Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ten months.

Yashiro stared teary-eyed at what she'd done; what she'd just erased. She took in a shuddering breath and winced as she ran her fingers over the fresh slits. The sting had become unfamiliar, and she had forgotten about the painful aftermath of the raw, angry cuts biting into her.

Ten months, down the drain in a flurry of bloody water.

She didn't mean to. Really, she didn't. It was just…a combination of things.

Ten months since she'd broke skin, that is. She'd done little things here and there, but they weren't anything to write home about. Scratching at her arms with her nails, punching (sturdy) things until her fists ached. Picking and biting at the skin around her nails. 

Things like that.

Most of the time, she was overjoyed and filled with pride about every month passing by without cutting. It felt like she was getting her life back together again, no matter how strange it had become.

Right now, though, all she could think about was how it wasn't enough . She'd seen things online. She'd read about it in fanfictions, hoping to relate. Hell, she'd even spotted Aoi's torn up wrists after they returned from the afterlife. The whole ordeal was traumatizing for sure, and it was how the purple haired girl dealt with it. She understood far too well.

Hers never looked like theirs. Hers were never severe or needing stitches. Most could be passed off as minor scratches. Nothing like Aoi's. 

Akane always said he was the first to notice Aoi self harming, because he was her true love, and of course he noticed everything about her. In actuality, it was Nene who noticed; the purple haired girl's short-sleeved attire retiring early for long sleeve uniforms and jackets in the heat of the summer setting off alarm bells in her head. It caught the boy's attention, sure, but he hadn't figured out the reasoning behind it until one of Aoi's sleeves rolled up accidentally.

Until he saw deep, red lines criss-crossing her pale wrists.

Why didn't she say something? Why didn't she stop her?

Those regretful thoughts bounced around Nene's head quite often. Because maybe, Aoi wouldn't have suffered nearly as much. Maybe it wouldn't have gone so far.

But it didn't matter anymore, anyway. Akane was there, smothering her abused wrists with healing kisses.

That's usually how it goes, isn't it? The pretty girl starts cutting and the love interest finds out, swooping in to save her.

Well, she was far from pretty, and there was no prince that was head-over-heels for her to save the day. Besides, someone actually wanting to shower her ankles with love? Tch, what a pipe dream.

So yeah, Nene knew exactly what her best friend was doing as soon as the first turtleneck made an appearance. And yeah, she should've stopped her. Talked to her, at the very least. After all, she was fighting a similar battle. Perhaps she could've given her some pointers and alternative coping strategies she'd learned along the way.

Nene came close to confronting her best friend more than once, but she faltered every time. Honestly, she didn't think she'd be strong enough to handle the fight that would ensue or be able to reason with her. She would fall short, and she knew it.

Because how was she supposed to reassure her that everything would be okay when it wouldn't be? Not when she had less than a year left.

How could she come up with reasons for Aoi to stop when she couldn't even stop herself?

That very thought rattled around in her brain right now, with no clear answer.

'Why should I stop?'

Maybe it would all work out for Aoi, miss popular with every boy falling for her, what with her perfect eyes and perfect hair and perfect figure and perfect slim, normal ankles-

She knew she wasn't thinking straight. She'd never think this maliciously of her friends. Not like this, comparing wounds and scars, seeing who was worse for wear.

Nene had always prided herself on being a kind and empathetic person, and Aoi always affirmed how sweet she was. How every boy that rejected her was missing out on such a great person.

Maybe she used to be. But not anymore. Not when she learned her life was meaningless. Not when she wouldn't get to graduate. Not when she'd never get to have a wedding. Not when she realized all anyone would remember her for was her stupid, stupid , stupid ankles. 

Now she was just bitter. Bitter and numb; a deadly concoction. Right now, she didn't care how deep she cut. The deeper the better, actually. It didn't matter how much damage she caused. She was going to die soon anyway. Might as well be by her own hand. 

She watched the blood bead up at the surface of the quick lines drawn on her ankles, still curled up on the toilet seat in her bathroom. It was well after three in the morning by now. 

It wasn't enough. It wasn't bleeding enough, not yet. They didn't look as severe as Aoi's, or even Hanako's when he was alive, not by a long shot. Paper cuts, at most. A pitiful reflection of what she felt deep down. The sting wasn't drowning out the sobs desperately clawing their way out of her chest. 

The skin there was tougher than the fragile skin of her wrists, she would try to reassure herself. It was much easier to do damage there than to her fat ankles. Because her wrists were actually slim and normal, thank god.

Nene was smarter with hiding it (hence her ankles taking the abuse), and sometimes she wished she wasn't. She wished she was clumsy about it and left one right below her sleeve, exposed to the world to scream about her pain for her. For someone to discover it and stop her.

No, she had long since evolved from that, for lack of a better word. She took it out on her ankles, because they were always, always part of the problem. She always wore knee-highs or leggings, and no one would think to peek underneath and see what she was hiding.

No one ever wanted to. Not even Hanako. Even he hated them, despite how fond of her he seemed to be. What else was she supposed to think with all of his teasing? Daikon this, daikon that. Any conversation looped back around to her ankles and daikons. The amount of headbutts she'd been dishing out lately had given her a massive headache.

It was both her greatest fear and deepest desire to confess to him about what she'd done. What would he do if he stumbled upon them? What would he say to her if blood tainted her once clean knee-highs? Would he understand? Would he even give a damn? Or would he think she's crazy? All the glimpses she'd seen of him when he was alive convinced her to have hope that maybe, just maybe, he would get it. 

But he seems so different from back then. Plus, all of his wounds were inflicted by someone else, not by his own accord. It was made clear by Tsuchigomori's yorishiro. He swore he forgave whomever was causing him all this pain and suffering, even if he didn't know their reasoning.

It was out of his control. He was constantly at another's mercy, and Nene couldn't begin to imagine what that felt like. How hurt and miserable he must've felt all those years he had been abused.

So someone choosing to mutilate themselves, while he never had the option to stop what was happening to him? Yeah, she could see why he'd think she's crazy. 

Maybe he would be angry with her. Here he was bending over backwards trying to extend her lifespan, all the while she was lashing out on the body that he had sworn to protect. The body that was keeping her alive.

Would he ever be able to forgive her?

Would she ever be able to forgive herself?

She bit her lip as new tears welled up in her eyes, causing them to sting and become unfocused. In the heat of the moment; when anger and hurt pulsed through her with new purpose and a sob shook her body, she lost herself for a moment. The razor came up and down, left and right, all in a flurry of dizzying slashes Nene herself couldn't keep up with.

It took her awhile to come to, until,

"Yashiro? What are you doing?"

She jolted and dropped her razor with an audible gasp, slapping a shaky hand onto her mouth to muffle it. 

Shit. 

"Hanako?" Nene called out, trying to locate the ghost in question. Hoping to god he hadn't figured out what she was doing.

*drip*

She slowly eyed her surroundings, examining every shadow, listening to every creak and groan the house made. There was no sign of him. 

*drip* drip*

It was then that she facepalmed, mortified by her own stupidity. Of course Hanako wasn't here. He couldn't leave the school, and her house was fifteen minutes away from campus. It was just her imagination running wild again. Usually she'd daydream and borderline hallucinate about Teru, though.

Seriously, what was up with her, imagining Hanako, of all people?!

She's hopeless. Utterly hopless.How could she let herself long for him like this when she knew perfectly well their relationship would never- could never survive the tricks of time?

‘Because I'm an idiot’, she concluded.

It didn't matter what angle she examined their future from. They just didn't align. Whether she died at 14 or not.

Still, she pondered it. Let herself dream for a minute.

*drip*

Scratch that, she couldn't even begin to concentrate on her fantasy with that loud dripping sound echoing off the walls. Was the tap leaking again? Whatever it was, it was driving her up the wall, that's for sure.

When she made an effort to stand and turn the annoying leaky faucet off that she assumed was the culprit, her ankles faltered under her as an agonizing sharp pain shot up her legs. 

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" She hissed through gritted teeth. 

The dripping had stopped, she realized. It only just dawned on her where it could possibly be coming from when she slowly peeked down at her ankles, which were now resting on the floor instead of hanging off the toilet seat.

Fuck.

Well, at least she found the source of the dripping now. It probably wouldn't have taken this embarrassingly long if she weren't half asleep, but oh well.

She blinked owlishly at her bloodied ankles before it finally hit her like a freight train.

Oh god.

There was blood everywhere. Blood on the floor, on the razor, on her shaking hands, her ankles; and holy shit had she screwed up. 

Blood

Blood

Blood

Blood

Blood-

Everything was painted scarlet. Her ankles were forever stained with it. 

Her heart beat out of her chest as she watched the blood pool and run off her ankles like no tomorrow. She had cut deep, way deeper than she intended.

She was herself again, cringing over her shameful thoughts. 

What the fuck was she doing, being so careless?!?!

Nene quickly wobbled her way over to the sink and dug through its cabinets until she found her first aid kit. It was old and worn, but it would have to do.

She worked quickly and applied pressure to the wide slits that kept reopening, trying her best to stop the bleeding. The scarlet liquid dyed the fabric without a care, turning her bathroom into a crime scene.

Shit, would she need stitches? What if she bled out right here, right now? What if this is how she dies?

'I take it back. I take it all back. Please, I didn't mean it.' Nene begged and pleaded to whatever God was out there that would listen, delirious from sleep and blood loss. She'd never forgive herself if she died from something as stupid and vain as this.

Thankfully, the bleeding looked worse than it was, and it had slowed down quite a bit as well. If anything, it scared the sense back into her. 

What a wake up call.

She made quick work of disinfecting and bandaging her wounds. The girl had to bite down on her hand towel as she applied the rubbing alcohol, because fuck it stung and her scream would have shaken the house had she not.

Once the gauze was secured around her ankles, the adrenaline and anger and whatever else that surged through her veins vanished. Now all she felt was pain and shame.

She buried her head atop her knees and wept. 

Ten months. Gone, just like that.

Right now, shivering from the draft sneaking through the crack under the bathroom door, she wanted nothing more than to run to Hanako and apologize and cry about her failures. Let his cold embrace comfort her, have him place his chilly hands over her inflamed ankles to soothe the pain.

But that couldn't happen. It couldn't, she reasoned with herself. He couldn't possibly understand her reasons. And if he looked at her with that broken-hearted face she had become far too familiar with, it would break her. 

Especially if he found out that his teasing was part of the catalyst. She was sure he'd be riddled with guilt, and that's the last thing she wanted.

She needed a spoonful of 'suck it up, buttercup!' shoved down her throat. Honestly, she shouldn't be so sensitive. There were much bigger fish to fry.

When the tears finally dried up, Yashiro glanced at the time on her phone. It was a little after four a.m. now, so she decided to stop feeling sorry for herself and stand up.

She winced as she limped back to her room. Usually the pain didn't bother her that much, but she guessed that she just didn't have a high pain tolerance anymore. That, and she hadn't gone that deep in a long time. Longer than ten months, that's for sure.

It was nice, though. Having something physical to nurse back to health. A physical wound to protect and focus on, rather than her emotional ones. 

On the flip side of the same coin, now she had to sneak around again. Careful not drop any clues that something was up. She'd have to walk without limping, keep her smile pinned on her cheeks, and pretend it never happened.

She couldn't fall apart in front of her friends. Because if she didn't hold it together, who would?

Nene was tired.

No, scratch that, she was utterly exhausted. 

She twirled her pencil between her fingers as she willed her eyes to stay open. She couldn't miss this lesson. They were going over the study guide for the final, and she'd be absolutely fucked if she didn't take as many notes as possible. 

The girl had hardly gotten any sleep last night, and that was after the…incident. She just couldn't shake her paranoia of being caught. Especially by Hanako, the nosiest person on earth. He seemed to know what she was feeling even before she was, and it totally freaked her out at times. 

Her injuries were of no help either. They continued to sting and throb under the bandages, making her burst out into tears more than once. Especially when she walked. She was stupid enough to cut right where the edge of her shoe rested against her foot.

Her school shoes were already stiff and uncomfortable to begin with, but add in raw cuts all over her ankles? Yeah, it was no less than hell on earth. 

The scabs didn't break open despite this, thank god. No one had any idea what lay beneath her black knee highs. Yet she still hung her head all day, embarrassed and ashamed of herself. Seeing Aoi greet her with that same kind smile almost made her breakdown as her awful thoughts of her from last night came rushing back into her mind.

And when Nene would lay her head on her desk after growing too tired to sit up, Aoi would tap her shoulder and ask "are you okay Nene?", leaving her so desperate to cry and let it all out. To say "No, I'm not, actually. I'm going to die soon, and I'm so terrified that every day is my last." 

But alas, her mouth stayed glued shut, and the tears stayed in their rightful place. She would smile and nod away Aoi's worries while biting back her own.

She figured she must be pretty convincing with how Aoi immediately relaxed when Nene reassured her, and how Hakujoudai stayed calm at her side. It seems that even it couldn't see through her facade.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" A familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Or not.

Great. If anyone would see past her, it would be him. She knew she'd have to face Hanako after school when she went to clean the bathroom, but she was relying on that extra time to prepare herself.

Foolish oversight on her part; assuming that he wouldn't come pester her sooner.

"Yashirooooooo! Did you hear me? Earth to daikon~" Hanako whined like a child, already clinging to her shoulders.

That familiar nickname had her elbowing him in the ribs without a second thought, not even needing to look over her shoulder to aim her weapon of choice.

Usually she wouldn't mind it all that much. Not today, though. Not after last night.

"Would you quit it with that? I'm trying to concentrate here." She hissed at him, causing him to back off with his hands in the air.

"Woah, someone's cranky today! Usually I can get in at least three daikon jokes before you viciously attack me!"

She merely grumbled in response before laying her head back down on her desk.

Hanako tilted his head at her with his eyes narrowed, obviously catching onto something not being quite right with his assistant.

Nene should've tried harder to fool him and force a smile. God, why did he make her give up on that so easily? He didn't even try to take off the mask she was hiding behind; she set it down on the desk for him without a fight.

She blinked, and Hanako was directly across from her, resting his head on his palms.

It startled her enough that she jolted in her seat, causing it to squeal from it scraping across the linoleum floor.

Hanako narrowed his eyes at her jumpiness. Oh, this isn't good.

And once again, Hanako had made her look like an idiot in front of her whole class. He was annoyingly good at that.

Her class all paused to look at her; obviously judging her sudden outburst. She was surprised they still weren't used to it.

“Yashiro-san, I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt my class, please.”

She bowed her head and shouted (perhaps a bit too loudly), “Sorry Sensei!”

Her teacher turned back to the board with a low sigh and an eye roll, and Nene was forever grateful how patient her teacher really was with her.

“She's so weird!”

“I think she has schizophrenia or something.”

“Poor thing.”

Nene fought hard not to cry like a baby over their gossip. It wasn't her fault that she was being haunted by an evil bathroom ghost.

Okay, maybe it was just a tiny, itty-bitty, eeny-meeny part her fault. And she knew Hanako was far from evil. She wouldn't have traveled to the far shore to slap him and haul his ass back to the living world if she actually believed that.

Nevertheless, she couldn't deal with this; being the stupid kid for others to point and laugh at. Not right now. 

“Hanako, I'm trying to focus. Let me be.” She warned through gritted teeth, every syllable laced with hurt disguised as agitation.

His brows pinched into a worried expression, before taking on a more serious one.

“Something's bothering you.”

“Uh, yeah! You are. Now shoo.” She ushered him away with a flick of her hand.

Unfortunately, he stayed right where he was, staring at her with his infuriating, all-knowing, golden amber eyes and those lips that were always puffed up into a pout. 

“Tell me what's wrong.” He stated firmly; in that protective tone he used when shielding her from supernaturals, since she always seemed to find a way to put herself in harm's way.

“No. Nothing is wrong. I'm just…tired.”

Well, it was only partly a lie. She was tired, and that was probably making her more irritable. Still, she was self aware enough to know her sour mood stemmed from her relapse last night. She was just so consumed by her guilt and anguish that she didn't have room to feel anything else.

How could she not be? All of it- all of it was her fault . Every wince, every quiver of her bottom lip threatening her with tears ready to spill over, every flutter of anxiety. 

She gulped down the lump in her throat as her eyes became misty.

Hanako, of course, noticed this.

“Really.” He said skeptically.

“Yes, really!”

The ghost reached out and swiped his finger under her eye, collecting a teardrop hanging from her wispy lashes.

“Hey!” She whisper-screamed, slapping his hand away once she realized what he was doing.

“So nothing is wrong, dear assistant? You just happen to be near tears for no reason?” Hanako teased sarcastically, which honestly brought her even closer to crying.

“M-my eyes are just dry,” She forced herself to say, cringing at her stuttering.

“You know I hate it when you lie to me, Yashiro~.” He was still talking in that pretentious, teasing tone, which caused her to spiral.

Is this all just a game to him? Did he even care, or was he just taunting her for the hell of it? 

Looking at his mischievous smile, she decided that no, he didn't. He wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand.

Hanako doesn't care.

Hanako doesn't care. 

Hanako doesn't care-

“I'm not lying!! Can't you just leave me alone?!” She whisper-shouted at him, trying to be quiet so she wasn't disruptive to the class but loud enough that she could get her point across.

Hanako's smile faded into a look of genuine worry. And goddammit. Now she feels guilty for snapping at him. God, she's such an idiot! Why would she do that? Lashing out is only going to tip him off that something really is bothering her. 

Besides, so what if he doesn't care? It's not his problem anyway. And the way his smile dimmed from her yelling at him broke her heart. He didn't deserve that.

“I'm sorry. It's just…” 

She sighed, deciding he was entitled to some kind of explanation after blowing up at him. Even if it was a lie.

“This final is really stressing me out. It's worth 40% of my final grade. So if I flunk it, I fail this class and have to retake it next year.”

Next year. Ha.

As if she has that long.

Nene didn't give a damn about her final, quite honestly. She almost convinced herself she did. Because, after all, this is her future she's talking about! Colleges care about passing grades on finals. When it comes to being held back a year, they're quite judgy, unfortunately. But as long as she kept her notes up to date and studied like her life depended on it, she should pass with flying colors.

Pfft. ‘Like her life depended on it.’

Hilarious.

She almost lost herself in that daydream of being a successful scholar, until the bitter aftertaste of death coated her tongue.

Nene Yashiro wouldn't have a future. She'd live to be fifteen, at most. There would be no driving around with Aoi in her first car, or downing her first shot at a shitty bar on her 21st birthday. Her cap and gown would never be sewn together by a seamstress, and one less tassel would be manufactured. 

Everyone around her would grow up and move on to better things. Hell, even Black Canyon would outlive her.

So no, school didn't matter anymore. Not when she thought about the big picture. Hell, she may not even live long enough to graduate from this class. But it was the most plausible excuse she could come up with, and she hoped he'd take the bait.

Hanako still kept that wide-eyed look, but he masked the hurt he was still feeling from her outburst pretty well. It didn't work on her, though. Nene could always tell. 

She wondered if he was the same way about her.

“I'm sorry for snapping at you, Hanako-kun. Really, I am.” Nene forced an apologetic smile, because otherwise she might just succumb to the leaky faucet behind her eyes.

His eyes softened at that, and when he reached out a hand again (this time to cup her cheek), she didn't slap him away.

“It's okay, Yashiro. Everyone reaches their breaking point sooner or later. I shouldn't have antagonized you like that when you were already upset.”

“Huh? I'm not upset.” She rebutted, trying to feign ignorance.

“Riiiiight. Whatever you say, Yashiro.” He withdrew his hand after brushing another stray tear off her cheek. 

And there was that smile, bright and mischievous as ever. The one he used to tease her and cause her heart to race in her chest; unbeknownst to him.

“Now then,” He began, lifting off her desk to float again, “I better take my leave so you can focus on this boring lecture. I know I'm simply jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but try to stay focused-”

She didn't hesitate to grab her notebook and smack him with it, even as her classmates gave her quizzical looks. 

“Heh, pesky fly. Has been buzzing into my ear non-stop and won't leave me alone. ” She muttered in explanation, glaring at Hanako while she did so.

He gasped in mock hurt, 

“You wound me, Yashiro! So mean, comparing, comparing me to a fly like that.” He whined, batting his eyes at her with his signature pout. How was it more adorable every time he did it?

“Shush. I need to focus.”

“Oh, fine. Make sure you take good notes. And don't you dare think of slacking off and failing this final when you're clearly smart enough to blow this test out of the water.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” She muttered, cheeks rosy from his praise. He thought she was smart? Really?

He disappeared after that, and it left Nene feeling paranoid more than anything. Hanako knew something was up. She could tell he only partially bought her excuse about her final. After all, she'd never acted this way about a test before. She studied her ass off, sure, but she never got stressed enough to elicit such a strong reaction.

Nene honestly didn't mean to snap like that. Really, she didn't. In her defense, last night was one of the roughest nights she'd had in a long time. Hanako just…happened to press all the wrong buttons today. Her ankles were too sore for teasing- in more ways than one.

Her final class ended at last, and Nene started to rush out the door. Oh, how freedom would taste so sweet once she was released to go flop into her bed and binge an anime.

But it was never that easy. Just as she was passing by the final row of desks, she took the turn too sharp; her ankle catching on one of the desk legs.

Shit .

Her ankle was strong enough to drag the desk along with her until it threw her off balance seconds later. She helplessly extended her hands forward to catch herself as her school supplies fell and scattered around her.

No amount of preparation could lessen the sting of her palms colliding with the unforgiving linoleum tiles. 

The floor slammed into her. Hard. The painful sound of her hands slapping the dirty ground was enough to stop her classmates’ chatter. All eyes were on her and her scattered school supplies.

It took everything not to cry out in pain from her blooming headache, inflamed palms, bruising knees, and most of all, her stinging ankles. Everything hurts. Her ears wouldn't stop ringing. Like an oncoming train crash, no one could look away.

It took everything in her not to shout his name. To let him pick her up and dust her off. Ferry her far away from all of her peers’ judgemental stares.

Her classmates resumed their conversations after a moment (to her relief), while a few chuckled around her.

“Man, those are some fat ankles.”

“I know right! No wonder she's such a ditz. I bet her ankles are bigger than her brain.”

“Literally. Anyone with half the brain she has wouldn't be crushing on Minamoto-senpai. She actually thinks she has a chance with him!”

“Even we're below his league. So imagine her!” The snarky girl remarked, giggling behind her hand.

“It'd be considered charity work at that point. You think she's tax deductible?”

“Not with those ankles.”

If only she could give up right here, right now. Will her heart to stop beating. Get it over with. Anything would be better than hearing one more snide remark about her appearance.

She just couldn't handle it anymore. She wasn't strong enough to brush off their insults. 

Sticks and stones her ass. Her bones may as well be broken. 

“Nene!! Are you okay? What happened?”

A hand appeared in her line of sight, and she groaned in realization that she has to get up. Brush herself off. Keep going, keep face.

If only the fall had killed her. Honestly, with how pathetic she was, she could see why fate had decided she needed to be put down. Like a sick, dying dog that won't stop running into walls.

But life isn't fair, and it seemed it would be ripped from her battered hands right when things start looking up for her. It couldn't happen now, when she had nothing to live for.

That would be too easy. She has to suffer, obviously.

“Ao-chan?” She finally mumbled up at the purple-haired girl as stars spun around her head.

“Oh Nene, you had me so worried! You were already acting off today, so seeing you fall like that really scared me! Are you okay? Do you want me to get a teacher?”

Aoi's face came into focus at last. Pity filled her blackberry eyes as she looked upon her, unextended hand covering her mouth in shock.

“ ‘M good. Really. Just being a ditz, as per usual.” The words felt clunky in her mouth as she spoke them, and her tone grew icy again. Aoi's confused expression made her stomach cramp up with guilt. Ugh, not again! Why was she being so short with everyone today? The last thing she wanted was to hurt her best friend. On any other day, Nene would apologize profusely for her attitude and excuse herself from the conversation. It's not like Aoi did anything wrong.

‘She gets to live. You don't.’

Becoming bitter towards her friend because she was going to have a long, happy life was on a whole nother level of fucked up. 

The teal-tipped blonde attempted to quell the feeling; pushing it down as far as she could. Because it wasn't Aoi's fault. 

Ultimately, she failed. She was powerless against the envy that consumed her. Nene couldn't outrun it.

Not today.

Not when the breath of life had caressed her best friend's dimpled cheeks; added extra bounce to her curls, and amplified the glow in her eyes.

She tried not to notice it. Oh, how she tried. Tried to be happy for her best friend not having to carry the burden of her kannagi lineage; to ignore the raw, unbridled jealousy burning in her chest. 

Nene couldn't do it.

Not while she bore the weight of death's invisible cloak upon her shoulders; wings clipped, hands tied. Color zapped from her face, hair frizzy, ankles bloody.

‘Focus.’ She bit down on the inside of her cheek, snapping herself out of her internal spiraling. 

‘Aoi deserves this. She's a good person. It was always my fate to die, not hers.’ 

The girl cleared her thoughts and took a deep, sobering breath before grabbing the offered hand to right herself. 

“Nene, you know that isn't true. Don't listen to those idiots.” Aoi tutted, disregarding Nene's snippiness.

Once she was steady on her feet again, Aoi finally released her vice grip on her angry hands, collecting her fallen school supplies for her while sending harsh glares to every person who dared to laugh at her best friend's misfortunes.

“I'm sure Akane agrees.” Aoi smiled over at him, who, as always, had his full attention on her.

“Aoi's right, as always. My love is so smart!” He affirmed. Unfortunately, that only got him five points. 

Out of a hundred.

“They should get some sense beat into them, don't you think?” She twirled her indigo hair between her fingertips, a habit she picked up from wearing her hair down.

“I don't think-” Nene tried to cut in, because she did NOT like where this was going. 

“OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR YOU MY LOVE! ” Overly eager to earn more points, he pulled out his trusty bat and chased after the group of kids that dared to mess with Nene. Aoi waved him off and wished him luck on his endeavors.

Screams could be heard down the hall. Aoi only smiled.

“Don't you think that's a bad idea? I don't want him hurting anyone…”

“Akane knows his limits. Besides, he is a school mystery, right? He'd be in big trouble if he killed students anyway.”

Nene would love to point out that he would be in “big trouble” whether he was a school mystery or not, but she decided against it. The far shore had certainly taken its toll on Aoi, that's for sure. Either that, or Akane's murderous intent had rubbed off on her.

Aoi handed the last of her books over,

“Anyway, are you sure you're alright? That seemed like a pretty nasty fall!”

‘No, I'm going to die.’

She mustered a smile,

“Don't worry Ao-chan. A fall like that won't do me in. It didn't hurt that bad.” 

‘God it fucking hurts.’

“I'm glad! Still, please go see the nurse if it gets any worse. Okay?”

“I promise I will. Don't worry Ao-chan. I'll be fine.”

She offered one more smile, this time with a reassuring hand squeeze for good measure.

It was surprisingly easy getting Aoi off her back, which made her optimistic about facing her next opponent. She waved goodbye to the purple haired girl, deciding it was safe to leave the classroom now that the screaming outside had stopped. 

She was almost out of the dungeon. All that remained was the final boss:

Hanako.

She's fucked, isn't she?

Yeah. Totally and utterly.

The tears caught up with her on the stairs. Her shoes just happen to be scraping right where the scabs lie below her thin knee-highs; over, and over, and over.

Fucking hell.

God it hurts. If only she could take her shoes off. But Hanako would find that weird of her, and then more than likely mock how fat and daikon-shaped her legs are. 

If only she could complain about the pain to someone. Even though it was her own doing. 

Especially because it was her own doing. 

She quickened her walk to a gait once she reached the top of the stairs, checking her surroundings before breaking out into a full blown sprint.  

Nene didn't care how much her ankles hurt when she bolted to the bathroom. Even when she heard someone call out to her and a teacher scold her for running in the halls.

She thought she felt a scab reopen, but she couldn't be sure. The girl couldn't bear to look down at her feet. 

Good. Maybe if they bled enough, they won't look so big anymore. Maybe then she'll be loveable. Maybe if they were normal, Aoi wouldn't embarrass herself by being her friend.

Maybe if she were as pretty as the other girls, Hanako would kiss her again.

She was doing it again, she realized as she took the next set of stairs two at a time. Getting upset over stupid shit. Stuff that should roll right off her back; opinions that had no value.

This was petty teenage angst, and yet it felt like her whole world. Staying alive and looking pretty should not be on the same pedestal of importance.

When she finally reached the bathroom, Nene hesitated on pushing the door open. It was probably a poor choice, running off like that and risking a scab re-opening. It was an even worse decision to run straight here, with her composure in tatters and her uniform in a mess.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. Not about her probably ruined makeup, nor her stinging ankles. So she pushed the door open and stepped inside, deciding to get her cleaning out of the way.

“Hey Hanako!” She greeted, forcing the cheer in her voice. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. Quite the opposite, actually. Gazing into those amber sunset eyes was enough to soothe every whimper caught in her throat. Usually, anyway. 

“It's Yashiro!” Hanako shouted excitedly, slamming his cards down on the windowsill before making his way over.

“I missed you!!”

The boy wrapped her in a cold hug; the kind that she'd grown to prefer over warm ones other people offered. There was just something soothing about the cool temperature that helped relax her muscles. 

She allowed herself to lean into it, eating up all the love and affection he gave her. Usually she'd shove him off her by now, and perhaps that's why he gasped in surprise when she snaked her arms around him.

“You did?” She asked, breath tickling his ear.

“...Huh?”

That had her giggling. Funny how as soon as she showed him any mutual affection, he'd immediately become flustered.

“You said you missed me,” She reminded him, backing away from their hug.

“Oh.” He pulled his hat down, face evidently red. He could never fully hide his cute blush from her. His ears always gave him away.

Hanako cleared his throat behind his fist before replying,

“Yeah…I did.”

“Even though you just saw me an hour ago?” She teased with a lop-sided grin, holding back giggles from how adorable he was when he was shy like this.

“I-…” He stuttered, hat pulled down as far as it could be without falling off while he hung his head bashfully. 

“I'm just messing with you Hanako-kun. I missed you too.” She admitted, already moving to grab her cleaning supplies.

Because she wanted to get a head start on her cleaning, of course. Definitely not to hide her own blush creeping onto her face.

Definitely not.

“Oh, so you do daydream about me!” The ghost boy said, seemingly recovered from his embarrassment already.

“Yeah, that's kinda stretching it.” 

She grabbed the broom and dustpan sitting near the windowsill first, wanting to sweep up as much dirt and dust as she could before she started mopping.

“I bet you imagine a bunch of dirty stuff, don't you~” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her with that obnoxious teasing smile.

Nene didn't hesitate to whirl around to smack him with the broom she'd just grabbed. Unfortunately, she had gotten too caught up in the moment and forgotten what lay just below her socks; that is, until the sudden stabbing pain caused her to falter mid spin. 

Ow.

In the end, she still managed to regain her ground and whack him with her broom. 

Instead of trying to dodge her wrath like usual, though; Hanako just floated there. Until he didn't; dress shoes clicking against the tile floor as he touched down. She’d already erased the wince from her face, but it was too late. Nene could practically see the gears starting to turn in his head as he set his analyzing gaze on her.

She prayed he wouldn't look down. All she could do was offer him a shaky smile, which wasn't convincing in the slightest.

Hanako cocked a brow at her nervousness, and then came the million dollar question:

“Yashiro, are you hurt?”

“What?”

Uh oh. What should she say? Should she try her hand at bluffing? Test her poker face? No, there's no way it's up to par. All it took was Hanako questioning her faulty statement for her to break down and confess.

She eyed him for a moment. He didn't seem angry, more concerned than anything. His tone was light and unburdened with venomous undertones; what she feared most of all.

So what if she played dumb; pretended not to even notice her limping or stumbling herself until he pointed it out? Act curious about these seemingly mysterious injuries? Would that even be believable?

She hoped to god it would be.

But if he saw through her bullshit (which there was a high probability he would), would he be hurt by her dishonesty? Would it put a crack in the friendship that had taken so long to build? Or should she risk it and confide in him? How would she even do that?

“-shiro! Earth to Yashiro!”

A hand was waved in front of her face, wracking a startled shriek from her throat. She nearly relaxed once she realized that it was only Hanako.

That is, until all his previous light-hearted curiosity and worry shifted into a stern, no nonsense expression.

“I know you're hiding something. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?” He accused, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at her.

Nene gulped, trying to back away from his intimidating stare with little to no success. She only managed two steps backwards before the windowsill was pressing into her back. With how close to losing it she was, a scolding was the last thing she needed. Especially from her favorite person.

“Because there's nothing to tell. I'm fine, Hanako-kun.” She attempted to match his stern tone. When that didn't work, she crossed her arms and mustered a glare, hoping he'd back down. She should've known better than to engage in a battle of wills with him. He was the strongest of the school mysteries, after all. 

The most stubborn one too, though Tsuchigomori was a close second.

“Oh really? Then why did you look like you were in pain?”

“I wasn't.” She reaffirmed.

“ Yashiro. ”

She huffed, deciding that if she didn't give him something , he'd keep chipping away at her calm exterior until he reached what was lurking below it.

So with a sigh, she decided to admit part of her problem.

“Fine. My ankles are too fat for my shoes, so they pinch me sometimes. That's all.”

The defeated, tired undertones of her voice thawed the ice in his frigid stare just a bit. His tone was gentler when he corrected her obviously untrue statement.

“Your ankles aren't fat, Yashiro.”

“You call them daikons; what's the difference?” The tears nearly found purchase in her shaky voice. It took all of her strength not to let them bead up to the surface again.

He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be. Not after the constant mockery, or how he'd never let her forget why her last crush rejected her.

“I'm not into fat daikon legs.”

She practically gagged at the memory. She'll never live it down, will she?

“Have I ever said that it's a bad thing?” He answered with a question of his own.

Well, come to think of it… no. He's only ever called them daikons. He never said there was anything wrong with them, either. She just assumed that he hated her legs too. Why wouldn't he? How could being compared to a root vegetable be taken as a compliment?

“I guess not.” She concluded, failing to recall any memory of him taking his teasing a step further. Surely she would've remembered something like that.

“But then why…?”

He smiled,

“Because I know it annoys you. You're cute when you're mad.” He explained in a surprisingly genuine tone.

“...Oh.” She kicked the ground in front of her, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Does it bother you?”

“Hm?” Was all she could muster, still processing the compliment. She was too busy doing cartwheels in her head over the fact to respond properly.

Really? He thought she was cute?! 

“Does it bother you when I call you that?” He restated.

If he had asked her this just minutes before, she would've lost her mind. Because of course it bothered her! Who in their right mind would want to be nicknamed after a vegetable of all things?!

Well, clearly she was no longer in her right mind, because now all it did was turn her brain to slush and her heart into a giddy, lovesick mess.

‘He thinks I'm cute!’  

“No, it doesn't bother me.” She affirmed, trying to sound neutral about it all.

Clearly her burning face gave her away, because next thing she knew, Hanako was giggling at her.

“Aww! Is my little assistant blushing? So easy to fluster you!” Hanako gasped with delight, serious demeanor lost to the wind. Yashiro was forever grateful for how easy it was to distract him.

Still, he was right: it was far too easy to fluster her.

“N-no! It's just hot in here!” She crossed her arms, prancing over to a new spot to sweep. She bit her lip once her back was to him, trying to cool the fire beneath her skin before it spread to her ears.

Suddenly, familiar arms wrapped around her shoulders, with Hanako's breath tickling her ear.

“Then allow me to cool you down~” 

While his body was basically a walking ice pack, it did nothing but cause her body to burn hot like a fever and her heart to pound like a drum in her ears. For a moment, she basked in the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her one last time, memorizing how the soft fabric of his uniform felt against the back of her neck and his chilly delicate embrace he had trapped her in. Just so that when she was crying alone in her room later, she could imagine him hugging her again.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then,

“Nah, I'd rather crack the window.”

WHAM.

The broom she held was her faithful weapon against her skeevy ghost friend once again, using the handle to knock him off of her. 

“OWWW!!” He wailed, but she knew he was being overdramatic.

“Now quit pestering me! I'm not staying here until dark cleaning the bathroom again!” She ordered, resuming her sweeping.

“Won't you?” He teased, offering an insufferable smile.

She dragged a hand down her face and loudly groaned.

“You're impossible.”

Hanako settled on his windowsill with a sigh, turning to look out the window to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Fine…” He relented, albeit whiny like a toddler 

Little did he know, his assistant wore the same expression. She'd almost forgotten about last night after all of that.

Almost.

Cleaning was going surprisingly well. She had already swept the floor and dusted the sinks; all that was left was to finish her mopping and polish the mirrors.

With Hanako intensely focused on a round of Hanafuda and Nene entranced in her own thoughts, a peaceful silence had settled over them, save for the sound of cards being shuffled or the squelch of her wet mop against the tiles.

It was nice, just being here with him. Not having to use up her low supply of energy on formalities and small talk.

Besides, cleaning was a welcome distraction. Still though, the bland task left plenty to be desired.

Perhaps that was what left her longing to spare a glance up at Hanako. The girl made a point of focusing on her task of wringing her mop out, though, because she wouldn't stare. 

She wouldn't.

She couldn't take the chance of them locking eyes, because whenever syrupy caramel skies met her far less flattering pair of bittersweet raspberry rubies; time came to a stand still. He made a sappy stupid something out of her, that's for sure.

Because of this, sometimes Nene wished she could convey all she felt through her eyes. That when she looked at him, he'd be able to chart the emotions scattered in her irises like he did the constellations in the sky; uncover all the words she couldn't bring herself to say.

Then again, that sounded mortifying, come to think of it. Hanako being able to physically see how infatuated with him she is?

Nauseating.

She'd much rather admire observe him from afar without a declaration of love written in her eyes, thanks. 

…Having said that, one look couldn't hurt, right? The mop bucket needed to be dumped and refilled anyway, so surely she could sneak a peek at him.

Just one.

Yeah.

Nene finished wringing her mop out and propped it on one of the stall dividers so she could enact her plan. She was going to need both hands to lift that heavy bucket and spy on Hanako. 

She lifted it up with a huff and made her way over to the sink as slow as possible. The thing was bulky and heavy, okay?

And that's when she finally did it. Finally looked at him after staring at the bathroom floor for the past half hour.

It was cruel, really; the way the beautiful sunset rays illuminated him by shining through his translucent body. The way his ebony hair glowed despite it, as if he were just another kid under the sun. And that look of determination he wore while playing hanafuda; jeez, he was going to give her a heart attack with how adorable he is. Only Hanako could master the art of looking both dead serious (as in, “I'm going to end your bloodline.” ) and pouty (like a kid being told “put the toy back.” ) at the same time. 

Part of her wanted to stomp over there and break his concentration by ruffling his hair or kissing his cheeks so that he'd direct that pouty look right at her. She'd get a chance to pinch those chubby chipmunk cheeks he had, the ones he denied ever possessing in the first place.

Nene didn't have the heart nor the nerve to interrupt his concentration like that. So with a sigh, she tore her eyes away from him to focus on the heavy mop bucket instead. 

“It's rude to stare, you know.” An oh so familiar voice sounded by her ear.

“EEEEEEEKK!!”  

Jesus Christ. How the fuck does he do that?! Ghost powers?!

Nene leaped high in the air like a spooked cat, causing her to spill the dirty mop water all over the floor.

She helplessly watched as the murky, sudsy puddle beneath her shoes grew until it doubled and tripled in size.

All of that tireless work she put into cleaning that disgusting floor was erased in a flash.

She'd have to redo it.

All of it.

That's when the pain in her ankles finally made an appearance. Apparently, she was unlucky enough to also spill the filthy water on herself, specifically from the shins down.

Fuck.

The girl bit her lip to swallow the whimper crawling out of her throat. 

No.

No.

‘Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry’ 

“Wow, Yashiro! I didn't know you could jump that high! Must be those daikon ankles, eh?”

He wasn't making fun of her to be cruel. He said so himself that the only reason he called her that in the first place was to antagonize her. Hell, she even gave him permission to!

If only she had thicker skin.

Well, it didn't matter now. 

The first tear fell, then the second, and that's when the floodgates opened.

“Yashiro..?”

The teal-tipped blonde bowed her head as her vision blurred, hoping to hide the gentle stream flowing down her cheeks.

She was doing so well! Almost home free.

Almost.

And now it was all for nothing. Because now she's crying, and she's crying in front of Hanako. Again. Not to mention, the grimy sensation of soaked socks and shoes against her already angry skin had her shuddering uncomfortably.

And holy shit did it burn. Turns out watered down cleaning chemicals and open wounds didn't mix.

Cold hands clasped her shoulders to turn her towards him; and once they were face to face, she lowered her head as far as it would go. Ashamed of her breakdown.

Over spilt mop water, of all things.

She was such an ugly crier, too. Nothing like the girls in her books with their dainty tears and little sniffles. Fat, sloppy tears stained her reddening face, mixing with the snot dripping out of her nose. 

Hanako didn't mind it. 

He must not have, with the way he tipped her chin up to observe her wrecked face, delicately thumbing her tears away with one hand while the other held a wad of toilet paper up to her nose.

He didn't say anything at first. Neither did she. The only sound that echoed off the bathroom's walls were her seemingly never-ending hiccups and sobs.

Until, eventually,

“Something tells me that there's more to this than just some spilled mop water.”

She couldn’t help but humorlessly chuckle at that. A simple statement, alluding to the fact that he knew there was something she wasn't telling him. Of course he did. She shouldn't be so surprised that he remembered her previous mood. Not to mention, she was terrible at keeping secrets.

All she managed was a shake of her head in disagreement before another knot began to form in her throat.

She tried to turn away again; both to spare her dignity and remove the obligation she had undoubtedly placed on his shoulders with her unnecessary breakdown.

He shouldn't have to clear away her endless tear tracks or wipe her nose.

He shouldn't have to look at something so- so-

So hideous .

But before she even got the chance, loving hands gently cupped her wrecked face again, successfully anchoring her to the spot.

“You don't have to hide your pain from me, Yashiro. I know you're hurting. I just wish you'd let me fix it.” He whispered caringly in her ear.

She hesitated as her breath snagged in her throat. Adrenaline froze her in place, like a deer in headlights or a bunny in front of a wolf. What the hell was she supposed to say to that, anyway? Because this was something that not even Hanako, Number Seven of the Seven Mysteries could fix. At this point, the only way to accomplish such a feat would be a brain transplant. Her mind was too sick and twisted to be helped anymore. 

Of course, Nene couldn't tell him any of this. He couldn't possibly understand something so mental. Besides, she doubted her voice was even stable enough for her to use without causing another cloud burst of tears to come crashing down.

“I'll take your silence as a yes.”

Again, she shook her head. Insisting that he had it all wrong. She had to think of something. A red herring to completely throw him off.

Hanako sighed.

“Is this about your final again?”

Oh thank god.

Hanako had given her an out. Knowing him, it was purposeful, too. There's no way she actually fooled him with her shitty excuse of stressing about her grades. It just wasn't a Nene thing to do.

And so the term “final” had taken on a new meaning. A metaphor for her previous self mutilation he knew nothing about. An alias for the true reason behind her tears.

So she ran with it.

“Yeah. I just got upset because-” 

‘Eye on the prize.’

Nene gulped down the wobble in her tone before continuing,

“Because by the time I get this floor cleaned again, I won't have any time to study.”

And there she looked up at him. Ready to be scoffed at. She knew she wasn't the least bit convincing. In fact, she'd dragged out her cleaning for as long as possible to put off studying just a few months ago. He must remember that.

But he didn't. Scoff at her, that is. Instead, his eyes were fixated on hers, searching for something. Darting back and forth between her eyes, reading her irises like the morning newspaper. 

Honey-soaked eyes bore into tart, passion fruit ones; a bittersweet concoction neither could get enough of. Half the time they spent together was locked in a gaze just like this one. Filled with a gravitational pull so strong it practically hurt to look away.

Still, they managed it. 

Well, he did, anyway. He'd start it, but he'd end it, too. Never would his gaze overstay its welcome.

“I'll go ahead and finish your cleaning for today. So you have time to study.” He said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

And she should've broached upon why he said it like that. The hurt he must be feeling by her dishonesty and lack of communication. 

She knew she should've. The words were right there, waiting to be spoken. Nene owed him all of the apologies and explanations locked behind her lips. If only she could open her damn mouth and say the words.

If only she could only be selfless for once. 

Once.

Hanako handed her belongings over wordlessly. 

It wasn't until she pivoted on her feet towards the exit (carefully, this time) and he turned to face his windowsill that Hanako broke the silence one last time.

“If you need any help studying, you know where to find me.” He said, with a tone implying something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Uh..right. Thanks.” She sputtered.

“See you.” She managed as a farewell, voice back to its normal pitch this time.

“Stay safe out there, Yashiro.”

And just like that, it was over. She'd conquered the dungeon. 

Why did that victory feel absolutely miserable?