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In a sense, Shiho has her own fantastical double life. Granted, it’s nowhere near as glamorous as a good magical girl anime. It possesses none of the thrills of internationally-renowned superheroes, proudly fighting crimes of local or even cosmic proportions. But by its very denotation, Shiho was living a double life of two vastly different objectives.
In the real world, she is a girl trying to grow back her smile, her volleyball prowess, and her own worth in the world. She’s trudging through physical rehab at a virtually acceptable pace. Her grades steadily improve, although her schedule is nowhere near as grueling, either.
The volleyball team also exhibits promise…so far.
Coach Aino seems to be a woman of rational discipline. Though she demands the betterment of every player, she is a force of reasonable assertion and energy, middling far enough from violence or fruitless docility. But Shiho used to say that about the higher-ups of Shujin Academy.
And that’s part of what got her to move out of Shibuya.
As much as she wants to know what she’s getting into, she couldn’t stand to know she’s nearby another coach with an addiction to abrasive lashings.
So many backs and forths, each one dealing a gross blow to Shiho Suzui’s worn doormat for a spirit—which powers her second life in a very wondrous, yet very dark world: the one in which her own voice dwells, jeering and bullying the real Shiho as though she had never left to begin with.
But was her victim even the “real” Shiho at this point?
Shiho lives out her double life in her head, no doubt about that. But which role does she play there? Is she still her meek self, just dropped into the gothic wonderland of her sneering shadow? Or is she that shadow herself? Does that mean she flips between living her life out and then insulting it at a moment’s notice?
Shiho didn’t really know anymore. All she knows is that the voice died out once she began rehabilitation, only returning three months later with an unyielding malevolence. Its influence is unshakeable: at best, it allows her to have fleeting moments of freedom every five seconds; at worst, it feels like relentless torment.
It is times like these that she is tempted to surrender to herself, to her own helplessness.
Month after month before now, Shiho would spend time trying to fight off this plague and move on with her life. But before she convinced herself that she finally won, the voice cooed that it was still standing. It would gloat that Shiho only dealt it the tiniest scratch, and even that was barely noticeable.
And now—
“Lost in thought again, Shiho?”
Shiho’s eyelids flutter open, chocolate eyes darting over to the blonde head beside her on the train.
“Yeah, just been a whirlwind in the head,” Shiho giggles, waxing as poetic of understatements as possible. “Haven’t experienced the Shibuya train in a while, so it’s a bit strange.”
With a mischievous smirk, Ann scoots impossibly close to Shiho’s side, and goodness, did she smell nice. “Just gimme a sign when you need some pointers. It’s been awhile for you, sure, but you’ll be great for us to have.”
Shiho could only wish she was a good friend for the beach. Her world has seen so few crumbs of uninterrupted joy, she doesn’t see many more chances to start anew.
She hoped that Ann hadn’t realized her distress. It was a conversation that Shiho was unwilling to talk about yet and, since Ann was inviting her to the beach with her other friends, there was little choice but to mask the incisions from her inner elegies. No need for the group to bear witness to the burden weighing upon her shoulders.
So long as her mind was a dark gray of little clearing, Shiho’s shadow could be at the beach with no problem, but Ann and her friends didn’t need to know that. They simply need the sun, cooling waters, and reasonable wait times for their banana boat rides.
“Hey…you’re really spacing out right here.” Ann’s gentle fingers nudge gently at Shiho’s shoulder, but her smile drops as she cautiously eyes her friend. “What’s going on in your pretty head, Shiho? Are you good?”
As she has rehearsed for months until now, Shiho giggles heartily, a genuine sound that would help to hide away her thoughts.
“Life seems to get me thinking a lot,” she sighs playfully.
And goodness, she is shaping up to be the queen of understatements.
Shiho tries her swimsuit on before the trip, and the voice isn’t too nitpicky.
Shiho carefully tosses her street garb aside when it’s on underneath, and the dark doppelganger's hiss rises with full force.
She hadn’t worn her “fancier” one-piece in forever; in general, she hasn’t touched her swimsuit collection for months. But this particular item, with its rich cerulean hue and elegantly braided halter straps, was cute enough without letting the sun fry all of her skin.
Staring blankly at the glittering sea, Shiho wonders if her little “shadow” can see her from some other point of view. Even when she prods at what small patches of the suit call for adjustment, she can’t gather enough detail to know if she really does look—
“Ohmigod, your suit’s beautiful, Shiho!”
It is a squeal so earnest, but hyper, that jerks Shiho backwards in terror as she hears it. She’s caught between a rock of nostalgia and a hard place of struggling to keep her cool.
“Oh c’mon,” Ann whines, “I wasn’t that loud! But you’ve got the best shade of blue for the beach!” She swerves her head around to eye the bowtie behind Shiho’s neck. “I gotta find a swimsuit with a back tie this sophisticated!”
As her peppy friend comes back around, Shiho sneakily glances at Ann’s own getup. Her pink and yellow bikini might not be “sophisticated,” but it sure remains fashionable. The patterns etched along the fabric, as well as the hanging ties here and there, compliment…well, no one but rising model, renowned dessert enthusiast, hopefully-retired actress, and definitely -retired artist Ann Takamaki.
But alas, Shiho finds her cheeks flaring and her mouth breaking open with bashful snorts. Say something, anything, maybe just a thanks, or turn the compliment around to—
“Pink and yellow give off the stronger tropical vibes.”
Wait, Shiho, NO!
“But thanks. Been awhile since I ever got to swim, so…”
Of course she blew it.
“Only with those fancy sunsets,” Ann chuckled, twirling one pigtail end like a pro.
Okay, maybe Shiho didn’t totally blow it. Probably.
“You and one of my senpai friends from school have those nice bow ties for your straps, and they don’t seem uncomfy either, so—”
“Ann!” Ryuji hollers, plopping his haul of three bags on their table under the umbrella. “Suzui-san! Sup?!”
Shiho perks up, eager to see that Ann had reconnected with their middle school acquaintance after all. His bleached hair spikes with a rather healthy look, and his smile would almost put the summer heat to shame. Though it’s clear that his leg is still off-kilter, she’s never seen Sakamoto looking great, lean, and… incredibly happy, despite the endless tragedy that happened at Shujin.
Another boy gracefully strides up from behind him. Tall and beautiful, his skin glows a porcelain complexion (so his inevitable sunburns would make for a humorous contrast) as fair as his serene grin and the thoughtful twinkle in his eyes.
In short, Yusuke Kitagawa was certainly the “dark-haired pretty boy” Ann cackles about whenever she recalls the stories of his frequent oddities during their phone calls.
Ann, Ryuji, Kitagawa-kun…they all radiate a beautiful bliss that’s easy to admire. But it was also easy to long for.
For a moment, it made the big, bad words of her cruel conscience crescendo in her head.
They’re above you…Unreachable…You’re below…You know what I’m gonna say now…’Cause that’s where you are…At rock bottom…Forever…Hopeless…
It takes everything she has to suppress the darker thoughts, to keep them within the confines of her brain.
Shiho quietly wonders if she’ll ever feel such cheer again—just as she feels a shorter presence on her right side.
But Ann was taller and on her left.
“About time, Bonehead and Inari!” Shiho tries to not jump as her head swivels to find a head of tangerine hair leaning on her arm, portable video game device in hand.
The younger girl—probably Futaba Sakura, the only other friend who could make this specific beach trip—looks up at Shiho. Her mauve eyes sparkle under her glasses.
Of course Ann’s geekier friend is also pretty, Shiho muses in her head.
Shiho finds herself perking up when she peers at Futaba's gadget, only to be greeted with the pause menu for Moonlit Princess Elle-P . It seems fans of the game and anime are always cute nerds—and seldom toxic bullies, to boot.
Futaba and Shiho were going to have to geek out over Elle-P before the day was done.
“Kitagawa-kun?” Shiho meekly calls to the pretty boy fixed on a remarkable sand construction. “Hello?”
“Just call ‘im ‘Yusuke,’” Ryuji shrugs, lazily throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Not that he’ll listen right away when he’s got a thing on the brain.”
Shiho snorts to herself. Yusuke's quirks weren't exaggerated by Ann, and Shiho realized that the artwork drowning out the rest of life was just the tip of the iceberg.
“Can’t say he’s the only one,” she sighs, patting Ryuji’s inner elbow in comfort while the young man briefly slacks from the heat. His muscular skin was smooth, though Shiho struggled to ignore the light coat of putrid sweat. Though sweat was a familiar friend for athletes in particular, adjusting to it was different from liking it.
But sweat or no sweat, having the arm of an old friend around her, and her oldest friend close by her other side, overpowers any gripes Shiho could have of the trip thus far.
Until Ryuji suddenly jerks his back around and off of her. Shiho stops in her slow tracks to see Ryuji turn down to the sand.
“Are you okay?” Shiho inquires. Perhaps she has a lot of sweat dripping down her own backside? Oh God, the mere hypothetical makes Shiho feel almost muddied with—
“Nah, you’re fine,” Ryuji stammers, squeezing the retracted wrist as though in punishment. “I shouldn’t’ve just…ya know, dropped myself on ya? So you weren’t basically draggin’ my ass around.”
Shiho glances at her shoulder. If anything, his lean-in was lighter than she expected. Even so, that’s quite a silly reason to back off. Especially for THE Ryuji Sakamoto.
Don’t trick yourself into thinking he’s being sensitive…
Not again.
You’ve already considered how everyone’s lying…They don’t really like you…They just don’t want to be obvious about it…Right?
She has…several times. But wait, no, this shouldn’t be happening over something as silly as—
Ohhhh, right…That probably wasn’t a big deal, huh?
Exactly.
But, but, BUT!
Oh no…
YOU’RE the one overthinking it right now. Probably gonna cry yourself to sleep about it? That backing his arm off your sweaty-as-hell shoulders means nobody wants you for a friend?
Shiho feels her teeth clench together, her lips locking over them in a tight purse. But this voice brought it up first. Why did it have a right to—
“Suzui-san?”
A deep, rich bass yanks Shiho out of her own head, her view darting upward to meet Yusuke’s quizzical eyes.
"That was quite the grimace," was his astute observation. "Are you alright?"
Shiho snorts, throwing on that perfectly-rehearsed shrug and sheepish grin. “Lost in thought again. Go figure, huh?”
“If I got your eye direction right,” Futaba sneers beside her, “methinks my game got you interested. It’s a cool Binbenbo Blitz JRPG title.”
“Right,” Shiho suddenly blurts out. “Don’t know why I forgot Elle-P got her own video game.”
Oh, REALLY?!
Futaba’s eyes bulging open silently didn’t help Shiho’s little voice jumping back in.
You REALLY think a genius girl like Futaba Sakura’s gonna take you seriously?!
And Futaba…smiles.
But Futaba smiled, Shiho likes to think to herself.
“I might be the biggest Moonlit Ranger in the world,” Futaba beams, “but I won’t gatekeep! The JRPG’s a darker continuation of the anime, anyways, so you gotta be on top of the lore from the show first.”
“Really?” Shiho’s eyebrow perks up, images of flashy magical girl costumes and gracefully badass fights flashing through her head. “I thought it was already a dark story. And all the animation and visuals were pretty colorful until the series finale.”
“Oh yeah-yeah!” Futaba nods cheerily, so adorably incongruent with their talk of sad shoujo anime. “That’s the thing about the game! Take the sad character arcs and few messed-up visuals, especially from the final few episodes, and quadruple that and the feels after. THAT’S the game in a nutshell!”
Futaba Sakura really is brave to be playing that at the beach, then.
"Hey, guys?" Ann interrupts them before they could continue further, her head sliding into Shiho's vision. "Are we gonna get a banana boat ride?"
The ride finished somewhere between five to ten minutes ago. Everyone was exhausted, though an innocuous strip of the sand catches Shiho Suzui’s eye.
After the constant wipeouts and falls off the tube, Yusuke wearily fell asleep on Ryuji's shoulders, forcing his friend to carry him back to their spot. Futaba wanted to show Shiho the first part of the Moonlit Princess Elle-P game, but needed time to finish her main save file before she could start another for Shiho to see.
So that left one person who could be walking up to Shiho from behind.
Shiho didn’t cry while gazing out at the empty beach volleyball court. That didn’t make her heart any less heavy, her brain racked with nostalgia of her peaks, and dread of her pits. Who could say which would see most of her life hereon?
That is, if she even had anything else to live for.
“Shiho,” Ann murmurs behind her, wrapping her surprisingly cold arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it earlier. It…didn’t click with me.”
Shiho couldn’t think anything of what her friend was alluding to. All she could do was nestle the side of her head onto one of the arms, patting it absent-mindedly. “Whatever it is, don’t act like I’m any better.”
The second of silence made Shiho’s skin crawl, and she knows the voice is about to hijack her awareness. Here it comes, here it comes, here—
“No really, Shiho.” Ann lets go abruptly, swiftly rounding Shiho’s side to face her head-on. “If I were you, I’d be crying at all these Shibuya hotspots I’m revisiting.” Her frown is forlorn, and even the mere twinkle of her eyes is melancholic. “I’m glad you’re visiting Ryuji and I for a while, and Yusuke and Futaba are happy to tag along in the process.”
The apparent excitement would be a surprise…if Shiho could fathom that it was genuine.
“But if that voice still pesters you,” Ann commands gravely, “just say the word. Remember Ren? He’s gonna visit a little later, but we can still hang out in the cafe he stayed at before he shows up.”
Supposedly, Leblanc is a cozy pad for many people. Run by one man of master coffee and curry specialty—the doting foster father of Futaba, no less—Shiho could use a break if—
… How did Ann know about the voice?
Ann smiles warmly. Why?
Oh wait, not just that…there’s a tear falling from Ann’s eye. Why?!
And why was the voice—
“Ah crap, sorry,” Ann snorts, gracelessly rubbing at her watery eyes while her other hand held both of Shiho’s. “I guess I know the feeling.”
Shiho feels a frightening stir in her stomach at those last words.
“Putting your all into modeling and even acting classes?” Ann laughs in disbelief. “Believe me, we’re not the only pretty girls who nag at ourselves when we’re starting up.” Ann still looks to be approaching another sob. “Even the big-wigs in their forties and fifties get those moments.”
Shiho should understand that. And yet…she quickly forgot over time. But she wasn’t alone in that, either, right?
“It’s not fair,” Ann shrugs, and somehow she doesn’t tear up again. “But that’s why you keep going, with or without the jeers in your head. You can always talk to someone about them.”
Shiho’s beside herself that she can’t cry. She feels a rousing of emotions, infinite surges of hope and release, her hands are held tight in Ann’s shocking squeeze—
But she just feels too good.
Her mind is slow. Her voice is silent.
Is it gone? That is yet to be seen.
But it’s quiet now, as it was quiet before.
Shiho could shut it up again later. And again further down the road. And again and again, over and over. As repetitive as it may sound (and is ), maybe it’ll be worth it in the end.
Even if it’s still alive years later, Shiho will be further along, more jubilant than ever. Her shadow can eclipse her view of the sunlight all it wants—but Shiho was forever welcome to push herself around and past it.
She never deserved the trauma of Kamoshida and Shujin Academy—and that’s why she’ll see her life through to a good standing. It’s easier said than done, sure. But not impossible.
Ann looks past Shiho’s shoulder. “Yusuke?”
A velvety coo almost ruptures Shiho’s frame with a chill.
"You have an interesting choice of swimsuit," he remarks, his fingers in a position that Ann once mentioned to be his trademark. "While it does not contrast the sky, that lends to a sense of congruence.”
Shiho didn’t know what to make of that.
Not until Ann’s head jumps in front of her view again, her smile growing impossibly wide…and even dopey, in a very “Ann Takamaki” way.
“Basically, your blue fits summer better than my pink and yellow,” she sneers. “If my swimsuit is gorgeous, then yours is gorgeous times two!”
…Well—
“Yoooo, Shiho!” Ryuji hollers out…albeit way too loud for even the dwindling numbers of the beach. “Futaba’s waitin’ on ya!”
Shiho gladly saunters back to their spot (wrapping an arm around a rather sheepish Ryuji), and the sun feels brighter for such a late afternoon.