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Ever since she could remember, her skin was littered with burn marks.
Ringo never thought too much about it. They never hurt and she could cover them easily with makeup. Her doctors also didn’t worry too much, even considering them to be just birthmarks. A bit weird looking, they couldn’t deny, but nothing she had to worry about too much.
She’d had very vivid dreams since childhood but they were always hazy. It felt very real while she was in it but once she woke up, they were gone. So Ringo never worried. She had other things to focus on, like school and the never ending homework (that seemed more like torture inflicted legally by the teachers).
That is, until a blue haired boy started appearing in her dreams.
The same dream came over and over again, a dream that seemed too much like reality. It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It didn’t ruin her sleep quality and she could still go about her daily life without even considering sleep meds.
Something was very different about this particular dream. For the first time, it felt like a true nightmare. And the vividness of it just made things worse. She was seriously considering getting some sleep meds now.
After a few days of the same dream, Ringo could already remember the whole dream without even closing her eyes.
She was standing in a world filled with darkness. Something was very off. It wasn’t the type of dream where you felt like something might jump out of nowhere. No, it was the opposite. She knew, as a certainty, that there was no one else in this entire place.
She was completely alone.
There was no way to go. The darkness expanded everywhere and, again, she felt like she knew this was it. No way out.
This was her coffin.
Flames enveloped her whole body and she began to scream in pain. She couldn’t even tell where they came from or began. There was no more sensation in her body, just complete, overwhelming heat. Her eyelids were burning, her breath became flame immediately, and it was excruciating.
She knew those flames weren’t normal, not even infinite buckets of water would be able to put out that abominable fire.
She’d rather die immediately than keep burning, but it didn’t seem it’d ever stop until, suddenly, the flames were gone.
But the burning remained inside her eyes, lungs, and skin.
The floor changed under her feet: darkness gave way to small panels, flipping one after the other.
Were those penguin symbols?
A heavy something pressed around her. It hurt so much with the burning but it also felt somehow comforting. It was a person. How did they get here, when before she knew — could feel — no one could be here, no one should be here.
Why was a person in her coffin?
Arms were enveloping her. The pain and the burning seemed to still be there, she still couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, but it felt better knowing that there was someone with her. It felt less horrific to die alone now.
But who was this? Why would someone choose to come to this place, to die like this?
She would never have been able to choose this.
Even with the burn ever so present, her eyes worked somehow, and she tried to look up. Use the last bit of strength and sanity she had left to at least see who this was.
It was a boy. All she could remember after waking up was remarkably beautiful green eyes and dark, maybe blueish hair. She couldn’t tell in all the flames and her eyes were burning.
The one thing she could always remember, every single day when she woke up, was his smile before he said the same words before letting her go, before letting the dream end.
“I love you.”
. mawaru .
The sound of the doorbell woke her up as she tried to hold on to the dream. For a moment — a much too long moment — she thought she was in the wrong place, in the wrong world, and that something was missing. How could she think that when she woke up from being burned alive was more worrying than anything else?
Then again, something always seemed to be missing to her nowadays.
The insistent ringing of the doorbell made her forget, if only for a bit, about the dream. As Ringo started making her way to the door, still in her matching pink pajamas and slippers, she wondered idly who would be at this time – it was almost lunch time and her parents wouldn’t be home for a couple of days. The lovey-dovey couple was rekindling their romance on a second honeymoon. At her age, most of her friends had divorced parents, but her parents were always acting like teenagers in love, for Ringo’s greatest embarrassment (and also joy). She had always looked up to them, how they never tired of each other and seemed to be happy. Whenever she daydreamed about the future, she wanted that for herself. The only thing that brought them down was when they discussed the size of their family. It seemed like they always wanted a lot of children. Ringo also had wanted siblings but she never voiced it. It wasn’t her place to say that.
She opened the door and saw a familiar figure. The smiling man with glasses was almost like family. She instantly smiled at him. Tabuki-san! The older man had always been like an older brother to Ringo. They lived right next door and ever since she was very little, he had been around to help out, making him an unofficial member of the family.
He once told her he felt close to her family even before beginning to babysit her. It was strange since her parents only got to spend more time at home and meet their neighbors close to her birth. Even when asked, he never elaborated further. It was just a feeling, he’d always say.
In the later years, she didn’t see him nearly as much as before, but it was understandable. A married and successful man didn’t have time to spend with a high school student. But he always took the time to call and ask about her welfare. Tabuki-san was like the older brother she never had. Being honest, he’d also been the one she always pictured as her future husband, but she eventually gave up on that when she met his then girlfriend.
It stung, but not that much. Somehow, it felt natural that he’d drift to her and not Ringo. At times, she did want to lash out and feel like the world was against her, but something in her told her to stop. To stop acting like a child. Even though she was one.
“Hello, Ringo-chan. How are you today?” He smiled as easily as ever.
Tabuki-san was perhaps one of the happiest people she had ever met. He was never angry and he rarely lost patience – probably a result of tending to his little brother at a very young age.
“I’m great, thank you! I’m so glad to see you, Tabuki-san! It’s been quite a while since we last saw each other.” Ringo smiled brightly as she moved to give him space to enter the apartment.
“I’m sorry about that, Ringo-chan. So much has been going on… I hope you understand.” He smiled apologetically. “But I always try to make time for my unofficial little sister!” He smiled as he nuzzled the young girl’s hair.
Ringo smiled delightedly at the gesture of affection. It felt right for him to be an older brother for some reason.
When she was feeling particularly lonesome while her parents were off working and traveling, she often wondered how different things would be if she’d had one of the older siblings they grieved in private. If she could be selfish and picky, Ringo would have loved an older sister. Someone who went through all the same challenges she’s been experiencing now: school, romance, girls being mean, makeup, mystery solving, all of it.
Sometimes she got too lost in the daydreaming and even liked to picture herself. Pink-haired (why would that even be a color, she wondered, but it felt right), all bright smiles and unending confidence. An older sister of the same age as Tabuki-san. She'd grown up so spoiled, she just knew it. And somehow, she also just knew they’d definitely be married. For some reason, that thought made her very happy but also quite melancholic.
Sometimes she felt nostalgic for no reason whatsoever. How could one feel nostalgia for someone they never knew?
Even though he was already happily married, she couldn’t help shaking off that feeling. It wasn’t like she hated Yuri-san. The elegant blonde had always been like a role model to young Ringo. How she wished she could be as beautiful, stylish and graceful as her. She couldn’t quite call her a big sister, though, even though Yuri was always nice to her.
It felt wrong to give the title of big sister to anyone.
“How is Yuri-san? Is she already the size of a balloon? Can I see her? Do you have photos?” Ringo asked, almost bouncing from excitement.
Tabuki laughed happily. “Not yet! I don’t think she will even get that big, even though it’s only been four months. She’s always been so thin and she’s always eating healthily. It’s nice to finally relax and not get into those weird diets.”
“Hmm true.” Ringo added in a mockingly pensive mode. “But you can’t help it, Yuri-san is like some sort of French noblewoman, always so refined and lady-like! It would be hilarious to see her so big!” At this, both laughed.
After another laugh, Tabuki recomposed himself and, reaching for his bag, gave the young girl three pieces of paper, which she instantly recognized as Takarazuka tickets.
“It’s her last show before her maternity leave. We would really appreciate it if you and your parents would come along.” He explained while Ringo’s eyes shone.
She made a mental note to cancel anything she might have on that day. Yuri-san was an exceptional actress and her plays were always the starting point for Ringo’s creative daydreaming. She loved writing stories based on the latest play and making it even more dramatic and flashier to everyone’s delight. Her parents were glad to have another creative around and Yuri-san even offered to play the main lead if one of the books ever became a play. That was bigger praise than anything. Tabuki-san also offered to help with the music score. She was really too lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful people.
“Can’t wait!! I’ll call my parents today to make sure they clean their schedule. Are you in charge of the orchestra this time as well?”
“Not this time. They didn’t have any songs with piano and I’m still a training conductor. But my younger brother will be there with the violin.” He smiled fondly at the memory of his family. His deceased father had been a famous conductor and their mother, a talented violinist slash pianist. Tabuki-san, the elder son, displayed incredible determination and, with time, he became an acclaimed pianist and aspiring maestro while his brother chose the violin. He once told her that they had an unspoken agreement to never play the others’ instruments to avoid a competition. Apparently, their mother had been very strict and demanding concerning musical talent.
The married couple’s childhood hadn’t been perfect by a long shot, but they managed to make a name for themselves in the artistic scene and later met each other. Ringo had only heard bits and pieces of their past, but she knew it involved a song composed by him with the name of Momoka. Yuri, still a newbie at that point, fell in love with the song and, eventually, with the composer. Both loved the name and music, claiming the meaning was very important for both of them.
Ringo never told anyone but she always felt a strong link with the song as well. Like Momoka was someone she knew. But that sounded crazy, so she kept quiet.
“It’s okay if you can’t make it.” He interrupted her before she could say anything, he knew how much this meant for her. “What if I play a piece for you and your parents on the piano, with my brother on the violin and Yuri on the vocals, like a private concert?” He winked, already knowing the answer. Ringo was their number one fan.
She nodded eagerly while showering her darling unofficial older brother with compliments.
The bespectacled man only smiled. “I’m really glad you like my songs, Ringo-chan. Sometimes I feel like I’m not fit into this business at all…” He became focused, as if remembering old times. “Have I ever told you that my dream was to become a teacher?”
Ringo nodded. She knew he only became a musician to satisfy his mother. While he liked music, he didn’t have a real passion for the career, not in the way his brother had. But he still played beautifully and was very well known. Picturing the pianist as a teacher with a labcoat — why was that always the mental picture she had, she could never understand — didn’t seem like such an impossible notion. It was almost like he had been a teacher once… but that was simply impossible since she had known him all his life and he had never even once been a teacher.
“Well, I gotta go. I still have to give the invitations but I wanted to make sure I gave yours first.” He smiled gratefully.
She nodded and led him to the door, hugging him goodbye. After he left, she closed the door and went back to the sofa, looking at the tickets in her hand. One of them had the word ‘guest’ written on it. Ringo smiled; she already had someone in mind
.
“A play?” The soft-spoken long-haired girl asked Ringo as they sat down to drink tea. “Featuring Yuri-san and Tabuki-san? I’d love to go and finally meet them, Ringo-chan, but would that be really okay?”
Ringo smiled warmly at the younger girl. “Of course! You’re like family, Himari-chan!” And she meant it. If Tabuki-san and Yuri-san were like the older siblings she never had, then Takakura Himari was the adorable younger sister Ringo never had.
It was so strange. She sometimes felt like she was crazy. She had friends, her parents were around, she was doing okay in school… Why did she think the people closest to her were like relatives to her?
Was she that lonely? If asked, of course, she would say no. But if Ringo was being honest… She always felt lonely.
Like something was missing. Not just someone, but multiple people. Feelings, moments, things that should have been there but weren’t.
Things that didn’t even exist. She couldn’t put a finger on it.
It was most often when she was with family, the married couple and her newest friend: Himari-chan. They didn’t even know each other that well yet. They happened to meet in one of the art preparation schools. Ringo was taking writer’s courses, trying for awards and Himari was taking singing classes. It felt weird for both of them but once they glanced at each other in the hallway, they felt like they just… knew who the other was.
Like love at first sight, platonically. It sounded insane but made sense for them.
They’d save time to chat after classes even if they were different ages, attended different schools and lived far apart. Still, they felt like family. And their little chats at cafes really made their day. Chatting away about their lives and the little things felt so comforting, so freeing. Like a reward, even.
Then it would happen. Whenever they talked about family, a sudden surge of something like memories, like understanding, hit them to the core and neither could say a thing. At times like these, Himari would quickly put a hand over the scar on her forehead and Ringo would touch her left wrist, searching for the burned mark in her dreams. Then, as if nothing happened — it was just the cold, I felt a breeze suddenly, maybe it was a mosquito — they’d merely laugh and the feeling would go quickly away as both girls started chatting about usual happenings in their lives.
It felt like they held a secret common to both of them, but neither knew what that could even be. When that nostalgic feeling hit them – especially when Ringo was at the younger girl’s house, eating curry or at the kitchen, cleaning the plates – they would both touch their marks, search for something in the room and finally, look at each other in a sense of understanding.
Sometimes — and how she dreaded those times — Ringo felt like the Himari in front of her wasn’t the Himari she knew. The girl looked older, her eyes still bright but also tired; her entire countenance was slightly different — slightly off — in these moments.
Ringo believed Himari also saw something in her, but the younger girl never said what.
Weirdly, it was in those moments that they felt even more like a family – by some unknown link neither could name and that would swiftly disappear and make them almost forget about those few moments of clearness, the link was still present. They held a secret no one, including both of them, knew of and would probably never discover.
And that secret was heavily linked with the boy of her dreams – of that Ringo was sure.
. penguin .
It was frustrating to keep having the same dream but at the same time she always wished it wouldn’t stop. The feeling of burning alive in an unknown place was absolutely terrible but the mystery of that boy was just as tempting. She both wished they’d stop but also that they’d continue in search for clues.
She was back at that dark, horrible place again. The air was cold, stale, like always. Not a soul in this plane but her. And, like clockwork, soon enough flames appeared and started to burn her.
The heat was unbearable and all she could do was scream as her parts of her skin started to peel off and her legs gave out. She could feel those same penguin cold tiles on the floor, but she couldn’t reach to touch them or lie down. She felt like she had once laid down while covered in flames and that hadn’t worked at all.
The pain was becoming more and more unbearable to a point where she could only cry and scream words to the air, when suddenly a pair of arms engulfed her in an attempt to take the flames out of her body. Strong, wide shoulders and a flash of blue passed her eyes as she continued to burn endlessly and hold tight to the boy for dear life.
She was now shouting his name, holding and crying. She was desperate and the pain was too much — too much for any human being to bear; anyone burdened with this was being dealt unfairly by the universe.
It was so painful, so unfair. And yet, for some reason, she felt like it was her own doing. She was burning like this because it was her fault.
No, not her fault. But she still chose to burn.
This made no sense. Why would she choose this? Why would anyone?
Those same arms were embracing her again. That the boy was here with her – but why would he be, shouldn’t he be with… who again? – The pain was easing into a burning heat that would lead her to death, but she wasn’t alone now.
Even if she couldn’t remember the boy’s name, just his presence made this all — her future death included — that much more bearable. Maybe this was as close to peace as she could ever get.
The dream was getting further along. Now she could actually see him better and notice he was trying to talk to her.
He was saying something but she couldn’t hear half of it with all that flame noise; her eardrums were going to explode. But she could make out:
“This is our burden-“ Those words would come again amidst a noise and smell of something burning – her flash.
And then the words that made her lose sleep completely.
“I love you.”
Those three words weren’t unknown to Ringo. They never had been. She heard those words on a daily basis, coming from her parents and even in impersonal letters of love, which didn’t move her as much as she’d like them to. Hearing it from her family was wonderful. Reading it from strangers felt empty. But it had never been like that.
Her dreams were now always going up to this point. She desperately wished to see more, to know how this would end.
And who was he? How did he know her? Why did he feel so familiar and yet be a complete stranger?
Whenever she heard those words in another similar dream, it was like heat was engulfing her in a completely different way. Those words weren’t meant for flattery. They had been passionate and truthful. As if the boy who uttered those words knew exactly who she was, the best and absolute worst parts of her. All of her quirks, flaws, weird obsessions and repressed dramatic reactions, all of it… and still accepting her.
And, as always, the dream would end the same way. That horrible burning sensation – not the one brought by the words, oh no, that warmth remained throughout the whole night - would go away and those flames would vanish, but only for a second. She would catch a glimpse of those breathtaking eyes and blue hair, of all things — she was sure now that his hair was blue, she was seeing it every single night (and nap time). A beautiful shade of blue.
Before she could reply, say something, anything — the dream Ringo was always going to reply back those same three words, no hesitation — the flames were back, engulfing everything around her once more – but never burning her. Those flames were completely on the boy now and she couldn’t stop the panic that took over her.
She reached her arm to him as far as possible, stretching it all the way to brush those larger fingertips, throwing her whole body into the motion, desperately trying to to hold that hand, keep him safe, keep him with her – before the flames were gone with the boy.
And it was back to complete darkness. But she was no longer in the coffin. It wasn’t her coffin anymore, it was his.
Even knowing that, Ringo would open her eyes and frantically search for the boy in a futile attempt in her dark bedroom.
There was no more to the dream, to her horror. It always ended there.
And then she saw less and less of that dream.
From daily to twice a week to once a month, it was decreasing. And she was terrified of forgetting.
She made a new habit: as soon as her eyes opened, she would immediately reach for the paper and pencil she kept by her side table and furiously begin to sketch the face from her dreams. Ringo tried to grab every single detail by her hands, almost, like she couldn’t let a single thing slip. But aside from those three words, she couldn’t remember anything else.
.
Her burned marks - which weren’t more painful than simple scars – became incredibly warm, but never in an uncomfortable manner.
It was like a memory, those burns.
Ringo remembered when Himari once commented about the cut on her forehead. It was apparently a death sentence for any career in front of a screen but she didn’t care. Using makeup was more than enough if she had the skill, so she always said.
Her sister- no, her friend once shared how she wished the scar would never go away. It was like a beautiful memory to her, even though she was born with it.
The burned marks were exactly the same thing for Ringo. Those marks that stretched from her arms unto her back spoke only of words of love and warmth rather than pain. It didn’t matter to her that it made her less attractive and ‘no man would want a girlfriend with that’.
Neither her parents nor the doctors ever understood why she refused to go through surgery to remove them. They could afford it. It didn’t matter to her that she was young and that an early surgery and treatment were best; it mattered even less that she might lose out on good men. As if good men would actually care.
.
Ringo starts praying before she sleeps.
The dreams are infrequent and she never knows when she’ll get them. Sometimes it’s just a portion. It always ends at the same place but the start is random. In some dreams, she’s been burning for a while. In others, she spends what feels like eternity in that dark nothingness.
Why are the dreams appearing less and less? She can’t tell. It’s not based on anything she does during the days or nights. She tested; she has a dream journal where she writes down everything: what she ate, where she went, what she did, and what was the last thing she did before sleeping. But there’s no cause or relation. It’s random.
The months pass and things start happening rapidly. The baby is born: a beautiful girl that seems to only have only gotten her father’s hair; the rest is all Yuri. Her name was obvious even though Ringo never asked.
Of course it was Momoka.
Even now, Ringo didn’t have the courage to ask the couple what Momoka meant to them. It felt personal, still too raw for them. Momoka seemed like a heavier weight, a stronger word, for the couple than for Ringo. If they ever told her, she’d be all ears.
But it wasn’t her place to pry.
Himari-chan finally got to the final audition phase in one of the many auditions she did monthly. This one was for an idol group. Not quite what Ringo imagined Himari would go for — the girl always seemed more like a solo act to her, as if she didn’t need others to shine — but Himari was ecstatic.
“I met some of the other contestants in the last round. I really liked two of them. If possible, I’d like to have them as teammates.” She said she reminded them of the famous duo currently blasting in all pop stations. Ringo didn’t listen much to their music, it always felt like something was missing there.
She was happy for Himari as long as it worked out and it was a safe job. She’d make sure to look out for her younger sist- friend.
Somehow, she had the feeling she wasn’t the only one watching out for the aspiring idol.
.
In the past months, she had exactly two dreams. Only the last one showed her everything she’s seen before.
Right now, she’s back there. Everything is playing as it always did, like a film that keeps being replayed.
But something feels different. The events are all the same. The flames, the boy, the words, nothing is new.
And yet, she’s certain of it. As certain as she’s always been in these dreams.
This is the very last time she’ll dream about this.
There’s a feeling in the air, like the dream — the boy — is trying to communicate so many things at once: sadness, love, friendship, gratitude, deprecation, joy, exasperation, delight… and most of all, repentance.
It feels like the boy in the dreams is saying goodbye to her.
. drum .
Under the heavy rain with no umbrella, she’s dripping at the entrance of the Takakura house and Ringo couldn’t care less. In front of her is a very surprised Himari.
Ringo could barely breathe. Even though it was raining, that burning sensation was the strongest it had ever been before as her limbs trembled because of the heat, rather than the cold. A remnant of the dream — it’d soon be gone but she dreaded losing the flames, losing the last dream… no, memory of him.
Her mind was going over a mile; it felt like she was seeing everything before her death. Except she wasn’t dying.
And she wasn’t seeing her life. At least, not the life she knew.
Only one word escaped her lips while she was still gulping for breath after running such a long distance.
“Sh- Shouma…”
The face of the blue-haired boy was finally on her mind as she whispered his name under her breath.
“Shouma! Shouma, SHOUMA!” Ringo was shouting the name like a spell. Trying to make him appear before her.
Himari’s eyes widened.
“Takakura Shouma! Himari-chan, do you remember him??” Please say you do, Ringo was begging in her mind.
At the other’s silence, Ringo pressed.
“Himari!”
Please say yes, please tell me I’m not crazy, I’m not imagining things, I’m not seeing a different reality, that Tabuki-san and Yuri-san are the good people they are now and not what she saw- is still seeing in the back of her mind.
Please tell me that Shouma exists. That he is still here.
Her hopes were crushed when the younger girl meekly said no.
Falling to her knees while crying, her mind exploding with so many memories, so many things unsaid, she was confusing dreams and reality — but weren’t they both reality?
Himari hugged her the same way Shouma did. That same warmth, that same tenderness… It was as wonderful as it was painful.
The flames were no longer there. She could only feel the cold piercing drops of rain. Himari’s parents were going to come soon, with all the wailing Ringo was doing. But she didn’t care.
If there were no Shouma, no Momoka, what were those dreams? Those memories? What was happening with her?
Himari held her tight and cried a little. Even now, she still seemed to understand — even if neither could put it into words.
“Ringo-chan… I’m sorry I can’t help. I don’t know what this is but… I feel it too. Like something is missing”. Himari whispered those words in a half cry.
A secret she couldn’t bear to say too loudly. A happiness she couldn’t bear to destroy, even if to wonder or to complain.
Ringo felt guilty for even crying. She felt like she shouldn’t. Like this was a gift Shouma gave her and she should enjoy it. But what was the point if he wasn’t there? Wasn’t even real?
Letting it out helped. She was still crying but no longer in that same almost panic state. She felt so ashamed. What was she doing crying in front of her friend’s house like this? Asking about a brother she clearly didn’t have? Ringo knew the Takakura household. The parents were hard workers and tried to give their only daughter, Himari, everything they could.
It was bizarre and yet Ringo couldn’t help but feel like the family was incomplete. Like it was missing people.
Himari brought her out of her thoughts. The younger girl still had some unshed tears in her eyes. She once again looked different: older, wiser, pained. Someone who loved and who lost. She whispered so only Ringo would hear her, like one of their many shared secrets.
“I don’t remember a Takakura Shouma, but I do remember a Takakura Kanba.”
. mawaru penguindrum .