Chapter Text
Fear washed over her. fear and panic and a true blood-curdling terror of everybody around her from stranger to lover. She needed to run away. She needed to hide. Her room was always as good of a haven as she would find, surrounded by clothes and colors and memories that most of them would find solace in. The environment would wash them in comfort and begin to cleanse their ailments. Reminders of who they are cleanly displayed around the room.
Her eyes darted, scrambling to find purchase in any crag of memory they could.
A collection of photo booth strips with ena, taken over months or years, decorated most of her corkboard. The different borders and poses were usually a solid anchoring point to keep them tethered, a record of where they was and what they’ve done.
A foothold crumbled away. She desperately searched for the next.
The rest of the corkboard was overflowing with layers of ticket stubs and cut outs from show posters, the least organized spot in the room. Mizuki would usually love to trace them back through time. This was when she saw a small band in a cafe, a quiet Tuesday evening where she stumbled into the shop as a band was already playing. They weren’t anything special, but it was the first time she’d seen a performance like that and it sat at the first position of the intentional mess. This one was More More Jump’s first massive concert, Mizuki shilled out more than she’d like to think about for a ticket in the best seat in the house and proudly pinned it next to the rest, another notch in the journey.
This, at least, was what the accompanying diary told her. One that existed purely to record their forays into the world of live music. Initially a fun way of remembering an event, as they became more aware of themself and what they lost from day-to-day it became equally an attempt to capture the moment, the experience, to crack open the journal regardless of how late she got home and to fervently recall the day and show. It mostly worked.
Not for her.
The catalogue of experiences was as alienating as the world beyond her door. Two more footholds collapsed under her weight, simultaneously impossibly heavy and lighter than air. A mass that had no mass, something that couldn't exist.
The next spot she fumbled towards fell apart the second she made contact.
Her computer, the vessel by which Mizuki was carried to the people she held dearest. The inactive screen alone brought upon the painful attempts of unreachable memories to come to the surface. It hurt. They were a pervasive presence belonging to someone she was not. They festered in unseen corners and slammed her shutters in the dark, screaming at her in tongues beyond her comprehension while whispering of things she felt she should know but didn't.
Fear gripped her as hard as it ever had as her poor call sent her cascading to the base of the mountain.
“Close your eyes. Catch your breath. Breathe.”
Clarity came to a voice in the silent cacophony, a soft, loving warmth accompanying it.
She closed her eyes. She caught her breath. She breathed. She recalibrated. She started the climb again.
First grip, Mizuki’s miramagi mouse pad.
There was an anchor already dug into the wall, this memory belonged to her. The show was a sanctuary for her when she was young, she had a sense of being created by Mizuki finding the show and losing herself in it. Her breathing becomes a little tamer.
The next handhold. Her diary. Her real one. One that belonged to her, not anyone else.
Despite being the only one to journal regularly, it wasn't a reflective diary. The pages were instead filled with anything she had needed that day to keep herself sane. to try and feel real. Two days in a row, poetry had become her escape. The dates jumped by a week and the poems were replaced by photos of a miramagi event she attended. Another week and a quick dabble in fanfiction took up three days of focus.
Empowered, she used this stability to climb as far as it would carry her, a fresh page filled quickly with thoughtless doodles and idle affirmations.
The date was jotted down fancily at the bottom of the page and she shut the book, looking calmly for the next grip.
Her bed called to her, and with it the music player on her phone. A lot of the music in their playlist was put there by her and the tiny glimmers of memories associated with each track slowly came together into a calming glow.
-
Mizuki opened her eyes. It was her, the energy and weight she felt were real. The day was a blur: sterile facts stood in place of real memories but they couldn't entirely obscure what she knew had happened to that girl. The vestiges of terror cowered at the edges of her awareness, gradually being put to rest by the music that flowed through her. The first Miramagi ending song, she noticed with a warm smile.
A day out with niigo, a comfortable lunch at a cafe close to the Akiyama house, and one insidious worm of doubt. One whose exact nature Mizuki wasn't privy to but who was still present too often in their memories. Beyond an impressively Mizuki excuse and a not-so-subtle escape back home, there wasn’t much of anything in Mizuki’s mind. She’d learned by now not to prod at the void too much internally, the gap was better filled by the others themselves. She picked up the diary that still lay next to her and leafed through the pages, quickly finding the newest page and smiling even more at the cute characters and the kind words they offered to each other and any who might hear them.
Mizuki loved the girl, even if she didn’t have the same connection tto Mizuki. She had saved Mizuki when she had needed her most, taken the reins at the darkest moments and brought her out of the abyss. A warm smile settled itself on her face as she hopped out of bed. The journal returned to its rightful place and Mizuki stretched, eager to use her newly clear mind to get to work on a new MV.
The girl lay dormant, resting comfortably at the top of the cliff, and Mizuki eagerly awaited her next appearance.