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Maybe once upon a time, there was something more, but now Mafuyu can’t remember a time before the empty.
It’s all shattered bits of memories, sharp-edged like broken glass. Sometimes, when Mafuyu thinks too hard about them, they cut. Hard enough that Mafuyu bleeds, and then the mental reset happens. The memories stay buried.
When Mafuyu asks Miku about the memories, Miku just gives a blank-eyed stare. You know why. Then she leaves, going wherever it is that the Vocaloids go when the SEKAI is devoid of their presence.
And she’s right. Mafuyu does know.
The memories were all consumed—tested in a trial of fire and burned to kindling when the emptiness took over and they couldn’t withstand the force of it. All-encompassing, in the way Mafuyu’s darkness is.
Ena comments on it one day. “I never realised,” She muses, scrutinising the SEKAI with an artist’s eye. Kanade gives an encouraging hum, and Ena begins to expand on her previous thought. “What kind of emptiness this is.”
She means the way the SEKAI is akin to an empty fishbowl, devoid of any light or love. The kind of place Mafuyu wants to disappear away to. The kind of place where nothingness is a welcome thing.
“We~ell,” Mizuki taps a finger to their chin. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? A place you can disappear to…or a place you can disappear in.”
“That’s true,” Kanade adds, voice barely above a whisper. “But everyone wants to disappear somewhere different.”
“I guess,” Mizuki acquiesces. “Then what would Enanan have done?”
Ena scowls, but at Mafuyu’s inquisitive (?) gaze, she relents. “I don’t know. Maybe somewhere with a lot of art supplies, and white walls. An endless blank canvas, so I’d never have to think about anything else.”
“Huh,” Mizuki says. “That makes sense. An art room for an artist. I think I’d like a doll house of sorts.”
“No one asked,” Ena snips but she is largely ignored. Mizuki continues, undeterred.
“With lots of mannequins to keep me company, so I’d never be really lonely. Because if I was going to disappear, it’d have to be in a place I could be myself. But I can do that here too,” Mizuki adds brightly. Too brightly for someone who was talking about disappearing forever just a solemn few seconds ago. “So I guess the dolls would have to be a lot like you guys.”
Kanade smiles, barely-there but still beautiful. Mafuyu feels…warm (?). Mafuyu tries for a smile but mustering up the energy to do so is exhausting (?), in a way being in the SEKAI or with the rest of Nightcord usually isn’t. So Mafuyu gives up, and hopes that any emotions can be conveyed through the eyes which are, after all, the window to the soul.
“Hey, K. What would you have wanted?” Ena asks. Kanada looks surprised to be questioned.
“Me? Well, I don’t know. Maybe somewhere like my room, where I could compose in peace.”
Ena and Mizuki exchange glances. “From what I’ve seen, your room is literally every hikikomori’s dream.” Mizuki says. “Not! That that’s a bad thing. To each their own and all that, I mean. But would you really want to disappear forever into a place where you’d be cursed with bad posture?”
Ena stifles a laugh. Kanade looks taken aback for a mere moment, before she shrugs. Maybe once, this question would have made her retreat back into her hollow, near-transparent shell, but now she’s grown used to the gentle ribbing that comes from the rest of Nightcord at 25—as has Mafuyu, for that matter. Once again, another stab of low warmth (?) blossoms. “I mean, once I disappear, no one will be there to see me so my bad posture wouldn’t really matter.”
“That’s true,” Mizuki agrees. “No one would be there to complain about it or nag at you.”
“But then no one would be there to appreciate my pretty face,” Ena sighs, as though this is a world-ending problem.
“Yes, yes, what a pity.” Mizuki sticks their tongue out. Ena hisses—like an aggrieved cat. The two of them are in a constant state of cat-and-dog. Kanade turns to Mafuyu.
“What about you, Mafuyu?”
Mafuyu blinks, slowly. “What…about me.” The tone of the words falls flat, turning it from a question into a statement. “The state of the SEKAI is my own version of emptiness. Is that not answer enough.” Somehow, Mafuyu just cannot coax enough inflection into the words to make the feelings (?) behind them known.
“Yes, but…” Kanade shifts, rubbing her arms nervously. “I only meant that…”
“There’s something different about it,” Ena interrupts. Kanade looks glad for that, content to let Mizuki and Ena do all the talking and strong-arm their way into Mafuyu’s heart. It’s strange (?), how easily Mafuyu can pick up on the emotions that the others are feeling. Mafuyu wonders if Miku can do it too. But Ena is still talking, so Mafuyu tunes back into the conversation. “The SEKAI, I mean. Like, I don’t really know how to put it but before, it was more…”
“Oppressive?” Mizuki offers, examining their nails.
“Yeah,” Ena nods. “That. But now it’s…softer? Kind of?”
“Ooh! And, and, there are a lot more things here now. Before it was to~tally like an empty fishbowl—which, I’m not judging! You do you, and all that. But now you have, like, easels and record players and even mannequins.” Mizuki adds, cheerful as ever, gesturing to each item as they speak. “It’s like…hm, how would I put it?”
“Maybe…” Kanade coughs. “Maybe your emptiness is accepting us? It…could be your subconscious telling you that we are now part of your SEKAI?”
“Could it.” Mafuyu says, but there’s no denying it—something close to curiosity (?) is sparking in Mafuyu’s chest. “Are you saying that…I can no longer properly disappear from this world, because you all are now part of the place that I wish to disappear to.”
“When you put it like that it makes us sound awfully self-centered,” Mizuki says. “But yeah, basically.”
“I see.” Mafuyu says, though Mafuyu most definitely does not see. Perhaps it has something to do with the lightness (?) in Mafuyu’s chest when the rest of Nightcord is around. The SEKAI no longers feels as safe (?) as it once did when Mafuyu was all alone. Miku and Rin are no longer company enough, it seems. “That sounds reasonable.”
“Does it?” Ena asks, curious. “You sound a little confused, Mafuyu.”
“Do I…?” Mafuyu says. The sentence turns up at the end. Is this confusion (?) or simply plain interest (?). “What do you mean, Ena?”
“No, she’s right,” Kanade adds. “Your face…it’s sort of…” She gestures vaguely, unable to make the words come out. As she quiets, Mizuki picks up from where she left off.
“There’s light in your eyes for once~, it’s very strange but that makes it more noticeable.”
Silence.
Then Mafuyu hums. The spell is broken. Ena and Mizuki go back to their regularly scheduled bickering. Kanade trails after them, content to hide in their shadow, occasionally chiming in when she feels the need to.
Maybe Mizuki is right. The light comes and goes as it pleases, but it tends to make a lasting impression on the other members of Nightcord. Mafuyu wouldn’t know, because Mafuyu doesn’t make a habit of looking in the mirror anymore. Not after the last time, when the reflection Mafuyu had seen had been simply a puppet, wearing Mafuyu’s face like a mask.
Miku commented on it, once. About the light in Mafuyu’s eyes. It’s good…that you are starting to smile again. Am I? Mafuyu had asked. Mafuyu’s lips had not moved, had not made any indication of quirking upwards. Miku had only turned her head, already prepared to leave. I cannot answer that for you. But I think you are.