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This Watanagashi feels different.
That’s what Rika finds herself thinking, however much it shouldn’t come as a surprise.
If the festival she knew so well had once played out to the funeral march of an entire village’s tension and fear, then this time… there was no rhythm.
What had she expected? Happiness? Peace? These things not only existed, but were plentiful—but more than that, there was normality. Freedom. That of the undetermined path that lay ahead, beginning tonight.
Rika tips her head back and closes her eyes. She can feel the evening air on her skin. She’d become enamoured with her lungs, the way they kept taking oxygen in, pumping carbon dioxide out—the way she could now dare to hope that they would for the coming weeks and months, until summer came again.
Lively voices dance around her. She’d been sitting with Satoko, already having performed her ritual dance. Keiichi, Mion and Rena had slipped off somewhere afterwards, but they’d all watched—had cheered her on from the front row, in fact. Still, by the time she'd made it back from changing out of her robes, the crowd had dispersed and it was only her best friend waiting to greet her.
She hadn't minded that. She hadn’t minded sitting here side by side together, alone. She opens an eye now at the second familiar voice that's appeared.
“Is that so…?” Shion crosses her arms and hums thoughtfully. She’s hardly stopped smiling since earlier. She rarely does, but this one—Rika notes—is genuine. For the first time, she thinks, Shion sounds happy—her voice trembles slightly, as though a new heartbeat is carried in every syllable. Her eyes are bright in the warm festival light as her face slips into an unsteady grin. “And I wonder what I’d find them doing exactly…? I’ll have to congratulate Kei-chan later. I didn’t think he had it in him to bag one girl, let alone this.” And it’s with that that Shion skips off into the night, giggling.
“What was that supposed to mean?” Satoko frowns. “First the others, now Shion-san… Well, you won’t leave me, right, Rika?” She grins her toothy grin and Rika only smiles right back. Some things never changed.
Soon after, they hear the unmistakable chorus, and indeed, when their three friends come into sight, they’re walking close to one another—and the stalls are packed tightly, but that doesn’t explain Mion’s hands around each of her friends’ waists. Satoko’s already jumping up, yelling about abandonment, but Rika just sits and watches, chin propped up on one fist. Shion’s not the only one who’s been watching the night play out, smiling all the while.
What Rika realises for the first time, now, is how many new things she’ll get to see. And then the four of them run up to her, and Mion’s fingers stay where they are, tentative on the fabric of each of the others’ clothes, and for one dazzling moment, it’s like she can feel the past and future collide, feel one give way to the weight of the other, and she can’t think of a better moment to begin the journey forwards.
July in Hinamizawa has colour that it hadn’t in Tokyo. The light seems alive, dancing flame, painting every stage of the day in a new palette. He watches it now as it fills the classroom.
It’s the time of day where the other kids go running out into the yard while the six of them drag tables together, the time of day where Mion throws open her locker with a clatter and appraises the selection for a few moments before the game of choice is presented to them. It’s the time of day where the hours fly by and it’s just as well that it’s summer, or they’d be going home in the dark.
Like this, he forgets time for a moment as the younger children skip around, and happy babble fills the room, and Chie-sensei pulls together her papers and moves to the teachers’ lounge. Very soon, the building will be empty for the summer.
He can hear his friends; he can make out voices, if not words. He gazes out over the yard. At some point in the afternoon, someone had pushed open the windows. A light breeze drifts in.
It had been a few weeks since Watanagashi. A few weeks since everything. Life as normal felt like the ebb of a tide, swelling, falling back, then returning to them. It wasn't painful. But as the hours and days passed, everything began to sink in in the ways it never had the chance to in the moment, and suddenly there was a whole new dimension to their existence together. It was strange, as much of this life was, and Keiichi was learning to accept it.
The scrape of furniture legs against the wooden floor bring him back to reality, and a now-empty classroom. There’s only Mion pulling desks and stacking chairs, readying the room for whatever purpose it’ll serve the small community over the holidays.
“Where’d everyone go?”
She startles and turns. He must've been quiet for some time. “They went home to get changed.”
He stays where he is, watching life drain from the yard for the last time that season, until the voices of the children are overwhelmed by those of the cicadas. The sounds of the room cease, and Mion comes to stand over his desk. He looks up at her.
“Are we doing the club activity in town today?”
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting her to say—after all, club or not, they’d all realised they didn’t want to do anything with their spare time but spend it together.
Mion just folds her arms, then turns to lean against the desk. If the room weren’t as empty as it were, he might not have caught the sigh.
He almost finds himself reaching out, as if to affirm she’s still there, despite the mere centimetres between them. But he doesn’t. They stay as they are—him sitting, her standing, both watching the sun inch towards the horizon. A rare moment of tranquility.
“About the club…”
He’s almost sad, when the silence ends, like he’s not quite ready to launch back into the tumult of their usual relationship. He finds himself treasuring the moments now, one by one, which is ironic, when they’ve finally won their happy ending. He wonders sometimes at how he’d lived his life in the shadow of impending tragedy without ever realising.
There’s no way to erase the weight of everything that’s happened—rather, it’s the weight of what hadn't that seems to follow them. Ghosts seem to fill every room they occupy, more than they can outnumber. He thinks that might just be okay, though.
Sure, there are nightmares. Fear prickles like static at the back of his mind, fear that they’ll lose it all, as they so nearly had. But more than that, there’s the moments after laughter where they look at one another, and smile and smile. There’s the touches; hands on hair, palms against backs before they go home for the day. Making sure they’re all here, all okay, moment to moment.
So it’s okay, living like this. It’s more than okay.
When he comes back to reality, the room is another shade of orange, and Mion is looking at him.
“You’ll look after it for me, right, Kei-chan?”
“Huh…?”
“The club! Weren't you listening?” She turns around now, planting her hands on the desk, and pins him down with a look. “This is a big deal, you know? I’m entrusting my creation to you!”
It’s not the first time they’ve spoken about this—about what’ll happen come spring, when, after the dwindling months, Mion goes off to university. A Hinamizawa he can't even imagine. It’s not something he wants to think about, and each tomorrow already has enough weight for them without years and decades to think of, but he supposes they’re all dealing with things differently. For Mion, it’s business as usual. That was why she was their rock, after all.
“You know I don’t like talking about this.” He grumbles. “How will it even be the club anymore, without your weird punishment games…”
“I’m sure you can take up the reins for me there. I’ll even leave you my carefully cultivated punishment game collection. You’ll have to double down hard on Satoshi in mine and Shion’s place, he’s missed so much.” She places a finger to her chin. “And Hanyuu… It's such a shame. I haven’t had nearly enough fun with her yet.” Her smile actually starts to falter then, because of course it’d be the loss of the opportunity to torture her an underclassman that’d bring Mion down—and that just won’t do.
“You know you can leave that one up to me. How many outfits do we have that we haven’t tried out on her yet…? There’s no way I’d let her get away, especially not after everything you put me through when I first got here. As for Satoshi, I think the others’ll have that one covered. Maybe it’s just as well Shion won’t be here.”
She laughs that laugh then, the one that can fill whole rooms. “That’s what I like to hear, Kei-chan. See, who could I leave the club to but you? Someone’s gotta continue my legacy. I’m sure Rena won't hold back, but you know how she gets when she sees cute things. It’d go way off the rails with her in charge. I can’t even imagine what kind of terrifying things would happen!”
He joins in with the laughter, because she’s right, but the longer the conversation goes on, the harder it is to ignore the lump in his throat.
“It won’t be the same without you, Mion.”
The sun continues to drift through the sky, towards its resting place, bringing the temperature down, casting glowing shapes across the floor. He waits a beat longer.
“Still, you’re really letting us off scot-free today? What could’ve triggered such a change in heart? Don’t you want to wring us dry before you’re off?”
She walks around the desk and behind his chair and lifts him by the armpits. “Even this old man can display mercy from time to time, you know, Kei-chan.”
Mion pulls the chair out from under him to move to the back of the room and he stumbles for a moment before following her, pulling his desk with him. “Sure you don’t have some twisted plan? Perhaps this was all a scheme from the start, and everyone’s ready to jump out and wrestle me into that swan outfit you love so much?”
“I’m wounded, Kei-chan. What a poor opinion of me you must have if we can’t even have a conversation alone without you thinking there’s some ulterior motive.”
“Or perhaps that’s it.” He pushes the desk into place besides the others, then stretches as he looks out at the golden yard. “We really are alone, and you know you can do whateeever you want to me. I’m sure you’d like that just once, wouldn’t you? How many of those dirty punishment game ideas do you have that you haven't subjected me to yet? I know you must be unsatiated now that I'm losing less often. Go on then, I’m all yours.”
When he's retrieved his bag from where his desk had been and Mion still hasn't responded, he turns. She's still at the other end of the room. Her hair is hanging over her face, concealing her expression.
“You ready to go? The others are probably already waiting.” He grabs her bag from where it sits next to his and holds it out.
“Right.” She walks over then, head still bent, and grabs it from him. Had her voice wavered a little?
“Are you... blushing? Geez, I was joking, don’t get too wrapped up in your dirty thoughts. Like I’d let you have your way with me so easi—” The bag lands on his head, then, heavy with a summer break’s worth of textbooks.
“OUCH! I was just teasi—!” This time the bag is swung towards his side, and he barely jumps out of the way in time. “Okay, I get it, sorry for not realising that'd make you embarrassed after all the perverted crap you've subjected us to!”
Mion drops the bag, and for a second he wonders if he really has gone too far. He's beginning to feel a little bad when she finally speaks.
“Yep, you really are the only suitable successor, Kei-chan! I know there’ll never be a dull moment with you running things.” She’s red in the face, but it's as much from laughter now, as she clutches her stomach. “I’m sure you’ll be a fearsome leader.” A beat of silence, and then she follows it up with a quieter, “I wonder what we would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”
“Well, who knows how anything would’ve played out, if things hadn’t been exactly as they were.”
And there's that feeling again—two of them, the setting sun, an empty classroom, and all the possibilities that had once existed, apparitions of other realities consuming the space. Sometimes he felt guilty, like he’d taken something precious from a million other possible versions of himself, something he hadn’t done nearly enough to deserve. He’d spoken to Rika about it, once.
He hadn't know what he’d been expecting, but somehow surprise had evaded him when the young girl had smiled up at him and affirmed his suspicions.
“Other worlds? Those exist, Keiichi.”
He’d inquired further without questioning.
Lots of things could change, from world to world, was what Rika had told him. An infinite continuum of patterns; a kaleidoscope of endless, blinding images.
That made sense. It was the things that seemed to exist yet didn't that he was trying to make sense of, after all. The slight déjà vu; the memories he wasn’t meant to have.
"But," Rika had added, "some things also stayed the same."
He had considered this.
“Well, sure. Some have to, right? We’d always have all been friends, at least, wouldn’t we?” He had grinned at her, and she had smiled back. He never was entirely sure when she did that whether she was laughing with or at him. Now, though, the smile was only kind.
"More or less, Keiichi," she’d affirmed. “Still, some things really never changed. It was quite something. A miracle in itself, almost.”
“Let’s get going, Kei-chan.” Back in the late-afternoon classroom, Mion’s still smiling as she grabs his sleeve. This was the image the kaleidoscope had settled on, he thought abstractly—their new lives.
Apparently the class representative had a lot of duties, approaching summer. He’d find himself helping out from time to time, as everyone rushed ahead home after the club activity of the day. Apparently the duties had to wait until then—or, more often, Mion would forget, then remember only at the last moment, just before the two of them left the classroom. And apparently on these days, they’d end up walking home alone together, and she’d hold onto his sleeve, at first uncertain as a child, and then his arm, for the last few streets before they parted ways.
It’s summer in Hinamizawa—truly summer. Ice cream melting down your arm, burning your fingers on the metal in the junkyard, sunlight tumbling through the trees and feet in the cool forest streams summer.
It’s a days-blur-into-one summer, because Rena's out of the door first thing in the morning, and too tired to do anything but go to sleep when she gets back, most of the time.
She’d said it once: that happy days were limited. And she was happy, because everybody finally seemed to understand that, and seemed to mirror her desire to spend every waking moment together, enjoying this while it lasted.
“You’re quiet, Rena.”
Keiichi’s just beside her, dangling his feet in the water. Rika, Satoko and Hanyuu are playing downstream.
When she looks at him, he’s smiling, but beneath it lurks worry. She wonders when he'd gotten to know her so well.
“I was just trying to find a word for it.” She smiles right back.
“A word for what?” And that’s Mion, to her right. Their fingers rest over one another’s on the ground.
“This feeling.”
They're quiet for a moment. Whatever it is they’re all thinking, what Mion says next speaks for them all. Three lives overlapping.
“I… wish it would never end. This.” She looks down for a moment, to the sunlight on the water, before she continues. “It makes me sad, to think that one day…” She trails off, biting her lip.
“One day what?” Rena rests her head against Mion's shoulder. Her skin is warm from the sun, a little damp from the games they’d been playing in the water.
“You know…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keiichi declares loudly, stretching, then laying back against the ground. Rena knows that’s just his way of saying not to worry about anything silly right now, but she looks between the two of them, sighs, then speaks her mind.
“Really, though. I don’t know what you’re worrying about, Mii-chan.” Mion just kicks her feet in the water, expression still taut with worry, so she continues. “So what if you move away?”
She looks up, then, as though Rena’s said a foul word.
She will, of course. Mion will go to university, albeit with familial responsibilities sure to bring her back to Hinamizawa with some regularity. If you realised that, it already wasn’t so bad, but change was still change. The anxiety came from knowing the foundations you’d built your happiness on were moving. Then again, that wasn't all that this was.
She sees Keiichi open an eye from where he’s resting, arms behind his head. He and Mion both know she's not finished, and for a while the silence persists, though they can hear their friends’ distant giggles, the river's gentle current, and the birds overhead singing.
“We all want to be together forever, right?”
It doesn’t scare her to say. Rena knows fear. It’s because she knows it that she also knows these things are the ones you have to say aloud.
Nobody replies, because she’s right. It might sound like a childish sentiment, but sometimes those were the most important to hold onto.
“So it’s fine, then. Everything’s going to be fine.”
And then Satoko’s wading back towards them, splashing Keiichi, and Rika’s dripping from head to toe after falling in the water, and Hanyuu’s fussing over her, and they’re trekking back to the shrine grounds as always, and everyone’s laughing together. And she isn’t sure if they really understand what she’s said yet, but that’s okay. They’ve got a lifetime to learn. She really believes that.
As she walks, Mion wonders at how her world had gone from her family, the village, a sea of responsibilities and politics, enough to drown under, to this. It was hard to juggle everything, and there was so rarely a dull moment that it was no wonder her heart hummed in her chest as she made her way to Rena’s house alone. With leaves crunching underfoot and the sky a glowing amber, summer had faded into an autumn that allowed them to breathe, and the evening air was finally gaining a bite. Traversing the roads between their homes, overnight bag slung over one shoulder, the gentle breeze soothes her.
Later on, they're lying together in their nightclothes. She's on her front with a pillow clutched to her chest, and Rena's next to her, playing absent-mindedly with her hair.
“Why don’t you grow yours out if you like long hair so much?”
“I don’t want it. I like it on you, Mii-chan.”
Rena’s father was away on a business trip. It wasn’t like they waited for such occasions to do this—in fact, Rena had grown fairly close to her grandmother, who now always delighted in having her over. This was actually something of a special occasion—Rena’s father’s new job was finally coming together, and the two girls had spoken about it as they had made dinner together. It wasn’t often Mion saw this kind of genuine happiness emanating from the other girl. It seemed things were at last falling into place, after years of confusion and pain.
So when Rena had faltered whilst chopping the vegetables, saying that perhaps she shouldn’t get ahead of herself, she had taken the opportunity to take the knife from her hand and hug her—to tell her everything would be okay. She knew Rena and her father were both trying their best, were talking properly again, and so she believed it.
They wouldn't always talk, as they lay together. Sometimes they’d take a bath, wash one another’s hair without needing to exchange a word. Sometimes Rena would pull some new dress she’d bought out of her closet and implore her to try it on. She would always refuse, of course—what would be the point in punishment games if she just surrendered and wore whatever Rena wanted here?
Before they realise it, they’re both falling asleep, and Mion has to extract herself from the tangle of blankets to turn off the lights. The moon shines bright through the window as she pulls the curtains shut. Rena whines, tugging at the hem of her nightdress. She permits herself a small smile. “You’re such a baby. I’m coming now.”
“Mii-chaaan…” Rena's voice is heavy with sleep. Mion slips back under the covers. "I don’t want to go to sleep yet... I want to keep talking...” Rena’s words are stifled by yawns. “You’d better not disappear in the morning...”
She frowns slightly. Sometimes she’d have to get up early and go back home to attend to family business, or any one of the countless things she was responsible for in the village. Sometimes it meant leaving Rena while she was still asleep.
“You’re not answering. You’re mean, Mii-chan. Don’t leave in the morning…”
Mion just shushes her, and for a while it’s just Rena breathing against her chest in the empty house, all of Hinamizawa a pocket of night. She only speaks again when she thinks Rena's fallen asleep.
“Should I just stay here forever, then?”
For a moment, there's silence. And then, “...Remember when it was just the two of us?”
Rena doesn't sound sad. Still, she hesitates.
“I do on nights like this.”
And they lie there, and she wonders at it for the thousandth time—this peace. It's almost blinding, like the moon through the window, when she moves so that Rena’s forehead can settle into the hollow of her neck.
“As long as we can still have moments like this, I think it's okay.” Rena murmurs. She just nods mutely, but she can feel a familiar pang, faint.
It’s not that she’s not happy. It was the opposite, really. Once you had a little of it, you got greedy.
“Maybe next time we could invite Keiichi-kun, though.”
It was amazing how the three of them fit together, how they somehow kept this thing in motion, in spite of it all. And she knows her apprehension and her fear are flaws. But that was her, stuck in her ways. She wouldn’t have even realised that much if it hadn’t been for them.
“Mii-chan?”
She doesn’t know much about these things, but she knows that this is special, and that the best thing that had come of everything they’d been through together had been everything being laid bare between all of them—but she’s still not cut out for this.
“Stupid Mii-chan.”
She snaps back to herself at the words. “Huh?”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Rena moves now, pulling away so that they can look at one another. Even in the dark, she can feel the other girl's gaze meet her own.
“I know you don’t plan to do anything while I'm gone… Even though it’d be fine…” Her voice falters. She never let herself think this far. It’s true, she wants Rena to be happy; she knows love is equal to that much. She also knows how Rena feels about her, and so she tries not to worry, and every so often her heart will still begin to throb with worry and fear, like it does right now.
“Mii-chan.” Rena's tone is harsh, now. It's not an angry kind of harsh, though. It's closer to frustration. “Can’t you see?”
“See…?”
“You still don’t get it. We’d never hurt you.” And then, as if anticipating what she'll say, Rena jumps to continue, “And not just because we care about you. It’s not just that at all.”
All of a sudden, tears are fogging the darkened room. She blinks them away, as though it’ll help her hear Rena’s words. “What do you…?”
“Mii-chan.” An exhalation. Rena’s fingers wind their way into her hair, and she pulls their heads close. “I understand. I understand, but…” Rena doesn’t cry often, and so she’s learnt to listen to the way her voice wavers. “I wish you’d trust us with your heart.”
She knows the last thing Rena intends is for it to hurt—but then, sometimes pain wasn't a bad thing. Sometimes it was all that would wake you up.
The last thing Rena does is lean over, kissing her behind her ear.
It’s a confusing night of dreams and darkness—dreams of the things she’d like to say, the things she’d like to do, a life shifting into something else. She realises she's not alone in her fear, and she understands that she’s a coward—that’s what Shion would say.
She wakes up next to Rena with anxiety in her chest. She decides for once to disregard it, finds the faintest hope sprouting immediately in its place.
It's Christmas Eve, and the last light is ebbing out of the sky over the Gifu mountains. At this time of year, Hinamizawa is steeped in snow.
Christmas Day isn't a large event in Japan, especially out in the country, away from the fancy light shows and restaurants. Still, gift-giving and card-exchanging was becoming a trend, and so they’d all decided to meet up at the shrine tomorrow to do exactly that.
So what was she doing now dragging her feet through the silent, icy streets, gripping a cake just hard enough not to crush it?
What was she doing on the evening for couples?
Mion sighed and carried on. It wasn’t like this had been planned.
For hours she’d bustled around the kitchen in preparation for the following day. It had been fun, and she had been in a good mood, and when she'd ended up with an excess of cake mixture, she had asked her grandmother for a different recipe to try. She enjoyed cooking and baking, yet often didn’t have the chance to do either. As such, she’d been grateful for the opportunity.
It was only when she’d started on the next cake that she'd also come upon an idea for what to do with it. It was the kind of idea she could only have come up with on this sort of calm evening, while drained of all her typical inhibition and uncertainty. They were friends, after all. There was nothing strange about giving food to friends. They did it all the time, in fact. And Keiichi’s house was closest.
That was what he’d probably think, she reasoned.
She rounded one of the final corners, coming now to the outskirts of town, surrounded by fields glistening under the emerging moonlight. She focused her attention on her shivering hands, and cheeks that were definitely only reddening from the cold. She wondered how she must look after being out in this weather, then wondered why she was bothering worrying about that now. She wasn’t Shion. As much as she’d considered changing her whole look, it would have only confused him. He’d probably ask if she were sick, or else mistake her identity entirely. She can't help but laugh to herself.
Would he give her his gift today or tomorrow? Had he even gotten her one? They’d promised to all exchange something, so he must’ve…?
At the very least, then, perhaps she could receive it in private. Though that would only lead to everybody asking when she’d seen Keiichi to get it, and she couldn’t have that.
She looks down at the box in her hands, wonders if it’s good enough. She’d tried the mix.
Her footsteps slow as she approaches the gate. If nothing else, her visit tonight allowed her to enjoy the season for what it was once more than she would have gotten to otherwise. The freezing weather had left her incapable of anything but the simplest thoughts, and so she decides it: There isn't anything wrong with enjoying this.
She’d be happy just to see him, just to give him the gift, just to toy with the idea of having him realise what she was too stubborn to say.
It’s then that she notices she’s already been standing in front of the house for some time. The lights are on, including his.
She tries putting the box under one arm, then behind her back, going for the buzzer. She hears Keiichi’s mother call out an acknowledgement. She looks back briefly and sees that the moon is already high in the sky, a blazing white in the velvet night. Her heart is doing backflips, and she clears her throat. She feels a little self-conscious under the bright entryway light, and pats down her hair with her free hand.
It wasn’t often that she laid her heart bare like this. It was probably only because he was so oblivious that she managed it. What would she do if she knew he’d take the time to think about the meaning behind her actions?
Then Keiichi's mother is opening the door, and the anxiety both doubles back and heightens.
“Oh, Mion-chan! What can we do for you this evening? Did you want to come in?”
“Ah, no, that’s okay... I'm sorry for bothering you so late...”
“Did you want me to get Keiichi? Let me do that. Please do come in, you must be freezing.”
Instead, as she waits, she simply stands there. She holds the box behind her back with trembling hands and remains just beyond the light, a little more hidden. Her heart jumps again when she sees someone coming down the stairs.
“Mion…? What’s up? Did the phone lines go down? Are you okay?” He’s in the same shirt and shorts he always seems to be in at home, and is already hopping from one foot to the other as the cold air begins to blow inside.
“A-Ahaha, I'm fine! It’s nothing like that!”
“Did tomorrow’s plans change? You could’ve just called, you know? D’you wanna come in?”
“N-No, I’m just stopping by! I just wanted, erm... You see, I...” She falters, trying to find the words.
He cocks his head as he wraps his arms around himself. The pause is long enough that he ends it for her. “You look freezing, was it that important?"
She thrusts the box out in front of her with both hands like it’s a business card, bowing her head.
“Huh, what’s this? My gift? We’re doing that tomorrow, though, right?”
“Actually, I got you another gift as well... I mean, I got you all something! But I was baking, and… um...” She searches helplessly for what to say, but he’s already taking the box from her hands curiously, looking inside.
“Hey, this looks great!” He's happy, but bemused. "But, huh? I don't get it." He begins to peer around hesitantly, clearly expecting some kind of prank. At the least, that she can't be here all alone on a snowy night just for this.
“Don’t think too hard about it! I just like baking, and…” She sighs, takes a steadying breath. “...I just wanted to make you something, Kei-chan. I hope you like it.” And she’s backing away, waving, giving up, when he reaches out and grabs her shoulder.
“Wait, really?” The last ounce of suspicion drains from his expression—or maybe it’s just the fact that his face is half-obscured by shadow, and that she can only focus on how warm his palm is on her quivering shoulder. “So… we're still on for tomorrow?”
“Y-Yeah!”
“But you made me this as well...?” His voice is quiet, as though he's thinking aloud rather than speaking to her.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t get me anything, Kei-chan?” She finds herself saying. It’s a little easier here, just beyond the light, with his hand on her shoulder, reminding her that she doesn’t want to leave just yet.
“Hey, of course I did!”
“W-Well, I guess there was no need for me to do this, then! I only made it so that I could give you double the punishment if you hadn't!”
“You really think I wouldn’t have gotten you anything?” He’s frowning, his voice soft in the night.
Keiichi's not looking at her, and he’s put the cake to one side, though not before taking another thoughtful look at it. It’s time for her to leave now. It’s definitely time for her to leave, so she begins to wave as she steps backwards, out of arm’s reach.
“Well, you never know...! I’ve given you a reminder now, so make sure you’ve got something ready for me and everyone else tomorrow! Happy Christmas Eve, Kei-chan!”
“Christmas Eve…?” The words leave his mouth like he hadn't even thought about the date before she'd said it. Ah. I messed up.
The automatic light over the entryway flickers out, and she begins to turn. She’s wondering when she’ll have the nerve to do this again, and imagining Rena berating her, and wondering why she’s always, always like this, so weak. She’s wondering when the right words will find their way to her lips instead of getting lost somewhere, wondering when she’ll make it all the way through the evening, from one oasis of light to another, without losing her nerve somewhere along the way. Most of all, she’s wondering when her time will finally run out.
The night has taken hold, and the little light there is comes from the moon. It's not enough to see his expression, only to make out Keiichi rushing forward barefoot into the snow, as she begins to leave. And then—
It’s too many things at once. Her whole body is in shock from the sudden warmth, the fingers tentative against her shoulder. There's a palm at the small of her back, pulling her in...
It’s over as quickly as it's begun.
“If you’re giving me an extra gift, you get one too. Just give me a chance to actually prepare it next time.”
His words are so quiet, just loud enough for her to hear in the snow-soft night, just his breath warm against her ear before he turns and goes inside, then shuts the door without looking back.
When she gets home, her grandmother asks if she’s got toothache. She’s still touching her cheek, the same place his lips had.
That night, she pulls her blankets tight around her shoulders and smiles into her pillow. The cold doesn’t bother her.
The darkness folds into a reel of memories; summer, words she’d already forgotten. You still don’t get it. Trust us.
She wonders how much sooner this might’ve happened if she hadn't made it so difficult. She realises, finally, that it’s ridiculous—that it’s all so ridiculous, and that she’s all at once forgotten fear. She wonders at how seconds of warmth had melted something that had held her down for so long, and wonders what she'd have done if they weren’t both so much braver than her, and knows that’s why it's them—both of them, always them—for her.
She’d come by on a whim. It was an early spring morning, and a Saturday—rather than making plans, these days they would simply arrive at one another’s houses in the mornings, or else gather at the usual haunts. The spontaneity of it all was exciting. It was an emotion Keiichi felt had been missing from his childhood, a budding anticipation that came from waking each morning not knowing what the day ahead held.
It was on one such morning that Rena had come by, just like when they had school. He had been sleepily making his way through breakfast, but she had assured him that she had food with her, and so he had quickly gotten ready and joined her.
He knew without it being said that they must be going to the junkyard. It was a special place for Rena, and as such, Keiichi understood it was a privilege to be invited along on these trips. And so he was content to simply sit and watch her dig through the mountains, and occasionally help her unearth a new treasure.
It was while observing this scene, shimmering morning light reflecting off of the undulating landscape, that he felt that same sense of familiarity, as though from a dream, or a past life. Sometimes he would wake up with a weight on his chest from these hazy visions polluted with mistrust and confusion. Now, though, he felt nothing of the sort. Listening to Rena clatter about was calming, enough so that he closed his eyes and let his mind drift, trusting the sounds would keep him just beyond the boundary of sleep.
Perhaps it’s because they’re usually so loud that he’s all the more content to sit in silence once in a while. He doesn’t know when Rena’s joined him, just that she's there when he opens his eyes. The sun is still journeying upwards, the world still waking up from winter, and it casts a glow over the two of them, as though it's greeting the two of them before the rest of the village.
It’s one of the things he loves the most—that there are so many ways to experience their bond. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have imagined spending his time like this—but once upon a time, he hadn’t really understood the multitudes one person could contain. Not Rena, nor himself.
Still, he’d never been one to think too hard. It was why this life suited him, days full of adventure after adventure, never stopping. His time in Tokyo had been suffocatingly empty. Coming to Hinamizawa had felt like liberation.
Now, rather than thinking too hard, he simply did what felt right.
And most things felt right, here, with them.
He realises then that Rena’s looking at him.
“You’re quiet, Keiichi-kun.” She smiles. “Everything’s changing, huh?”
He leans back, tries to take in the endless sky. “That’s okay, though, right?”
“Yes. I waited a long time for this."
He’s considering what this means when she leans over to press her lips to his.
For a second, the sun, the sky, everything is gone. It takes a moment for him to see again, as though his vision’s lagging, every sense trying to understand what’s just happened. And then she gets up to leave. “I really think everything’s going to work out just fine.”
Exactly when her footsteps had faded away, how long the fully-risen sun had been beating down on the old scrap metal, whether morning had, in fact, already drawn to a close—none of these are these are questions he knows the answers to by the time he finally remembers to get up himself.
He leaves the junkyard, in search of what the rest of the day has in store.
Another weekend, a crisp spring evening. They'd spent the day at home, cleaning and preparing for the season.
When she brings their drinks over to the TV, she notices Satoko's expression. She sets down the tray and sits cross-legged.
“Oh, thank you, Rika.” Satoko takes a sip from her glass, contemplative. Rika waits. Then, Satoko sighs. “Mion-san’s really leaving soon, huh…”
The leader of their club’s graduation was fast approaching, and as such, they’d fought to spend even more time together than usual, as if they could force days themselves to lengthen, and the weeks to slow.
“That’s right.” She says.
“This year went so quickly. I wish things could go on like this forever.” Satoko smiles meekly at her.
“Mii’s growing up. We all are. That’s not a bad thing.” She delivers her response gently, stroking Satoko's hair.
There’s a gameshow on, one that her and Satoko always watch before bed, but really, it’s just a background track to their conversation—that, and the cicada song. She used to hate nighttime. Now, she more hated going to bed.
“Don’t worry, Satoko. Things are changing, but that’s not a bad thing. Doesn’t it just make you realise how happy our lives are right now?”
Their futons lie behind them, untouched even as the sky turns indigo. Hanyuu had used to bug her about her bedtimes, but no longer bothered, which was a little funny, considering time had finally begun ticking again. Or perhaps that was why. Either way, Rika had the feeling they weren't alone in drawing the most out of the evening.
It’s as they’re laying out the futon that Mion says it. “You know, I’m surprised your parents let you two do this.”
Keiichi laughs, and Rena has to remind him to keep his voice down. “Well… There are three of us.”
She smiles to herself. She had been similarly surprised when her grandmother had agreed. They’d considered not telling her, but this had only left Mion assailed with images of the various punishments she—and moreover, they—might suffer. She was the one who’d suggested that they just ask. Sneaking around was getting a little tiring.
She wasn’t sure whether her grandmother, or the other villagers for that matter, had realised what was happening between the three of them, but either way, it was fine. They weren't looking for approval.
Finally, they're all lying down, and Keiichi asks whether Mion picked such a cramped futon on purpose. She flushes in the dark, and is about to ask what he’s implying when Rena butts in. “Mii-chan and I made do with this one just fine all this time. You're welcome to go sleep on your own, Keiichi-kun.” She feels the girl’s arms slip around her waist as she presumably pouts at him over her shoulder.
“Hey, don't assume I’m complaining.”
They settle down, then, and Keiichi turns away from them, toward the window, because he's still shy. She doesn’t mind that—she’s the same. And at first she’s careful to keep her distance despite it all, lying awkwardly so that no part of their bodies touch, but then she’s too focused on his hair tickling her face, and more the scent of it, and their legs brush. Rena, meanwhile, is clinging on for dear life.
“Rena, are you trying to choke me?” She curls her legs into her body, so the responses come simultaneously.
“I’m going to be on the floor if you two don’t move up.”
“Mion, you’re kneeing me in the back.”
Keiichi heaves a sigh, turns back around, and pulls her close. It's so sudden that the three of them knock skulls.
“Is this better?” His voice is muffled by her hair, hers by his shirt.
“N-No. Now I can’t breathe for two different reasons.”
And so he rolls onto his back, laughing raucously. She elbows him in the stomach.
“Sorry, it's just, we’re hopeless, aren't we?"
“Hopeless yourself.” Still, she feels herself relax, and Rena settles on hugging her, which she doesn’t hate. And one futon, she realises, is incredibly warm when shared between three bodies, even for a chilly spring evening in Hinamizawa.
At least, that’s what she supposes when she wakes up a few hours later, unaware of when she’d fallen asleep, with the cover kicked to the floor and one leg draped over Keiichi. Rena’s still holding onto her, breath shallow against her shoulder, and beyond the window the night is all stillness and scattered stars, and for a moment she just listens. She listens to the breathing of the humans on either side of her, and, when she’s sure she’s the only one awake, pulls them both in closer. Closer than they need to be, close enough that they’re just a jumble of limbs and torsos, a cocoon of warmth in the deepest part of the night. Close enough that she can’t tell the rise and fall of their chests from her own, close as they can be—enough so that she can fall back asleep smiling.
***
Mion opens her eyes to daylight. She stays there, in the space between sleep and wakefulness, until she realises the futon is empty. She frowns. She always sleeps so well next to them—too well.
When she wanders down to her kitchen, she sees the morning is well underway. They had had plans to meet in Okinomiya, and it seemed Keiichi and Rena had both left to do few things at home first, not wanting to wake her.
She sits at the kitchen table, resting her cheek on her fist. Her mind’s still empty when the bell rings through the house a little later. It takes her a moment to realise it’s a Sunday, and so there's no helper here today, and so she'll have to get it herself.
When she opens the wooden door at the end of the garden path a few minutes later, she finds Keiichi on the other side of it.
“Oh, how lovely it is to see you on this fine morning, Kei-chan. And what brings you here? I was just about to sit down to some late breakfast.” She jabs, even though she knows he’ll take it seriously.
“Ahaha... Well, about that… Did you make something already?” He chews on his lip.
“No, I just not long ago woke up from my undisturbed sleep.”
He either ignores or misses the bait, and breaks into a smile. Her eyes are still adjusting to the bright winter daylight after the fog of sleep, and she realises she’s focusing on all these little details of his face, like they’ll anchor her to consciousness. She lets herself do more these days, all the things she wouldn't have permitted before.
“Great! I mean, my parents made too much, so I thought I’d…” He retrieves a series of bento boxes from his bicycle basket and presses them into her hands.
"How awfully kind of you."
“Look, I'm sorry we left, Rena promised her dad she'd make breakfast, and I walked her back. Take this as a goodwill gesture." He frowns for a moment, but then his expression transforms into something she’s more used to—something playful. “It's not like I have an ulterior motive."
“Eh?”
He raises his eyebrows at her, and all at once she realises what he's referencing, that this isn't the first time one of them has brought food to the other's doorstep, and she's almost embarrassed, but a lot's changed since the winter.
Spring hasn't quite become summer yet, and Keiichi's cheeks are red from the brisk air. He seems to think he has the upper hand in this now, as he places his fingers over hers, still grasping the boxes. “You should go inside. You’ll catch a cold.”
And she parts her lips to respond, but then she’s kissing him instead.
Whether it's been ten seconds or ten minutes, she's already forgetting it even as she's pulling away. And then she’s looking around, as if there’s ever anyone else in this corner of the world on a particularly cold spring morning—as if it matters if anyone saw. As if anything does.
“You're welcome?” He says belatedly, and it's more of a question, and his voice is hoarse, and she smiles.
“Yeah. I’ll enjoy it,” she says, feeling herself begin to grin at his dumbfounded expression, even as her heart is hammering in her chest. “Want to come inside?”
Keiichi says nothing, only stares, mouth still agape, and she’s beginning to worry about leaving him to ride home in this state when he begins to turn towards his bike, like he's not sure what else to do.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. See you in a few, then. The usual place.”
He nods mutely, and only seems to come back to him himself a little as he’s about to ride away. He looks back at her one last time, his expression betraying just how many questions he has. It’s so endearing, how uncertain he is. It reminds her of how she'd been once. She smiles at him.
“We can talk later, Kei-chan.”
He seems to nod at that, and then she watches him ride away into the day.
***
Everything feels a little hazy as she finally gets ready for the day, then sets out her brunch-for-one. At first she assumes she's still waking up, then she begins to worry that she might be ill. Finally, she actually thinks about what’s just happened. She’d always wondered how it would feel—it feels like always.
Bit by bit, as she eats the food he'd brought her, she feels herself return to reality, and suddenly she's tasting the salt of tears.
It’s then that she begins to worry it’s all a dream, before she realises that even if it is, she’ll wake up next to him in the morning, and she’ll do it again. She’ll do it as many times as she has to, as many as she hasn’t before.
The way her heart is thumping feels like more than a year of memories can explain.
She lets herself cry, then, smiling all the while. She finds she can’t stop, and is still grinning when she rides up to Keiichi and Rena a little later and they speed down the mountain roads to Okinomiya, screeching and laughing as fresh air fills their lungs.
When they arrive, her eyes meet Keiichi's for a moment, and she sees he's grinning right back at her. They laugh, then, until the others ask what’s wrong. Somewhere in it all she realises, like an afterthought, that this is her life. The reality they’d all wanted, and earned.
On that spring day, with its impossibly blue sky, it seemed as though her entire life had come together before her eyes. Because if it had all led to this, what would she have changed?
It was a day where it felt as though she was the only person who had ever truly understood the meaning of the word happiness, and that it was the feeling of speeding down the evening roads back home with them beside her, guiding her through the darkness, and knowing she was already there—home. That it was knowing that wherever she went, if she were with them, she’d be there.