter.

He knows there’s nothing remotely fairy-tale like about why he’s standing here.

The quiet of the early morning suburbia is punctured by the idling of a diesel engine, its hoarse, metallic rattling like the drumroll before an execution.

Goro turns his head to the source of the sound: a four-wheeled truck with white, peeling paint, its back doors open, the inside stacked high with boxes and various indoor furnishings.

Movers.

A worker, dressed in blue overalls and a matching-colored baseball cap, leans against the left-hand door to the cab, smoking a cigarette, its orange glow blooming into life and then dying with every draw.

Goro feels some pity for this poor employee, who could not be older than his early twenties, standing out in the frigid air with a long drive ahead of him.

He finds himself walking over to the truck, his shoes softly crunching into the thin layer of freshly fallen snow, and bowing deeply to the young man.

“I’m sorry that we made you come to work so early. Thank you for what you’re doing.”

The sleepy-eyed mover barely acknowledges Goro, replying with a dismissive shrug and another pull of his cigarette.

“She’s paying us plenty extra for the early morning pickup, so I don’t mind.”

The man’s brusque tone takes Goro by surprise. Then again, the sheer magnitude of this move is probably totally unknown to him. It is merely another job, another drive, another dawn.

Footsteps approach from behind Goro, one set the stomping of heavy boots, the other much lighter, dainty. He turns to meet them.

Another mover, significantly older than his coworker and sporting a badly trimmed mustache, cradles one final cardboard box in his arms, straining under the weight.

Behind him walks an older woman, barely into her middle age, her youthful features dulled by the dark bags under her eyes. A great black scarf swaddles her neck, thick clothing wrapped around every extremity, a clipboard clutched in her pale fingers.

“Meiko.”

She glances at the nurse, mustering a small smile that does nothing to cover the sheer exhaustion behind her poplar green irises, before turning her attention to the mover heaving the box into the truck.

Shoving it inside, he slams the doors shut with a great bang, the bolt sliding into place like the locking of a jail cell.

Seeing the doors close, the accumulation of twenty years of ordinary life locked away and conveyed to some distant fate, it pains Goro’s heart. The closing of a chapter he once helped to write, now lost to misfortune and the coming dawn.

The older mover jumps down from the footstep and plucks the clipboard from Meiko’s shivering fingers, speaking without looking up as he flips through the papers.

“Is that all, ma’am?”

Meiko’s voice is soft, on the verge of cracking, the cold and fatigue seeping into her tone.

“I… I think so. If there’s anything else, I’ll just put it in my car.”

Seemingly satisfied with what he sees, the mover tucks the clipboard under his arm and turns to both Meiko and the nurse.

“Right. We’ll leave immediately, so you’ll find us ready and waiting at the address by the time you arrive.”

At this, the older lady bows, her snow-dusted single braid dangling limply from her head.

“Thank you.”

“You can thank us when we’re done. Drive safely, ma’am.”

The two movers unceremoniously climb into the cab and start the truck, the roar of the engine echoing into the darkness as the taillights and blinkers illuminate.

Goro and Meiko can only watch as the truck heaves, lurching as its wheels grip the icy asphalt, pulling away from the curb and trundling down the street.

A life, a home, disappearing down the road as the taillights fade into red pinpricks, glowing like fireflies in the gloom before they turn a corner and vanish from sight.

A heavy, foreboding silence asserts itself once more, settling upon Goro’s shoulders and mind as he turns to the woman at his side.

“Are… are you really okay with this, Meiko?”

He knows it’s far too late to ask, but he ventures the question anyway.

A short sigh.

“… do you think I’m okay with this?”

The sheer resignation in her voice causes the nurse’s words to stumble. He’s clutching at straws, desperate to find some way to delay the inevitable for just a little longer.

“Well… no, but… is there absolutely nothing anyone can do to make you stay?”

Another sigh. Meiko turns to face him, two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Goro, we’ve gone over this. I can’t handle the cameras on our doorstep or the journalists trying to harass us any longer. It’s not safe. It’s… it’s destroying our lives here. We can barely even leave the house anymore…”

The nurse tries to protest, but the words die on his lips. Meiko isn’t lying. This quiet street deep in the Sendai suburbia has undoubtably turned into a living hell for the Ibarazakis.

He can hardly contain his anger, his frustration, his hopelessness at the situation either.

Meiko had been given assurances by the prefectural police, the Public Prosecutors Office, hell, even her own damn lawyers that her daughter’s identity would be kept strictly confidential for the duration of the trial. The seriousness of the charges, they claimed, required the utmost delicacy, and they guaranteed, they promised the family would be kept out of the spotlight.

It took less than a week for the tabloid press to get ahold of Emi’s name, face and address.

What followed was little short of a media firestorm.

Goro could only watch on as the flashing cameras and jabbering reporters descended upon the unassuming Ibarazaki residence like vultures, watch on as Emi’s photograph was splashed on the pages of weekly magazines the prefecture over, watch on as internet news sites, forums, chatrooms, endlessly speculated on and dissected this 19-year-old girl.

It didn’t help, of course, that Yamaku is no ordinary school, and Emi no ordinary student. To read slurs not worth repeating, to overhear rumours founded on nothing more substantial than the morning mist, to see comparisons made to the Sasebo Slashing three years before, incensed the usually mild-mannered nurse.

He had raised a stink. He protested to the police, the local council office, even written letters to the various publishers in a desperate attempt to stem the tide. It made no difference. Illegal or not, the press would have their field day, and the police stymied the increasingly frantic Goro at every turn.

Despite the warnings from the principal, the nurse continued to visit the Ibarazaki household. He simply could not do otherwise. He had a professional duty to care for his charge, no matter what she’d done, and he simply could not abandon the people he had come to consider his second family at their hour of greatest need.

Every knock on that door only added to the burden on his heart. Meiko was drowning in the police interviews, hearings, meetings with lawyers, trying desperately to cling to whatever normality she could in a life fast unravelling before her.

Of much greater concern was his patient, his charge, the girl he’d come to treat almost as his own daughter.

She had broken.

She wouldn’t speak. She’d barely eat, scarcely leaving her bedroom, forcing Goro to talk through the locked wooden door in a vain effort to induce a response, to come outside, to please, please, be okay.

He kept coming back, even when he knew he was running the gauntlet, even when every visit ate away at his very soul.

It came as little surprise, therefore, when Goro’s activities were discovered by Yamaku, who promptly threatened the immediate termination of his employment if he did not cut contact as instructed.

So, he was once again relegated to spectator. Forced to sit idly by as Emi was questioned again and again by the prefectural police. Forced to watch from the viewing gallery as she was wheeled into the courtroom for hearing after hearing.

The worst part was giving evidence. He still feels sick to his stomach when he recalls standing before the court, facing the steely-eyed judge, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice as he recounted the concrete medical facts, the boy’s condition, the failed attempts to resuscitate him. It felt as though he was condemning Emi with every word he spoke.

But what could he do? There was no way around it.

The boy died. Emi was responsible.

The proceedings seemed to drag on, and on, and on, months and months, with the tide of media scrutiny ebbing and flowing with the granting of bail and the presentation of new evidence. Sometimes, it felt as though some semblance of peace and quiet had returned, only to be blown to pieces by some new legal turn.

Watching from afar, with only the occasional surreptitious text message from Meiko with status updates, all bad. What advice could he give? What comfort could he provide at such a distance?

Goro feels useless.

He tried his level best to hide it, to put on his trademark grin while inhabiting his office and cracking his usual jokes with the endless procession of students, but it was never the same.

Because it haunts him. It haunts him to see years of hard work, of fulfillment, of seeing someone lifted out of despair and into greatness annihilated before his eyes. He can’t help but weep at the sheer waste.

Maybe that’s why he’s begging Meiko to stay, against everything. So that at least one fragment of this disaster can be salvaged. So that at least one shred of all that they achieved together can remain.

“Look… I know it’s gotten really bad after the sentencing, but the tabloids have a very short attention span. Something else will come up within the week and it’ll blow over quickly. Same with the internet rubbish. Trust me, Meiko.”

He tries to put as much force as he can into those words, managing his most ingratiating smile in this last-ditch plea.

Meiko seems unimpressed. She frowns, her face contorting into an expression of frustration.

“Really, Goro, do you really think that? Even if it blows over, everyone around here still knows my face. I can’t even go grocery shopping now without everyone staring at or avoiding me. The neighbours haven’t said a word to me in months! What do you think will happen if Emi tries going outside?”

The latter scenario terrifies the nurse, but he still stands his ground.

“The judgement’s been passed already, Mei-”

“What difference does it make? They all think she’s a murderer.”

The very word ignites a fire in the nurse’s veins.

“She’s not! The court made it clear, Meiko. It was negligence and there were mitigating factors. It was not murder.”

The mother’s voice rises, all the pent-up anger and anguish pouring out into the frosty air.

“Try explaining that to the tabloids! To my neighbours! To everyone in this godforsaken city! They don’t know or care about the specifics, Goro. All they care about is that she killed someone and that the court more or less let her walk free. It’s not safe for her anymore.”

Meiko’s words ring out into the darkness, surrounding the stunned nurse. She seems to realise she’s blowing her cover with every word she speaks and quietens to a whisper.

“I… I’m sorry, Goro. We have to leave. We don’t have a choice.”

Her position is indisputable. Regardless of the facts, Emi is forever a marked woman so long as she stays here. To place that burden on top of the catastrophic weight of everything else would be unconscionable. Goro doesn’t know how much more she can take as it is.

It’s tragic, but what about this situation isn’t?

“… even so, Aomori is a bit far, isn’t it?”

Meiko shrugs.

“It’s far enough. The rent is cheap, and the job pays for itself. It’s the best option we have.”

A different home, a different city, a different prefecture. The whirlwind of the past year never seems to end. The Ibarazaki family is in freefall, and Goro can do precious little to stop it.

“… is Emi going back to school once you get there? Have you sorted that out in Aomori yet?”

Meiko’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. She closes it, then opens it again. She seems stumped.

“W-well… I… I…”

Her stuttering ignites panic in Goro’s heart. He’s incredulous. He grasps Meiko’s shoulders with both hands, shaking her furiously.

“You… you’ve gone to all this trouble to move out of Sendai as quickly as possible… and you haven’t even figured out what you’re going to do with Emi when you get up there?! Just how rashly are you making your decisions, Meiko?”

He can’t believe it. This girl, already subjected to things no young adult should have to go through, is now being spirited away to some unknown city with nothing approaching a half-baked plan in mind?

This is so much worse than he thought.

Caught, Meiko can only glance frantically from side to side, before throwing her hands up in resignation.

“Fine! Fine. You want me to admit it? Yes, it’s rushed. Yes, I don’t have that much of a plan put together. Yes, we’re more or less being run out of town. All I know is that Emi can’t stay here. It’s killing her. I’m taking her north, out of this place, and then we can figure out the specifics.”

She pushes Goro away, turning her head towards the coast, where the faintest glow of dark blue begins to lighten the eastern sky.

Dawn.

“We’re wasting time. Goro, help me get her into the car.”

As if to cut off any further objections, the mother spins on her heels and walks briskly back towards her driveway.

“Meiko, you…”

He wants to yell, to protest, to try and force Meiko to see reason. This is no strategic withdrawal. It is a rout, a panicked flight. In any other circumstance, it’d be nonsensical.

But there’s nothing he can say. It’s as though the universe itself has cast judgement upon Emi. A judgement not on the law books, but a reality all the same.

The sentence: exile. From the life she once lived, the home she grew up in, from everything she knows.

Goro can only follow Meiko, up the snow-covered driveway and to the patio. Through the open front door, which he can’t help but stop and gaze at.

This door he’d knocked on so many times before, for evening dinners and celebrations. Where he’d found his first true family in this foreign city. Where he’d found real, true joy, in his work and simply as a human being.

That’s all gone now.

Stepping into the house, Goro is struck by how utterly empty it is. It’s been… months, almost a year, since he’s last been inside, and he can’t help but be shocked at bare walls, the open spaces where the dining table and couches used to be, at the open, vacant drawers and cupboards.

It’s only now, looking around at this shell of a home, devoid of its familiar light and warmth, that it really hits him.

They’re leaving. For good.

There’s only one thing left to remove.

Meiko slows, quietly stepping into the hall too familiar doorway, silently stopping before an all too familiar door, still in its worn oak colour and adorned with a white doorknob.

Emi’s bedroom.

A girl convicted. A juvenile offender.

She turned twenty a mere three days ago, Goro tells himself, so she’s no longer even a juvenile. An adult. A full-fledged, legal adult.

A full-fledged, legal adult offender.

It’s ludicrous to associate such a concept with Emi, but it’s the truth.

Negligent manslaughter.

The words sizzle on his tongue. A real, serious crime. Perhaps unforgivable.

He wonders if they should feel grateful for the astonishingly light sentencing granted by the judge. Maybe it had something to do with her age, in which case, they were even more astonishingly lucky regarding her birthday.

It’s a pronouncement that will allow Emi and her mother to flee, but nonetheless condemns them to a life of infamy. Of guilt.

He knows it will come as little comfort to the woman beyond this wooden door.

Meiko raises her right fist and raps gently on the door, one, two, three times.

“Emi… it’s time to go.”

Her voice is soft, almost sing-song like.

There’s no response.

Another round of knocking, louder this time.

“Emi, please, we have to go.”

A rising fear begins to fill Goro’s chest. Meiko seems to gird herself, her face becoming more determined.

One more round. A full knock this time.

“Come on, Emi. Please. We need to leave. Now. Let me in, please…”

Her left hand searches her pockets for something, her fingers finding something sharp, small and shiny.

A key. It seems that Meiko is determined to get Emi out of here as quickly as possible, no matter the cost.

To the nurse’s relief, there’s the sound of a lock being turned. The doorknob slowly rotates, the door opening with a small pop and a creak of its hinges.

It opens wide.

And Emi slowly, reluctantly, rolls out into the hallway.

Goro can’t help but let out a horrified gasp.

She’s seated in her wheelchair, dressed in a purple long-sleeved shirt and loose beige sweatpants. Her skin is sickly, sallow, glowing an unnatural ghostly white in the half-light of the streetlamps filtering in through the doorway and windows.

Her light brown hair, which once shone almost pink, is still in her trademark twintails, but it is matted, messy and riddled with knots, now reaching down past her shoulders, almost to her ribs, clearly uncut for some time.

She’s thin, frighteningly so. The small but well-toned and powerful muscles that once wrapped around her calves and arms are now gone, replaced by clothing that hangs off her almost skeletal frame.

Her stumps are bare. Her prosthetics are long, long gone. The Fastest Thing On No Legs is now confined to a wheelchair, forever.

But what scares Goro the most are her eyes. Sunken, hidden behind dark bags that cloud her pale complexion.

The poplar green eyes that were once filled with determination, with ferocity, with boundless hope and joy, are dead. Empty. Dull. Her expression is totally flat.

She barely even seems to recognize him.

The nurse’s panicked mind immediately races to diagnose her symptoms. Malnutrition. Lack of sunlight, of exercise.

She looks to all the world like a corpse.

Emi hasn’t been eating or sleeping. She seems to have barely left the room this entire time.

She’s worse. Much, much worse. In the year since the incident, she’s been wasting away in solitude.

It’s the realization of Goro’s darkest fears.

“Oh my god, Emi…”

His legs almost collapsing under him, he kneels in front of the stricken girl, looking up at her deadened eyes, desperately trying to coax some light, some life, anything from this shell of a person.

Nothing. She seems to stare at something in the middle distance, as though she’s on another planet.

Goro can hardly believe what he’s seeing. Is this what it has come to? Is this the culmination of so many years of progress and triumph?

“Emi, it’s me…”

Desperate, he reaches for her arms, taking her bony fingers into his.

Then he feels some other material beneath the sleeves of her shirt. Something rough. Something around her wrists.

What the…

At this, Emi finally stirs to life. Fear lights up in her irises as her eyes widen, frantically pulling her hands out of reach of Goro’s, uttering from cracked lips the first words the nurse has heard from her in months.

“No…”

It can’t be, can it?

Goro’s heart is beating in his ears.

He’s always made a point about never, ever being rough with his patients, least of all his favourite. But he must know. Panic seems to be consuming the both of them.

Grabbing the left hand of the squirming girl, he pulls the sleeve up to reveal his greatest nightmare.

Bandages.

Clean, but tightly wrapped around her wrist. The same for the other.

It can only mean one thing.

He feels sick.

It takes every effort to force down the bile climbing its way up his throat.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening to her.

He stands, unsteadily, and turns towards Meiko, who looks on with a devastated expression, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes.

Wordlessly, he grabs the mother’s arms and frogmarches her out of the house, ignoring her protests until they’re out on the patio and the front door is slammed shut.

He whirls around to face her, eyes ablaze with shock and fury.

“How long have you known about this, Meiko?”

He can’t stop the rising, frantic panic any longer. He spits his words as though he’s spitting fire.

“Wha… I… but…”

“Her wrists, Meiko, her wrists! Can’t you see what’s going on?!”

Goro knows he’s yelling, but he doesn’t care anymore. He once again grabs the mother by the shoulders and shakes her, desperate to extract the horrifying truth.

“I…”

“Your own daughter, Meiko! Look at what she’s doing to herself! What in the living hell is happening here?!”

The dewdrop tears on the mother’s face turn into a stream as she shudders. She begins to sob.

Her voice lets loose.

“I don’t know!”

A declaration of anguish, loud and clear for the entire neighbourhood to hear, ringing clearly in the lightening skies.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!”

Her tears begin to fall against the snow, making tiny craters with every impact.

Every one of Meiko’s words hit the nurse like a brick.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Goro! I don’t know how long she’s being doing this! I don’t know how to stop her… I’m constantly afraid of what she’s doing in that bedroom! I locked away every sharp object I could get my hands on in the house, and it still doesn’t work…”

Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“I can’t do this anymore, Goro. I can’t, I simply can’t. I’m so lost. The only thing I can think of is to get her out of here. She’s dying in that house, Goro. It’s our only chance.”

The nurse breathes heavily, his frantic anger cooling.

But his voice remains firm.

“We need to take her to the hospital.”

The mother’s head jolts up, eyes filled with panic.

“What?!”

He’s made up his mind. He stands his ground.

“We need to take her to the hospital, Meiko. Now. I don’t care. She needs help, immediately.”

The mother shakes her head, stamping her foot.

“Goro, no. No. We can’t. We can’t send her to a hospital here. We need to leave, right now.”

The nurse is aghast. This is an actual, honest-to-god emergency.

“Are you kidding me, Meiko?! Your daughter is on death’s door, and you still want to leave?!”

“Not here, and not this hospital, Goro! Everyone here knows her face and her name! If we turn up there with her right now, how do you think the staff will react? How do you think Emi will react? Do you seriously think she can take that kind of pressure in her state?!”

Goro’s panic turns to frustration.

“She needs immediate psychiatric help, dammit!”

“I know, I know! But if the prefectural police get word that she’s been institutionalized, she’ll never leave here, Goro! She’ll be trapped! Trapped in the place with all her mistakes, all her bad memories… it’ll kill her anyway!”

Meiko suddenly falls to her knees, the tears making wide lines down her cheeks, hands grasping at the folds of Goro’s puffy jacket. Her expression is desperate, her voice pleading.

“Please, Goro, please. The sun is almost up. Please, just… let us go.”

The nurse is at his wit’s end. Emi could not be in a worse position. Every road leads to bad outcomes. They’ve been playing a fool’s game the entire time.

He turns his head to the east. A deep orange glow is starting to emanate from behind the snow-dusted houses and apartment blocks.

With great reluctance, he relents.

“Fine. But you need to swear to me that the very first thing you do when you arrive in Aomori is to get her to a hospital. No ifs or buts. You will take her to the emergency room and get a psychiatric evaluation done as soon as possible.”

A compromise. A painful, risky compromise, but it’s the only one he can think of in this tragic moment.

“I… I will…”

He cuts her off.

“Not ‘you will,’ Meiko. Swear to me.”

“I… I swear. I swear I’ll take her to a hospital as soon as I arrive. I promise.”

Goro sighs. How could it have come to this?

“Alright. Let’s get Emi into the car.”

With an air of deep resignation, they both trudge back into the house, finding Emi in exactly the same position they left her in, save for the tears staining her sweatpants.

Goro wonders if Emi heard their argument. He wonders if it would make a difference if she did.

He gets around behind her and grips the wheelchair’s handlebars, slowly trundling her down the hallway, towards the front door.

He’s back in the past. Back to when he first met her, pushing around a husk of a girl, devastated by the twin losses of her father and her legs.

At least then, there was hope for recovery. The hope of a brighter future. A hope he could put back in those poplar green eyes.

He fears, this time, that loss is permanent.

They cross the threshold into the morning air, Emi’s body tensing and shivering at the sudden temperature change. It’s likely the first time she’s been outside in a long, long while.

After a moment, he unzips his puffy jacket and carefully drapes it over Emi, in an attempt to keep out the chill.

Meiko’s voice comes up from behind him.

“You won’t get cold?”

“It’s fine.”

He wheels her to the lefthand side of the sedan, which itself is crammed with miscellaneous items and boxes in the back seats, with Meiko opening the front passenger door before them.

In a movement he hasn’t practiced in a long time, he tucks his arms under Emi’s armpits and legs and gingerly lifts her up.

Staggering slightly, he gently lowers her down onto the seat, making sure she’s comfortable, strapping her in.

Emi gives absolutely no reaction the entire time, her eyes scarcely deviating from her dull, empty stare. It’s as though he’s manipulating a mannequin.

The lack of recognition, of acknowledgment, stabs at his heart.

Oh, my girl…

He gets down to her eye level, taking her hands in his.

“Emi…”

What can he even say? ‘It wasn’t your fault?’ ‘Don’t feel so bad about yourself?’ ‘It gets better from here?’

He’s not so asinine as to lie to her face. But all the years they shared together cannot bridge the distance that separates them now.

“I…”

Goro considers himself something of a wordsmith, able to say something in any circumstance, serious or otherwise.

But not now. Looking at this zombie of a girl he’d consider his daughter, words fail him.

“I… I’m sorry.”

In those two words, he tries. Tries to convey everything he wants to say but can’t. Of comfort. Of regret. Of the things they should have done, could have done, but didn’t.

Useless, useless. Mere words can never undo what has occurred.

With one last, longing look, he shuts the door on Emi.

He turns to see Meiko standing right in front of him, head bowed. With an uncertain step, then another, she comes forward and wraps two timid arms around his frame, her fingers digging into his thin shirt like vices.

Her voice is small, choked with sobs and despair.

“Why, Goro? Why do these things have to happen to us?”

He… he…

He cannot answer.

For all his medical knowledge, his training, the skills he has cultivated over decades, he doesn’t know. He can’t understand why things turned out this way. Why the universe seems so hell-bent on visiting disaster upon the Ibarazaki family.

In any other place, he’d be tempted to call it divine retribution. Now, it merely seems the tragedy of inevitability.

A small swerve of a car. An ill-considered run. A single broken rule. All small actions, rippling out, further and further, encompassing entire families in the tragedy of consequences.

Maybe, were he a clairvoyant, he could untangle the myriad paths that led them to this place, to discover the singular point where it all went wrong- whether it was the moment of impact between Emi and that deeply unfortunate boy, or something much, much earlier.

But he’s not. He’s just a nurse. Meiko’s just a mother. Emi’s just a young lady.

There’s no going back.

“I don’t know, Meiko.”

It’s the honest truth.

The mother clings even tighter to his arms, trying with all her might to force the words out of her throat.

“Goro… I… I…”

They never come.

He can guess what she wants to say. What they mean. The unspoken words on the wind that will never reach his ears.

Maybe, if things were different. If a boy hadn’t chosen to leave the classroom at that exact moment. If a girl hadn’t decided to round a corner at that speed. If a heart problem hadn’t manifested at a certain time. If a nurse hadn’t been assigned to rehabilitate this particular patient. If a car hadn’t swerved into a particular ditch…

Maybe. Maybe.

Possibilities.

Universes they can never reach.

So, the words never come. Instead, there’s only the same declaration, of regret, of sorrow. A plea for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he can do not to break down, right here, right now. He wants to remain a pillar of strength for Meiko, at least until she leaves.

“Give me a call when you get to Aomori, alright?”

“I will.”

Mustering up the very last of his strength, Goro gives the mother one final, sad smile.

“Drive safely, Meiko.”

She gives a single nod, climbs into the driver’s seat, and shuts the door.

The engine starts with a throaty stutter, roaring to life against the cold and the rapidly encroaching light.

Goro stands, yet again a mere spectator, as the car lurches, its wheels gripping the icy concrete of the driveway, headlights shining into the rapidly disappearing gloom, turning left onto the suburban street they once called home.

The taillights fade into red pinpricks, glowing like fireflies.

He can only watch, helpless, as Emi and Meiko disappear around the bend, to meet the dawn.

And their fate.

(Previous Chapter) (Author's Notes)

Author's Notes

Aaaaand it's done!

First of all, thank you all so, so much for all your comments, feedback and support! Having written nothing creative in years and then diving straight into a multiparter was a bit of a leap of faith, but I'm happy to have done it.

Belated credit must go to Brythain. ATD was among the first KS fanfics I ever read, and since then Kaneshiro has been the default name for The Nurse in my mind... so thanks!

I love the Emi route as much as any other, but it always irked me how their first run-in with each other was played off as a comedic, if somewhat reckless, encounter, which I found at odds with how deeply Hisao's heart vulnerabilities were emphasised in all the other routes. Leaty's MTtB gave voice to that frustration, and I wanted to translate that into canon KS and explore the consequences of such an accident.

Thus, Intentions was born.

Now, some notes on the last chapter:

Article 61 of the Japanese Juvenile Law (1948) forbids the media from publishing any names, photographs, or other information which might allow the public to identity juvenile accused and offenders, intended to protect their privacy and allow their reintegration into society.

However, this law is virtually unenforced, and over the decades many Japanese tabloids have courted major controversy over the publication of the identities of youths accused of serious crimes, such as in the 2015 Murder of Ryōta Uemura, hence the situation that bedevils the Ibarazakis in the final chapter.

As for the realism of the sentencing, your guess is as good as mine. I know very little about Japanese jurisprudence, so I chose an outcome that fit best with the narrative I wanted to tell.

And some final details:

I intended (heh) for Rin to make an appearance in Chapter 6, but try as I might, I simply could not write dialogue that sounded convincingly Rin-like, and so her part was regrettably scrapped from the chapter. Apologies, Rin fans.

Throughout the drafting process, I continually mistyped "Emi" as "Emu," which, as an Australian, made for some extra-hilarious proofreading sessions

(11/7) Embarrassingly, I only just realised that I've been misspelling Goro's name "Goto" the entire time. This oversight has now been corrected. Apologies to Brythain for mangling Kaneshiro-san's name.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I've got plenty more ideas in the pipeline I can't wait to share, so I'll see y'all around.

Stay safe, everyone.

(Previous Chapter)

I have only one word after reading this.

Doom.

Thank you.

Man, that last chapter broke me. You did a great job of showcasing just how bad things are for Emi, and it breaks my heart. But it is also very realistically where she might end up if things had gone this way. It's the kind of thing that is going to leave an awful feeling in my stomach for a few days. But, I knew what I signed up for when I started reading this.

This was a great story overall. Seeing this horrific event from the POV of all these different characters was really interesting. Nothing felt out of place, with everyone very much in character.

Well done.

Thanks for a thoughtful exploration of the impact of Emi's thoughtless actions. The notion that this would totally break her is depressingly believable.

I'm just sorry you couldn't work Rin into the story-- as Emi's closest friend, and as someone with a very different viewpoint on life, she might have been able to provide Emi with a lifeline of some sort. Well, maybe they'll meet up again in the future...

Thanks for the...well, I won't say fun, but rather, absorbing read!

Well, I decided to log in after years of lurking to congratulate you and your writing. Even after all this time, it's wonderful to see fresh ideas being brought to the table, and wonderfully well written ones too. Its a grim subject, everyone is hurting and it ends on a miserable tone, but it's done just so darn well.

Like you said, a shame Rin and her unique outlook couldn’t get a look in, but understandable, al the moreso considering Hisao is dead before he gets a chance to meet,

Throughout the whole story, the buildup to what it was going to be like when we finally got Emi's perspective again was strong. I wasn't sure how it could work, but the final chapter delivered excellently. You really stuck the landing on this one, great work.