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reko's arm was draped over her, a familiar weight. her breath filtered through her hair to waft warm against the back of her neck. she seemed to be sleeping soundly, and for that nao was grateful. maybe they'd both avoid nightmares tonight. in nao's case, she might not sleep at all, but that still counted, she thought. reko's wellbeing was more important than hers. she spent so much time protecting and guiding her during the death game --- it was time nao returned the favor.
spectres gathered in the shadowy corners of their bedroom, leering and taunting her. blood dripped from their bodies to pool on the carpet. she understood now, the way sara had suffered. with the exception of her immediate meltdown, nao's grief over mishima had taken a more normal path. she missed him terribly, felt guilt over her role in the whole thing, longed for the comfort his ai in the monitor room could provide...all of that, yes, but never the violent hallucinations sara fought back.
she understood now because even joe joined the rest. she inherited him from sara, maybe, the strong, admirable leader who now wandered the house with him arm in arm, chasing nao through her daily routine. kai sat on the kitchen counter when she made breakfast, criticizing her technique and saying he would've been happy to cook for them if only they hadn't killed him.
if only you hadn't voted for me, miss nao. but then you simply would've killed me later with the rest, isn't that right? even miss sara, who i trusted with my wishes. how can you live with yourself knowing you killed your friends, miss nao? we should have gotten rid of you first.
she was used to things like that these days. months had passed, and the hallucinations hadn't improved. she'd just gotten better at pretending, so reko wouldn't worry.
she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, refocused on the well-lit portion of the room where shadows couldn't dwell. two grown women who slept with a nightlight, how pathetic. too many things could hide in the dark. the skin of reko's hand and wrist was still pink and tender, surrounding the vivid ink of her new tattoo. a delicate flower, blue petals and black leaves. it matched alice's, and suited her punk aesthetic anyway, for those who didn't know the meaning behind it.
(alice, still indirectly killed by nao, because she was the one who gave the reko doll that final push. before the second main game, at least. reko wouldn't have come with her if her brother was still alive. she knew that much. maybe she'd be laying here with sara instead then.)
the flower reminded them both of kanna too, though that was something they tried not to talk about. secretly, shamefully, she'd started a few sketches of the stems bursting from her limbs. drawing such a horrible memory felt dirty, exploitative, but it was her responsibility to remember. kanna was only 13, gin even younger than that. she promised to carry that burden so reko wouldn't have to, but that only made it doubly important for her not to forget.
(sou, or shin, she supposed, had hugged kanna's trembling form until safalin pulled her away. even he had been human in the end. everyone wanted to live.)
nao dropped out of college, unable to stand the way everyone looked at her. the death game was national news. everyone knew what she'd done. the kidnappers were at fault, of course, that was the party line. they did nothing wrong by getting out. they didn't kill anyone. in a way it was true, but sometimes she wondered if she might have felt better in prison, or community service. some sort of punishment for her sins.
she dropped out of college, but she kept up with her art on her own. her first project was to finish the portrait of mishima, of course. it hung in the living room, above the fireplace in an ornate metal frame. she spoke to him sometimes when she walked past, wishing for a moment that he could talk back. no amount of closure could fully erase the loneliness, it turned out.
after that, she started a lot of floral projects. the private sketches of kanna, yes, but plenty of less morbid things too. paintings of beautiful gardens, smattered with a rainbow of colors. she leafed through books of flowers for inspiration, leaving smudges of paint on the pages. she dabbled in the art of flower pressing too, just because it felt like the kind of thing to do. she preserved roses in resin, little globes of them scattered all over the apartment.
likewise, reko returned to music. it was harder for her to avoid recognition, but she went out on stage with her band all the same, makeup like a protective mask. nao was so proud of her. she wished she had that bravery.
nao brought bouquets to her concerts and stood in the front row, transfixed by the beauty of her voice. they kissed backstage, the chaotic noise of the venue all around them, and it was like things were normal. her parents left her voicemails, concerned about her decision to drop out and her rebellious girlfriend. if only she still had the kind of life where her family's fears about reko being a bad influence ranked in the top ten most stressful things she was dealing with. she didn't return their calls. she wasn't ready to hear the ignorance in their voices.
they wandered parks in the mornings and flower shops in the afternoon, surrounded by life and beauty. they put flowers everywhere except where they belonged most.
she googled the cemeteries sometimes, whispering to her phone that she'd be strong enough to visit soon.
a sacrifice was never meant to move on.