Archive of Our Own

Homura walks across the station, pulling her one suitcase behind her and squeezing past the crowd, away from the train that she just alighted from and towards the exit where a familiar yet foreign district waits for her. She has distant memories of this place, including some that she’d just rather forget. To her, Akatsuka Ward is the embodiment of certain poor choices that she made, and its mere existence reminds her too much of the pain and the trauma.

She can’t bring herself to hate the place though, nor can she stay away from it for the rest of her life. If there’s a good memory that she made here, it’s one of a certain young man in yellow that gave her something to live for again. He reminded her how to laugh, how to see the bright side in things, and that’s something that she will be eternally grateful for. He fell for her, and so did she, but she still chose to move away and start anew. She knows she hurt him, but he still understood, and the memory of him running to catch up to the train to make one last smile shine through all those tears that night makes her wistful; and incredibly, incredibly ashamed of herself.

She had done nothing but hurt him, yet he still loved her. Even now, she can’t see why he ever did.

She shakes her head, ridding herself of that train of thought. It wouldn’t do any good if she let her disgust with herself taint the one good thing that came out of her experience in Akatsuka Ward. After all, he’s the main reason why she isn’t completely dreading her visit. She doesn’t know where he lives, so she won’t be able to stop by his house directly, but she still remembers the route he took every morning when he went out, chanting his signature cheer in his signature baseball uniform. Hopefully, that route hasn’t changed, and all she has to do is follow along that path until she runs into him.

She’s nervous, she has to admit. What if he doesn’t remember her? What if he doesn’t recognize her? They only knew each other for such a short amount of time after all—even now, she can’t bring herself to actually believe she had that much of an impact on him. She’s still amazed that he even fell for her in the first place, because he deserved (and still does) far, far more than her.

The first thing she sees when she exits the station is a taxi stand, so she stands in line with everyone else, waiting for her turn to board whichever taxi awaits her. Once that time comes, she walks over and gets into the back, quickly telling the driver the name of the hotel where she’s going to be staying at for the next three days.

As he drives along the vaguely familiar roads, her mind goes back to Matsuno Jyushimatsu. She hopes that he’s doing well. She hopes that he’s happy.

The very next day, Homura takes a walk down a faintly familiar street, trying to refresh her memory of what this town is like. Although her recollection is fuzzy on what the street’s name is and all those little details, she knows it’s somewhere Jyushimatsu has taken her before. A long time ago, she asked him to take her along his daily route, and she made sure to memorize the features of every place he took her to. He even taught her his signature chant, and she can’t help but smile when she remembers how they ended up calling out, “Hustle hustle! Muscle muscle!” together around the neighborhood, having the best time of their lives.

She doesn’t know if he still comes by this area, but she hopes he does. More specifically, she hopes that he still comes by this area at around this hour, because that means that she actually has a chance at seeing and reuniting with him. It’s a shame that she never thought to ask for his address before, and she can only resort to walking along the roads she remembers him taking.

Suddenly, as she’s strolling, she catches a dash of yellow out of the corner of her eye. She looks in that direction, and to her utter joy, the yellow belongs to a very familiar baseball uniform. A figure is standing there, bat over their shoulder, hat off and held to their chest, looking up at one of the houses off to the side.

It’s Jyushimatsu.

It’s not the most tactful way to react to seeing someone for the first time in months, but Homura’s excited and thus doesn’t care when she ends up running towards the figure, calling Jyushimatsu’s name as she waves at him ecstatically.

The man’s head snaps in her direction, and his eyes get a little wider once he recognizes Homura, causing her to stop right in her tracks. Now that she’s closer and he’s fully facing her, it’s obvious to her that this isn’t Jyushimatsu. Those half-lidded eyes don’t belong to Jyushimatsu. That bent back doesn’t belong to Jyushimatsu. That unbrushed hair doesn’t belong to Jyushimatsu.

But most of all, that unsmiling, venomous glare this stranger is giving her doesn’t belong to Jyushimatsu.

That night as she lies on her hotel bed, Homura thinks about what happened earlier in the day. What a strange and surreal moment that was. The man turned on his heel and walked off after shooting her that glare, leaving her stunned at the unexpected turn of events. Who exactly was he?

Well, to be quite honest, she has a feeling she knows who he was. She remembers Jyushimatsu telling her about his five brothers and how he was a sextuplet, she remembers the way her jaw dropped once she heard about that, and she remembers his promise that he would take her to meet them someday.

Too bad that someday never came. It was and still is one of her many regrets when she packed up to go back to the countryside, because from what she heard, his brothers were just as interesting as he was, which she took to be a good thing. Jyushimatsu was lovely, so she wouldn’t be surprised if they were as well.

But now as her mind returns to the present and recalls the mysterious individual in a baseball uniform identical to her savior’s, she wonders if he just so happened to be one of the brothers she had heard so much about. It took her a moment, but after he walked off so brusquely, she realized that he did share the same face with Jyushimatsu. But that facial expression was just the complete opposite of Jyushimatsu’s sunny smile and bright countenance, so now as she hugs the pillow close to her chest, she wonders if she just misrecognized him…

She shakes her head, freeing herself from those thoughts. She shouldn’t wonder these things -- they’d just make her start doubting herself on whether she even remembers Jyushimatsu’s face at all. And of course she does.

Besides, just because the man she saw today looked like him didn’t really mean that he had any relation to Jyushimatsu… Except the resemblance becomes more uncanny the more Homura thinks about it.

Well, she should probably stop worrying about it. The encounter lasted for only a moment, and it would be wrong if this becomes the only thing she were to think about for the rest of her stay here. As she nods off to sleep, she resolves herself to make the most of her visit. She should enjoy herself; it’s something Jyushimatsu would want for her, too.

The next day goes smoothly for Homura, and she makes sure to take photos of the places she goes to -- the restaurants, the stalls, the streets -- wanting to replace those distant bad memories of this place with better ones. When she thinks too much of the past, she feels physically unsettled, and though she probably won’t ever forget what the job she had before or what she had to do for said job, she wants to dispose as much of that haunting memory as she can.

As she lugs her suitcase across the train station once more that night, ready to head back home, she pauses and looks back for one brief moment. Her visit almost feels incomplete without seeing Jyushimatsu even once, and she curses herself for only staying for this past couple of days.

She reminds herself to stay a little bit longer next time.

Wounds heal with time, Homura discovers while she continues living in the country. Gradually, she learns how to genuinely smile and laugh without anyone prompting her to, and her general outlook on life brightens until it’s almost like the bubbly one she had before she made those poor choices in Akatsuka Ward. Her scars will always remain on her heart, just like they will on her wrists, but even those will fade to a dull color over time even if they never will disappear completely.

Six months after her previous visit to the district, she decides to go back once more. Two months ago, her aunt moved to Akatsuka Ward herself, and when Homura calls her to ask if she’s able to stay with her, she cheerfully tells her that she’s more than welcome to. Now that she doesn’t have hotel bills to worry about, and past trauma no longer afflicts her like it once did, she decides that she’s ready for a more prolonged stay.

Three months, she decides. It’s a huge leap from last time’s three days, but the way everything occurred without incident during her previous visit gave a boost to her overall confidence, and since she can tell her aunt is lonely, it wouldn’t hurt to pay her some more company. She can do this.

And this time, she reminds herself, she needs to make reuniting with Jyushimatsu her top priority.

Akatsuka Ward is warmer and cozier than Homura ever remembers it being. She exits the train station on a day that the sun shines brightly, as if the place was suddenly calling her one of its residents that just returned from a long visit to elsewhere. She can’t help but chuckle at the thought; after all, in reality, it was the other way around.

“Homu-chan, you’re here! I missed you!”

“Hehe,” Homura can’t help but giggle. “I missed you, too, Auntie.”

Her aunt’s one of the most loving people she knows, so it isn’t any surprise to Homura when she greets her with a huge hug and tells her that she already prepared the guest room for her. Really, she’s thankful to be related to someone like her. Her demeanor and personality kind of reminds her of Jyushimatsu, a thought that causes her to smile wistfully as she sits on the guest bed.

She’s happy to have come back, and she’s certain she made the right choice. She can’t help but feel like she’s going to live some of her best days here for the next three months, and who knows? If she really ends up enjoying this time’s visit as much as she did previously, if not more so, there’s a good chance she’ll move back here permanently. It was time to let go of the things that happened. That dark stage of her life is over now, after all.

It’s still a while before her aunt’s done preparing dinner, so she decides to go outside and take a walk around the nearby area. She hasn’t been walking for five minutes when she notices an individual -- a child? -- standing behind a stall for oden with his arms crossed, presumably waiting for customers to show up. Out of curiosity, she approaches him.

“Heya, Missy,” the child greets her when he notices her presence. “Ya here for oden? Take a seat then, damn it.”

Homura blinks. “Oh, no, I’m just… passing by,” she explains herself. “Thank you though. What’s a little boy like you doing, running this stall by yourself?”

The child’s face suddenly turns red in anger, and he bangs his ladle against the counter. “Little boy?! The hell?! I’m in my 20s -- I’m a full-fledged adult, damnit! I may kinda be on the tiny side, but don’t just look down on me like that, ya idjit!”

Oh. Oops. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Homura offers her sincerest apologies, even bowing a little out of embarrassment and remorse. She should’ve known better than to think a kid would actually be allowed to supervise an oden stall anyway. “I’m not too familiar with the people here. I’m just visiting for the next few months, and I only arrived today.”

The child -- adult -- stops blowing his fuse, calming down and sighing. “Ah, well. Can’t say it’s the first time someone made a mistake like that before.” He eyes her carefully as if he’s analyzing every part of her. “This your first time here?”

Homura shakes her head no.

“Just your first day back then, huh? Well, take a seat anyway. You should at least have some oden to celebrate being back, idjit.”

Homura considers declining once more, but she sits down on the bench anyway, probably because she feels like she has to make it up to the stall owner for momentarily offending him. He’s a passionate individual, judging from his enthusiasm while preparing the oden as he rants about how it’s the most important food ever created by man and how preparing it requires intense training and experience. He even mentions something about having an apprentice at one point, only to bitterly add that the “idjit” quit on him before the first night was even over.

His oden’s good, she has to admit. It’s obvious that he’s genuine about his passion, placing the entirety of his mind and soul into creating this food for her to enjoy. She’s almost done when her aunt calls, telling her dinner is ready.

Dinner! Of course. Homura completely forgot about dinner the minute she began savoring this delicious oden. Once she hangs up, she hastily explains to the owner that she needs to get going now, and she opens her sling purse. As she fumbles for her wallet, something else falls out and almost lands in the soup base, but fortunately, the owner’s there to grab it mid-air before anything happens.

He’s about to hand it back to her, and she’s about to take it, when he notices what exactly it is that fell out. It’s half of a photo strip featuring her and Jyushimatsu, back when they were still hanging out with each other, the prized possession that she always keeps with her wherever she goes. Jyushimatsu supposedly has the other half.

The owner retracts his hand to stare at the strip a bit longer. “You knew him?” he asks in a somber and level tone, a huge contrast to the hot-blooded personality she saw up until now.

“Ah, y-yeah…” Homura nods. “Can I have that back please…?”

“Oh. Sure, sorry.” The owner finally gives the strip back to her. He narrows his eyes at her, not to glare at her, but to scrutinize. “Don’t tell me you’re that girl that one time…?”

Homura fidgets under his gaze; the atmosphere’s suddenly very uncomfortable. “Uh, my aunt… She’s waiting for me right now, so I should go—”

“Wait.”

Homura’s already turned to go, but she halts once she recognizes the serious tone in the owner’s voice. She looks back over her shoulder at him, anxious. Why the sudden change in mood?

“You don’t… know what happened, do you?” he asks, somber expression unchanging.

Homura grips the strap of her purse tightly, growing more nervous by the second. What’s this person talking about? Is there something about Jyushimatsu that she needs to know?

Then, with a regretful tone and a somber expression, he tells her. And her world comes crashing down.

She shouldn’t have come back.

It was an accident. Jyushimatsu and one of his brothers were taking a walk through town one particular afternoon, when a group of kids playing baseball in the adjacent park accidentally hit their ball into the road. Jyushimatsu went to fetch it for them, but a large truck came swerving around the corner, and despite his brother screaming at him to get out of the way, he didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Matsuno Jyushimatsu was later pronounced dead at the hospital.

It happened eight months ago, the oden stall owner told Homura. It shook their entire family, their entire circle of friends, the entire neighborhood. Jyushimatsu was known to withstand anything, so how could a mere truck collision do him in like that? Surely he’d been through worse experiences.

Fate’s cruel, Homura decides, face buried into her pillow now stained with tears. After hearing it from the owner, she went straight back to the house, walked past the dinner table and her confused aunt, entered the guest room, and collapsed onto the bed, crying harder than she ever remembers having cried before. Now she’s out of tears, her eyes sting, and all she can do is reflect as she stares blankly up at the ceiling.

Eight months. That’s how long it’s been. That was before her three-day visit last time, too, when she was looking forward to seeing him so, so much -- and yet he’s been dead all this time? What a cruel trick life has played on her.

She suddenly thinks back on the stranger she encountered that one day six months ago, wearing an outfit identical to Jyushimatsu’s signature baseball uniform. If that really was one of his brothers, then things would start making a lot more sense. If one of his brothers was mourning, if one of his brothers was looking back on all of their good times together, if one of his brothers needed time alone only for her to come disrupt him and remind him of everything he doesn’t have anymore…

Somewhere underneath the grief and the shock and every other emotion that the news brought to her, Homura can’t help but feel very, very guilty.

Homura wakes up with sore, red eyes and a despondent state of mind that weighs more heavily on her than anything she has felt in such a long time. The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is that same drab ceiling she was staring up at for so long last night, and she feels her right hand balled up into a fist, clutching something tightly. When she looks over and opens her fingers, dully ignoring the prickling numbness resulting from her hand being in that position for so many hours, she sees the offending object is the very same photo strip that led to her discovery of Jyushimatsu’s fate.

When she holds the strip up to the light, she notices that it’s crumpled from the way she was gripping it; the creases stretch over both her and Jyushimatsu’s faces just like small cracks on smooth glass. Her heart aches at the sight, knowing very well that she can’t ever take new photos with him again. She can’t possibly redo the past, or fix the fissures that formed in her heart as a result of losing the boy she loved.

Her concerned aunt peeks her head in through the guest room door. “Homu-chan, are you okay?” she asks her niece.

“Ah.” Homura musters a forced smile, not wanting to burden her with her troubles. “I’m fine, Auntie. It’s nothing big.”

They both are aware of how her words fall flat, failing to convince anyone. Still, she appreciates how her aunt refrains from pressing the matter further though, instead asking her if she’s hungry. Truthfully, she isn’t, despite having not eaten anything since she visited the oden stall, but she still nods her head.

When she gets up out of her bed to follow her aunt to the dining room, Homura takes one final peek at the photo strip before shoving it in her dress pocket. The glance is quick, lasting only a second, but all of its details, creases and all, are seared into her brain.

The memory of little, crumpled Jyushimatsu haunts her.

Although all she wants to do is curl up in her bed and grieve, Homura finds herself stepping out of the house so she won’t be able to worry her aunt any more than she already has. She wanders around the district aimlessly; she has no idea where she should go. Seeing Jyushimatsu was priority number one before she received the news, but now that that’s been taken away from her, she doesn’t really know why she’s here anymore.

In one quick instant, the pain that she once associated with Akatsuka Ward comes flooding back, and she’s reminded of why she found this place so unfortunate in the first place. Nothing good has ever happened to her here, and even the one ray of light that she encountered has been snuffed out by the doom that seems to ever so naturally follow her around.

Before she knows it, she finds herself having wandered to the one place that’s arguably the most familiar of all. She’s at the beach, where the sun is shining high in the sky and the tide is visiting with its usual ebb and flow. To anyone else, the scenery would be gorgeous, but what Homura sees is the complete opposite. This is the place where she almost executed a decision that there would be no turning back from, and the only reason why she’s still alive and standing today is—

She can’t bring herself to finish the thought. She furiously brushes at the tears already beginning to form, cursing the world for being so unfair. She wanted to die, and he saved her. She couldn’t return the favor, and now he’s the one who’s dead.

By instinct, she peers up at the cliff side where she once stood, not really expecting to see anyone there. Her eyes widen once she sees that there is an individual sitting at the very edge, and although she can’t really make out who they are or even if they really are planning to jump, her legs move on their own. She runs -- she sprints -- in the direction of the path leading to the top of the cliff, and it only takes a minute for her to reach the peak. She sees a dash of purple, and before she realizes what she’s doing, she leaps at them and wraps her arms around their stomach as tightly as she can.

“No!”

“Wh—Let go!”

On instinct, the stranger tries to elbow her off of them and ends up making contact with her jaw, but Homura’s adrenaline overrides whatever aching pain the blow may have delivered. She clings on tight, refusing to let go. She won’t let go. She will never let go. It’s what he would have done for her.

Although the stranger continues to struggle against her hold, she manages to somehow drag them away from the edge, just enough that she feels comfortable loosening her grip on them. They take this opportunity to finally push her off of them, turning around and glaring at her.

“What the hell are you—Oh.”

He stops mid-shout once he realizes who she is, and she finds herself the same way as she recognizes him in return. It’s those eyes, the same half-lidded eyes with which she made contact all those months ago, during her last visit. There was no way she’d forget the way he looked at her so spitefully and so viciously; despite the confusing tornado of thoughts about sextuplets and brothers and identical and Jyushimatsu whirling around her head, she’s sure that this was the same man she saw wearing that baseball uniform. Except now, he’s replaced the baseball uniform with a purple jumpsuit, one that seems almost too big for him, and her heart clenches when she remembers Jyushimatsu wearing something similar on one of their dates.

“...What was that just now?” the man -- who Homura is pretty sure is Jyushimatsu’s brother at this point -- grumbles. He seems to have calmed down, but he doesn’t seem any less discontent at her sudden arrival.

His voice brings Homura back to reality, and she blinks as her panting slows to a halt. “Oh, I… I just saw you up here, and I didn’t want you to do anything extreme…”

His eyes slightly widen for a fraction of a second as he realizes what she’s implying before he scoffs. “What, did you think I was gonna jump?”

Homura pauses at that. “You mean… you weren’t?” she asks skeptically. “What were you doing then?”

The man makes a noise, an obvious indication that this brief conversation has already gone in an unwanted direction. “Why do you care?” he challenges her, glaring a glare not unlike the first one he gave her. “You don’t even know me.”

Knowing she’s hit upon a sore spot, she visibly squirms underneath his gaze. Despite the clear distinction between him and Jyushimatsu, it still feels as if it was the latter himself angry with her. Still, she manages out a quiet, “Because Jyushimatsu-kun would.”

His temper noticeably flares. “And why does it matter to you what Jyushimatsu would think?” he snaps, his voice somewhat raising. “You left him! You can’t just decide how he’d feel when he can’t anymore.”

He scrambles up to his feet towards the end of this short spiel and hurries off, down the same path that Homura took to get up to the top of the cliff. Meanwhile, she kneels there on the limestone, stunned by his harsh words. She doesn’t have the energy to run after him and apologize, and she simply watches his figure move farther and farther away down the beachside, until he becomes a dot, until he becomes nothing at all. Even when he’s gone, she still can’t bring herself to stand up, and she finds herself wracked with guilt and shame as she stares out at that all-too-familiar sight of the ocean. Vaguely, she can feel her chin finally begin to sting from the blow he delivered, but it feels so dull to her that it may as well not be there.

Well then. That certainly confirms it. That man is indeed one of Jyushimatsu’s brothers, though which one, she has no way of knowing. It isn’t like she can just ask him now, can she? Even if she could somehow figure out where he’s gone off to, it’s not like he would want anything to do with her, after being on the receiving end of her tactlessness. Oh god, what has she done? Despite how devastated she is over Jyushimatsu’s death, at least she isn’t his relative or someone else who has known him his whole life… the life that was brutally cut short eight months ago.

The tears have come back with a vengeance as her mind races with self-hating thoughts and wistful desires to see Jyushimatsu once more. Her view of the vast ocean is now blurry from the wetness in her eyes, and she buries herself in her knees, sobbing to herself.

She’s the worst. She just wants to get up and walk those extra few steps, until her foot meets nothing but air, until she falls down that cliffside into the ocean below. Let the waves swallow her whole, swallow away the grief, the sadness, the self-blame. It’s an idea that sounds better the more she thinks about it…

…yet for some reason, she can’t bring herself to move. A part of her knows why: killing herself would undo everything Jyushimatsu did for her. That’s the one thing that puts a damper on the notion, and it isn’t something she feels is worth it. Still, though, the idea of no longer feeling all this pain does feel nice to think about…

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting here -- two seconds, two minutes, two hours. It all feels the same to her. Her feelings have washed away the concept of time for her, but does it matter? Time is what took her away from him, and what took him away from her. She wishes that their relationship could have been timeless, so that he could’ve been with her forever.

Her ever continuing thoughts are interrupted when she suddenly feels a cold sensation on the top of her head. She looks up with her red and puffy eyes, and her eyes widen at who it is she sees.

It’s Jyushimatsu.

…

No, there’s no way. Jyushimatsu is dead. Just a ghost that haunts her memory. She rubs away the tears, and as her vision adjusts to the sunlight once more, she can vaguely make out the messy hair and the purple jumpsuit that she just saw earlier, however long it’s been.

Meanwhile, he seems surprised to see the condition she’s in, his fingers curling around the cold drink in his hand so tightly that she expects it the bottle cap to pop right off. Why… why is he back here? To call her out more on how inconsiderate and terrible she is? She wouldn’t blame him, she thinks bitterly. It’s understandable.

But, rather than angry, he seems more confused and awkward than anything else, as if he doesn’t know what to make of this turn of events. “Uh… er…” he starts to stammer. He’s not necessarily coherent, but the break in silence is a little jarring nonetheless. Finally, he finds it in him to ask, “W-why are you… what are you crying for?”

Homura doesn’t answer that right away. He’s… kidding, right? Unless if he really thinks that she’s not upset? Upset over Jyushimatsu? A wave of indignancy comes over her then; she knows she’s terrible, but she’s not going to stand for someone thinking that she’s not grieving, even if that someone is his brother. Jyushimatsu deserves more than that as his legacy.

Maybe the look on her face gives it away, or maybe he simply realizes it himself, but he looks away regrettably. “I-I mean… here.” He stiffly thrusts the cold drink forward, presumably for her to take it. “You shouldn’t just sit out here forever when the sun’s beating down like this, idiot…”

He sounds grumpy, which is enough to give Homura pause. But at the same time, his tone is so different from how he last sounded, when he well and truly lost it with her, so she can’t help but hope that her actions can be redeemed after all. Hesitantly, her fingers wrap around the bottle, and she takes it from him.

“You can also use it as an ice pack,” he offers quickly and forcibly, before she can unscrew the cap and drink. “I… I think I may have hit you accidentally, so… yeah.”

Oh, right, his elbow hit her jaw earlier. She’s completely forgotten about that, and to be honest, it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Still, though she doesn’t realize it, her fingers caress the area where he made contact, and he looks down when he notices.

“Ah, so I’m right… God, I’m such trash…”

He mumbles that second part so quietly that she barely picks up on it, but she does anyway. Is it just her, or does he feel guilty…? He shouldn’t, really. Anyone would react the same way if someone suddenly grabbed them from behind.

“It’s fine,” she manages out, taking a small sip of her drink. “Thank you.”

He tenses when she finally responds with words of her own, as if he wasn’t expecting her to actually speak to him. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something back, but she’s met with nothing but silence. It seems as if he’s having trouble figuring out what to say next.

She’s having almost as much trouble forming the right words, except there’s one question buzzing around her head like an annoying fly. It’s a question she has to ask, a question that she feels is going to overwhelm her if she doesn’t get it out soon.

It’s so surreal, it almost feels like her mouth is moving on its own.

“Why did you come?”

Her voice lingers in the air as she sits, and he stands, on the cliffside by the beach as the sun beats down on both of them. The gaze he’s giving her is intense, but despite that, he doesn’t look any more sure on what to say. She can tell from his expression that he expected her to ask, but he just simply doesn’t have a proper answer prepared. Eventually, he exhales deeply.

“Can we talk somewhere else?”

It’s obviously not the first time he’s spoken to Homura, but it’s the first time she well and truly registers his voice. Much like Jyushimatsu’s, it’s rough and deep, almost hoarse, but it also sounds completely different; he sounds like he’s not used to talking, while Jyushimatsu always sounded like his voice needed to recover from yelling so much.

She’s so distracted that she completely forgets that he asked her something until he clears his throat. She snaps back to reality, and she nods. She finally gets up and brushes off her skirt as the man wordlessly begins to descend on the cliffside path once more. Assuming he means for her to follow him, she does just that, but her mind continues to race. What does he want?

The air around them is as uncomfortable as ever, like a cloud hanging over their heads that neither of them dares to penetrate. She doesn’t dare say a word, out of fear that she may say something that he’d find offensive, and he’d leave again… except for real this time. Fate’s already been kind enough to her, to allow her a second chance, so she doubts that she can afford any more mistakes.

But what if she already has made a mistake? There’s no way for her to be able to tell from the vision of his hunched back… He doesn’t seem like the most approachable type, which doesn’t help with how small she feels right now. She can only hope that he’s no longer angry, and that he’s going to grant her mercy with whatever he needs to get off his chest.

All these frantic thoughts run their course through her brain over and over again, like a tumultuous storm thundering down on her conscience. She’s following him subconsciously at this point; her feet are automatically doing the walking for her as she’s lost in her own self-blaming musings. Once again, she’s lost track of how long the two of them have been walking, and for some reason, she can’t really register their surroundings either. They look familiar yet not really. She’s too deep in her own thoughts to realize where they’re heading.

Suddenly, the figure in front of her moves downward, and she breaks out of her daze enough to realize that he’s now sitting on a bench with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jumpsuit. She looks around and finally realizes they’re at the park, the same one that she and Jyushimatsu went to on one of their dates. It’s empty now, other than two or three children playing on the merry-go-round, and Homura can’t help but bitterly wish that she could still have that innocence.

She sits down on the bench as well while keeping a safe distance from Jyushimatsu’s brother, with her head down and her hands balled up tightly in her skirt. She’s still confused as to what his intentions with her are, and it takes up all of her courage to peek at him out of the corner of her eye.

Much to her surprise, he’s now in the same physical position as she is, sitting up tensely, head down, fingers clenched so tightly into his clothes that she’s almost worried he’s about to rip something. Although she can’t see his face very well, his body language suggests that he highly regrets all the decisions that led up to this point.

“A-are you okay?” she questions cautiously, not really being able to wrap her head around the few things she could glean about his personality. She mentally slaps herself the second the words are out. Of course he’s not okay. You’re a living reminder that he lost his brother.

“He really liked you, you know,” he suddenly speaks up. He sounds like he’s drained of all emotion. “You leaving really messed him up.”

The words themselves are vague, but the meaning they carry couldn’t have been any more clear to Homura. She cringes as the guilt awakens in her once more, and she finds herself looking everywhere except for him.

“He deserved better than that.”

Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all she can say unless if she wants to break down crying once more. She doesn’t hear a response from him, though she’s not sure if that’s only because she’s too busy keeping her own emotions in check.

“Ichimatsu.”

Her head suddenly jerks back to him. “What?”

“My name. It’s Ichimatsu.”

Ichimatsu. Now that’s a name she’s heard before. Out of all the brothers Jyushimatsu used to tell her about, Ichimatsu was the one mentioned the most. She’s not surprised to learn that he’s the one sitting right beside her, but at the same time, this new knowledge intimidates her all the more. This is the one who was closer to Jyushimatsu than anyone else in the entire world… Everything makes even more sense than before.

Still, she tries her best to not shrink back right away. “I’m really sorry about earlier, Matsuno-san—”

“Don’t do that.”

“W-what, apologize?” she asks confusedly. Why shouldn’t she…?

“No, don’t call me Matsuno-san. Spare the formalities. I only told you my first name for a reason, you know.”

Oh. What an odd thing to be bothered by, Homura can’t help but think. It’s not like she can’t relate though; that feeling of not being worth the most minor things is all too familiar to her.

“Ichimatsu-san then,” she concedes. She waits to see if he has any objections, and when none come, she continues, “Again, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really taking your feelings into consideration.” She pauses for a bit, then adds on tentatively, “And I’m sorry about Jyushimatsu-kun. If only I knew what was going to happen…”

“...you wouldn’t have left?” Jyushimatsu’s brother -- Ichimatsu -- finishes for her. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. That shitty truck still would’ve run him over, with or without you in the picture.”

He isn’t one to beat around the bush, that’s for sure. Despite the bluntness of his words, Homura senses something else in his tone, something she fails to identify.

“So I’m sorry, too… I guess.”

Homura almost doesn’t catch that. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, a little more loudly this time. “I know you cared about him, it’s just…” he sighs shakily. “You weren’t there when it happened. It still feels like it’s just a bad dream.”

Homura swears she can hear his voice break slightly towards the end. Her stomach drops at the idea of Jyushimatsu’s cold, dead body lying in a hospital bed, pale and motionless, bruised and battered. She shivers and forces herself to stop imagining it. Ichimatsu’s right; in some cruel, twisted way, she’s lucky she wasn’t there when everyone else was, when they were all at the height of their grief. When they were all mourning at his funeral. When they took him to the crematorium and sat there, waiting for him to be reduced to nothing but ash.

She wasn’t there for any of that.

That’s right, she’s lucky.

So then why does the realization feel like such a heavy weight on her?

She looks over in Ichimatsu’s direction once more, and she’s taken aback when she sees Jyushimatsu for a second before her vision corrects itself. The physical similarities between them are so unnerving, she finds herself rattled. Ashamedly, she wishes she could look him in the eye without being reminded of everything she’s lost.

“I just wanted to see him again…” she murmurs. “I never thought something like this could happen to him…”

Ichimatsu doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t get the chance to, either, when Homura’s phone rings out of the blue. She doesn’t want to pick up, but when she takes it out of her purse and sees it’s her aunt, she forces herself to. There’s no reason to burden her with worry any more than she already has.

“Hello, Auntie?” Homura makes her best attempt to disguise the melancholy in her voice. “Yeah, I’m okay. Dinner?” It’s only then that she notices the sun’s begun to set. “Sure, I’ll be back soon. Sorry to keep you waiting. Bye.”

She hangs up and puts her phone back in her purse, then proceeds to stand up and give Ichimatsu a small bow. “I’m really sorry, but my aunt wants me back for dinner. But I’ll be here for the next three months, so… I’ll see you around?”

Inwardly, she cringes. Why does she sound so much more carefree than she really feels? Now he’s really going to think she doesn’t care, even though it’s the complete opposite—

To both her surprise and her relief, he simply nods. “You probably will.”

She turns to leave, and when she’s at the park entrance, she can’t help but look back. He’s still sitting there in that same spot, gazing at the frolicking children she noticed on the merry-go-round earlier. Is he wishing for that blithe innocence that she craves as well? With distance now between them, she can no longer make out the distinction between him and…

Her heart can’t help but skip a beat at what she sees.

What she sees is Jyushimatsu.

As she lays in bed that night and reflects on the day’s events, she finds herself unable to remember Ichimatsu as Ichimatsu. The more she replays what happened in her mind, the more his purple transforms into yellow, the more his frown turns into a huge, open-mouthed smile, and the more his eyes go from glum and heavy to happy and carefree.

Lying on her back in her pajamas, Homura stares at her photo strip for the millionth time. All Jyushimatsu is and will be forever and always is a thing of the past, nothing more than a haunting memory that proves to her how useless she really is. She knows that.

But, at the same time, the more emotional, irrational side of her can’t bear to accept it, no matter how true she knows it is. She has the raging urge to defy what’s already occurred, to spit death in the face, to continue her life with Jyushimatsu actually there.

But there’s one problem: that’s impossible. So the most she can ever do is make up for it. And there’s only one way she can think of on how to do that…

She wants -- no, needs -- to see Ichimatsu again.

She’s been walking around Akatsuka Ward for what feels like hours, hoping that she could somehow “accidentally” run into Ichimatsu along the way, but she’s beginning to lose her patience. Sighing to herself, Homura leans against the wall, angry at herself for not forgetting to ask Ichimatsu where he lives or where he likes to spend his days.

She really does want to see him again. He reminds her too much of his brother for her to just let yesterday be their last meeting. Sure, his personality isn’t exactly the same as Jyushimatsu’s… but, just like Jyushimatsu, he was up on that cliff, pulling her out of the dark hole that she dug herself into.

It’s like they’re one and the same. It’s so easy for her to see him as a gateway to talking to Jyushimatsu again, that she craves his presence next to her. She’s already been given one more chance to make things right, and she already feels as if she’s ruined that. How will she ever find him again…

Her musings are answered when she stops leaning against the wall and makes a turn down the alleyway right next to it, because there he is at the end, crouched with his back turned towards her. She’s taken aback at her luck, but she lights up anyway. It looks like the world’s on her side for once, after all.

She approaches him, and when she gets closer, she sees that his attention is focused on a group of cats that are eating right out of the palm of his hand. She immediately registers what he’s doing, and she can’t help but smile despite herself and her circumstances; so he likes cats.

He must have heard the sound of her boots on the ground, because he whips around and makes a bit of a frantic noise when he recognizes her. He quickly stands up, startling the cats, and hides his hands behind his back.

“W-what are you doing here?” he stutters nervously. It makes Homura feel as if she caught him doing something she wasn’t supposed to see.

“I was just passing by,” she replies, electing to not tell him she’s been searching for him practically all day. “Are you feeding the stray cats, Ichimatsu-san?”

“No,” Ichimatsu denies way too quickly to sound truthful. “I was just… I like it here.”

Homura raises an eyebrow. “You like it here. This secluded alleyway.”

“Yeah, I like… hanging out with the… trash bags…” It’s evident that he’s already regretting this entire conversation.

Homura rolls her eyes, somewhat amused. “It’s okay to like cats, Ichimatsu-san. I think it’s sweet. I actually like them a lot myself.”

His face goes beet red. “A-ah, thanks…”

It’s impressive how they can manage small talk so naturally after how somber yesterday was. The cats begin mewling at their feet, and Ichimatsu bends down to pick one up. As he strokes its head softly, Homura can’t help but notice the tender expression he has on his face. It’s not an expression he seems to have with humans.

But it’s the most Jyushimatsu-like expression that she’s seen from him so far.

“I know a cat cafe nearby,” she finds her mouth moving on its own. “If you want, we can go there.”

“Huh?!” Ichimatsu almost drops the cat he’s holding. “R-right now?!”

Homura frowns. “Do you not want to?”

“I-it’s not that I don’t want to…” Ichimatsu scrutinizes her face, as though he suspects that she’s up to something. “Why?”

“No reason.” No reason that would hurt him, at least. “It’s just that it seems like a place you’d like. And you’re really the only person I know, so I don’t really have anyone else to hang out with…”

She bites her lip. Hopefully, he doesn’t feel like she’s pushing it.

He stares at her some more, seeing if he can catch any cracks in her countenance. When he doesn’t, he visibly relaxes.

“Okay.”

She can’t help but beam when he finally relents. “Let’s go then!” She turns on her heel and begins to walk in the direction of the alleyway’s exit.

“H-hey, wait!”

When he calls out after her, she turns back to face him, tilting her head a little. “Hm?”

“You… never told me your name,” he explains, almost sheepish. “He… he never mentioned what it was either…”

A small smile graces her lips.

“It’s Kanno Homura. Spare the formalities.”

Everything about him reminds Homura of Jyushimatsu.

That day, she finds out lots more about Ichimatsu that she didn’t know before. He’s the fourth son out of six (which makes him the immediate older brother of Jyushimatsu). He doesn’t have a job and is still living under his parents’ roof (something that he shares in common with Jyushimatsu). He doesn’t particularly like social events, so he spends his time with cats as a substitute (though he presumably hasn’t done it as much after the tragedy). His favorite holiday is Halloween because it means he gets to dress up, scare people, and get away with it (his favorite partner-in-crime was Jyushimatsu).

Everything is Jyushimatsu, and Jyushimatsu is everything.

Deep down, Homura knows that this isn’t right. Jyushimatsu is gone for good, and she shouldn’t use Ichimatsu as a vessel to somehow feel closer to the boy she misses dearly. She knows that. She knows that so well. And she feels awful.

But she still asks Ichimatsu if they can meet up again. Maybe he genuinely wants to know her better, maybe he wants to see what anyone could ever see in her, maybe he’s just as desperate as she is to see feel close to Jyushimatsu even now. Homura’s not certain what his motives are.

What she is certain about is that he says yes.

He really should’ve said no, she can’t help but think to herself. It would stop both of them from going down this self-destructive path.

It’s only a shame that neither of them can resist.

A week passes by more quickly than she realizes, and the two of them see each other almost every day. It’s a turn of events that isn’t new to Homura; in fact, it’s almost like she’s stuck in a time loop, between the meeting on the cliff and the outings (she doesn’t dare call them dates) that began quickly afterward. It’s funny how history seems to be repeating itself, for better or for worse.

There are a few stark differences though, most notably the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t make her laugh nearly as much. She’s a little ashamed that she almost expected him to do that all-too-familiar water trick that’s practically become Jyushimatsu’s signature, but the more she waits, the more it becomes apparent that that was something exclusive to the more energetic brother.

She was a little disappointed at first, but for the last couple of days, she realizes she doesn’t really mind.

Because for what he lacks in wacky humor, he makes it up with his own dry wit, social awkwardness, and unique way of showing that he’s happy.

“You know, Ichimatsu-san,” Homura finds herself speaking up one day, “you’re a nice guy.”

Ichimatsu startles and looks up from the cat in his arms, as if not expecting to hear that. They’re at the cat cafe again, the same one that they were at on the first day, a place that Homura’s noticed puts him in a better mood. He’s not the type to enjoy going to new places every time, but she doesn’t really care; the small, subtle smile on his face is worth any potential repetitiveness.

“What are you talking about?” he finally settles on as a proper response. “Where’d this come from…?”

Homura shrugs.

“I just felt like saying it.”

Ichimatsu makes a little squeaky noise, as if he were a mouse, his eyes darting all over the place.

“Y-you shouldn’t say things that aren’t true, idiot…”

Homura tilts her head to the side.

“Really? I mean it, though.”

Those last words prove to be too much for Ichimatsu, and, sprouting a pair of cat ears and tail, he quickly hides under their table.

“Ichimatsu-san!”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stop that,” she hears him murmur from underneath. “I’ll die…”

Homura peers down and catches a glimpse of the purple puddle crouched on the floor. His face is buried in his knees, but she can see that his ears on beet red. He doesn’t look like he’s about to get up any time soon.

“Ichimatsu-san, people are beginning to stare…”

It’s true. She can see from her peripherals that the other patrons in the cafe are now looking their way to see what’s going on.

As embarrassed as he is by Homura’s compliment, Ichimatsu seems even more embarrassed at the unwanted attention, so he quickly tries to get up, accidentally hitting his head on the table.

“Ow…”

Homura stays silent as Ichimatsu climbs up and sits back in his seat, though the cat ears refuse to disappear. Instead, they droop, as if he’s just been caught doing something wrong.

Homura doesn’t know what it is about this scene before her that makes her lose it. It could be the ridiculousness of the man before her semi-morphing into a cat, it could be the utterly lost expression on his face, or it could just be from the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Whatever it is, she bursts out laughing harder than she’s laughed in what feels like forever. The cackles can’t stop no matter how hard she tries, no matter how many times she reminds herself that that’s going to come.

Oh, no… I’m going to… I’m going to…!

Suddenly, the laughter stops mid-giggle, and she finds herself falling to the side. She doesn’t even feel herself hit the floor.

By the time she comes to, they’re outside of the cafe. She’s in a sitting position, slumped against the wall, and Ichimatsu’s crouched next to her, face buried in his hands. The cat ears are gone, and he looks less embarrassed and more dismayed with himself.

“Ichimatsu-san? Wh… what happened?”

Her voice jolts Ichimatsu out of his stupor. “U-uh… We got thrown out,” he admits ruefully. “Are… are you feeling okay?”

Homura nods, feeling a little ashamed as well for the way she lost herself back there. “I’m sorry… That was probably my fault. I know you liked it in there.”

Ichimatsu quickly begins shaking his head, standing up. “N-no! It wasn’t you, it was me… I think. After you fainted, I kinda…” he trails off.

“You kinda…?”

“I kinda panicked…”

“Uh huh…”

“Ipanickedandtriedtotakeadumponthetable,” Ichimatsu speeds up so quickly to the point of almost sounding incoherent.

Regardless, Homura thinks she got the gist of it. “You… what?”

“W-well, it’s just that…” Ichimatsu heaves a sigh. “I liked the cats there, but the place felt like it was for normies, so I was a little uncomfortable already… and then all… that happened, and it sorta… overflowed?” He pauses, and when she doesn’t say anything, he sighs again. “I’m garbage, aren’t I… You shouldn’t go to those places with me, I’m only gonna bring you down—”

“Ichimatsu-san, do you like the alleyway better?”

Her words catch him off guard. “I… What?”

“Are you more comfortable being in the alleyway instead of the cafe?” She’s smiling. “If you are, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like there is.”

Reluctantly, Ichimatsu nods. “Y-yeah, it’s… it’s quieter there, so it feels more peaceful. You don’t… mind?”

Homura shakes her head. “I wanted to invite you to the cafe because I assumed you’d like it there, not because I was judging you for anything. I don’t mind if we just go to the alleyway from now on.”

“B-but it’s dirty there—”

“Nothing that a shower can’t fix,” she cuts in loftily. “The cats are worth it, aren’t they, Ichimatsu-kun?”

The sudden change in honorifics is a rare bold move from her, but despite that, the utterance rolls off her tongue as if she’s been saying it for years. She swears she sees Ichimatsu freeze up for a second, and her smile grows when he relaxes; in fact, he seems more relaxed than she’s ever seen him before.

“Yeah… Homura-chan.”

His voice is shy and cautious, with his lips curled up in a tiny, uncertain smile. It’s the opposite of the boisterous attitude and the wide, open-mouthed grin that’s she’s so accustomed to, but nonetheless, Homura’s heartbeat accelerates.

For the first time ever, she’s able to set Jyushimatsu’s ghost aside.

“Oh, aren’t you a cute—whoa!”

“Careful, he freaks out at strangers. It took a lot of sardines to get him to even like me.”

Homura steadies her grip on the squirming kitten in her arms, handing it back to Ichimatsu. “It’s better for you to handle him then. I’d hate to drop him accidentally.”

She’s gotten to know Ichimatsu quite well these past two months, and with each day following the last, she finds herself feeling more and more natural with his presence. He’s somehow become what she looks forward to every morning, what she thinks about when she lays in bed every night, and what she dreams about in her sleep all at once. Every time she sees him, her mood improves instantly, and she can only hope that he feels a fraction of the same way.

If he does, then she wonders if Jyushimatsu would be proud. Looking out for Ichimatsu is the least she owes him.

Suddenly, she hears Ichimatsu hiss in pain, and she snaps out of her thoughts. When she looks over, she gasps when she catches a dash of red on his wrist as he hurriedly sets the kitten back down onto the alleyway ground.

“What happened?!”

“He scratched me,” Ichimatsu explains with a grimace as he rubs his fresh wound. “His claws are especially sharp. Guess he doesn’t like me enough to let me hold him for so long…”

Homura quickly reaches into her sling purse, frantically searching its interior. “We can’t have that getting infected! I think I have some antiseptic wipes—”

“I-it’s fine, I’m used to it—” Ichimatsu swiftly attempts to object as he shrinks his hand away from her.

It’s fruitless for him, however, because Homura reaches out and grabs his hand anyway. “No, no, let me help—” She freezes when she looks down and sees what she sees. Her grip loosens on the wipe in her hand, and it falls to the alley ground, where it immediately becomes dirty and unusable. She barely notices, though—

—she’s too busy gaping at the faint yet all too telling lines that stretch across Ichimatsu’s wrist. Lines that she’d never fail to recognize.

Ichimatsu catches on quickly and snatches his hand back once more, hunching and turning so that his back is towards her. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” is all he mumbles.

His words are like weights crashing down on her all at once: the history of self-harm, the emotions that must have been coursing through him during the act, the situations that prompted him to resort to it in the first place…

Without even realizing, her fingers glide over her own wrist as she remembers her own experiences.

She can relate. She can empathize.

So what is this feeling of dread that’s washing over her…?

There are so many thoughts swirling around her head, but there isn’t a single one that she can vocalize. Ichimatsu must have taken her silence the wrong way, because he refuses to meet her gaze. From what little she can make of his expression, he looks like he just wants to be swallowed into the void.

“Th-this looks really bad, huh? I really am pathetic…”

It’s yet another instance of his putting himself down, yet Homura feels like it’s her who’s just been insulted. I really am pathetic. I really am pathetic. I really am pathetic. The same four words repeat over and over in her mind until the full realization hits her.

She’s pathetic.

Still, she smiles comfortingly and tells Ichimatsu that it’s okay, that they can pretend that none of that just happened. She’s pretty sure he sees right through her front, but she still hopes that her (albeit rusty) skills as a former actress are sufficient enough.

She can barely hear her own reassurances, though. At the very least, she should keep herself together for a little bit longer until they part ways later that day.

Pathetic.

Why did Homura choose to connect with Ichimatsu in the first place? No matter how much she tries, she just can’t remember what her thought process was the night she decided to actively seek him out. All she can recall is how Jyushimatsu had something to do with her reasoning, and that’s already more than enough for her to feel the dread and guilt she’s been feeling all evening.

Why?

Why, why, why?

Was she really so desperate to cling on to remnants of Jyushimatsu that she couldn’t see Ichimatsu as anything more than that? Or was it just pity at how Ichimatsu witnessed Jyushimatsu die firsthand? She doesn’t believe it matters, because she hates both of those excuses just as much as the other. They’re both complete disrespect to Ichimatsu as a person, as an individual with a personality and soul of his own.

How pathetic is she to be so focused on Jyushimatsu that she disregarded another human being like that?

She now recalls that first week of their meetings, when she was half-expecting him to emit the same type of behavior that she knew Jyushimatsu for. Her thoughts and feelings then are much clearer in her memory than her initial motives, specifically how she actually had the gall to be taken aback when she noticed how different Ichimatsu truly was.

How pathetic is she to have believed for even one second that she could salvage her lost chances with Jyushimatsu vicariously through Ichimatsu?

But all of that is nothing compared to everything that ensued. Although it was never something she intentionally sought to do, she’s grown so close to Ichimatsu. She feels like she knows him just as well as she knew Jyushimatsu, if not more. She’s grown to appreciate his own attributes—how his eagerness shows through with his alley cats, how he loses himself in his own little world when there’s nothing else to grab his attention, how shocked he always is when someone has something good to say about him…

How little he values his own life. How pain has afflicted him for so many years that he resorted to harming himself. How he really isn’t Jyushimatsu at all.

She knows this. She’s always known this. But the discovery of his scars earlier prove to be the final nail in the coffin, and the reality comes crashing down on her. She now recognizes the root behind that dreadful feeling she’s had practically all day…

And it isn’t because the differences between Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu have finally dawned on her.

It’s the fact she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t mind that Ichimatsu doesn’t smile nearly as much. She doesn’t mind that Ichimatsu does little else than crouch in dingy alleyways feeding stray cats. She doesn’t mind that Ichimatsu needs more time than most people to properly open up about his baggage. She doesn’t mind that Ichimatsu has all but replaced Jyushimatsu in her heart, yet she minds that she doesn’t mind.

How pathetic is she to have fallen in love with Ichimatsu during the aftermath of Jyushimatsu’s death?

As she lies in bed, she holds her beloved photo strip up to the ceiling, now a relic of when he was the one she loved. Even as her eyes droop closed and the storm in her head temporarily grants her mercy for the next six hours, two words echo in her mind, clear as day:

I’m sorry.

Things become different after that, and Homura knows Ichimatsu’s noticed. She’s more distant, she ends their meetings earlier, she’s no longer as earnest as she was before to see cats with him… She’s sure her behavior bugs him, even though he doesn’t say anything, which only serves to increase her guilt on the matter. Deep down, she’s aware that avoidance is the last thing that would benefit either of them in this situation, but she’s not sure how else she can cope.

Well, other than being open with Ichimatsu and tell him the truth, of course, but how would that not lead to anything but destruction? He’d never return her feelings—how could he? She’s her dead brother’s love… But she can accept it if her love is unrequited; it’s his possible reaction that she can’t bear to face. Would he be disgusted at how she hopped from one Matsuno to the next? Would he shun her and end their friendship?

These worries constantly plague her, and she’d rather keep silent than risk any of the punishments.

The last month of her planned stay comes and goes, much unlike the turmoil that continues to brew inside of her, and on the last day, she’s left feeling a bit like she’s missing out on a chance—a chance to do what, she doesn’t know. She simply feels dull, knowing that he’s going to exit her life just as abruptly as he entered it. As much as she tries to look on the bright side and take this as a chance for her to move past her uncontrollable feelings, the sentiment continues to leave an unsatisfactory taste in her mouth.

“I think I’m going to head on home now,” she announces to Ichimatsu at the end of her final day. “I need to start packing.” She’s been so distracted by everything that she hasn’t properly sat down to prepare for her train departure tomorrow night.

“Packing?” Ichimatsu tilts his head as Homura gets up off the ground and smooths out her skirt. “For what?”

“My train’s tomorrow,” she explains, bending down to pick up her sling purse, “and I don’t want to do everything at the very last minute.”

Ichimatsu looks like he’s at a loss for words as his brain registers the information. “Wait, what?” is the only thing he can utter once he regains his voice. He rises to his feet, prompting the cat in his arms to leap and scurry off. “Train? Tomorrow? What are you even talking about?”

Homura is taken aback. He doesn’t know? “I’m… going back home tomorrow?” she clarifies for him, more in the form of a question than anything else. “Did I not tell you?”

“No.” Ichimatsu’s tone suddenly takes on a hard edge, and it’s enough to make Homura visibly cringe. “You said you’d be here for three months, but you never said when exactly you were leaving.”

Oh. Oh. “I-I thought I did…” She looks down at her shuffling feet. “I’m sorry, I should have been more specific.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ichimatsu grumbles, clearly disgruntled to have received the news so last minute. “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

Homura nods as she feels the growing mount of discomfort piling on. Ichimatsu isn’t really trying to hide the fact that he isn’t pleased. “Is there something wrong?” she asks, even though she thinks she already knows the answer.

Ichimatsu scoffs. “I don’t know, I’m just thinking that I’ve seen this all before. Like you have a bad habit of getting close to people and then not telling them you’re gonna leave until they ask you about it.”

…Huh? Homura’s eyebrows furrow as she tries to ignore the sting of his words. “I told you I was sorry. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Right.” Ichimatsu’s facial expression conveys everything his words don’t: he doesn’t believe her. “How stupid do you think I am?”

Homura’s jaw drops. “What?!”

“You’ve been acting funny this entire past month, and now I find out that you didn’t even tell me you were leaving?” Homura now detects something else in Ichimatsu’s voice, but this time, she can’t pinpoint what it is. He sounds like he’s using all of his self-control to restrain himself, but from what exactly? “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Homura opens her mouth, but falters once she realizes what exactly he’s asking. It’s true that she’s been acting detached, and she truly does feel guilty for it, but… She feels a tightening in her heart. Little does he know that the truth would only highlight how horrible of a person she really is.

Homura-chan? Isn’t it me who you’re supposed to love?

Her breath hitches in her throat when she hears the voice inside her head, the voice that undoubtedly is just her own conscience playing tricks on her, but also the voice that sounds so, so much like Jyushimatsu. It’s like his ghost has finally descended to physically haunt her, as if all of the memories and the emotions aren’t tormenting her enough already.

“It really was just an accident,” she eventually responds, though as carefully as she chooses her words, she knows they fall flat. “And it’s not a big deal.”

Those must have been the wrong words, because Ichimatsu bristles. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal to me.” It’s far from the truth, but Homura’s defenses activate in order to disguise the ugly emotion quickly rising from the pit of her stomach. She already hates how this conversation is turning out, and a tiny voice in the back of her head tells her that she’d only regret it if she continues. “So what if I’ve been acting differently? I just have a lot going on, and it has nothing to do with you.”

She barely catches the split-second flash of hurt in Ichimatsu’s eyes, and she can’t help but remember it as the same hurt that Jyushimatsu had when she told him she was leaving. However, the former recovers quickly, and he retorts, “You know, I’m starting to wonder if you just don’t want to tell me anything because you think I won’t be able to take it.”

Have you forgotten me? Homura-chan?

Homura involuntarily takes a step back at how eerily accurate he is about her intentions, but she still refuses to relent. She’s not going to burden him with her repulsiveness, she decides. She will never tell him anything, not when Jyushimatsu lingers behind on her conscience, not when his soul haunts her so severely.

“I know I’m pathetic, but not to the point that I can’t take whatever you have to say,” Ichimatsu continues. He doesn’t really skip a moment to put himself down, does he? “I don’t need that kind of pity from someone.”

“It’s not pity!” Homura blurts out, alarmed that Ichimatsu is choosing to take all of this in that kind of way. “It’s just… It’s just…”

Remember me forever, Homura-chan. Remember me forever and ever…

“Just what?” Ichimatsu crosses his arms across his chest. “What is it?”

“I…” The words are on the tip of her tongue…

Don’t ever forget me again, Homura-chan.

…but she swallows them back down and shakes her head. She doesn’t have any excuses left, so all she can do is stubbornly bite her tongue. “I can’t tell you.”

Ichimatsu seems to be rapidly losing whatever patience he still has, given by the way his voice raises slightly. “Why not?!”

Homura-chan… I’ll always be here. Forever and ever and ever and ever—

“Will you leave me alone?!” Homura snaps before she can realize it, before she can realize that she’s actually saying this all out loud. “Just go away, Jyushimatsu-kun!”

It dawns on her right as that last syllable passes her lips, and she gasps and covers her mouth in shock. The voice in her head has disappeared, with her last words now echoing as a replacement: Just go away, Jyushimatsu-kun! The heaviness of those four mere words sinks in as she stares up at Ichimatsu, who stumbles back like she’s punched him in the stomach with all her might and looks back at her like she’s told him to go die in a ditch somewhere.

She may as well have done both of those things.

“Ichimatsu-kun, I—” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“Save it,” he begins shakily, backing away further in the direction of the alleyway exit. “Is that it? I’m a stand-in for my dead brother?”

The tremor in his voice is like a giant hand that wraps around Homura’s heart and squeezes it until it almost bursts. No, that isn’t… She didn’t mean to call him by Jyushimatsu’s name and hurt him like this, it’s just that the voice inside her head wouldn’t stop pestering her, it’s just that all of her internal conflict finally got to her to the point where she could hold it in no longer, it’s just that… it’s just that…

“Th-that’s not true—” she practically squeaks out her next words, unable to find coherence within herself. “I-it’s not what you think—”

Something in her forces her to stop before she can explain herself properly. What can she say to justify herself? She doesn’t have the strength within her to lie further, but if she tells him the truth… He already hates her thanks to her own loose lips, so she’d only make things worse, she’d cause more pain—

When she doesn’t say anything more, Ichimatsu turns on his heel and dashes out of the alley, and during the exact moment that he turns, she swears she can see one or two teardrops leak from his eyes. And even when his figure is gone, just like the ghost of a boy she once knew, she doesn’t move from where she stands; instead, she falls to her knees and blindly gazes in the direction of which Ichimatsu ran.

She feels too numb to cry.

In hindsight, Homura believes that she should’ve just ended things with Ichimatsu the very day she realized her feelings for him. Of course that’s the road she should’ve taken, she should’ve stepped on the brakes instead of speeding forward while hoping that she could still somehow swerve to avoid the wreck. But she’s so stupid -- so self-centered -- she actually thought there was a way to spare him the pain even as they continued their friendship.

So much good that did.

The initial numbness after seeing Ichimatsu dart out of the alleyway doesn’t fade until after she arrives back at her aunt’s house, not until after the sun has long set, not until after she’s lying in bed, trying desperately to fall asleep. It’s like a switch that flips on one random moment, and the tears that she’s been pushing down this whole time come flowing out all at once, soaking her pillow.

How could she have messed up so badly not once, but twice? She just wanted to spare Ichimatsu the burden of her feelings, yet somehow, her intentions came out so twisted and warped that she ended up hurting him more than she ever anticipated. And all because she’s too woeful as a human being to have learned her lesson the first time.

Didn’t she swear to herself that she wouldn’t make the same mistake after the entire incident with Jyushimatsu? Didn’t she already see for herself how much pain and agony she caused him that fateful, rainy day? Didn’t she already vow to cherish her moments with those she cared for after learning about his death? She thought she did, so how did she mess up just as badly with Ichimatsu?

Why isn’t she able to love someone without hurting them in the process?

She doesn’t even bother packing that night, which is ironic given how informing Ichimatsu of this was what indirectly led to all of this heartache. Should she have simply not told him that she’s leaving? No, he still would’ve had to figure it out himself after the fact… Letting him know beforehand was the very least she could’ve done. Between letting this all escalate to this level and calling him by his deceased brother’s name, that’s probably the one silver lining in all of this.

Well, maybe more like a dark grey lining. She’s still pretty terrible for forgetting to tell him that earlier -- not that it matters anymore, anyway, since it’s apparent he now hates her.

Rightfully so, she thinks resentfully the following morning, as she half-heartedly throws all of her clothes into her suitcase. She doesn’t feel like making sure they’re all folded neatly or evened out, not when all she wants to do is cry more and be put out of her misery. The only reason that she’s even packing to begin with is to prevent burdening her aunt further; she feels like if she stays any longer, she’ll only taint her like she tainted Ichimatsu. After all, she only brings destruction wherever she goes.

Speaking of her aunt, she comes into the guest room with a huge yet wistful smile on her face. “Homu-chan, are you sure you don’t wanna stay an extra day or two?” she asks her niece, almost as if Homura is somehow worth keeping around longer.

Homura doesn’t say anything at first, partly because she really wasn’t expecting her aunt to interrupt her self-loathing so abruptly, but she eventually sighs to herself and turns to look at her with a smile she hopes isn’t too broken. “Yeah, Auntie. I miss home,” is all she says.

The smile fades from her aunt’s countenance, replaced by a worried frown, and she doesn’t hesitate to ask, “Is everything okay? Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

“Huh?” Homura quickly looks away as she rubs her eyes with her sleeve. “I-I’m fine, I promise. It’s nothing.”

Her aunt stares at her with an expression that she can’t decipher, leaving her to fidget slightly. After a few very, very long seconds, the older woman sighs and makes her way toward the bed in the room. “I think we need to have a talk.”

“W-what?” Talking is the last thing Homura wants to do, and she can’t help but feel a bit of annoyance bubble within her. “I need to finish packing–”

“Homu-chan, please. At least hear what I have to say.”

Just the way she says it convinces Homura to, albeit reluctantly, drop her blouse into her suitcase and go sit next to the former. She refuses to look up from her own hands, which are balled into fists and creating wrinkles in her skirt.

“You were so happy as a kid,” her aunt begins. “I remember you were always laughing and moving around whenever I visited.”

Homura’s eyes remain fixated on her fists as she wonders where exactly her aunt is going with this. She doesn’t know what she was expecting her to say, but certainly not this.

Her aunt continues, “But as you grew older, all of that started disappearing little by little. And by the time you were an adult, you weren’t happy at all. It was obvious to everyone, and your mom even told me to keep an eye out for you in case you got even worse.”

Ah, yes, Homura remembers that. She doesn’t really remember ever being a cheerful child like her aunt claims she was, but what she does remember is that certain emptiness having a grip on her for what feels like the entire twenty-something years of her life.

“And we all just kept waiting and waiting, to see if you’d get better over time.” Her aunt’s voice cracks, an occurrence that Homura barely catches. “We waited for so long, but just when we thought we needed to say something, you started picking right back up again. We saw that kid in you after thinking for so long that she was gone. And I remember thinking that you must’ve found something in Akatsuka Ward that you could make you happy, no matter what.”

Homura remains silent still, but she has a good inkling on what her aunt is talking about. Her fists clench even more tightly, her nails digging into her palms, as she remembers the way Jyushimatsu made her laugh more than anything else in this world. From his water trick to his overall sunshiney demeanor… he breathed life into her, life that she had been missing before, life that she’s been missing since.

Since parting ways with him, there’s only been one other person who’s ever had the potential of managing that remarkable feat. But that’s something that’s been irreversibly ruined ever since the ordeal yesterday.

“So we all thought that things would be okay, that things would stay that way. Looking back on it, it was naive of us to think that, but it was what we hoped,” her aunt continues further. “But when you moved back out to the country, it seemed like you weren’t sure if you really wanted to be there, so we all realized that whatever it was that cheered you up in Akatsuka Ward stayed in Akatsuka Ward. So when you called me and told me you wanted to visit… There’s no way I could’ve said no.”

Homura tenses and finally turns to face her tearful aunt, thinking that she’s beginning to understand why the latter wants her to stay. When she makes eye contact, though, it’s her aunt’s turn to look down at her own twiddling thumbs.

“I thought it’d be good for you, but that first night… I’ve never seen you so devastated. I don’t know what happened while you were out, but it was clear to me you weren’t going to tell me. And I thought to myself that letting you come here might have been a mistake… but then you started getting better, which made me so relieved. But now…”

Her aunt raises a hand to rub her eyes dry. She doesn’t say anything more, and she doesn’t need to; Homura scooches closer to her and hugs her.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, burying her head into the crook of her aunt’s neck. “I’m sorry I made you all so worried for so long.”

Her aunt returns the embrace without hesitation. “You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? You don’t owe me an explanation… I just want you to know that your family loves you.”

Those last words almost make Homura break down all over again, but to her own surprise, she manages to keep herself together. Does she really not owe her aunt anything? She’s put her through all this confusion and agony, she’s been hurting her unknowingly… She really is more selfish than she realized.

One day, she vows then. One day she’s going to tell her aunt -- no, everyone -- everything. She’s going to find it in her heart someday to tell them about her demons, about her AV acting… About Jyushimatsu. About Ichimatsu. Even if that day isn’t today, it will be someday, a day when she’s in a better state of mind and has accepted herself for who she is.

Because even while she doesn’t owe her family an explanation, it’s what they deserve.

Homura and her aunt stay in their embrace for what seems like forever, and she only now questions herself how long it’s been since she’s hugged someone. The warmth and love don’t feel like things she can part with again; in fact, she wouldn’t mind it if she never has to move from their position.

But she does, and she knows that, so she ultimately lets go with reluctance. “I promise I’ll visit more,” she tells her aunt completely seriously. She’s going to ensure that she makes good on that promise, because she now understands there’ll always be that one person in Akatsuka Ward who cares for her unconditionally.

Her aunt smiles through her tears and nods. “You’re always welcome here.” She rises from the edge of the bed and dusts herself off. “I should let you get back to packing—”

“Wait, Auntie.”

Homura’s aunt turns to face her niece once more. “Hm?”

Homura inhales deeply, bracing herself. It’s time for her to stop shutting out those who care about her, so the least she can do is rely a little bit more on them. “What do you do when you… lose someone you cared a lot about? And you can’t get them back?” Not wishing to give too much away just yet, she’s tentative with her wording. “A-and what if you start caring about someone else just as much, but you don’t want to forget about the first person…”

Her aunt peers at her as if she’s trying to figure out why she’s asking this, but after a few seconds, her lips break out into a gentle, serene smile. “Moving on isn’t the same as forgetting, Homu-chan.”

“B-but…” Homura averts her eyes. If only it were that easy.

“If you want to do something for someone even when you think it’s too late, all you can do is let them go. It may not seem like it, but it’ll set them free.”

Homura’s head snaps up.

It’ll set them free…?

“Now, once you’re done, come to the kitchen. I’m making some mochi for you to take back with you,” are her aunt’s concluding words as she leaves the guest room, leaving Homura alone in her room once more.

She remains seated on her bed, however. She turns to look at the photo strip laid on her bedside table -- so crinkled, so worn out -- and sees four little pictures of a grinning Jyushimatsu. And for some reason, despite having seen the images a million times throughout the past three months, this is the first time she’s ever been able to truly smile as she lays eyes on them.

She knows what she has to do now.

She finally does finish packing later that day, and it’s in the late afternoon when she finally departs, sharing one final supper with her aunt and about ten final hugs before she takes her suitcase and her mochi and leaves the house. She doesn’t plan on actually arriving at the station until a couple of hours later, but the spare time is exactly what she needs; there are a couple key stops she has to make before she boards the train back to the country.

While Akatsuka Ward was never a complete stranger to her, she feels much more acquainted with the streets and the buildings than she was just a few months ago. She knows where all the alleyways are, where all the stores are, where all the restaurants are, where all the night markets are.

Where the oden stall is.

The owner is one who stands out to her (partly due to his small stature), so when she approaches the place she remembers him being before, it doesn’t take long for her to spot him. From the looks of it, he’s just beginning to set up for the night and thus wouldn’t be able to serve her yet, but that’s okay. She’s not really here for food.

“Hello?”

The owner breaks out of his stupor and turns to face her, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re… It’s you.” He sets his ladle down on the table and sighs. “I was hopin’ I’d see ya around. I’ve been thinkin’ about how I had to tell ya about Jyushimatsu, and… I guess you had to know, but I probably coulda put it in a better way so it seemed like less of a shock—”

“It’s fine,” Homura interrupts him quickly to spare him the trouble of having to explain something she already understands. There’s no way that sort of thing wouldn’t have completely blindsided her. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“S-sure, what is it?”

“You’re… You were close with him, right? Or maybe with his brothers?” Her grip tightens on the handle of her suitcase. She’s aware of how abrupt the question must seem to him, and part of her wonders if she’s even on the right track. But the fact that he calls Jyushimatsu by his first name, the fact that he knew about her even though he didn’t know what she looked like… At this point, he’s the only one she can turn to for answers.

Grimacing, the owner peers off to the side. “We grew up together, if that’s what ya mean.”

Homura doesn’t dare to sigh in relief just yet. “Th-then by any chance, do you know where his grave is?”

The owner looks at her once more, but this time, there’s something akin to realization and understanding in his face. His eyes momentarily dart down to her luggage, almost like he’s taking it in for the first time, and he tells her. He tells her which graveyard Jyushimatsu is at and how to find his headstone in particular.

Homura swallows. The anxious part of her is already urging her brain to back out, but she won’t give in—she’s done running. She hastily thanks the oden shop owner and begins to walk in the direction of the cemetery, squashing whatever remaining doubts she has about doing this.

Because this is something she should’ve done a long time ago.

“Hey, Jyushimatsu-kun.”

Homura’s voice rings out in the otherwise silent graveyard like a tiny, momentary disturbance in the endless stillness of rest, while she stands in front of a certain headstone in a certain graveyard. As her luggage and mochi sit nearby, she takes the two incense sticks she bought and lit at the entrance and places them in their appropriate stand. It’s a difficult task; she’s essentially staring in the face of the harsh reality she’s been living, but she still refuses to change her mind.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. This was actually really unplanned, so I don’t have any offerings this time. I hope the incense makes up for it.” She kneels in front of the headstone and, closing her eyes, puts her hands together in prayer. It takes a few seconds before she speaks up again. “That’s not all I’m sorry about. I was so worried about disrespecting your legacy that I didn’t know I already was.”

Homura doesn’t expect to even still have tears left in her body, but apparently she does, because she can already feel them welling up inside. Even though she ultimately knows she’s made the right move by being here, that one tiny part of her remains incessant in begging her to stop. Now that she’s at the site of Jyushimatsu’s ashes, it feels like the truth is finally hitting her in the face, like she’s been in denial about him this entire time. It’s like she’s this close to letting the grief and sorrow consume her now that she’s directly confronting the event of his death, but she pushes on anyway.

“You see, Jyushimatsu-kun, I really, really, really wanted to see you when I came back, but…” she lets out a shuddery sigh, “obviously, I couldn’t. And I felt like the worst person in the world for not knowing about anything. You meant so much to me, and yet, I was the last person to find out you died. I wasn’t there for any of the ceremonies, and I hated myself for that.”

A single tear rolls down Homura’s cheek as she finally puts her jumbled mess of emotions into words. Professing her thoughts out loud is a concept completely new to her, and she hates how doing so is more than enough to make her cry for what must have been the thousandth time.

“But I finally understand that that only made things worse. I…” She remembers her last exchange with Ichimatsu, an incident that only happened yesterday but already feels much more like a year ago. She remembers her conversation with her aunt in the morning, the catalyst to her realization that she’s made her family so, so worried.

“I hurt people.”

That’s the only way she can describe it.

“Now that I think about it, wasn’t that the opposite of what you wanted me to do?” she suddenly asks the grave. “You wanted me to laugh and enjoy life… not hate myself and bring everyone I care about down with me. I really do feel like a screw-up…”

Ah, there she goes again, insulting herself. She can already tell this is going to be a habit that’ll die hard. Her hands leave their prayer position, instead finding a place on her lap with fingers intertwined.

“Are you there, Jyushimatsu-kun?” A few more teardrops escape her. “Are you watching over me right now? Have you been watching over me this entire time? Probably not, but if you have…” One hand comes up to wipe her eyes. “I’ve realized that I need to move on with my life. Not just for myself, but for everyone else, including you. It wouldn’t be good if you had to be stuck with me for the rest of my life, making sure I didn’t do anything stupid.”

She laughs despite herself and the situation, but it’s short-lived. Her shoulders slump as she pores over her next words.

“After all, you… you need to watch over Ichimatsu-kun, too. And all of your other brothers, of course, but he’s the only one I’ve met. He’s…” She looks down at her hands, suddenly taking a keen interest in the little details. “He’s better than he thinks he is. We didn’t really leave off on good terms, so… make sure he lives a happy life. I know I won’t be a part of it, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

God, what is she doing, veering off to the topic of Ichimatsu all of a sudden…? She sniffles and rubs her nose, choosing not to say anything more.

A light breeze begins to blow as she watches the incense sticks slowly burn away. The cemetery is silent once more, but she’s in no rush to interrupt the peace and calm; she feels comfortable simply sitting there, gazing at the grave and recalling the memories she and Jyushimatsu once shared. They don’t discourage the tears from continuing to flow, but regardless, a certain fondness washes over her as she remembers his gigantic smile and his overall zest for life.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been kneeling there in silence until she hears steady footsteps echoing from behind. Even now, she doesn’t completely snap out of musings, assuming that the owner of the steps would stop at one other grave out of the hundreds that are in the area.

Except those footsteps get closer and closer, until they stop.

Right behind Homura.

Homura turns to see who it is, only to immediately regret it. As she stares up at the face that she’s grown to know so well during the past three months, all of the comfort she was feeling a moment earlier goes out the window. Her entire being tenses, her mind runs a mile a minute, her heartbeat races… yet her mouth simply won’t form the words.

Ichimatsu, in turn, only stares back down at her challengingly. “Do you mind?” he grunts.

Homura finds that no matter what, she still can never get used to his sharp glare, so she quickly refocuses on her hands in her lap. “S-sorry, am I… in your way?” she asks, moving over a bit for Ichimatsu to sit.

Ichimatsu huffs, setting down everything he’s brought with him -- a wooden bucket filled with water, a wooden ladle, two incense sticks -- and takes a sponge out from his hoodie pocket. Homura watches as he dips it into the bucket and moves closer to the headstone to clean it.

The air around them isn’t just uncomfortable; it’s rife with tension, with neither of them saying anything to the other. The only noise filling the abyssal quietness is the scrubbing from the contact between Ichimatsu’s sponge and the headstone’s granite, but Homura can swear she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She feels like she’s about to suffer a heart attack, and all she wants to do is leave, but the least she can do for Jyushimatsu is to wait for her incense to stop burning.

Once Ichimatsu is done cleaning with the sponge, he puts it down on the ground next to everything else and picks up the bucket and ladle. He refuses to look in Homura’s direction as he begins to pour water over the gravestone, and it’s obvious to her he’s doing it intentionally. He seems to have calmed down after yesterday, but he doesn’t appear to be in any less of a snit -- his mouth is pressed in a hard line and his fingers are wrapped around the bucket handle so tightly, his knuckles are white.

Homura’s discomfort grows by the second. She has to say something, she decides. Even if he doesn’t forgive her afterward, she at least owes him an apology for everything that went down.

“Ichimatsu-kun, I—”

“What.”

He interrupts her with such force and vitriol that she promptly deflates, the words she desires to say dissipating on her tongue. He’s now glowering right at her as the water from the ladle empties onto the headstone, and she can’t help but fidget under his hard gaze. It’s clear he doesn’t want to hear anything from her.

“N-nothing.”

“Tch.”

He continues on with his task, looking even grumpier than he did a moment ago, if that’s even possible. Homura already regrets chickening out of apologizing, but she doesn’t know how to resume without upsetting him further. She fears that he may actually lose it once more if she opens her mouth again.

When he finishes washing the headstone, Ichimatsu sets down the bucket and ladle in favor of the incense sticks, fishing around in his hoodie pocket and pulling out a lighter. Once the sticks are lit, he goes to put them in the incense stand, but freezes when he sees the ones that Homura put in earlier. His head whirls around to look at her, but before she can react, he turns back and proceeds to put them in next to hers.

Finally, he sits down cross-legged, ensuring there’s a certain amount of distance between him and Homura, and stares unblinkingly at the headstone. Somehow, the uneasy atmosphere immediately becomes a hundred times worse when both of them are just sitting there, barely doing anything other than trying their best to ignore each other.

It’s like the universe is dangling Ichimatsu right in front of her, taunting her and daring her to say something. It feels like a dream that he’s even here to begin with, albeit one where she can’t speak, she can’t apologize, she can’t take back the words that came out of her mouth the day before. He really does deserve better than to believe that all he’s good for is being a substitute for Jyushimatsu.

She knows it’s her last opportunity to fix their relationship, but she still can’t bring herself to say anything. Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to hurt him more than she already has.

Eventually, her incense sticks smolder until they’re merely short nubs in the incense stand, and she stands up wordlessly. She takes her suitcase and begins to roll it alongside her as she proceeds in the direction of the cemetery exit, leaving Ichimatsu to pay his respects for his brother alone. Even though she doesn’t bother turning around, she can feel his eyes boring into her back as she departs.

Once she’s off of the cemetery property, she continues down the sidewalk towards the closest big street in hopes of fetching a taxi to the station. As much as she wants to turn back and find Ichimatsu again, she doesn’t.

If he doesn’t want to see her, she’ll respect that.

Homura walks across the station, pulling her one suitcase behind her and squeezing past the crowd, away from the taxi she just alighted from and towards the entrance of the train station. She has distant memories of doing this once before, leaving behind someone she loves who she wishes she could’ve bid farewell to under better circumstances. Even after all this time, Akatsuka Ward is still the embodiment of certain poor choices she made, and its mere existence reminds her too much of the pain and the trauma.

She can’t bring herself to hate the place though, nor can she stay away from it for the rest of her life. Because both her aunt and Jyushimatsu will always be there, waiting for her, and that’s more than enough for her to be at peace with everything that’s happened. Nevertheless, the fresh wound left by Ichimatsu is still there; she can’t help but think about how he made her laugh in his own way, how he seemed like the one other person in the world who could understand what true pain was, and that’s something she will be eternally grateful for. She fell for him, but she didn’t know how to express that properly, which only ended up hurting him. The memory of him sitting there, staring at Jyushimatsu’s grave like he was pleading with him to come back to life, makes her wistful, and incredibly, incredibly ashamed of herself.

He didn’t do anything wrong, yet she destroyed him. She’s accepted that she has to move on and grow from her mistakes, but even now, she at least wants the closure.

She shakes her head, ridding herself of that train of thought as she inserts her money at the ticket kiosk. It wouldn’t do any good if she dwells too much on her mistake, or else she’d relapse into the habit of putting herself down. So why… why won’t her conscience stop telling her to go back and apologize? As the kiosk spits out her ticket for the train departing in ten minutes, her vision blurs, but she quickly rubs her eyes dry.

She’s such a crybaby.

Taking her ticket and dragging her luggage with her, Homura proceeds to the escalator leading to the platform where her train is waiting. She’s practically squished against everyone else trying to board, but it wouldn’t have made a difference if she was the only one in the station instead. Despite barely being able to move without brushing up against someone else, she feels knee-deep in isolation. Has it really been three months? She can’t believe she’s already leaving Akatsuka Ward. Being with Ichimatsu so often really made time fly by…

She reaches the bottom of the escalator and steps off, continuing her long walk across the station where her platform is on the other side. She wonders if Ichimatsu is still at the cemetery, or if he’s long gone home. She wonders what he possibly could’ve said to Jyushimatsu’s headstone after she left. She wonders if she’s on his mind as much as he’s on hers.

It feels like an eternity before she actually reaches her platform, where the train is already stationed there for all its passengers. It’s much less crowded here, since most people have already boarded, but there are still some people standing around, bidding their final goodbyes to their loved ones before they leave. Homura can’t help but look away; she suddenly wishes her aunt or someone else were here to do that with her.

She quickly steps through the doors of the train, pulling her suitcase across the platform gap with her, and slumps against the wall. This really does feel like a repeat of history. She recalls how this is roughly the same place she stood when she saw Jyushimatsu one last time, when he came running up to her to make her laugh one last time, when he went as far as to run after the moving train to make sure he succeeded one last time.

But now… she’s alone on this train. She’s already said her goodbyes, and this train is going to leave without her saying a word, and she’s going to arrive back to her parents’ home as she leaves all of Akatsuka Ward behind.

Suddenly, she hears running footsteps echoing across the platform, and she whips her head out of the train to see a figure sprinting towards her. Her mind flashes back to a similar scene all those months ago, when a young man in a blue suit dashed forward in order to catch his last moments with her before the train door closed, and it’s a memory that haunts her enough to cause more tears to build up in her eyes just from remembering.

She blinks them back though, and the memory fades as the figure skids to a halt in front of her, putting their hands on their knees as they struggle to catch their breath. Homura’s vision clears as her eyes dry, and the blue suit she saw the last time she was in this situation fades away and is replaced with a purple hoodie and sweatpants, with unkempt hair and eyes that never seem to be fully open.

There are so many thoughts and feelings swirling inside Homura, the butterflies in her stomach are going wild, and she opens her mouth for the words to come out—except they don’t. Instead, in a voice that she can’t even recognize as her own, she chokes out a, “W-why…?”

Ichimatsu’s still panting, but his head snaps up once he hears her, causing Homura to fidget slightly. There’s something in his eyes, but she can’t identify what that something is, and it unnerves her.

“You… You forgot…” Ichimatsu breathes, holding up a plastic bag that Homura just notices that he has with him. “You forgot your mochi…”

Oh. Homura didn’t even notice. She takes the bag from Ichimatsu, averting her eyes. “Thank you…”

“Mm…” Regaining his breath, Ichimatsu finally stands up straight again—or, at least, as straight as he usually stands. He stuffs his hands inside his hoodie pocket and looks away. “So you’re… The train’s gonna be leaving in a few minutes, huh?”

The tension amongst the two of them is almost palpable, and Homura hates it. She hates how she doesn’t know how to get rid of it even more. “Yeah.”

Her reply seems to prompt him to realize the current circumstances, snapping him back into reality. “Ah. I see.” Homura’s heart clenches as that subtle yet all-too-familiar frosty indifference once again invades Ichimatsu’s tone. “I should probably go then. Wouldn’t want to get in the way.”

He begins to walk away, and before she realizes it, Homura steps across the platform gap, pulling her one small suitcase with her, and reaches out. Her hand finds Ichimatsu’s wrist, and she notices the way he flinches. She recalls that fateful day at the alleyway, that moment when she accidentally crossed some boundaries when she felt those now-healing scars engraved in his skin underneath his sleeve. She has a feeling that it’s not because of those scars that’s making Ichimatsu upset with her touch this time.

“Wait,” she finds herself saying, “don’t go. Not yet.”

Ichimatsu doesn’t say anything, but he remains tense. He doesn’t bother turning around to face Homura.

Homura realizes that this is her chance to say something, to fix the emotional rift that’s grown between them ever since she called him by the wrong name, to let him know that he isn’t just a replacement for his dead brother. But the words still refuse to come out, falling flat on her tongue and leaving both of them hanging with what’s left unsaid.

“What do you want?” Ichimatsu finally speaks up to fill in the silence permeating the station. It’s clear that he wants to Homura to let go, but she’s not giving him that. She isn’t going to let anyone go like this. She isn’t going to allow him to slip through her fingers, because Jyushimatsu -- no, she isn’t going to allow him to slip through her fingers, because that’s not what he deserves.

She finally finds her voice again, but her words are still lost. “Why did you come?” is what she ends up settling for, and she curses herself for sounding so desperate. But it wasn’t without reason; she does feel very desperate -- desperate to remedy this.

“Because—”

“It couldn’t have just been because of the mochi,” Homura interrupts. “You ran all this way. There must have been another reason.”

“Homura-chan, please…” Ichimatsu pulls on his arm, but Homura only tightens her grip.

“Don’t leave,” she persists. “I need to know why. Or else I…”

Her voice trails off, and Ichimatsu finally turns his head to look at her. His expression is just as bitter as it was at the graveyard, if not more so, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Why should it matter?” is the response that she finally hears. “It’s nothing important.”

“It’s important to me,” Homura argues, refusing to let whatever words he may say dissuade her. And, with some hesitance, she adds, “I don’t want to just let you go like this.”

He finally yanks his arm away, and despite how rough he is, Homura’s just glad that he stays rooted to his spot rather than run off like she feared. “Why? Because you let Jyushimatsu go? And you don’t want it to happen again?” he spits out venomously, glaring at her. “I’m not my brother, Homura-chan. Stop acting like I am.”

His words hurt, but Homura ignores the pain. This isn’t a good time to let herself be deterred. “I know you’re not.” She pauses. “And I’m sorry. Jyushimatsu-kun’s name just slipped yesterday, and I…” She already feels the waterworks coming, and she hates herself for being such a crybaby. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really don’t think you’re just a replacement, so I don’t know how I let that happen…”

She realizes her words are lame, and Ichimatsu seems to agree. He jams his hands into his hoodie pocket, as if he expects Homura to reach out and grab one again and wants to prevent that, wearing an expression that looks anything but satisfied. “So what am I then, if I’m not? Why would you call me by his name if you don’t see me as just your chance to fix all the mistakes you had with him?”

“Because I…” Homura swallows, and her lips are dry. This is the time for her to say it, but she’s not sure if she has the courage.

Unfortunately, Ichimatsu takes her speechlessness to mean something else. “Tch.” Once again, he turns to go. “Nothing good’s going to happen if you really think you can just replace him with me. You’d just be disappointed.”

No…! She can’t let him slip through her fingers, she can’t…!

“It’s because I felt guilty!” she blurts out before her thoughts can catch up to her. Once the words are out, she can’t help but cringe; why did they have to come out that way? “I-I mean…” she begins, struggling to elaborate. “You’re right that I felt guilty… but you’re wrong about why.”

He’s listening, that much is obvious. His back is still facing towards her, but he’s looking over his shoulder, his expression unreadable as he waits for her to continue. She knows she can’t afford to mess up again, and the mere realization that he’s giving her one last chance puts an unspeakable pressure on her shoulders.

“Maybe it started as me thinking that you could fill in the hole Jyushimatsu-kun left, I don’t even remember.” The words feel so ugly slipping off of Homura’s tongue, and she’s half-expecting Ichimatsu to just stop listening right then and there. But he’s still looking at her, so she takes it as a chance to continue, “Then I… I began to get to know you, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that he and you weren’t the same. But that didn’t bother me, even though it probably should’ve, because by then, I genuinely was enjoying your company. Before I knew it, I didn’t like you because you were Jyushimatsu-kun’s brother, I didn’t like you because you had the same face as him, I liked you for you.”

She thinks she’s not wording the swirl of emotions inside of her properly enough, and Ichimatsu doesn’t move an inch. He makes no indication that her words are enough for him, but he’s not interrupting her either, and Homura clings to the ever-so-slim possibility that that’s a good sign. She can already feel the tears welling up once more -- why is she such a crybaby?

“Yesterday, I didn’t call you by the wrong name because I saw you as Jyushimatsu-kun. I… The real reason is that I…” This is it. Her nerves are quickly bubbling up inside of her, so she forces the words out before they can get the best of her. “I fell for you.”

“Wh—”

“I didn’t want to admit it to myself,” Homura sniffs, and she struggles not to let the dam break. “Isn’t it horrible? How could I be in love with someone, then develop feelings for his brother after he’s gone? And once I realized that, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was haunting me, Ichimatsu-kun, and I—” She hiccups, and she feels her cheeks dampen. “I ended up hurting you in the process.”

She can’t bear to look at him. She immediately regrets telling him this much, because oh god, now he’s going to hate her if he didn’t already, because how can she admit that to him? She wishes that she could take it all back, but that’s impossible. It was all a mistake, she should’ve just left Ichimatsu alone after that day on the cliff, they both would’ve been better off that way, but no, all she ended up doing was cause pain pain pain—

“H-hey.”

Homura snaps out of her poisonous thoughts, with Ichimatsu’s voice slicing right through them and bringing her back down to reality. He’s fully turned to face her now, and there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His expression is almost gentle, yet at the same time, extremely guarded, like a flower made out of glass that’s only a touch away from shattering.

He rubs his arm timidly, and he looks away from her after a couple of seconds, as if he’s unsure of what to say or do. Homura doesn’t blame him. She would be, too, if someone were to pour their heart out to her in such a pathetic fashion.

“...I’m sorry,” is what Ichimatsu finally decides on. It’s not the response she was expecting. “I guess it was kinda shitty, not letting you explain yourself till now. God, I feel like a total dick…”

Homura shakes her head, tears clinging to her lashes and ready to continue spilling over. “No, you had a right to be mad…”

“That still doesn’t—” Ichimatsu sighs, sounding almost frustrated, and fishes around in his sweatpants. He pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to Homura. “Here.”

“Th-thanks.” She takes it and wipes away the remainder of her tears, though she continues to sniffle. “I-I’ll get it back to you next time I visit—”

“You can keep it,” Ichimatsu quickly interrupts her before she can finish her sentence. “I have more at home.”

Ah. He probably just doesn’t want to see her after tonight. Homura understands. “Th-thanks again… and I’m sorry.” She manages to suppress the sob threatening to escape her when she apologizes once more. “I promise I’ll stop bugging you. I’ll make sure that you don’t see me again.”

“W… what?” Ichimatsu’s eyes widen.

“I caused enough pain for you already. I just hope that you…” Homura falters for a bit, tightening her grip on her suitcase to stop her hand from shaking. “I hope that you have a good life—”

“W-w-wait, no,” Ichimatsu, raising his hands as if he were trying to stop her, interjects before she can turn around and reboard. “I-I’m telling you, it was kinda my fault, too.”

Homura only looks at him, clearly not believing him. She doesn’t say a word.

Lowering his hands, Ichimatsu sighs again. “Listen, I… I’m not good at this, okay?” He turns to look around the station, suddenly self-conscious of everyone else around them. When he sees that nobody seems to be paying them any mind, he refocuses on her and continues slowly, “I’m not… good with girls. Looking back on it, I… I guess I did kinda have you backed in a corner yesterday…”

Homura shuffles her feet nervously. “Well, I was the one who forgot to tell you I was leaving…”

“Still, I didn’t really… behave the way he would’ve,” Ichimatsu argues, though he sounds tentative as he rubs the back of his head. “He wouldn’t have gotten mad… I think.”

Homura immediately catches on to who he’s referring to, and she rapidly shakes her head. “Y-you shouldn’t compare yourself to him! You’re… It’s okay to be different.”

Ichimatsu falls silent once more as he averts his eyes from hers. After what feels like forever, he quietly asks, “D… did you mean what you said? The part where you said you had f…” He stops mid-sentence, his face reddening as the unspoken words register in his mind.

“The part where I had feelings for you? Y-yeah…” Remembering what transpired mere moments ago, Homura can feel her own face heat up. “I-I know it’s strange, and I get that you’re uncomfortable—“

“No!” Ichimatsu raises his voice inadvertently, causing a couple of strangers to stop and raise their eyebrows. Embarrassed, he quiets down and resumes, “I-I mean, yeah, it’s strange, but—I mean…” He trails off and exhales, seemingly frustrated that he can’t properly voice his thoughts. “I just… I thought I was the only one.”

Only one…? It takes Homura a moment to realize what he means but when she does, it feels like the world’s stopped spinning on its axis. However, she doesn’t dare to get ahead of herself, and even with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she manages out timidly, “W-what do you…”

Ichimatsu buries his beet-red face in his hands, unable to meet her gaze. “I can’t say it, I’ll die…”

His reaction only cements it further for Homura, but it still takes all of her courage to utter her next words aloud:

“A-are you saying… you like me back…?”

Ichimatsu only raises his head from his hands and looks at her with an expression that says it all, and a huge rush of relief and euphoria comes over and envelops her to the point where she wants to cry all over again. Somehow, she doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she can keep the massive grin from emerging. Finally, after all this time, she allows herself to float on cloud nine, realizing that she does have that someone to bid her a final goodbye.

“The train for platform nine is about to depart. If you have not yet boarded, please do so now.”

Or maybe the goodbye can wait.

“H-hey.” Ichimatsu perks up at the sound of the intercom’s announcement. “You should probably get going. I’ll see you around, I guess—mmrph!”

In a sudden bout of audacity, Homura reaches out in front of her and grabs Ichimatsu by the collar, tugging him close and locking his lips in with her own. The sensation is rough yet so, so soft, just like him, and she finds her hands traveling from his hoodie to the back of his head to pull him deeper into her. He’s caught off guard, to say the least, but slowly, he returns the kiss himself, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her as if he’s not quite sure what to do.

Homura just wants to savor this moment when she’s pressed up against him, kissing him, forgetting the world around them. In what seems like a long distance away, she can hear the doors shut, followed by the train speeding off. And even with the departure creating the sudden gust of wind that blows at the both of them, neither of them care to notice.

.

.

.

.

.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

The train is long gone by the time the two of them pull their faces apart, and unbeknownst to them until now, Homura and Ichimatsu have attracted quite a few stares with their public display of affection. Homura sheepishly buries her face into Ichimatsu’s shoulder, while the latter returns everyone’s gazes with a vicious glare that prompts all of the onlookers to fearfully turn away.

“Jackasses,” Ichimatsu mutters, his cheeks still tinged red.

Despite the embarrassment, Homura can’t help but giggle into his shoulder at that. Her laugh is what seems to jolt him back to reality, and his head whips around to the tracks where the train once was.

“Y-your train… It left…”

“Hm?” Homura raises her head and follows his gaze. “Oh, yeah.” Frankly, she can’t bring herself to care very much right now.

“W-was that the last one for the night?” Ichimatsu asks and releases her from his hold, clearly much more concerned than she is. “C-crap, I can’t believe I held you back like this—”

“It’s fine, Ichimatsu-kun,” a smiling Homura stops him before he can fully launch into a tirade against himself. “I can just buy another ticket tomorrow morning.” She picks up her mochi and wraps her fingers around the handle of her suitcase. “I’m sure my aunt will be happy to see I’ll be staying an extra night.”

“Right…” Ichimatsu doesn’t look all too convinced that he hasn’t just single-handedly ruined all of Homura’s plans.

She holds up the plastic bag of mochi with an untroubled smile. “Do you want to come with? The three of us could eat this together.”

“What?” Ichimatsu asks, startled. “I-I don’t know… What if she doesn’t like me?”

“She likes everyone.” Homura, already making up her mind, begins to walk back the way she came. “Trust me, you two will get along.”

She hasn’t taken more than two steps before Ichimatsu’s voice stops her once more.

“W-wait…”

She stops to look back at him. “Hm?”

He stays quiet as he chooses his next words carefully, eventually settling on, “Are you sure you want this? I can’t make you happy the same way…” He looks off to the side, purposely avoiding her gaze. “I’m not Jyushimatsu.”

Homura doesn’t answer right away, but finally, with a neutral expression, she simply agrees, “I know you’re not.”

Ichimatsu looks back at her once more. He doesn’t say a word.

“And I don’t want you to be,” she finishes, a gentle smile gracing her features. She extends a hand out for Ichimatsu to take. “Now, shall we go?”

Ichimatsu blinks, having not expected that, but he visibly relaxes once her words sink in. He quickly rubs his eyes like he’s trying to stop himself from crying, and, finally convinced, he takes a couple steps forward and grabs onto her hand. “Yeah, let’s,” he concedes with a rare genuine smile of his own.

And as they make their way across the station, hand in hand, Homura finds that the memory that has haunted her for so long doesn’t anymore.