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1.
Chisato doesn’t know where she is. It’s hard to remember things when her brain is pounding against the walls of her skull. Something booms in the distance. The ground underneath her shakes.
Then she remembers everything. She remembers Majima, she remembers a bomb, she remembers falling off the glass dome. She remembers plummeting but then stopping like a bird caught mid-flight. She remembers the promise of explosions, but then remembers crackling fireworks all around her.
And then she remembers she’s going to die soon.
Her eyes are closed. Surprisingly, her chest feels light, like it was never there to begin with. They say a heart attack feels like an elephant sitting on your chest; guess things are different when you’re powered by an artificial heart.
She hears a familiar voice in the distance. Chisato doesn’t know what it’s saying. She tries to turn to the side but her head weakly lops over instead. Something gentle catches it. The voice sounds closer. It sounds like it’s screaming, desperate and pleading, and Chisato feels trembling hands holding onto her shoulders in a death grip.
“Wa—p—sa—to—wa—ke—up—!”
Chisato forces her eyes to open. Through her heavy eyelids, a bleary Takina is hovering over her, long black hair draping over her shoulders like a curtain, purple eyes wide with fear as she screams at Chisato.
“Chisato! Wake up! Chisato!”
And then Chisato sees Takina’s shoulder for the first time.
A red pool of blood stains Takina’s blue Lycoris uniform where the wound is. It’s a nasty gash cutting deep into her shoulder, an ugly and uneven thing that shredded through the tailored fabric of Takina’s clothes, an injured girl who held the weight of a burden all on her own.
“You’re bleeding,” is what Chisato wants to say. It’s obvious Takina already knows, but she still wants to say it because maybe it’ll make Takina laugh; the furrow between her eyebrows makes her look sad.
Chisato doesn’t like it when Takina is sad. She hates it, actually.
And she especially hates it when she’s the reason Takina is like this.
Takina is crying now. Her tears are streaming down her face, dripping down her cheeks and chin onto Chisato’s face, begging her to wake up, to get it together, to do something because they’re so close to saving her goddammit—
A firework rattles the steel scaffolding of Enkuboku Tower. The ruined landmark groans and creaks, and beyond Takina’s hunched figure, a cacophony of reds streak across the night sky, enveloping her in a halo of red spider lily tendrils blooming from her shoulder.
Chisato sighs out a breath. Takina looks tragically beautiful.
It’s the last thing Chisato sees before darkness swallows her vision—
—and her heart ceases to thrum.
2.
Chisato never expected Takina to find her.
But here she is wading barefoot on the white-sand shore of Chisato’s deserted island resort hideaway, the sleeves of her uniform rolled up over her shoulders. It’s a strangely idyllic scene, one straight out of those tacky oil paintings hanging in the hotel lobby and, honestly, Chisato never thought this day would come.
But here she is, wading barefoot on the white-sand shore of her deserted island resort hideaway, digging her toes into the sand and biting the inside of her lip to stop herself from grinning too hard because, wow, Takina is here.
It’s been months. Months of trying to harden her heart (ha ha, pun), to move away from LycoReco and Japan so she can give herself a hard reset on life, to start over with something new. This is her second life—it only feels right. Like a rite of passage to herself. Because she honestly never expected to wake up in that empty hospital room, with morning sunlight sifting through the curtains.
But if she was being totally honest with herself, Chisato knows the biggest reason why she left was to get away from Takina. She wanted to move on, to forget about her smile and her giggle, her warm hugs and soft hands. Chisato wanted to give herself something new. This is her second life, after all—she didn’t want to burden Takina like she did before.
But wow—fuck—it’s so easy to fall back into old habits because Chisato is reaching out for Takina’s hand before she realizes it, and Takina’s already twining their fingers together before Chisato can pull back. Those months of half-hearted resolve melt away at the simplest touch, and Chisato’s invitation slips past her lips.
“Do you want to stay the night?”
Takina turns to look at her. It’s hard to read the placid look on her face; she stares at Chisato as if she said the worst joke imaginable.
Chisato’s nerves begin to rattle. Should she say sike? Ha ha, joke? Just kidding, it was a prank bro? Nothing serious? Just missed you? Actually please stay with me for the ni—
“Only the night?” Takina asks. The playful lilt in her voice goes along with the small smirk tugging on her lips. “You sure you only want a night?”
Chisato feels a fuse sparking excitedly inside her chest. “You can stay more if the café doesn’t need you.”
“I think the café can handle itself.”
Chisato feels like a firework launching towards the sky. She runs over and scoops Takina in her arms. She lifts the other girl off her feet, spinning her around like the first time she did this in front of the DA fountain, grinning wide as Takina clings onto her, screaming to let her go before eventually tumbling into a fit of giggles the moment they enter Chisato’s room.
Everything is so familiar. Each touch, each caress, each kiss they share makes Chisato crave more and more as they know exactly what to do because they’ve done this so many times before. Chisato tried telling herself she wouldn’t miss this—the warmth, the love, the intimacy. She tried telling herself she could move on. She tried telling herself new beginnings will eventually come with new loves.
But Chisato never wanted to let this go; she never wanted to let Takina go. And maybe, just maybe, as she slips Takina’s top over her shoulders and onto the ground, it’ll be okay to indulge in thi—
She pauses when she sees the white gauze wrapping around Takina’s chest and shoulder.
The fire in Chisato’s chest flickers out and her smile drops.
This is the second time she has seen Takina’s shoulder.
She can’t see anything through the thick gauze, but she can only imagine the procedure. Takina probably has stitches, tons of them, lining her wound up and down like railroad tracks because how else are you supposed to treat an arm that was nearly sawed off?
Oh.
Oh.
The realization hits Chisato like a bullet.
Takina could have lost her arm. Chisato could have been the reason Takina’s arm was almost—
A crushing pressure squeezes Chisato’s chest. She clutches at it as she doubles over, heaving with exertion, sweat dripping down her face. Tears are angrily stinging the back of her eyes, and she’s desperately blinking them back because she doesn’t want Takina to see her cry, not now, not ever—
“Chisato?” Takina’s voice is panicked. She gently cups Chisato’s face and coaxes her to look up, but Chisato refuses to meet Takina’s concerned gaze. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to see Takina’s expression because she already knows what Takina looks like. Chisato has seen that face in her mind every time her dreams remind her of Enkuboku, of red fireworks, of a black-haired girl who single-handedly shouldered Chisato’s burden when she should have—
Chisato leans into Takina’s body, burying her face into the curve where the neck meets her uninjured shoulder. Takina wraps her arms around Chisato’s trembling body and pulls her closer. She coos soft comforts and rubs small circles on the blonde’s back, but nothing eases the pressure in Chisato’s chest and nothing quiets the only thought inside Chisato’s mind.
—died.
The iron-hot word sears itself onto Chisato’s consciousness like a brand.
She should have died.
3.
Living in Hawaii is a dream.
The air is always tepid near the ocean, and the tang of sea salt hitting the back of her throat is a newfound comfort to Chisato. As the days slowly grow into months, she finds herself getting used to running a food truck. Surprisingly, it’s not that much different compared to running a café.
But it’s easy to fall back into old routines when you’re with the same people.
As always, Mizuki takes care of the driving. Kurumi handles the planning, pinpoints locations to maximize their sales, and is the unofficial poster child. Mika takes care of the cooking. Takina serves customers. Chisato helps out with anything and everything, whether that’s within LycoReco or the community they’re serving—and the real poster child. They’ve returned back to their normal before, well, everything happened.
It’s a little funny; earlier in the year, Chisato was ready to never see them again. She honestly thought they’d be mad at her for disappearing suddenly, and for a moment, all of they were: Takina gave her an earful, Mizuki was furiously sobbing while punching Chisato in the shoulder, Kurumi pouted quietly in the corner, and Mika’s silence was scarier than any tear-filled threat Mizuki threw Chisato’s way.
“Don’t you ever run away again!” Mizuki sobbed. “Or else I’ll beat your ass!”
Eventually the emotions subsided and their comfortable life together came back as easily as breathing. The world continued to turn and soon, most of the memories of Enkuboku, Majima, and Yoshi-san were packed into boxes over time and tucked onto the shelf in the back of Chisato’s mind. The mundane yet entertaining routine of opening up, going around, closing down, then finding a place to stay became the only thing on her mind.
But sometimes when Chisato is alone with Takina, she’ll sneak glances at Takina’s healed shoulder and the memories spill out of their neat boxes and clutter the floor, leaving Chisato with a crushing sensation in her chest.
Chisato likes to think she’s less obvious about it now compared to the (cringy and stupidly embarrassing) first time she saw Takina’s shoulder in the beginning of the year: she doesn’t clutch her chest, she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t devolve into a literal mess. Instead, she does what she does best: tack on a smile, laugh about it, then quietly deal with it herself.
In the following months after that incident, Takina tried asking Chisato what was wrong. It was hard to shake her off; Takina had always been a sure shot with her questions, cornering Chisato at every moment they were together (and unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of cornering that ended up with them making out).
Chisato, however, is a natural dodger, and after enough persistence and clumsy verbal gymnastics, Takina eventually allowed the topic to drop. Chisato knows Takina comes from a good place, and she knows maybe she should give Takina an honest answer about how she’s feeling.
But the selfish part of Chisato doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to face that ugly beast called guilt lurking in the shadows, forever present, forever there.
It’s just easier to forget about it all, shove it into some dark corner in her mind, and focus on work. Like now, for example: Chisato is serving a regular customer his usual order of a buttered croissant and a vanilla latte with whip cream and extra chocolate shavings. Right next to her, Takina serves his date a glass of coconut water and a cobb salad, and in the distance Mizuki is fuming to herself in Japanese.
Takina turns to Chisato. “I’m going to take my break,” she says in Japanese.
Chisato gives a grin and a thumbs-up. “Okay!” she exclaims in English.
Takina rolls her eyes and turns around. She brushes her hair back with her hand and sweeps it over her right shoulder in a single motion.
Through the cut of Takina’s shirt, Chisato catches the faintest prickle of red marring her pale skin.
Chisato’s chest feels heavy and tight as her breath hitches.
Guilt breathes into her ear.
You should have di—
“Are you okay?”
Chisato blinks. Takina is looking over her shoulder and staring at her with a wrinkle in her brow.
Chisato’s gut coils.
“Yeah,” she says. She puts on a practiced smile and lets out a rehearsed laugh. “Sorry, I was zoning out there. Did you say something?”
“I asked you if you wanted anything from the nearby shop. I’m going to be picking up lunch there.”
“Ah, no. I’m good. Thanks!”
Takina raises an eyebrow before ultimately nodding and walking away.
“Love you!” is what Chisato wants to call out after her.
She can’t bring herself to say it.
She doesn’t deserve to.
4.
“Why are you always looking at my shoulder?”
Chisato freezes. The instinct to run away takes hold of her body; she has to consciously tell herself to stay put as she turns to a half-dressed Takina with a painted smile. The urge to take a glance at the ugly scar marring her shoulder is a beast to fight away.
“What?” Chisato laughs, but a part of her curses Takina for always choosing the worst times for an interrogation. “Am I? I think you’re the one busy looking at m—”
“No, I know you are.” Takina shoots her down and it feels like a kick in the gut. “You were staring earlier today when we were serving customers. Much more than usual, actually.”
“That’s insa—”
“You know, I stopped asking about it because I could tell it made you uncomfortable. But now it’s starting to get to me. I just need answers, Chisato.”
“Taki—”
“Why are you always looking at my shoulder?” Takina looks Chisato dead in the eye. Her expression is steady, and her quiet voice booms in their rented room for the night.
Chisato’s mouth goes dry. Her head pounds with adrenaline. Her eyes flick to the half-open window on the other side of the room; it looks like a tempting emergency exit.
She looks back at Takina. Takina patiently waits for an answer. Chisato doesn’t know if she has one to give.
She goes for a rehearsed laugh, but it slips past her lips as a sigh instead. She doesn’t have the strength to keep smiling, either. It fades like mist, and soon, Chisato is sadly staring at Takina’s left shoulder, a titan’s grip crushing her heart inside its fist.
Maybe she doesn’t have the strength to keep running away, either.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Sorry?” Takina furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “Sorry for wh—”
“Everything. For running away. For not saying anything.” Chisato’s words are a stream she cannot stop. “For being a really bad friend and an even worse partner. For Enkuboku. For being so stubborn on saving Yoshi-san. For almost getting killed. For almost getting you killed. For your sh—” Chisato pauses to fight past the knot tying up her throat. “For your shoulder. For making you carry me when I should have di—”
“Don’t.” Takina sharply cuts her off. The fierce look in her eyes stunlocks Chisato. “Don’t you ever say that.”
“B-but it’s tr—”
“Have you ever considered the thought that, maybe—just maybe—I wanted to do?” Takina stiffens. “That I wanted to save you? That I chose to disobey orders for the sake of finding you again, and I chose to save you even if it hurt me because I love you?”
Chisato’s breath hitches in her throat. Takina’s chest heaves as she fights back tears.
“Why can’t you accept people wanting to do things for you because they love you?” Takina softly asks.
“Because isn’t love something you earn, something you have to prove you deserve?” Chisato says. Her voice sounds robotic and foreign to her own ears. “Just how I needed to prove I deserved Yoshi-san’s kindness. Don’t I need to earn your forgiveness? Especially after everything happened at Enkuboku? I just—I can’t stand the fact everything happened because of me. And that’s why I just…ran away. Because if, for whatever reason, I wound up dying, maybe it would have been some sort of, I dunno? Repentance? Payback? Don’t I need to earn all of it?”
“What? What are you talking about?” Takina stares at her dumbfounded. “No. You don’t. Because I would choose to do it all again even if it meant carrying the weight of the earth on my shoulders. Because I want to. Because I love you. And because home is a place you don’t need to earn. It’s something that’s given to you.” Takina’s lips form the smallest smile as she reaches out and brushes back Chisato’s bangs. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”
Chisato melts. She leans into Takina’s tender touch, a calloused palm hardened from years of training. The tight knot of guilt and hurt unravels its grip on Chisato’s heart. It leaves her body in a quiet sob and warm tears gently stream down her face. With a gentle sweep of her thumb, Takina wipes away Chisato’s tears before enveloping her into an embrace. She coos sweet everythings into Chisato’s ear and rubs small circles on her back. Chisato buries her face into the curve of Takina’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” Chisato’s sobs are muffled, and she buries herself further into Takina’s embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—“
“Shh,” Takina whispers. “It’s okay.”
Chisato sniffles back her tears. She leaves chapped kisses on exposed skin trailing them off to the side until she reaches Takina’s scarred shoulder.
The scar is a thin red spider lily tendril trailing up, then blooms over the curve of Takina’s shoulder. The faint memory of fireworks burst in the back of Chisato’s mind.
This is the mark of someone who chose to save her. Takina chose to take the weight of the world onto her shoulder not because it was a punishment, but because she wants to. Because she loves Chisato.
Takina loves Chisato.
The quiet realization bubbles up inside Chisato’s chest like sea foam. Her first thought is to say she doesn’t deserve it.
But…maybe, just maybe, she does. If Takina says she does then maybe….
Slowly, Chisato closes the distance and places a gentle kiss on Takina’s scar. The quiet blossom of acceptance burrows its roots inside Chisato’s chest.
This is the first time Chisato has touched Takina’s shoulder.