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I saw a scene, of a flower blooming in a barren wasteland once.
It was like a new hope, reborn—or it was like, a remaining hope.
To have that sort of hope for her, and myself, is—
Or so, I wander around in my head like that.
I had walked into this desolate, empty, Sekai; so barren and cold to the touch, just some moments or so ago. It's a Sekai just like that woman's demeanour—if I could compare this, I think, this'd be a graveyard. Like, it certainly feels like one anyway; you can see scaffoldings of what seems like unfinished buildings everywhere, and triangles. Everything in this woman's Sekai feels like an abandoned thought, an unfinished work, a previously alive hope. It's a graveyard of hopes, and dreams; aspirations, and inspiration. If you thought about it, someone like me belongs here, doesn't she? I've got all this individuality, a high-running rebelliousness but without talent, without achievement, you can call me nothing but an unfinished, broken hope. When I lay here, at times, it feels like I'm at peace. I think the lot of the others in 25ji think this way too. Again; it's like a graveyard. You can lie here, leave yourself to die—and it'd feel… right. It's a dreary peace that somehow, I just always find myself coming back to. What is it about the dreary, the dark, the sadness that attracts me? Is it because I get to see people's barefaced despair put on display? Because I get to see emotions gushing out, no holds barred? Maybe, that makes sense. You don't have to restrain yourself anymore. You can smather this boring world in your emotions—you, whose music I listen to so dearly… I shake the thought off.
I've been lying here for so long. I've got my canvas propped up, my paints and everything, and for a moment, for a time, a few hours ago, I felt pumped—like I was at the height of my high-rushing inspiration and I felt like I could take over the world. I don't know why this happened—or, I do. I just hate it. I hate… me. I'd hate to keep moving on like this. Such a feeling of being dissatisfied with myself… I don't want to hear it. I felt myself let out a deep sigh. I've been contemplating just sleeping here, for God knows how long. I'm in my pajamas anyway, anyhow. Cute bunny slippers, bunny print… You know, well-coordinated, so stylish~ Or whatever. The little joys just feel like nothing. Every so often I'd just tap my hand against the floor, shift positions, and then go back to staring at the sky of this barren graveyard. Even it is nothing. This whole place feels like a post-apocalypse; or, it's a world that never even started properly. Why is it so… empty? I felt like I wanted to create onto it. I wanted to dye the world in colors of my own; or colors of her own. But can I even be confident that I can create onto this graveyard properly? Won't I just add to the tombstones? To the failed attempts, and all the ones who've lived before? Yet another sigh escaped my mouth.
Being in my own head is tiring. I just want to go to sleep. Let the coldness embrace me. Somehow, I guess… The sensation of napping in here just feels like an experience of death. Like you add on to the already wilted flowers… I felt my eyes flicker. I let out a yawn. I will wilt, I will melt into the whiteness of this canvas…
"... Good night." She spoke.
She was here. I always knew she was here. When was she not here?
I was lying down, and she'd been sitting beside me the whole time.
Sometimes, Mafuyu just seemed like she'd fade into the white of this Sekai—
—And it felt that way now, too.
"... I'm tired." I spat.
I don't know whether to walk, or to stand, or to draw, all I know now… is that I want to wilt.
Mafuyu said nothing.
In this moment, it felt like all the anger, all the feelings, the conflict, the torrent of bare-faced ugliness—all melted away. I don't have a reason to be mad. I can't even be mad. I'm annoyed that she's the only one by my side right now… But that, precisely, is why I can't be mad—my most detested is the only one who loves me so. I can't even say that for sure. But, she was the only one here now.
And as she placed her hand so softly on my face, rubbing the tears away with her thumb, I just can't get mad at all.
I touched her hand and… I didn't want to let go.
The last person still here, at my lowest.
The person I hated the most.
Hate—
—Even I'm bound to realize at some point.
I let out a soft breath and I felt like I could just find my last moments like this. Even if it's not death, I prayed I wouldn't wake up anymore.
This wasn't my ideal. It's far from it.
You never get what you want.
"... Mafuyu?" I let out, her name barely escaping my lips.
Of course, she says nothing, but I know she heard.
"Why do you sit here… with me?"
It's so selfish of me to question companionship when it's given to me on a silver platter.
"... You had the look of an unloved child." Was all she said.
I don't get it, but somehow, it feels like I do.
"Taking pity on the talentless, are you?" I spat.
It felt like venom, melting my own lips as I spat. But it was what I felt. Even if it felt like I was scarring myself by saying it.
What response would you have to that, even? She says nothing, naturally.
I opened my eyes and I saw the look of someone who was in solitude—similar to the look I see in the mirror. Of course she isn't taking pity. She's here for her own sake, too. When two lonely people meet, they become lonely together; some sort of oxymoron. Like, maybe, when a negative meets a negative… it becomes something. Maybe a positive. But I guess, not always. I wanted to call her selfish, only being here to feel less lonely and to feel better about herself, but that's a claim drenched in hypocrisy of the finest kind. I did sit by her side like this too. And, for the most part? I did do it because I hated being lonely. I hated seeing someone so, so talented, being so pathetic. It was a morbid, disgusting catharsis even; I was seeing that perfect honor student at her lowest low. And I kept seeing it. I've seen so much. Her pain has been laid bare for my eyes to see—and while it wasn't just me who could see it… I connected to it. I felt it. But not because I found it similar, because I found it to be my own pain too. Because to me, her pain, it's unpleasant. You're talented. Why are you in pain? Or, honestly—you don't… deserve the pain. How nice it would just be if I could be you. How nice it would just be if you could be me. I don't need my raging individuality. I want talent. But I know—she is perfect proof that having only talent isn't perfect.
All we do is want what other people have. I think I'll never learn to appreciate what I do have. It's such a sinking feeling; isn't it painful if you have to live with someone you hate? Let alone that someone being yourself? I'm the worst of the worst, the most venomous snake of all. I am, essentially, a gardener who couldn't plant her flowers right. They all started getting weary and all wilted. Like a greenhouse dyed in sickly greens; the worst that you'd see. The greenhouse of a failed gardener who couldn't nurture anything right. I try to make amends, I always do, I live and I keep planting, but it still wilts away in my hands. Don't all flowers wilt with time? I'll just hate everything I create no matter what. I could bloom a perfect flower but it'll wilt with time. I will paint a perfect picture but it'll never stand the test of time; or the test of my own perception, ever changing. You can't win no matter what you do. I hate it, you know. I… hate it. But then, what value does creating anything hold, even? Why do people create? Why do gardeners plant? What reason do I have to create? Are these the true feelings I'm missing? Will I just wilt, myself, an imperfect flower, doomed to wilt?
I looked her in the eye once again, and I wanted to know if she had an answer, something, anything. But of course she doesn't.
She doesn't even have an answer for herself.
But what harm does a little quizzing have, hm.
"... Why do people create… Mafuyu?"
Silence. A creeping silence.
But maybe that was the answer.
People don't have logical reasons to create.
It's just what they feel.
But for what do I feel…?
"Why do… I create…?"
And at this moment, I felt, I saw her expression twitch a little.
It was always satisfying to see when Mafuyu's facial expressions changed. I felt like I landed a crack into the impenetrable wall that is Asahina.
I wonder, do you have an answer—
"—I don't know, but you're always clamoring to beat people's low expectations of you, aren't you?" She spoke.
"You're… right." I returned.
But it's not a perfect reason to create—
Or have I just missed the obvious about me, again?
I feel like I'm fighting an endless fight with each failure I get. I can't even get anyone's feelings to change.
… With that, I think, don't I just want to imprint myself into the minds of all and everyone out there?
I do.
"... What a high-charged rebellious spirit." I heard Mafuyu say.
But it wasn't with contempt.
Because I know that's what she wants.
You want what I have. I want what you have. Wouldn't it be nice if things were just simple? If we could become each other?
But, no. God never lets you have what you want.
I felt the welling anger again. I hate being a lowbrow depressed loser like this. It's not like me. Or, it is like me, but I hate it. If God never lets me have what I want, then… Go fuck off. When have you given anything anyone wants? What kind of shitty God are you? Hell, so much people are so dissatisfied with this piece of shit we got for a God, I'm surprised he hasn't been thrown off the throne yet… God. My anger. But that's it, I think—something felt like it clicked back into place again.
Always, always, my goal will be to persevere.
To grant hell onto every egotistical fuckface out there. Well, that's why I create, isn't it—to impart my burning feelings onto all and everyone. An intense feeling of hate, an intense feeling of admiration, all of it, swirling together, in a colorful paint-soaked mega punch. Yeah. Of course, this is so silly. I guess people have their moments of regression, but to re-realize is… It's a step forward. I have to keep living in order to impart my heavy, seething, burning feelings into everyone; I won't let it happen that I'll disappear from this shitty world without a trace. I want to impart myself onto the minds of every single talented hack out there—of course! Of course. Even if I create trash, even if I don't bloom a single flower, I suppose the goal has always been to just—keep moving, until the trash is gold. Until the flower blooms. Such an endless tunnel with practically no light at the end, but I can't impart my feelings if I don't bloom the flower; in fact, I think, even in my fiery actions, the determination to bloom the flower… I want everyone to see it, this burning resolve. I won't let any of you forget this Shinonome Ena—oh, you'll praise me, alright. As long as I'm alive, you'll receive my feelings; my anger, everything.
Burning, burning, what a spiralling resolve. It's like an ever piercing drill.
So, I want to try again. Surprisingly. My own ego just never ends.
But maybe I should try something different. What was that, variety is the spice of life~... or something?
Maybe, I look at this endless white sky.
It's a pure, white canvas, isn't it?
Of course, when I think about delivering my burning feelings onto someone—
—I think of her.
Whose empty praises I want to make real. Whose empty heart I want to make something feel. This barren coldness, I want to make my mark on it.
So I looked up into her eyes.
"Mafuyu." I whispered.
The look in her eyes is one of interest—
How do I even know this?
I just know.
I know she wants to hear me.
I feel like I'm exchanging emotions just from this alone.
"This place is your heart, isn't it? A completely fresh, blank canvas."
She nods. I continue.
"If I'm to draw something into this…"
"—What will you draw, then, Ena?"
I fell into a silence.
The image of a barren wasteland came to mind again. It's much like a graveyard—it's a graveyard of nature. People have trampled all over the once blooming greenery and all you have now is the dust; the brown, cracked land. A field of what was once dreams.
But if I were to be there…
A single flower.
I'd start planting again.
Maybe it's not the seeds of hope. Maybe it won't even be anything. But to have at least one flower sprouting out in the nothingness—
Wouldn't that be a… sign of hope at least?
A hope for her—and ultimately, for everyone else too.
To enact such a revolution; no. I can't say that's who I am. I don't act in the frontlines. I'm a bystander… I don't save.
But that's precisely why I want to leave my mark.
I don't start anything—I help spur it on.
I remembered all my remarks. Her mother. The grayness of a rainy afternoon, a dejected girl, my words throwing a punch as the grating noise of bullshit entered my ears amongst the pitter patter of the rain, which acted like a BGM. I grabbed her by the shoulder, because, she watched as the world collapsed yet again—I told her, this isn't what you want, right? Would you want the Gods towering over you, constraining you for years to decide your fate yet again? I spat it all out. I spoke it all. I didn't hesitate. I hated seeing someone being controlled like this. I hated how passive she was. Speak up. You, you may be a doll, but you can cut the strings, can't you? Or, we have cut the strings, haven't we? Eventually, her mother overheard. It was a peaceful afternoon in the wet rain, us being the stray animals we were. You have no right to speak back against anything, is what I heard. I didn't want to speak on Mafuyu's behalf at all; that'd just be counterproductive. But that is what she wants, isn't it? I don't know. I'm not in her head. But on that day, I just… I wanted her to break out of her shell. I hated her—yet. Yet… Seeing someone like this… I can't take it. It's everything I hated to become. I didn't want to be like this with my father. I wish I'll never be. So is it just the manifestation of that… wish? Is it why I acted? But it… it's what I want to do. I breathed.
I think, in the end, it'd just be wholly satisfying if I made the unbreakable honor student rebel.
It'd be like seeing her as someone finally down to my level—
Is that a good thing? Maybe it is.
But precisely—because of this, I wanted to draw.
And I wanted to plant that one flower within her.
May it grow and propagate the land, someday. May it help everyone else gardening here, too.
I reached for my sketchbook.
There were a bundle of colored pencils next to me. Most were all warped and broken. I remembered each and every scenario—I gripped that one so hard, it broke; I threw that one at the wall, I stepped on that one. I'm like a child, it's hilarious. I guess that is what I am, though. It's as she said—
I have the look of a lonely, isolated child.
I let a breath out. I slowly sat up, and next to Mafuyu, who was sitting against the triangle behind her, I solemnly, with no energy whatsoever, just sat down next to her.
I rested my head onto her shoulder.
It's like…
She's warm.
Funny for someone literally named midwinter.
I'm not really paying attention to what I draw. No perspective guides, no setup, whatever. It's… my feelings, laid bare, for her to see—I'm imparting them upon her, after all. A red, crimson flower, whose form wasn't anything of an existing flower—but it still was one. I wasn't thinking of a flower in particular, either; but, this is an expression of a brand new hope, isn't it? A hope that's never been seen before. So, it is. It was standing in the middle of a broken world, almost reminiscent of the post-apocalypse—I was thinking of a wasteland, but it ended up becoming more of an abandoned land, didn't it? The greenery consuming the buildings. The lack of human life. It was against the original point I was making that there was greenery everywhere, I guess—but this is what I've… unconsciously drawn. And I'm trying to think, about why this came out the way it did; but, ultimately, this is the kind of… feeling this Sekai has now. Because when I thought of her, of her songs, from that time; I'd think of a barren wasteland, indeed. But… There's something starting to happen here. It isn't a solid hope, it isn't a valley of flowers yet, but—imagine the future, it will be. This is what this was. And it's the state of her now.
This place is beautiful… when you don't frame it in the lens of dread.
That's right.
This is both a land of once-thriving life—and a land with the potential to be something more.
It's like, a canvas smothered with pure white paint, in order to start anew—but eventually, you'd throw that canvas away, and you'd get a brand, new one.
A new one with the potential to hold the overlapping colors of your emotions.
I looked over to Mafuyu, who was, as I'd wanted, quite fixated on what I just drew.
"... When I'd thought about it, this is what I really think this Sekai is like." I spoke.
"Your heart's like an abandoned land, that was once thriving, Mafuyu. Like a wasteland, was what I first thought. But, that's what you were. Now, I feel… The grass grew in that wasteland, the plantation started to slowly live again… And now, it's a land with the potential for something to happen. With the potential for a flowerfield of hope to grow."
I kept imparting my emotions to her.
I wanted to see her expression.
I felt like I could see the glint in her eyes—so, so slightly.
"... And this flower, is the first step to a field of hope." Mafuyu spoke.
I felt that wash of triumph—
I could really feel how far I've gotten.
To be able to at least get her to understand the emotions of what I drew; to call that a win felt like an understatement to me.
It's like I got her to see me, even if just for a moment.
"... You get it, Mafuyu. That's rare."
Her expression remains unchanged, but I swore I could see the slight curvature on her lips.
"I always get it. Some things in what you draw are off to me, but I understand your feelings, Ena."
"Do you, now?" I quipped back, in a slightly joking manner.
But I felt like that statement wasn't half-assed.
I recalled the time where I wanted her to get the meaning of the imbalance in something I drew. I recalled, that she did say she understood it. I remembered—it was the emotion of wanting to express the difference between two negatives. You could call both selfishness and jealousy negatives but they're so, so different in nature. Just like how I'm feeling a negative, and she's feeling a negative—yet, when you think about it, it's so different, yet so similar. What a joke. People connect through their pain, so much. But anyhow, when she'd expressed that she had understood at least half of it, but not the whole thing—you know, I felt annoyed at the time, I felt like I was brimming with rage; but that's… Now, it's… The fact that she was even able to understand at least a little at all—I felt cathartic. See me, Mafuyu. Look my way. Understand… this pain, these odd feelings, this unexplainable hope I have for you—
You know what, knowing her, she's already understood even that.
"Well, you've probably got some things to nitpick me for here, considering how this is just a shitty, random sketch, but anyhow, I guess you got it." I spoke.
"... The perspective's slightly off, yes." She replied.
But that's fine. The perspective being shit wasn't really expressing anything metaphorical, anyway.
She kept looking.
Have I finally captured you in my world of art, Mafuyu?
She picked up another colored pencil, and took my sketchbook.
… Now that's something curious.
I peeked over to see what she was drawing—
And it was another flower.
The artstyle difference was slightly off, yet, it looked like it belonged there so perfectly.
"... I don't know if I can do it soon, but, to be able to plant my own hope—"
"—It… would be nice." Mafuyu said, with a very light undertone of conviction.
I really couldn't help but smile.
It's so odd of me.
"It's… fine. Everyone's here—I'm here to help you."
She'd usually be caught off-guard by the kindness but she knows that side of me already.
But, it's so odd.
This is, indeed, the scenario I hated the most.
To have my most dearly detested here with me at my lowest low.
And yet, all of it, the hate, the kindness, the determination, the want to imprint my emotions into her empty skull, the inferiority, the hope, all, everything—
It's all my own, haphazardly bundled-together brand of zany, high-octane emotions.
And within all that bullshit is an…
An expression of love.
It's that love I want to bestow upon you.
And I hated telling myself that—but I can't be at war with my own head forever.
I took a breath. Being with your own head seriously is tiring. And I stood, I faced her, and I spoke:
"I'll draw this again so well that the Sekai will bend and shape into this scene, I swear on my word—it'll imprint itself onto you. So you can't disappear till that flowerfield starts blooming, alright? I won't forgive you."
"... I'll wait for it."
I smirked.
I stretched out my hand.
"But for now, want to get out of here?"
She took my hand.
"Why don't we explore this barren wonderland?"
And she nodded.
And eventually, we'll find that flower blooming at the corner of this world.
I'll keep my emotions ablaze till then.