Work Text:
27:49.
The members of 25-ji Night Code de. remained quiet, engrossed by the tune of Kanade’s newly composed song. It was gentle — almost dream-like in a way. Slow and mesmerizing. It was just enough to settle an emotion within the listener, filling up an empty void in their soul. Kanade always had that virtuosity. Her music was, in her eyes, nearly lifesaving.
Nearly.
Not quite, but she held tightly onto the thin string of hope that it would one day rescue someone. It didn’t matter who. Whether it’d be a family member, a friend, a fan of her work, or a complete stranger — she wanted to save someone from oblivion.
Once the melody concluded, Mizuki was the first to speak. “Ah, this one’s super tender… It feels like I’m floating on clouds, so close to falling… if that makes sense.” They gazed at the time, letting out a yawn. “Well, that’s a wrap! It’s gotten a bit late, hasn’t it? Great job as always, K!” In response, Kanade sighed thankfully.
No one uttered a word afterward. A long and dreary night for the circle, sadly, but everyone worked hard and that was what mattered the most. Soft tapping noises brought the silence to a halt, coming from Ena’s microphone. Mizuki supposed she forgot to mute as per usual.
To ease the sudden awkward tension, they announced their withdrawal from the call aloud. “I’ll be logging off now. Goodnight, everyone!” A notification sound signified their leaving. Three out of the four members were left.
“There goes Amia. Guess I’ll be going, too,” Ena said in a sleepy voice. “Goodnight, you two.” She quickly exited, and two out of the four people lingered in the meeting.
Despite Mafuyu’s virtual company, everything still felt lonely. Kanade finished up her instant noodles, placing the cup down next to a disorganized pile of music sheets and scrap notes, where a couple more empty cups were stashed from earlier. She was never really a neat person, though she didn’t enjoy the thought of accepting the fact. After all, where was the pride in being messy? Her room was always a wreck, and housework wasn’t one of her special talents.
“Yuki…” Kanade mumbled, eyes fixated on a certain digital file. Absent-mindedly, Mafuyu hummed, resting her head upon the desk in front of her. Her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to keep herself awake. “Come to the Sekai with me.”
Those words caught the girl’s attention, although she wasn’t too interested about hearing it. She was rather hesitant.
Before Mafuyu could even unmute herself, she realized Kanade had already entered the Sekai, since she was the only one left in the call. Frustrated, she closed Night Cord and turned off her monitor. For only a moment, she stared at her own reflection on the black screen, and the mere sight of her face filled her with an unsettling fantasy. Displeased by the sudden mental intrusion, she rushed to press the power button on her computer.
It took a few seconds for the contents on the screen to reappear — her mirrored face nowhere to be seen on the device. She had forgotten the existence of the light that shone in her room, but she never really saw the light in anything.
To her, everything was black and white, although more often than not, black stained the white. Whenever it did, darkness consumed her like a sole candle’s flame burning out. It would take a while for the flame to reignite without a match on hand, wouldn’t it? There was little to nothing to spark Mafuyu’s own candle.
As expected, black took over.
She did not want to enter the Sekai.
But, at the same time, she did. She wanted to know what Kanade wanted her there for, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave her waiting. Slowly, she reached for her mouse.
. . .
Alone in the Sekai, the composer walked around. It was odd enough Miku wasn’t around at the moment. Or maybe she was lurking, but that was so much of a low possibility, knowing her. Either way, Kanade didn’t mind. All she cared about at the time was meeting with Mafuyu. About five more minutes passed until she finally heard the sound of steady footsteps arise, and she felt awfully happy to hear them.
Kanade turned her head to see her friend. Relieved, she smiled a bit. “Mafuyu… You came,” she said, slowly walking toward the girl. “Thank you.”
“Why did you summon me…?” Mafuyu’s tone turned blunt.
“I wanted to check up on you.” Or rather, she really just wanted to see her. It’d been a week since they had gone out together in-person, and she dearly missed being near her. Kanade lifted her arm, though she refrained from touching her in fear of annoying her. Her ears twitched at the sound of Mafuyu’s voice — it was like stone, difficult to crack, let alone break. “How… have you been?”
Black. Right that instant, all Mafuyu saw was pitch-black. It was frightening, too frightening — her sight had been obscured by utter darkness. Nothing quite ever scared Mafuyu, not even a silly ‘boo!’ or a ghost story disturbed her. This, however, was something completely different. No matter how much or how hard she blinked, it didn’t work. In her chest, her heart beat fast as though she was running the three-legged race, despite standing still in front of Kanade.
In a flash, she tried reaching out for her, for she could not see her. She smacked her lifted arm, wherein Kanade withdrew it, seemingly upset by the sudden action. Quickly, she apologized to the silver-haired girl, rubbing her eyes to regain a bit of her proper vision.
“I-I’ve been OK.”
Kanade, taken aback, questioned her. “Are you sure…?” she asked, “you can be honest with me… I want to know what you’re thinking.” Somehow, Kanade’s figure was warped. The ends of her long hair resembled sharp knives, ready to attack Mafuyu at any moment should she not reply accordingly.
What was going on with her head? Why were these visions appearing?
Mafuyu let out a scoff, one that shook Kanade to the core. “I think that… life is just one kind of a joke.” Her dull eyes locked with Kanade’s, and even though they were devoid of emotion, they brought sadness.
“Even after everything, you still feel that way?”
The lyricist paused. Life was something to laugh at, that was what she thought. A repetitive joke that lasted for as long as it wanted until it finally came to an end because of an inevitable obstacle. Death.
Everyone’s lives always ended with death. What other way was there to cease the tiring joke that haunted many people?
All of a sudden, white began to stain the black.
Mafuyu’s knees felt weak. Did she truly feel that way, even after everything they’ve been through together? She bottled up so much guilt within her. Guilt for causing trouble for everyone, for worrying them, for hurting them, for everything.
And even after the amount of effort Kanade put in to find what Mafuyu had lost, Mafuyu still couldn’t muster up the courage to admit how she honestly felt. There was no doubt Kanade trusted her with her entire life, but there was no point in putting that much in someone who didn’t understand herself. It was equivalent to trusting a stuffed animal — they’re thoughtless, emotionless. Why believe in a person when they had no idea what their favorite color was, or even their preferred food?
“I don’t know.”
Kanade’s heart sank.
“Right…”
All the sad girl could do was look down in shame, in anger, in self-hatred. If only she could speak her mind. But she, in all the wholeheartedness a human could ever have, had no clue about anything that surrounded her.
Who was she? Who exactly was Asahina Mafuyu? She shrugged at herself.
All she could do was cry. For the first time in years, she let out genuine tears. They almost choked her, and the lump in her throat did her no justice at all.
Kanade took a step back in surprise. “Mafuyu…?” she whispered, lips curving into a visible frown. She stood there in silence. What was she supposed to do? She wanted, so badly, to comfort her, to hold her close, to tell her everything will be okay.
But, she couldn’t.
“What’s wrong with me…?” Mafuyu muttered, her typical unbreakable voice shattering into pieces like glass being thrown to the floor. Those emotions seemed new to her, but deep down, something was telling her that she had experienced them before in her lifetime. It would take time for her to realize that she did — to remember her true feelings and finally accept a reason to live. She wished on every star she ever bothered to look up at that one day she would be able to smile again.
Hesitantly, Kanade’s arms wrapped around Mafuyu’s waist, and she slowly pulled her in. Her cheeks grew warm as Mafuyu rested her head against her shoulder, her body relaxing in her tight embrace.
Kanade found serenity in sympathizing with others. Expressing it, though, was something she struggled with. Nonetheless, she tried her best to soothe the girl she loved the most. It felt lovely, peaceful even, being so close to her. She wanted it to last forever.
Gently, she placed her ear upon Mafuyu’s chest. While she listened to her heartbeat slow down, Mafuyu shifted and her tears fell onto her forehead. They rolled down the tip of her own nose, then dripped onto the ground. The pair stood together, and quietly Kanade heeded her sobs.
“You’ll… be alright,” Kanade whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me… I want you to live, I want to save you…”
Mafuyu took a deep breath. Her strange illusions vanished, and the girl holding her looked as normal as she did when she first saw her. Through her cries, she managed to grin, and hearing those words made her heart skip a beat or two. Kanade keenly took notice of it, and she gazed up at Mafuyu with a slight smile on her own face.
“Really…?”
“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that aloud.” Kanade leaned back, though Mafuyu caught her sleeve. “Is… there something wrong?” she asked.
Nervous, Mafuyu avoided eye contact as she spoke. “I wouldn’t mind spending this joke of a life with you,” she said slowly, “since you don’t want me to disappear.” Kanade gasped.
She stammered over her words, a bit confused.
“You don’t mean…?” she began. “Ah… What do you…?” Senseless blathering was all she managed to sputter out. Her lips pressed together firmly until she was ready to talk again. “Are you OK?”
It was almost supernatural how Mafuyu was able to switch from crying to having a neutral expression in a matter of seconds.
“Kanade… Let’s go home now.” Her hand clenched tighter onto the softness of Kanade’s sweater sleeve — a gesture of clinginess she began to develop.
“I’ll send you two back.” Miku’s monotone voice filled their ears, coming from behind them. Had she been there the whole time? They didn’t know, nor did they really care. She walked up to Mafuyu first, placed a finger on her head, and soon she faded away like magic.
The lack of tugging on Kanade’s sleeve upset her. Right then, she expected to be sent back as well, but Miku stopped.
She tilted toward her face with her hand to the side of her mouth like a middle schooler telling a secret. “That girl…” she said, low. “She has much to tell you. Maybe one day… she will confess to you.”
Kanade’s eyebrows raised as she understood what that had meant, and she couldn’t stop herself from heating up. Was it childish of her to become giddy? Unusual, for sure, but it was uncontrollable. She became lightheaded.
Miku’s fingertip tapped her chin.
It took a minute for Kanade to realize she had returned to her world. Her mind was scrambled — all she could think about was Mafuyu, Mafuyu’s smile, Mafuyu’s closeness — it was all Mafuyu! She slumped in her chair.
28:31.
Quickly, she reopened Night Cord. Her fingers typed as fast as they could, despite her exhausted state.
Thank you for speaking with me. I’m glad you were able to be honest, and I hope you’ll tell me what’s on your mind more often. I don’t think your life is a joke. I want you to think that, too.
Sweet dreams, Yuki.
Messages sent.
Right when she was about to head to bed, there was a notification sound.
Of course. I’ll try to rethink it. Love you, K.
Kanade held her knees to her chest.
Love you too.