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“We’re all here now. We came back. There’s no reason to lie to yourself anymore. You don’t need to keep clinging to the past.” Despite the truth of his words, Kaname can’t help but find a bittersweet aftertaste on his tongue.
Chisaki gazes up at him, eyes wide, mouth a thin line, and he could have been in hibernation for a million years and still recognize her face. It’s the one she makes when he tells her the truth that she always fights so desperately not to hear. After all, the past that she is, that he had been, clinging to—it is scratches in the sand washed away by the tides of time. Faded marks and nothing more.
“But Manaka loves Tsumugu.” Chisaki’s gaze slides to the ground. “We have to try to get back Manaka’s ability to love, so I can’t accept Tsumugu’s feelings for me.”
“Manaka has nothing to do with this.”
“She does!”
Her voice comes out fierce and high as her gaze snaps up to meet his. He can’t help but smile at that.
“Your stubbornness hasn’t changed a bit either.”
Bittersweet indeed.
A pause. She sighs.
“Shut up.” Her mutter is resigned. “I know.”
He told her to stop clinging to the past, but he can’t help wondering if she also feels a faint sting at this, at the way they’ve fallen into their familiar rhythm. Such an unfeeling reminder. He shakes the thoughts away.
“So does this mean you’ll accept your feelings?”
“It’s...” Chisaki sighs. “It’s not easy. It’s pretty hard, actually. Really hard.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I still can’t think of... being with Tsumugu without feeling guilty.” Her hand rises to cling to her elbow. “I think that—that deep down, I actually do want this. That maybe it’s right, even. But I still can’t help feeling like it’s wrong.”
“I suppose five years of guilt and denial aren’t just so easy to erase.”
Chisaki nods, and her gaze darts away from Kaname once again.
“Yeah,” she says, quietly. “Yeah.”
An admission that should be sad, but her voice rings with acceptance. Relief. Her grip on her elbow is loose and easy. Her expression has calmed. And he knows—this was all she needed. For all her denying and evading, once the crack forms, the dam of her true feelings easily breaks through. It’s always been like this. Her, the restless tide, and him, the unmoving rocks at the shore, letting her crash into him and then pull away just as quickly, over and over and over. He can see when a storm is on the horizon and he can tell when the waters are calm.
And right now, the sea is at peace. The ice keeping it frozen has melted. Kaname should be wholeheartedly happy for her.
Chisaki turns to him.
“I think you’re right though.”
“But those aren’t the only things difficult to erase.”
The words leave Kaname’s mouth in a whisper before he can stop them. Chisaki blinks.
“What?”
“I—” He takes a breath to recollect himself. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” Breathe, push it down, and smile. It always works. “You were saying?”
“I think you’re right, Kaname,” Chisaki continues. “I’m being stubborn about my feelings. I spent the past five years not allowing myself to feel the same way about him. I was scared of the possibility that I could allow myself to.”
“But now you realize that there’s no need to do that, right?”
When Chisaki silently glances away, Kaname knows that she has. All she needs now is some time for it to sink in followed by a conversation with Tsumugu. Nothing more.
“I’ll take that as you do.” Kaname smiles. “Just make sure to let Tsumugu know soon.” He turns around to leave. “Good luck, Chisaki. I’m glad for you.”
“Wait!”
“What?” The moment the word leaves his mouth, he knows that he shouldn’t have responded.
“‘Those aren’t the only things difficult to erase.’ What do you mean by that?”
Her words root Kaname to the spot. He can’t see Chisaki’s face, but right now, he doesn’t know if he wants to. Those aren’t the only things difficult to erase. He shouldn’t have said that. It was selfish of him to. But already, the rest of his thoughts are flooding in, a ricochet in his mind.
Those aren’t the only things difficult to erase. Because no matter how much I wish to lose these feelings, I can’t. I can’t stop wishing that things could’ve worked out between us. I can’t stop hating the fact that Tsumugu found his place at your side so easily, that you’re moving on, that you’re all moving on, while I’m still stuck here, alone, alone, alone.
He takes a deep breath. Breathe, push it down, smile. “It’s just... I was just thinking about how there are a lot of feelings that we can’t erase easily, no matter how much we wish to, right? Just a passing thought.”
A passing thought and nothing more.
“Yeah, I guess...” Chisaki’s voice is hesitant. “So do you have your own feelings you can’t erase, Kaname?”
He turns around.
I don’t.
Or if I do, it’s not big.
Don’t worry.
It really was just a passing thought, Chisaki.
Brush it off. Smile. Give her a vague answer, hide the truth, and leave before it all spills out. He’s done it countless times before. It’s easy. It should be easy, but now his thoughts just ring like pleas in his head.
“I—”
Are you really doing this? he asks himself.
Before he can think of an answer, the words spill out.
“I do. I do, Chisaki, and I wish I could erase them all. I’m tired of being the odd one out. I’m tired of how much everything has changed. I’m tired of still wishing that I could’ve been the one by your side, and I’m tired of hating Tsumugu for it.”
When he looks at Chisaki, he braces himself for pity. Pity, or discomfort, or confusion. Their previous lives may all still be just a blink of an eye away for Kaname, but the time is a five years’ distance for Chisaki. Who is he to hold the past hostage in front of her like this? Shove onto her the burden of something that she should have freed herself from long ago?
But their gazes meet, and it’s not pity nor discomfort nor confusion in it. It’s... sorrow. Sorrow, as she stares at him, silent, expression soft. She nods, the barest movement, as if telling him to continue, and his chest tightens in a way he can't describe.
“You told me that you didn’t want anything to change. You said you wanted it to remain as Hikari, Manaka, me, you. So I did my best to keep it that way. I was okay that your gaze never left Hikari, because at least we could remain the same, just as you wanted. But now”—when he says this, part of him realizes that his voice is coming out shaky, ragged—“everything’s changed. You’ve changed. Tsumugu has. Even Hikari and Manaka have. You’ve all moved on. The only one that hasn’t is me.”
“Yeah?” Chisaki says, gently.
“I can’t pretend it’s not true at this point. That I’m not still clinging to the past like if I do it desperately enough, I’ll wake up back in Shioshishio and find out that this never happened. I can’t look at you guys and pretend I’m not still alone and stuck in the same sad place.” A laugh leaves him, a choked, pitiful sound. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never woken up. Or that when I wake up, it’s been centuries and I can’t recognize anything anymore. Spare myself the fact that everything I know has turned out like this. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference between you guys anyway. And that’s fine. A life of not knowing anyone might be better than one where I know everyone but nobody—”
It’s only then when he notices that a teardrop has trailed down his cheek.
-x-
It occurs to Chisaki that she has never seen Kaname like this before.
It’s been five years, but she still vividly remembers Hikari’s passion, the fiery energy that burns through him, no matter if he’s having fun with friends or fighting for what he believes in. She remembers Manaka’s cheer and kindness, her fears and insecurities. And Tsumugu—she’s grown familiar with every part of him by now. His composure, his gentleness, his silence, his warmth, his love. But when she thinks of Kaname, all she remembers is his calm, measured smile.
The inhale that Kaname takes as he raises a hand to his face is sharp and startled.
“Sorry,” he says in a quiet breath. “I didn’t mean that. I’m glad you’re my friends. And that I woke up when I did.” He takes a breath again, and wipes the tear from his face. “I should go. I’m sorry, Chisaki.”
She doesn’t think as she grabs his arm.
“Kaname,” she says. “It’s been five years since the Ofunehiki. But one of my most vivid memories from that night... It’s the sight of you falling off the boat. The smile you gave me as you fell into the water and never came back up.”
“What about it?”
“How could you smile in a moment like that?”
He’s silent for a few seconds. Then, “I didn’t want to leave you that night with the thought that I wasn’t going to be okay.”
“Just like... how you don’t want to leave me with the idea that you’re not okay now?”
Kaname stiffens in her grip. And as they stare at each other, there’s a ripple in his eyes, a whir of thoughts and emotions that she can’t pull apart. She wonders just how much he has kept locked behind his quiet smiles and measured calmness. For a split-second, she wonders if he’s going to do it once more.
Something in his expression falls apart.
She pulls him into her arms.
“Chisaki—” Kaname’s voice is still breathy, but she hears the abrupt shock in it. “I—You don’t need to—”
“It’s been five years, but I remember how you were always there for me. If it’ll help just a bit, can I be here for you now? Just as you were there for me before, and just as you were here for me moments ago.”
Kaname goes still and silent, and with a burst of worry she thinks maybe she said too much. Maybe she shouldn’t have hugged him. Maybe she should have just let him leave.
Then she realizes that he's not still.
He’s trembling. Ever so slightly. It turns into shaking, and then his silence turns into hitches of the breath, and then finally, he sinks in Chisaki’s arms and returns her embrace.
-x-
Kaname feels something shift as he lets himself crumble, lets himself sob and shake and sag into Chisaki’s embrace. He isn’t sure what it is. He just knows it feels like something that's remained frozen for far too long has finally started to melt.