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Sumire is fifteen years old when her life ends. She watches her sister die. She falls to her knees, and lets the gravel of the road and the blood seep into her stockings. The road is uncomfortable, and the rocks dig into the fresh scrapes on her knees. It burns, and she wants to move, she wants to grab Kasumi, but she can’t. Sumire tries to force herself forward, only to find herself frozen in place. Her eyes linger on Kasumi’s motionless, mangled body. She finds herself unable to breathe, and everything is so loud.
Amidst the noise, she tries to remember everything about Kasumi, and applies it to herself. Her gymnastics routine, how she did her hair, her fashion, and every bit of her personality. And Sumire internalizes all of it. She can be Kasumi. Because the world needs Kasumi, not Sumire.
The world doesn’t need the kid that sat in her sister’s shadow, idling on the sidelines, pushing the swing higher than she could ever stomach to go herself. It doesn’t need the girl with her fingers caught in her hair, struggling to tug it into a ponytail, just like her sister. It doesn’t need anyone who throws herself into the middle of the road and lets her sister die in her place.
Her therapist, who introduced himself as Maruki, supports the idea. His eyes are kind, but Sumire notices a hint of grief in them.
“Sumire,” he starts, putting his pen down, “I’d rather not see you in pain.”
Sumire frowns, looks away from Maruki, and grabs her sleeve. She stares at the clock, and focuses on the ticking instead of anything else. Despite this, Maruki continues.
“Kasumi wouldn’t want you to be in pain, either.” He tells Sumire, as if she wouldn’t already know. Sumire knew Kasumi. He never even met her. Her grip tightens, and she lets him continue. Her anger was what got her here in the first place; there was no need for a repeat.
“Becoming her isn’t a terrible idea. It’d fix your pain, wouldn’t it?” Maruki tilts his head. To Sumire, he looked like a pathetic dog, waiting for its owner to feed it. Instead of food, he wanted a yes. Maybe that was the point. If it was, it worked.
“…Yeah. It would.” She shifts uncomfortably in the seat. She wants to leave, to get out of here, and never see Maruki again. Nobody else needed to know she was the reason Kasumi died. Nobody needed to know Kasumi was ever gone in the first place. It’d be perfect.
Yet, Maruki continues to welcome her. Even when she looks at him with pure rage, ready to choke him out. She doesn’t. More people would know her sins. She does, however, imagine it.
“Take her place. If you believe the world doesn’t need you, then it doesn’t. If you believe you are her, then she is you.” He says it with such confidence that Sumire wonders if he’s given the same speech to others. It works. She embraces the delusion that Sumire died. She embraces Kasumi as herself, and continues her life.
The first person to confront her about it was her gymnast instructor.
“Sumire. Your routine is lacking uniqueness.” The instructor scolds. She had always been strict towards both of them, even before Sumire’s death.
Kasumi turns towards the instructor, resting her arms at her sides.
“Hm? This is what I always do.” She tries to ignore the name slip-up. She understands it happens sometimes, but with the other twin absent, the instructor should know. Thus, Kasumi corrects her.
“Also, Miss, I’m Kasumi. Not Sumire. Sumire’s…” Kasumi’s eyes look to the ground. The instructor sighs.
“Yoshizawa, then. That does not change my initial critique.” Her eyes narrow, “You still lack creativity. You are imitating your sister’s movements.”
And Kasumi still does not understand. Her routine is the same as it’s always been, with improvements, of course. The instructor continues. She ignores it. It’s pointless to listen to baseless critique, but something her coach continues to say—continues to compare her to—sticks out.
Sumire.
Kasumi isn’t sure why it’s affecting her now—the name was repeated so many times in this conversation. Still, she doesn’t feel like Kasumi anymore. She knows who she truly is. Despite her best efforts to change, to hide away from Sumire, she knows she will always be her.
And Sumire disconnects. Her senses go static, and she loses control of herself. She stands eerily still, barely breathing.
She wakes up on an uncomfortable bed. It’s stiff beneath her, and clearly not meant to be laid on for long periods of time. A hand gently rubs her cheek. Her eyes crack open and meet Maruki. She stares right at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice she’s awake. His free hand cards through her hair. He mumbles something she doesn’t quite understand, but he looks more upset after. She doesn’t like seeing him sad.
“...Doctor?” She forces out. It comes out more hoarse than intended. Maruki jolts back, retracting his hands immediately.
“Oh! Kasumi, how are you feeling? Would you like some apple juice? Actually, I’ll just go ahead and get it, okay? You don’t have to worry about speaking.”
With that, Maruki hurries off before Kasumi can even reply. She slowly sits up. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, looking around. The nurse’s office. How she ended up from gymnastics practice to here is beyond her, but Maruki is taking care of her. So, she doesn’t question it. She can trust him.
He returns, holding a box of apple juice with the straw already stuck in. He guides her hands to hold it. She’s not that weak, but she doesn’t want to refuse his help. He’s not obligated to do this. He’s doing this out of the kindness of his own heart. It’d be disrespectful and unthankful to reject him.
“Are you alright? Your parents contacted me after getting a call from your coach. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Admittedly, she feels overwhelmed with the questions. How could she possibly put everything into words? How could she tell him that all the effort he put into her was pointless?
She couldn’t, so she simply shakes her head. He frowns, but does not push. He reaches behind her head, and she feels her hair fall down her back.
“Dr. Maruki?” Her voice comes out a whisper, “What are you doing?”
He was acting on an uncontrollable impulse, if she had to guess, because he immediately pulled back.
“Kasumi! I’m sorry, I was just… I thought I could help you by relieving some of the pressure on your head.” He frowns and looks away from her. He reminds her of a dog, sometimes.
“I was going to put it in a ponytail for you, but… I can put it back up in the bun for you. I assumed it’d bring back bad memories if it stayed in the bun.” He runs his hands through his hair.
Kasumi looks towards him, and his expression is enough to make her give in
“It’s— It’s okay, Doctor. I was just… confused. You can continue.” Kasumi makes a pathetic attempt at a smile, but it seems to satisfy Maruki. He smiles, and brushes through her hair.
She is satisfied. She has someone who can alleviate her suffering. Why wouldn’t she be happy? He’s willing to help at any moment.
Her hair is in a ponytail within a few minutes. Maruki turns her around to face him again. He smiles, and mutters a name she doesn’t quite recognize, but it’s close enough to her own that she forgives the mistake and lets her eyes flutter shut.