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Imagining the smell of burned flesh and blood had brought forth bile to the back of her throat, her ears ringing as if a result of the cacophony of shouts and explosions all around her that she could vividly hear.
Yet none of them were real to her—the smell, the sounds, nor the sensations. The memories that locked her up in that place were not her own but when Iroha opened her eyes and found herself trapped within those memories while searching for rest, she couldn't bring herself to break free from it.
She had seared the sight into her eyes, and scarred the chaos shown by the memories into her heart. And when she had woken up, only then did she feel the stinging pain of freshly made crimson crescents on the palm of her hands—the nails that Roka had just freshly maintained for her a week ago now broken in the corners.
Not enough.
Still not enough in comparison to Yachiyo having been there to personally witness those events. What she felt within those memories were surely just a drop when compared to what Yachiyo had felt.
Eight thousand years. She had known that when Yachiyo told her of her own experiences, she would hold back. That’s why she turned to Fushi instead—loyal that the creature was, it would not reject her sincere desire to see all of Yachiyo’s side of the story even when faced with the risk of irreversibly damaging her oh too human body.
Her mind had collapsed when it happened—Yachiyo told her she had been unconscious (tossing and turning, groaning out in pain, foaming in the mouth as her real body became doused in sweat) for several days and had resorted to erasing a portion of the memories shown to her to lessen the burden.
She had done it hastily.
Had Yachiyo been able to make the choice, she would have erased everything that was stained with blood and suffering from Iroha’s body. But she could only erase small things, unable to pick carefully with her franticness in wanting Iroha to wake up as soon as possible.
So Iroha was left with memories of wars and conflicts, of lovely first meetings that ended with cruel partings.
Iroha never wanted to tell her of these—that her mortal soul now bears similar scars to the former moon princess’ immortal one. Because she knows just how much Yachiyo loves. She would certainly blame herself for her failure of relieving Iroha of the nightmares. She had blamed herself for being sent far back into the past when it’s not her fault at all. She still does blame herself even now.
The divide of eight thousand years was enough for her. She doesn't want Yachiyo to distance herself because of such a thing.
But Iroha was—and always will be—someone with a mortal body. Her insane endurance and tolerance may have been honed from several years of grinding herself to the bones because of the circumstances she was in during her youth up to now but even that had its limits.
The eyebags she carries grow darker with every day that passes by them. Iroha had grown slow with her responses to other people—instead, her obsession towards her research burned with more intensity. Yachiyo couldn't even tell her to take a break recently, even if just to eat the food that her friends and family all thoughtfully sent her.
No one could ever bear to see the person they hold in their heart walk down a path of ruin like this. Not even Yachiyo could bear to do so. She’s at her limits, and she knows that Iroha’s at her breaking point too.
[“Iroha.”]
The laboratory’s lights had long been turned off—the researchers under her had gone home several hours ago, leaving her alone. The digital clock on her table showed the time.
4:26 AM.
It was, by no means, unusual. There was never a day in Director Iroha’s five years (from being one of the newly recruited researchers to owning her own lab) where she went home early or on time. First to arrive, last to leave.
Most of the time, just like now, she doesn't even leave.
Yachiyo, the virtual songstress of Tsukuyomi as well as she who once was called Princess Kaguya of the Moon, no longer had that gentle, reassuring smile on her face as she gazed at the hard-working side profile of the Director.
Iroha doesn't respond.
[“Iroha.”]
She speaks again, this time with authority in her tone. Her eyes are dangerously narrowed, the hand that was gently patting Fushi stopping. [“If you ignore me one more time, I will get angry.”]
Her words, laced with threat, finally caused the woman to falter.
The cursor on her screen blinked at Iroha’s dazed face.
Once. Twice. Iroha tries to type but the words come out disjointed. Her thoughts were thrown into disarray with just a few angry words from Yachiyo. Her fingers twitch before finally receding from the keyboard.
She takes a breath—
And then faces Yachiyo with an awkward attempt of a smile on her face. “Yessss?” she drawls, her voice raspy from lack of hydration. It makes her wince from the pain of dry throat. She quickly reaches out for her bottle of water, drinking from it in one movement.
Though, any excuses she had prepared in that brief span of time were extinguished upon seeing the expression now on Yachiyo’s face.
The idol’s lips were pulled into a thin-line, her normally soft blue eyes now taking on a chilling hue. Piercing and sharp.
Never had Yachiyo looked so beautifully furious.
[“I won't beat around the bush.”] Her voice too, contained the chill. [“What’s wrong with you?”]
She could lie to her.
Sakayori Iroha lived a life full of “It’s okay”s, “I’m alright”s, and “Nothing biggie”s. By all means, she should have been able to lie smoothly from her experience but the moment she tried to, her tongue freezes before even forming the words.
An indisputable truth is that Iroha Sakayori would never—could never defy any and every of demands, requests and pleas coming from the girl on the screen. Never from Yachiyo. Never from Kaguya. Her heart a pitifully easy malleable material in front of her, free to be molded into any shapes they wanted.
(“Easy-ha~” “She really is Easy-ha~”)
Futility realized, Iroha opts to shutting her mouth.
It’s a stand-off then, to see who would crack first.
This isn't the first time this has happened.
Throughout the years since Iroha dedicated her life into creating a body for her, there have been several instances of Yachiyo attempting to pry whatever tormented Iroha but busy as the two of them were, they always ended right there—unanswered, deflected.
But not this time, it seems. Because even after several minutes of silence, Yachiyo doesn't offer the olive branch Iroha was hoping for. It made the hands that she had folded on her lap shake momentarily.
It made sense. Because back then, Iroha would have gone back to normal too. But as if sensing that a breakthrough in her research is so close at hand, her own mentality turned so stupidly fragile that the eight thousand years worth of memory (not hers) that was usually placed under sturdy lock and key ended up fleeting towards the forefront of her mind. And she really can't bring herself to take a stumble now. Another delay—time spent on fixing her mindset—would throw her out of her rhythm.
She’s made her wait for eight thousand years.
If she could, she doesn't want to make her wait any longer.
“I…” Iroha chokes out, mind racing. Behind her eyelids, she can see them again. Bodies, incomplete and dyed in so much of that crimson liquid, strewn all over the grounds. Blazing fires so towering they consumed anything. The piercing wails of the survivors, the ringing silence left behind by death.
It’s Yachiyo, who relieves her of her difficulty to speak.
[“Eight thousand years,”] she starts. [“They were never meant for a mortal body to bear witness to.”]
The iciness of her eyes thawed, its azure color instead rippling. Yachiyo doesn't easily show such a vulnerability, an exception was only made when they formally reunited from her elation of finally witnessing the beginning of their story and her relief from being chosen when she had thought that Iroha would walk away.
(She wouldn't have blamed her then. Their story started so outlandishly and it bore an ending barely capable of being called happy. But Iroha ran towards her and promised her a happier outcome and if Yachiyo were to be allowed, she’d love for nothing but to continue clinging on to this mortal girl so full of determination to rewrite destiny.)
The mere sight of Yachiyo’s saddened eyes further dampened Iroha’s spirits. She guiltily averts her gaze.
[“It’s all my fault.”]
Iroha’s head jerks back towards Yachiyo. “No, it’s not!” she blurts out, firm and steady.
The exclamation came out loud and so sudden that Yachiyo was also taken by surprise by her fierce response.
[“You…”]
Right. What the hell is she doing? It’s like even after several years, she’s never learned a single damn thing—
Iroha grinds her teeth. “It’s not your fault at all,” she tells her, voice breaking.
“It was my—I chose to watch it all. I wanted to share your burden, even if it was way out of my league.”
She remembers how when things had settled, Yachiyo had decisively shut Fushi out from coming to her side. Worse, she refused to let the small thing to even enter the doors of Tsukuyomi’s castle. The sight of Yachiyo’s beloved pet hovering near the gates had been quite novel that it caused a stir amongst the playerbase but all it did was break Iroha’s heart because it should be her getting the cold-shoulder, not the poor creature who only wanted to relieve its master of the suffering she’s suffered while waiting.
She pleaded to Yachiyo on Fushi’s behalf, taking three days before finally softening the heart of the songstress. The two, master and familiar, had a talk afterwards that Iroha wasn't privy too but they came out of it clearly reconciled.
Iroha lets out a shaky sigh, covering her face with her hands. “Because, Yachiyo, you’ve always been so strong. And that kind of strength isn't something anyone can have easily.”
Wasn't she herself an example of it? Model student, amazing gamer, diligent part-time worker. All her friends worried about the insanity she subjected herself to in her youth but all of that was the result of her family’s tragedy. She endured, alone, with only her grandfather supporting her.
And here, Yachiyo was, enduring for longer than she can wrap her head around and came out of it as the revered and idolized number one Diva of Tsukuyomi. No one ever questioned the authenticity of her claim to just be an advanced AI but only Iroha knew that once, this woman full of uncontested authority, was the whimsical princess of the moon full of innocence and life that Iroha envied. That Iroha loved.
And she saw for herself just what changed the smile on Yachiyo’s face in those eight thousand years. Once an expression of unrestrained glee, the curve of her lips now bore the weariness from having seen the highs and lows of human history.
It was heart-wrenching.
It was unfair.
Her Princess Kaguya had been so dazzling that she couldn't help but be led by her everywhere—her well-planned life full of monotony so easily disrupted by just a couple words from her. And now…
She’s glad, really. From those eight thousand years, she also saw how much Yachiyo came to love this world. She no longer yearned for the moon and considered this place her home. Her heart has always been so full of love that it overwhelmed Iroha and made her stupidly fall in love too.
Even then—if she were able to, she’d have wrenched Yachiyo (Kaguya) from the hands of the cruel cycle they were trapped in but she’s ultimately just a human.
This, her act of creating an artificial body and defying whatever god out there, was her greatest concession.
Maybe one day, another Iroha and Kaguya would finally find a way to break free from their fates but she and Yachiyo lived in the moment. Right here and right now, still trying to write themselves a future together where they no longer have to fear a day where they would part again with just whimpered “I love you”s in place of a proper goodbye.
And from the second Yachiyo lamented that she couldn't feel her warmth—that she wanted to taste her pancakes again, her heart had been steeled.
So she had thrown herself, head first, into an uncertain tomorrow. Started her studies from scratch—her brother called her out for the insanity of her decision but Kaguya always had this ability to make her abandon all sense and reason. Five years later and only now is her research finally showing great progress. She had helped implement the thermoreceptors update in Tsukuyomi not too long ago and she was determined to also find a way to make it viable to implement on an artificial body.
She had been too foolish, too naive, to think that nothing could stop her now.
Beads of tears rolled down her cheeks, exhaustion bringing her shoulders down as she leaned forward with a sob. “Damn it. If only I was better—”
[“Stupid.”]
Yachiyo’s voice rings out from the monitor, the insult carrying with it a choked sound. [“Stop crying over there. Come to my side, won’t you?”]
The sincere request left Iroha in a daze, taking a good couple of seconds before she scrambled for her smart contacts. She fumbles to open the case, a small curse escaping her lips but it lightened the weight in her chest when she heard Yachiyo letting out a giggle from it.
Shakily, she composed herself. She wipes away her tears before putting in the contacts.
She logs in.
For Yachiyo’s convenience, the songstress had bound Iroha’s log-in point to be at the top floor of her castle.
It was her desire to be the first person Iroha sees whenever stepping afoot into the world she herself had created. Iroha had no major objections aside from the fact that it made it tricky when she wanted to explore the other parts of Tsukuyomi or meet someone else.
Her identity was now that of Yachiyo’s primary music producer (as well as a frequent guest in her Lives) but she still doesn't want to bring trouble to their doorsteps by being seen leaving her castle through its frontgate.
When Iroha finally fully materialized, she had a split second to brace herself for Yachiyo’s tackle hug.
“Oof—” Iroha grunts before smiling softly at Yachiyo, stroking her head.
Arriving here had cleared up her head, somewhat. Now, thinking of what happened just seconds ago—her crying pathetically and such—only brings forth a wave of shame and embarrassment. With a blushing face, Iroha looked away and shyly spoke up.
“Erm. Sorry. For earlier. I don't really know what came to me—it’s a little embarrassing.”
She’s 22 years old this year, yet she's still crying like some child. But it sufficed as a distraction from the nightmarish sights because now, it’s the thought of how childish she was that torments her waking moments.
“It’s okay.” Yachiyo says, words muffled against the fabric of Iroha’s clothes. She nuzzled closer, stealing more of the warmth she’s always loved and craved.
Iroha idly remembers the day she implemented the update for thermoreceptors in Tsukuyomi. She had immediately logged in after the maintenance and was also quickly wrapped in a tight hug by Yachiyo. The woman had not let go of her for as long as she was active, always seeking a patch of her skin to grab hold of.
It was comforting to Iroha, too. To feel her as if she was already in a physical body. After all, five years had passed since she and Kaguya parted with no goodbyes. It was also her dream to be able to have that confirmation that she was there, real and by her side.
Her tail flicks behind her, and she can feel her digital body start to purr.
Yes.
Purr.
Because while she was working on figuring out how to implement the remaining senses in their entirety for Tsukuyomi, Yachiyo was also busy figuring out what other updates she can work on. For better or for worse, she decided to add some of the characteristics of a player’s chosen animal representation to the game. Even now, she still has an active survey for the userbase on what else to add.
Really, Iroha had a suspicion that she did it just to hear her purr. With the requirements for it being sufficient warmth given to the player.
Nothing was more shameful than this.
“Y-Yachiyo…” Helpless, Iroha’s fox ears drooped as her face burned redder. “Is that enough for you?”
Yachiyo’s nuzzling comes to an end, the white-haired diva finally looking at Iroha.
The corners of her eyes were rimmed red, traces of tears still visible. Immediately, Iroha’s heart softened.
“Iroha.” Yachiyo whispers, stepping even closer into Iroha’s personal space. Their faces centimeters away from one another.
Iroha tugs on her choker, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
“Let’s talk, shall we?” Yachiyo steps away but not before grabbing her by the hand. Her hold was tight (it always has been since she was able to finally feel Iroha’s warmth) as she led them to where they always gazed at the hanging moon. “I don’t think we can just drop the topic this time.”
The topic, of course, was the fact that her memories had left Iroha in a state worse than she’s ever seen her before. Iroha lets out a sigh but doesn't object.
They come to a stop before the railings, overlooking the bustling sight of the users below the castle.
Yachiyo doesn't let go of her.
“Truth to be told.” Yachiyo looks up. “More than anything, I felt… very happy when I found out what you’ve done at first.”
She curls her fingers against Iroha’s, interlocking them together. “There’s always been a part of me that is so very selfish. I wanted you to choose me over everything. That even when faced with something insurmountable, you’d still choose me the way you fought your hardest the night I was taken away when I had told you before that I’ll be going back.”
“Iroha.” Yachiyo lets her head rest on Iroha’s shoulder. “When I saw you on the ground, going through my memories, I didn't feel panic at first but elation. Only when you remained unresponsive for longer than I thought did I begin to feel despair.”
She closes her eyes. “I’m a very bad person, aren’t I?”
No answer comes from the woman by her side but then Yachiyo hears the rustling of her clothes. She cracks her eyes open and finds Iroha gazing at her with so much emotion.
Iroha then raises their entwined hands—brings it close to her lips.
A kiss is pressed on the back of Yachiyo’s hand.
“That sounds ridiculous,” Iroha murmurs. “You’re the kindest person with the biggest heart in existence. What’s a little bit of selfishness? You’re the one who deserves it the most and I’m willing.”
Anything and everything—if Yachiyo wanted the stars alongside the moon then Iroha would have found a way for her one way or another.
It’s a realization that’s always been in the back of Iroha’s mind, an unspoken truth she already acknowledged long ago on that night of fireworks when they both wore yukatas picked out by each other.
No, that’s not quite right. It’s not an unspoken truth. She had written it, on the melodies she created. On the lyrics she wrote with her.
『Let me hear your true feelings
Because I just want to try making them come true』
Once more, Yachiyo’s eyes ripple with tears.
She has always been so easy to cry. Even eight thousand years couldn't change that.
Likewise, her tears stirred nothing but ache in Iroha’s chest. She pulls Yachiyo over, collecting her into her arms. “Hey, why are you crying now?”
“Y-You cried earlier but I can’t? Iro-P, you’re being quite mean,” Yachiyo mumbles, clutching the fabric of Iroha’s clothes.
Helpless, Iroha laughs. “I didn’t say you can’t. I just think we’ve had enough tears. I’m sorry for making you cry.”
"At least you know how to apologize.”
“Huh? You talk like I don’t always apologize.”
“Mmh… I’m not sure about that.”
“Now you’re the one being mean to me?”
Yachiyo slots her face in the crook of Iroha’s neck.
Iroha looks down at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can you…” Yachiyo pauses as the tips of her ears turn slightly crimson. “Stay with me here? As long as you can.”
“Oh, there’s our selfish princess,” Iroha jokes but nevertheless, relents. “Of course, anything you want.”
A contented hum leaves Yachiyo’s lips. “We can watch the sunrise from here too, it’s about time after all.”
At her words, Iroha swipes her hand to glimpse at the time.
5:03 AM
“Okay.” Iroha answers, slowly guiding them to a proper seating place. “I think it would be good for me to take a break too. I swear some words are starting to not make any sense to me the more I type them.”
“Pfft.” Yachiyo covers her mouth with her free sleeved hand. “That sounds a little ridiculous.”
“I know, right?” Iroha grins. “The can of caffeine I drank earlier will take awhile to leave my system so it’s not like I can go to sleep now either.”
“But you’ll go to sleep later, yes?”
“Hai, hai. That’s an Iro-P guarantee.”
They settled to a comfortable position, their backs against the wall and their bodies leaning into each other. Their hands are placed on each other’s, their grips tight.
They watched in silence as the digital world transitioned from night to day, the skies once dark with the stars clear now turning to a warmer shade.
And then Yachiyo starts humming her songs.
And then Iroha couldn't help but join her in humming too, the melodies as familiar to her as they are to the diva. They share a satisfied smile with each other, simply just basking in each other’s comforting presence.
“... Actually, I feel like we’re forgetting something.” Iroha mumbles in between songs some time later.
Yachiyo doesn't even turn her head to answer. “If you forgot about it, then it probably wasn’t something important.”
“Y’know what? Maybe you’re right.”
“Thanks for dropping by. And for the food too. Did you enjoy your trip with your family?”
Iroha spins on her computer chair, gratefully taking the bag that’s definitely full of delicious take-out again from Mami’s hands.
Her best friend since high school gives her a beaming smile. “The kids enjoyed getting to go out. They really made quite a ruckus that it gave my husband and I a headache trying to get them under control.”
Iroha giggles. “Well, the twins must’ve wanted to take advantage of the two of you being there together to keep an eye on them to cause problems on purpose.”
"At least we got to take a vacation. What about you, Director Sakayori?” Mami teases. “Any plans yet? Always so hard-working, don’t you deserve a good break?”
Iroha raises an amused brow. “Maybe after this stretch. I’m finalizing up some details and applying for some more funds.”
Mami clicks her tongue. “Doesn’t sound like you’ll be free anytime soon, what a bummer.”
[“Don’t worry. If she finally gets some free time, Yaccho will definitely tell everyone so we can arrange an outing too!”] Yachiyo pipes in from her monitor.
“Oh, Yachiyo!” Mami exclaims. “That sounds great, we’ll leave our overachieving head researcher in your capable hands then!”
“Haah. I’m not a child, y’know.” Iroha shakes her head with an exasperated smile.
“You’re not but you kind of are terrible at pacing yourself, Iroha.” Mami continues to tease before then snapping her head towards Yachiyo’s direction. “Oh, right! I have a question.”
Iroha tilts her head, reaching out for her water bottle. “A question for Yachiyo?”
“Kind of—I was just wondering. Yesterday was supposed to be Yachiyo's weekly Live but it got cancelled, so…”
Iroha freezes. Memories of what took place yesterday rushed back to her mind.
(“... Actually, I feel like we’re forgetting something.”
“If you forgot about it, it probably wasn't anything important.”)
They had spent so long watching the skies that Fushi had to come and remind them that Yachiyo’s activation time (24 hours) was up and she had to recharge for several hours. It was too late for either of them to remember that Yachiyo had a Live planned that day and Fushi clearly didn't care that much to tell them about it.
As a result, Yachiyo readily and happily placed the blame of missing the Live on the sea bunny’s head.
Fushi still didn't care.
“Iroha?”
Feeling guilty because she was partly the reason why Yachiyo couldn’t make it, Iroha prepared to answer—
[“Oh, that’s because Iro-P kept me up alllll night the day before the Live~”]
“Huh??” Mami turns her wide-eyed stare at Iroha.
Iroha burns bright red. “Not what you’re thinking! Not like it's possible either!”
Unfortunately for her poor attempt to defend herself, Yachiyo kept on going.
The diva sighs while placing a hand on her cheek, looking clearly troubled. [“Yaccho couldn't match her stamina but alas, what could an old lady like me do with her youthful energy?”]
Her increasingly incriminating words made Iroha spill her water onto herself.
“Wow…” Mami whistles. “I knew you were always freaky, Iroha but keeping Yachiyo up for so long she missed her Live?” she says, feigning being stunned. Clearly, she had caught up to the joking tone in Yachiyo’s words but still chose to embarrass her best friend.
“... Ya-chi-yo.” Iroha says through gritted teeth, brow twitching.
She reaches out a hand in an attempt to turn off Yachiyo’s monitor but before she could even do that, the diva had already run off with a “Teehee~” and left the screen.
Mami, after witnessing the chaos instigator flee, also decided that it was the best time to escape Iroha’s wrath. “Oh, look at the time! I gotta go. Hope you enjoy your lunch, Director Sakayori!”
Exasperated, Iroha watched as her best friend sped towards the door out of her office. When the door finally closed shut, she turned a glare at the empty monitor.
“Next time, I really will have Fushi sync your alarms and schedules with mine. How did you forget your own Live???”
A white-haired head popped out from the bottom of the monitor, Yachiyo’s face bearing that cheerful and mischievous expression. “My bad~ Won’t happen again~”
Iroha grumbles. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Once again, it’s just another day of Sakayori Iroha being helpless with a certain ex-princess of the moon’s antics.