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In the end… I reap what I sow.
Akiyama Mizuki runs. They sprint as far as possible from Kamiyama High, not pausing to catch their breath for fear that Ena might catch up. Their heart constricts so tightly that it pumps and beats in a relentless rhythm; clinging to a fragile thread of dwindling hope.
Stop it. Stop feeling. Ah…
That expression on Shinonome Ena’s face feels like ice-cold water coursing through their veins. Deep down, Mizuki knows they will be accepted—returning to those carefree days of making music, just like they always do.
But then…
…It's all just pity mixed in with kindness, isn't it?
Mizuki blinks once, and then they are wearing a black garment again—horns on their head and a staff in their right hand. They're escaping. The ringing in their ears buzzes incessantly as their mind shatters into—
—the abyss. Was it always this dark? They can feel themselves sinking deeper and deeper. It is futile. The harder they try to escape from the suffocating pit of the deep end, the more difficult it becomes to breathe.
Their hands are bleeding. With their vision blurred, the corners of their lips taste metallic as the blood coats their tongue. Mizuki's hand goes limp, and they let the staff fall to the ground with a thud. A bright light flashes, and then they wake up with a start.
The familiar ceiling of Mizuki's bedroom comes into focus. There is still some time until the sun sets. They wonder… was it all just a dream after all?
"Oh." Mizuki awakens with a pounding headache and sits up straight. They wince in pain, placing a hand on their chest. Their throat feels parched as they gaze at their bloodied nails. "That's right. I…"
They must have wandered back home in their dazed state, mind jumbled up from the reality of the current situation at hand. For the first time ever, their mind feels blank—no thoughts at all. An eerie silence fills their bedroom.
They lie back down to stare at the ceiling. Ah, but it would have been nice to wake up in a fairytale. Though their life had felt a lot like one before, now all of it had crumbled away and shattered just like glass.
Mizuki remembers what just happened.
Standing up from the bed, they move to stare blankly at their reflection in the mirror. They look like an absolute mess, Mizuki thinks, as they glare at their own image. They scoff, "Look at yourself. It's karma, isn't it?"
Mizuki's words are met with that mirrored image—dumb, silent and ugly. A fist hits the mirror. They pull their hand away in shock as their knuckles starts stinging. The cut bleeds again.
Blood red.
(And the mirror cracks.)
Shit. There's a curse on their heart—on their whole entire being.
The ghost of Mizuki’s past will follow them wherever they go, haunting them all over again. It’s cruel how this curse will never die until it takes their whole existence. Is this how it’s meant to be?
"Ah."
A loud clap of thunder strikes. Their eyes sting and burn and their vision turns blurry again. Bile rises in the back of Mizuki's throat, as the reality sinks in further—sinking deeper, as though it is trying to drown them.
Drown them for the sin of lying; for the crime of wanting to live in the moment—for wanting to breathe, for trying to live, and for simply existing.
"Of course." Mizuki mutters, swallowing hard to steady their voice. "This is who I am."
She couldn't breathe.
Shinonome Ena doesn't know where she's heading at this moment. The loud beating of her heart and the tight feeling in her chest are all she can think about as she runs.
The twilight rooftop, once dyed orange by the setting sun, becomes draped in a shadowy veil shrouded in darkness.
Her heart sinks under the weight of despair. She can barely make sense of anything at this point.
What’s real? What’s fake? Was it all a dream? She pushes her legs to move, sprinting like a bullet train—one she will never catch up to—despite the feeling that her soul is being torn away.
Time is fleeting, drifting like the wind. Everything is collapsing. Like the sand in an hourglass, it will all turn to dust—she can't even discern if the ground below is there to hold her up, or if the sky is there to hold her down anymore.
Akiyama Mizuki's eyes reflect the sun. Yet, in the depths of the shining surface, Ena feels her breath held tight.
Those two godforsaken students. God, she can feel her nails digging into her palm. What was that? What the fuck was that? Her teeth grit together as she tastes the bitterness on the tip of her tongue.
It doesn't make sense.
The path in front of her is clear, but the view before her is dizzying.
She tries to hold on to something, anything, but her fingers grasp nothing but air. Everything spins and twirls in chaos. A sharp pain on the tips of her fingers, then another, and one more—and Ena realizes she has been scratching at a wall with her nails.
She just ruined her manicure, but she doesn't even find it in herself to care. This feeling of helplessness is all she can think of as she stares down at her broken nails.
It stings like an insect's bite, and she tries slapping at her skin to chase the sensation away.
(It doesn't.)
Her mind is blank—haziness clouding her thoughts with every passing second.
Ena lets Mizuki run off in the end. She couldn't move, not from her spot.
That's why she's a coward.
Tears blur her vision as a guttural wail escapes her mouth. "Why…!!"
The school's hallway seems so desolate after their ruined encounter. Ena presses her fingers hard on her eyelids and breaks out into a sob. Tears fall, wetting her sleeve, and she realizes she's clutching a piece of fabric.
Her voice wobbles as she cries out. "You... dummy! Face me and tell me—yourself!" she screams into the sky, only to be swallowed by the vast, infinite expanse.
(A drop of a tear in a vast ocean, a wisp of smoke in the breeze.)
It is no use.
The echoes ring throughout her ears, and in Ena's heart there's an aching that stabs deep.
It is no use.
Ena curls onto the cold, hard floor and cries herself hoarse. Her whole body shakes as she breathes, "Mizuki…"
She wishes she could tear apart her heart from her chest.
I want to tear it out of my body and toss it away.
That way, at least it won't hurt as much anymore.
"Stupid, stupid!" The word comes out choked, and then an array of flashbacks runs through her mind's eye like a reel.
The rooftop door, painted with the scrawny shapes of her friend's back; Mizuki turns to face her with a wavering smile—eyes dampening yet not daring to meet hers.
But today... those eyes are terrified. Despair rolls off in waves from Mizuki's body, like a wildfire spreading throughout and consuming their entire being.
(No, not like a fire... but like water. The current slowly submerges them both.)
"Are you also like a guy or something?"
That male student's carefree remark thrown at Ena still rings loudly in her head. It hits her in the face like a ton of bricks, and she feels her cheeks flush with anger.
Those idiots…! If only she could get a hold of them… But…
Would her rage make her look as terrible as they do?
Mizuki's voice was shrill with panic—Ena heard it with her own ears. Her chest aches. It aches like a hollow shell of a being with no name. With trembling legs, she pushes herself off the ground and staggers towards home, only to fall to her knees again at the doorstep.
Her heart sinks with that realization—and Ena sees no stars on that day, only the looming moon against the somber sky.
She needs to fix this before it's too late.
Mizuki's disappearance is like a wound carved open and left untreated: an incessant itching and gnawing pain. With each passing day, Kanade, Mafuyu, and Ena's hearts sink deeper. Niigo is silent, and so are their songs, lost in this suffocating void.
25-ji, Nightcord de. The name itself reminds her of their dreams. No matter how many times Ena glares at Mizuki's inactive icon in their shared server, there will always be nothing in return. Mafuyu and Kanade's silence only confirms her thoughts; no one else has any idea about Mizuki's situation.
The pressure that builds up from this is asphyxiating.
A week has passed, and there has not been a single reply from Mizuki to any of the texts Ena sent in their private chatroom, despite having seen them all.
Mizuki's gone, and Ena doesn't know what to do about it.
The Empty Sekai mirrors the rest of Nightcord. Every passing night, the bright moonlight seems to gaze into Ena's soul as she glances outside her window. Her arms feel heavy as she types a message and deletes it immediately before tossing her phone to the side of her bed.
Shit…
Ena doesn't cry. She cannot cry because it won't fix this. But she feels powerless, as if her limbs are pinned to the ground—like she can't even lift a finger.
It hurts. Everything hurts, even the sight of the blank canvas in front of her. This situation is too overwhelming. "I can't do anything."
No… she must do something.
What is the point of being alive if it doesn't mean protecting those you love?
"I have to do something."
She can't fix Mizuki. That is impossible. Ena thinks that no one can help them if they refuse to. But... if only there were someone there to hold their hands, at least—
This thought repeats in Ena's head, and a knot forms in her stomach.
Ena slumps down on her bed, her knees pulled to her chest. It's a selfish and embarrassing idea, she thinks, to be Mizuki's... knight in shining armor. It doesn't sound like her at all.
But... maybe.
With that last thought, a sense of determination ignites within her chest.
This resolve. She won't let it fade, as long as she lives. She has to live up to this promise.
But Ena needs to do something.
What else is there to do? She lets out a dry laugh, her fingers clenching around the edges of the blanket. Her breath is shaky, and a trail of tears rolls down her cheeks, one droplet falling onto Ena's hand.
Her nails dig deep into her skin. The stinging sensation hurts. Ena knows that.
So why is it that the pain feels just about right? A sob escapes her lips.
In her mind, an image of the rooftop lingers—the sight of Mizuki's eyes when they turned away, leaving her. The fear in their eyes...
Ena won't let it happen ever again.
Grabbing her pink jacket from a hanger and wearing it clumsily, she sets off with a mission in mind.
She's not coming back empty-handed.
Not yet, not just yet; this is the only thought that keeps Ena from losing herself. Her mind keeps repeating the same thought over and over—she can't turn back time, and the only thing left in her reach is a flicker of the dying spark.
But if it still remains, if it's still possible to salvage any part of it, she can't just give up so easily.
She can't. She can't afford to.
4.33 A.M
There's a figure curled up on the cold floor. It emits a freezing sensation with every shift of position.
(And a person on their knees.)
There's no sound here, no noise or music—even though the Sekai exists for the very purpose of music.
Mizuki sighs in resignation.
They lean their head against the backrest of the makeshift throne.
(Or perhaps a cage?)
Time ticks. Tick. Tick. Tick. But nothing happens. Nothing's changing. Mizuki exhales and watches as their warm breath clouds before them. Nothing's changing—they repeat to themselves—not at this moment.
But it's all it takes.
In a small corner of Mizuki's mind, a flicker of hope and despair collide.
"Mizuki."
They flinch when their name is called out. It's not a dream; they didn't just hear a familiar voice. Mizuki feels sick and wants to throw up.
"Ena…?"
Ena stands in front of Mizuki, eyes tired but a fire blazing beneath the surface. Ena's shaking, fists clenching and unclenching. Her voice trembles, "You ran away."
Mizuki feels numb. "I know."
There's nothing else to say, right?
But Ena's face scrunches up in anger—there's so much more to say than the words she's spoken and those that remain unspoken.
"You promised to tell me yourself," Ena says, her eyes watery with unshed tears. "And now you're here, trying to give up?"
There's a pause, and then Mizuki laughs—a hollow sound that rings in Ena's ear. "I don't need your sympathy. So don't... don't feel bad for me.”
Mizuki's voice cracks again, hoarse with hints of exhaustion. “Don't pity me."
"It's not pity, Mizuki! Do I seem like that kind of person to you?" Ena shoots them a glare, and her anger flares once more. "You don't get to tell me what to do. Do you think I'm just going to leave you here to rot? You idiot..."
Mizuki's eyes widen. "But—I..." The words die on their lips. What are they supposed to say? That they don’t need Ena?
A single thought flickers into existence, burning bright like an ember of the sun.
Mizuki bites their tongue, but then the dam breaks. Tears well up in their eyes, and a choked noise escapes their throat as they cover their face with their hands.
They're tired—tired of pretending and hurting. It's all they've done their whole life.
It's not fair.
"It hurts. It hurts so much…" Mizuki chokes out through sobs that rock their body.
A single step forward. Then a second, and another... Ena falls to her knees in front of Mizuki and envelops them in an embrace.
Mizuki's hand hovers hesitantly over Ena's shoulder before gripping her jacket tightly, clutching it with desperation.
This Sekai's void is freezing, but this warmth is different—a blanket of comfort.
Maybe the pain is necessary to achieve their dreams and reach out to the stars in the distant sky.
"I won't let anything change between us." Ena holds them closer and whispers, "You're you. Even if the rest of the world doesn't understand or accept you, I will."
(Ena's heartbeat is soothing, Mizuki thinks. They sniffle, and for once, the world doesn't feel as lonely anymore.)
They hope Ena won't hate them.
There's a pang of sadness, of melancholy, and it threatens to spill out in the form of tears.
They're crying, and they can't stop. Every time they open their mouth, only a gasp or whimper comes out. "I don't... want you to... leave me alone."
Ena's voice is strained. "Mizuki..."
But then Mizuki’s looking up to face her, determination clear on their features. "I... I've already decided."
Their mouth feels dry, tongue heavy with the weight of their words. They know Ena wouldn't abandon them, yet there's still doubt gnawing inside them—a lingering fear.
(But Ena has never left them before, right...?)
"I'm going to move forward, but…" Mizuki continues, "...can I stay by your side for a little longer?"
Ena freezes up. Mizuki's lips wobble into an attempt to smile.
"You really are an idiot," Ena murmurs. The tension seeps out from her body, and her shoulders droop. Her eyes water. "I don't think of you any less just because of this.”
Mizuki lets out a laugh, their chest light. The guilt lifts up like a mist, dissipating as quickly as it came.
Perhaps, if they keep going, they can reach that endless expanse of sky they've dreamed of seeing—where the clouds are white and the sun shines brightly above. A place where they belong.
"You're so..." Ena shakes her head and trails off, her words caught in her throat. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks. "Don't..."
"...?"
Ena's voice is soft and tender, her touch gentle. "You're still Akiyama Mizuki to me."
The way she looks straight at them with such sincerity and admiration makes Mizuki’s face heat up.
It's embarrassing to be on the receiving end of Ena's affection.
"Enanan."
The usual nickname sounds strange on her tongue yet feels so right. Mizuki buries their head into Ena's shoulder, their arms circling around her waist. "...the others..."
"They'll accept you."
That's the only thing Ena can say without lying. In her chest blooms something bright, fragile, and warm—Mizuki's face nuzzles even closer, and Ena's heart pounds harder than ever. It's a special rhythm that sounds just like the distant melody of a song.
Mizuki wishes they could see the world through Ena's eyes, her steadfast belief in people, because her faith is as bright as the sun.
"But..."
"I won't say anything until you're ready. They'll understand."
Mizuki swallows. A part of them wants to tell her the truth, but a larger part of them is scared. They nod mutely into Ena's jacket. "Can I... have a little more time...?”
A silent promise hangs in the air. Ena gives them a squeeze. "You've got all the time in the world, dummy."
They could get used to this.
There's still a bit of fear residing deep within Mizuki, but it fades into acceptance when Ena increases the pressure of the hug, just slightly.
Then Ena does something that almost makes Mizuki want to cry all over again. Gentle fingers fix the crooked ribbon of her dress, tying it neatly. It has Ena’s own personal touch, looping and making it look as presentable as she can. They shut their eyes with a flutter, relishing the sensation with a growing warmth in their heart.
"Then I'll... rely on that kindness and trouble you a bit longer."
Ena hums. “Do as much as you want; you owe me one, though.”
A giggle escapes Mizuki, and then they burst out laughing. "No way. I'll do it my way."
Ena lets out a laugh as well, her chest fluttering with happiness.
It's a strange sensation to have another person's heartbeat resound so strongly against her own. "Dumbass. Fine."
Mizuki winces as a sudden memory comes back. "...about what I said last time..."
'To me, for that kindness to end up being born within everyone—I can't help but... hate that...!!'
Ena's finger pokes at Mizuki's cheek. "What was that all about? Stupid."
"I—" The words die on their tongue. "That wasn't… I..." Mizuki trails off, unsure how to explain. "...I just don't want people walking on eggshells or pitying me. I'm me, aren't I...?"
A pause.
Mizuki expects Ena to argue against their words, but she ends up huffing a sigh instead. "Don't bottle things up." Then Ena pulls away with a smile.
Mizuki pouts. "Easy for you to say."
Ena doesn't respond, choosing to remain silent, a question on her lips. Her brows furrow, then she shakes her head.
“Enanan?”
She exhales.
A soft whisper, "You're still you, Amia." Ena's expression turns solemn, and Mizuki can sense a change in her mood.
"Yeah." The simple confirmation lifts a heavy weight from Mizuki's chest. They feel lighter. The burden of the past few days... well, they're still there, but it's more manageable now.
"Yeah... I am."
(It's a lie, a part of her whispers. Akiyama Mizuki doesn't exist. And she's going to be hated no matter what. It doesn't matter what she does—people will hate her for existing—no matter what.)
What's the point?
You'll just regret everything you do and say. And it'll be the same no matter how long you struggle.
Mizuki holds the invisible crack in their heart, trying to patch the missing piece together.
They think of a bright orange sunset on the rooftop, then of Ena and her stubbornness—her kindness.
Amidst the crumbling darkness of the Sekai, Ena's smile is still unwavering. Unwavering even after hearing everything.
No one understands—that's what the pessimist side of Mizuki thinks. Everyone else will hate them for their mistakes, their flaws, their secrets. But then—
—there's no need to rush. You're still you.
"So don't even think of running away from us, okay?" Ena pats the top of their head. "Or else, I'll kick your butt." A grin. "I'll leave 1,000 angry voice messages on your private DMs every single day until you respond to me!"
Mizuki stares at Ena. It's almost hilarious. "Nope. I'm blocking you."
"Don't you dare." A pause. "I'll send you selfies every 5 minutes, 24/7." Ena smirks, a playful glint flashing for a brief moment.
Mizuki blanches, horrified. "Please, no..."
Ena giggles, the sound echoing in the vast emptiness. She stands up and dusts off her knees. "Come on."
Her hand extends in an open invitation. Those fingertips, painted with an array of colors, are as warm as ever—inviting... just like Ena herself.
"Let's go."
Mizuki stares at the outstretched hand, tears brimming in their eyes.
(If it's with you, then maybe everything will work itself out.)
Mizuki takes Ena's hand and intertwines their fingers together, interlocking them like a promise.
A promise of the future.
Amidst the sense of helplessness, a faint warmth blossoms within. With her support, maybe they could reach that distant star someday.
"Thanks, Ena."
I'm not alone anymore, not when I'm with you and the others.
They won't lose sight of their future again.
This time, they will be the ones to chase after their own dreams and find a place to belong.
The two of them step into the white light enveloping them.
I won't stop reaching for that faraway sky. I'll be—
—Akiyama Mizuki.
"Let's go home." The softness of Ena's voice is comforting.
There's a subtle breeze as they exit, carrying a faint scent of a beautiful flower that's about to bloom. It's gentle, not unlike the warmth of the sun or Ena's tender gaze.
The sky is blue. The moonlight is cold. Yet, the night is still young, and the future is a vast unknown. That's not too bad, Mizuki thinks with a smile as they stroke the ribbon on their dress, where Ena's fingers had been.
…
"Let's go home, Ena.” Mizuki whispers, feeling the weight on her chest subside into cautious optimism.