Work Text:
This is how it ends.
“Sawa!”
Sawa looks down at the knife, shaking, as blood drips off the end of it. Sento pulls himself back with a muttered curse, his fingers still tight around her wrist.
“We don’t need that,” Banjou says sharply. He grabs it from her, but not like someone who’s afraid of her. Like someone who’s afraid for her. There’s gentleness, worry in his voice, too, underneath the tightness. How does she know that? How does she know to read him so well?
He pushes at Sento’s shoulder. “Go. Bandages. I’ve got this. Go!”
She makes a swipe for the knife, but it’s half-hearted. Because…….. because…………………….
She sits down as all the air seems to go out of her legs. The images are still swirling around her. It’s hard to see.
Banjou’s face looms huge in her vision then impossibly small. There’s a clatter, but it echoes oddly in different corners of this warehouse place. He threw the knife somewhere? Perhaps?
“I think I didn’t want to hurt him.” Her voice is dazed. Oh. Because she feels dazed. As if she hasn’t slept for the past ten years or so.
Banjou shakes his head. “You only stabbed him because he was trying to stop you hurting yourself again,” he tells her, and now that he mentions it she feels small, hot stripes on her forearms. She looks down to see the blood standing out quite prettily against the paleness of her arms and the dark pink of her skirt. The wounds are nothing much, bare slivers, an inch or two long apiece. She’s had far worse in training-
In training.
As a Nanba child. To be forever loyal, to carry out any mission she’s given, using her brain and risking herself in any way she must as long as she doesn’t argue. . .
Her hands find her mouth again and she bites down hard on her fingers. Maybe if she can make herself feel, she can focus in amongst all this sensation, all these memories-!
Banjou’s firm grip on her shoulders brings her back eventually. She looks up at him.
“Was gonna stop you if you started biting through a finger,” he says. “I guess you remember us, yeah?”
Sento resurfaces, shoes quiet but not silent on the concrete floor. She gets the impression that he’s trying to walk loud enough to not startle her. But why does she know how well he knows her?
B-because she’s not herself. She’s not who she thought she was. Well, she is but she’s this other Sawa, as well, all these memories…
They shouldn’t trust her. She just appeared out of nowhere with a knife, after all! But they’re showing her nothing but kindness.
Sento has an adhesive patch slapped hastily and crooked over the wound she gave him on the back of his wrist. His arms are too thin where they peek out of his dark green t-shirt. Has he been eating? She feels like the back of his smooth, dark hair sticks up in a surprised tuft now and then. Strange. It’s not doing it now.
He waves a hand at her, showing her the antiseptic wipes and other patches he’s holding, then fussily tucks the side of her skirt out of the way before he sits next to her on the dusty bed.
She nods eventually. “I do know you. I don’t know why. Or how I knew to come here.”
Sento opens the pack of antiseptic wipes with his teeth. The mild sting of a wipe against the cut along her forearm is good. Grounding. “We’ll explain as much as we can. Which will be science from me, and Banjou will contribute farmyard noises when he feels up to it.”
He pauses to allow Banjou to squawk, then continues seamlessly, “Probably best if you don’t tell us how you found us, anyway, right?”
There’s a warmth in the tired crinkle of Sento’s eyes when he says that, and it takes her breath away for a moment. She finds herself smiling, and when she looks up at Banjou’s grin, she finds herself smiling harder.
This. This is how her life ends.
* * * * * * *
The next few weeks pass in what seems like a blur and a whirlwind. It’s like she’s known these people for her entire life. Months, at least. It’s like she’s always had these skills – not just hacking, not just contacts, not just the guts to go sneaking where she’s not supposed to be, but also physical skills.
And you can’t just suddenly get those out of nowhere, right? No matter how quantum everything is. No matter how ridiculous the science is (she understands some of it, because she’s smart, but it’s… it’s still ridiculous to join two worlds together). Even if you have a dream, or a really good teacher, you can’t go in a day from being a normal person to being able to do acrobatics. Muscle memory is just muscle memory, it doesn’t mean you have the actual specific strength for this.
Sometimes she finds herself backflipping down the street just for fun.
Fun!
(Not something a Nanba child needed to know about.)
They all get their memories back in fits and starts. It’d be easier if it was all of them, all at once, she thinks when she looks up at Gen-chan’s distressed face outside Nascita.
* * * * * * * *
There are blips in amongst the blurs. Images she records in her notes, encrypted as was her habit even before she remembered her other self’s life.
---- Misora-chan threatening to kill Banjou for drying his socks in the microwave, after being all smiles and politeness and Good Customer Service for days, and Banjou starting to cry in surprised joy.
---- Gen-chan going in a day from wearing all grey to wearing jeans and a leather jacket with ridiculous t-shirts underneath.
---- Banjou throwing her an orange. She reflexively bats it back, and he growls playfully. He adds an apple. She kicks it back, laughing, and the resulting game lasts for an hour and twelve minutes and briefly involves Sento, Misora-chan, Souichi, Gentoku’s rhinestone-studded beard comb, and mournful little protests from Gentoku.
********
Sawa thinks she’s never seen anything quite so awkward as the two Banjous meeting with Kasumi-chan in the middle.
Dark-haired Banjou squeezes Kasumi’s hand gently. “It’s okay. Go on, if you still wanna do it.”
Banjou – their Banjou – has a terrible griefstricken expression on his face, but he makes a valiant attempt at slapping his more usual amiable grin over the top. Sawa shifts in his periphery, just to remind him that he has friends. That he’s not alone. She can see Sento on the other side of Nascita’s main customer area, his arms folded, leaning against a doorway.
They really need to find somewhere else to do this kind of thing. It’s a beautiful day outside, with a gentle breeze. She’s even able to wear a sleeveless blouse today. The orchids are blooming in the little pots that Souichi’s put around the door. They could go to the park. But she has a sudden image of Banjou taking off and just running, like a stray dog, never to be seen again. She sighs, and sits back in her chair.
Kasumi-chan takes the few steps over to Banjou, and her fingers find his. He freezes.
He freezes harder when she places her other hand on the shoulder of his white t-shirt with the wings for balance, and reaches up to kiss his cheek. “I remember,” she whispers. The grief on her face is nearly as bad as the grief on his. “I remember, and it wasn’t your fault.”
Sawa suddenly wants to get to know her better. Someone who loves Banjou, any Banjou, must be a good person. With more to her than just her care for him - which is important! - and her thoughts about him. What's hurting her about the two worlds joining? Does she have family here? What's her favorite breakfast food? What singers does she like?
There’s a quick pit-pat-pit-pat, four quick steps, and she’s back at dark-haired Banjou’s side. She doesn’t touch him, and he doesn’t reach out to touch her. Maybe sensing that she needs her own space just now. Sawa’s well aware that their Banjou can be surprisingly emotionally smart sometimes.
“I don’t remember any of it,” dark-haired Banjou says quietly. “Maybe because you’re still alive – which is good! But I know some other people do, and I trust her.”
Sento’s hand is on their Banjou’s shoulder. Where did he come from? He’s unexpectedly swift sometimes. Always a good balance for Banjou. His eyes flick to Banjou’s. After a moment, Banjou nods, and Sento’s gaze goes back to the two visitors.
“You can come visit any time.”
It’s an invitation and also a dismissal. Banjou needs some time to deal, but then he wants to see you again.
********
They send a collective email to Kazumi, but the only reply they get is in unsigned, in red, blue, and yellow text. Saying that Kazumi is just fine and he won’t be travelling.
Banjou and Sento look especially disappointed at this, but Gentoku points at his t-shirt that has NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER SURRENDER on it. Misora-chan shakes her head and makes a comment about him having the fashion sense of katsudon, then they all get caught up in what type of katsudon.
********
It takes them various amounts of time to recover their memories. Souichi says he doesn’t have his back at all, but there’s a time when Sawa sees Sento go to the man when he sits staring out the window in the café, coffee untouched on the table before him. His straw hat’s still perched on his head, though Nascita is closed and he technically doesn’t ‘have’ to be in his cheery owner persona any more.
She can’t quite hear what he says. Perhaps she doesn’t want to let herself hear. She absorbs herself in the beach puzzle she shares with Misora, sneaking a peek now and then.
Misora’s hand sneaks into hers when Sento’s hand goes to Souichi’s shoulder. Sawa squeezes gently, and places the unicorn exactly in the middle of the boat (it’s an odd puzzle).
Souichi looks up at Sento, with an attempt at a breezy smile, and murmurs something. Sento shakes his head, and then Souichi’s face twists.
Misora and Sawa stand at the same time.
“We just have to go check on-“
“-the bread’s burning!”
They get out of there as Souichi crumples against Sento’s stomach, and Sento’s arms go around him.
********
“You forgave me so much,” Sawa says out of nowhere, interrupting the companionable silence that had lasted about thirteen minutes, forty-seven seconds, by her reckoning. She’s stopped working on her latest article and is now idly doodling bunnies in the corners of the pages of her notebook.
He and Banjou have shyly taken over the basement, at Souichi’s insistence. She stays with Misora-chan now and then herself, cuddled in together on the little bed. It’s not like it was before, she thinks, but perhaps it’s better. There’s no one actively trying to kill them all, and that has to be an improvement, right? Even if Sento seems to be a little lost.
Sento shakes his head, and continues tapping figures into his laptop. Unfazed, as usual, by pretty much anything she says to him. “That wasn’t even you. Not really. And you deserved it. You kept trying to help us even when your orders were otherwise.”
“Oh, so it’s me when I do something good, and not me when I’ve done something bad?”
There’s a hint of a tired smile around his lips. “Yes, that’s about it.”
“Then the same goes for you!”
She knows it won’t work, not entirely. There’s a world of pain in him, and he already has Banjou and the others holding him up, too, for all that he strenuously resists the whole idea of anyone ‘deserving’ to have to put energy into helping him. He’s at fault, and he’s the one who should suffer by helping everyone else.
But maybe, just maybe, she can take a little of the edge off, so she smiles brightly and waits for his protest. It doesn’t take long, but his smile is broader, and that’s a help.
“You look like you think you just squared a circle!”
She sips at her mango juice and flips to a new page in her notebook. “It’s best not to ask me how I know how to do that,” she says solemnly.
He responds with a snorted laugh, and goes back to his work.
********
“So we’re dead,” Misora-chan says softly. "The other versions of us. Somehow."
Sawa nods, shakes her head, nods again. Gen-chan shrugs helplessly, then turns his back to the railing on the roof of Nascita, leaning his elbows on its metallic coolness instead. He has his own understanding of the equations behind it, being more knowledgeable about science than he usually allows himself to be.
“Do you feel dead?” he asks finally.
Sawa just shakes her head, now. She can see Gen-chan out of the corner of her left eye. Misora-chan is a small, solid presence to her right. They’re a descending line of heights along the railing.
“I almost remember what it was like. To not exist any more. It’s so strange to have those memories mixed with the ones from this world. Mostly, though,” and her eyes flick to Gen-chan, then over to Misora-chan, and she sees the answering glimmer of memory in Misora-chan’s dark eyes. “Mostly I remember that you died before the worlds joined, Gen-chan.”
Gentoku takes a few steps away from the railing, as though that particular thought is something he can just escape from. They both turn to watch him. “I didn’t,” he protests. He opens his jacket. Today’s t-shirt, in green and purple, reads ALIVE.
Sawa thinks fondly that she’s never quite seen anyone who can be so simultaneously attractive and so incredibly embarrassing, with his stupid little beard and his stupid, stupid shirts.
“You did, Gen-chan,” Misora says. Her voice is very firm. “You and Kazumin. And we won’t forgive you.”
Sawa backs her up, remembering just how nice it is to have a friend to back up in this way. Someone who isn’t expected to be sent on missions. Someone she can definitely see again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. “No. We’ll never forgive you.”
There’s a dip to the set of Gentoku’s shoulders under his stupid leather jacket, as if there’s a weight on them. Then he squares himself, and attempts a grin. “What if I get you sweets?”
“Forgiven!”
“That works!”
********
There’s a knock at the door.
“We’re closed, sorry!” Souchi calls with a broom in his hand. Sawa steps lightly past him, past Banjou and Sento having what started out as training and has now devolved into some kind of slap fight, and past Gen-chan and Misora-chan looking at a fashion magazine. He’s still wearing his stupid jacket. Misora’s in a summery outfit, all blues and whites.
Sawa opens the door and ushers the person inside.
“Kazumin” Sento says somehow, though his jaw is on the floor.
The man himself is twisting his hands together, right up until he makes himself stop. Wearing his usual brown coat. Sawa stays close to him. It’s – it’s nice to feel like an emotional support person sometimes, given everything in her other memories. Nice to be able to use that side of herself. Especially since her own emotions only started to matter on the other world around Sento-tachi, too, when they started to support her.
“Hi,” he says at last.
Souichi grins, and darts behind the counter. “Coffee all round, I think!”
Sawa holds up a hand to forestall the various open mouths. “It’s best if you don’t ask me.”
This, then is how her life begins.
Messy. Incomplete. Hurting. Strange, and ridiculous.
And perfect.