Work Text:
It’s when Fujino secretly eyes Kyomoto packing the very last of her belongings she’s kept over at Fujino’s room that the ragged girl turns and asks:
“...Are you going to miss me?”
Fujino pretends to stare down at her current draft, fingers pausing their tapping on her desk. She slowly turns to Kyomoto, feigning nonchalance.
“Why are you asking that now?” Fujino deadpans, “That’s not something you should think of when you’re already going through with art school.”
Kyomoto stutters, face reddening, “I—I was just thinking,” she pauses, her hands playing with the loose and unwinding fabric of her sweater. It’s a dark blue cashmere one, from one of their last outings to a clothing store. Fujino remembers it well because she pointed it out for Kyomoto, how nice it would look with her complexion. “I don’t want to l—leave with you being sad, so…”
Fujino scoffs, interrupting. “Why would I be sad? This is what you wanted. I’m the one that said it was a bad idea and you’re not going to listen.”
Their Fujino’s room is quiet again. She lowers her head, bangs hiding her eyes as she watches Kyomoto’s hands freeze, then dropping themselves on her crossed legs. She’s hunched over and looking down at the floor and Fujino can’t make of her expression, so she doesn’t bother herself and turns away completely, picking up her pencil again to continue sketching. Her panel of a girl holding a paper plane needs finishing, and the one shot is due in a few days time and it’ll be her last one before she begins her manga series.
Fujino is struggling with the background of this panel. She’s planning to keep it plain, but it’s been so long since she’s had to focus on this sort of detail, and she’d rather place that focus on the poses and movement of the main girl and the story’s development. She stares at the refined sketch, placing her pencil down to pick up her eraser, carefully removing most of the graphite from the paper and picking up her pen nib. She dips its tip into a small ink bottle, and lifts to then push down in a rightward stroke to depict the bottom wing of the paper plane.
She draws another stroke, then another and another, finishing the bottom wing and connecting towards the middle of the plane. Past the tiny sounds of the pen meeting the paper, Kyomoto’s sniffing. It’s loud compared to the sound of Fujino’s pen nib. It irritates her enough that the next line she draws, the upper wing of the paper plane, is too long. She lifts the pen nib in surprise, and sees it also drips a drop of ink down on the paper.
Fujino crumples the paper into a fist, tossing it towards the ground. She stands, passing by Kyomoto’s form, and exits her bedroom.
The mirror in the bathroom is fogged up from her older sister’s shower. She wipes it haphazardly, barely enough to take a good look at her reflection. Fujino’s eyes are red, her eyebrows drawn inward and face stuck in a permanent scowl, and yet she feels like crying.
She sees her own tears pooling and vision spinning, and looks downward to roughly wipe her tears. How stupid of herself, she thinks, to really care so much when she can have plenty of assistants to do the work faster and as efficient as Kyomoto probably? How easier it’ll be to meet production demand with other assistants than collaborating with Kyomoto? That there isn’t a point to tug and hold onto the timid girl when she doesn’t want to be with her anymore?
Fujino continues to rub her eyes. There’s a light knock on the bathroom door, and she roughly grabs tissue paper to wipe away the remaining residue of her tears.
“What is it?” She shouts. She can hear mumbling, belonging to Kyomoto’s voice. “I can’t hear you if you talk that low!”
“...I’m going to head home now.”
“Okay.”
“I wanted to..say bye to you first.”
Fujino tosses the tissues into the bathroom’s tiny trashcan. She opens the door, walking out to Kyomoto who leans on the opposite wall in the hallway, holding her tote bag filled with the majority of their her own supplies. She wonders if some of their old drafts are in the folders and books she’s shoved in there too.
“I’m here now. You can say bye, even though it’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”
Kyomoto nods, and Fujino closes the bathroom door behind her, walking back to her room and sitting down again at her desk, grabbing a new paper and restarting her sketch again. She hears Kyomoto enter slowly after her, and she thinks that Kyomoto must be standing awkwardly past the door, waiting for her to turn around.
Fujino does, raising a brow. “We have each other’s phone numbers, right?” She reaches for her phone, swiping it open and tapping her contacts icon. She scrolls for a moment until she finds Kyomoto’s contact.
She holds up her phone for Kyomoto to stare at the contact icon. Not even a chosen profile picture for the girl, or a nickname. She could have used maybe a picture of one of Kyomoto’s drawn backgrounds, or of their shared time together at the mall, maybe even of the old manga strips that Kyomoto drew back then, but she didn’t.
Kyomoto nods, not bothering to fumble for her own phone. Fujino wonders if Kyomoto gave her a profile picture or a nickname. Maybe of one of her old manga strips, like the lady and the meteor. A few minutes pass, Fujino lowering down her phone and staring at Kyomoto’s anxious form.
“So, I guess I’ll see you later. Text me the details on when your first day is, or when you’re touring the school. Maybe I can come by and support you.” Fujino offers, giving a small smile to try cheering Kyomoto up. Maybe she’s been too harsh on her, but someone has to keep things realistic for Kyomoto.
“Mhm..I guess I’ll see you later..Fujino..”
Kyomoto swings her bag, not turning around yet. But Fujino knows she does this when she’s trying to say something else, so she rests her cheek on her hand and waits.
Fujino’s eyebrows raise to nearly the top of her forehead when she sees Kyomoto bow down at her.
“Thank you for everything, Fujino-sensei!”
Kyomoto leaves Fujino’s room, closing the door behind her. Fujino sits alone now in her room, only hearing Kyomoto saying her goodbyes to Fujino’s older sister, and then goodbyes to Fujino’s parents, and then the house door opening and closing.
Fujino sits up on her chair, leaning onto her desk and trying to look through her window down at the entryway into her house. She watches Kyomoto walking onto the street, turning leftward, and the trees of the street and the house’s fencing blocking the rest of her view of Kyomoto. She keeps staring though, long enough that soon the blue skies that hang over the home transitions into a deep purple, oranges coming from the lowering sun. She doesn’t see Kyomoto turn back to the house, to return something random that maybe she picked up by accident, or to make sure if her phone number was correct in Fujino’s contacts. She doesn’t come back.
The sun is fully down, and the moon is already decently up in the sky. Fujino looks down at her unfinished panel. She sighs to herself, placing her phone face-down and picking up her pencil.
-+-+-+-
Fujino is sitting in an Italian-inspired restaurant in Chiyoda. Her agent sits across from her, quietly sipping a glass of water while she fiddles with the straw of her cream soda.
“So, for Shark Kick, some finalization before publishing includes the name you would like. I assume you would want to go more official for your debut shonen manga, like your full name Ayumu Fujino. Or a play on your name could work: Ayujino, Fyumu Ajino, or if you have a pen name in mind that can work?”
She hears him drone on, her eyes tired from staying up the past couple of weeks working on the first chapters of Shark Kick and thinks to herself about Kyomoto. It’s been a couple of months since they’ve actually talked. Kyomoto invited her to a tour of the Tohoku University of Art and Design, but she gave an excuse on how it would be too out of her way to travel to Yamagata from when she was still staying with her parents, finding a place to rent. Now she lives in a meager apartment in Chiyoda, close enough to the station to arrive to the studio with enough time for breakfast and relaxation before work begins, and she still hasn’t tried to visit once, or give much of any texts about her day to Kyomoto.
“I think I’ll keep the original pen name. Kyo Fujino sounds fine still for me, and people who may have previously seen my other published works will take notice to this one too. Helps with getting out there, right?” Fujino answers back.
“Ah, I see. That’s quite peculiar, Fujino-san. You understand this can cause some legal troubles in case if Kyomoto wants proper credit, especially since we do project quite a bit of monetary growth and popularity with your manga.”
“I don’t see an issue with that. Initially Kyomoto was going to be my assistant anyways before she went off to art school, but I think by the time she’s done she’ll probably work with me on Shark Kick and other things.”
“If you say so. I believe you, especially since the first time I met you two it was like two peas in a pod, always sticking with each other hip to hip and having all your ideas and plans in order! I’m sure you miss her quite a lot since she’s been in Yamagata.” The agent smiles in relief, the rough conversation turning into a quickly bittersweet and light one, at least for him.
Fujino gives him a tense smile, humming in pretend-agreement. “We’re still close as we were before. She already mentioned in working with me the moment she’s out of art school, plus she went into art school to get better at backgrounds for me.”
“Ah, to have a coworker as reliable and loyal as that. Assistants tend to come and go, you’ll learn that soon enough, with however the production and speed of your manga will go will determine how fit your assistants are in working for you and with you.”
“Ha ha, yeah I’m pretty lucky meeting Kyomoto..”
Fujino hears a buzz on her phone. She takes it out of her pocket, turning it on and seeing a notification from Kyomoto. It’s a picture she’s sent, and when she taps on the notification to view the full message, she sees its a painted version of their hometown in winter, the pathway they used to walk towards her home from school, in between the farm fields despite it usually being wet or muddy.
She doesn’t reply, as she usually does. She looks up at their previous messages, most from Kyomoto sending pictures of her works in progress or of random things on the street like cats or random trash. The last text she’s sent was three months ago.
Kyomoto : just said hi and thank you to the cashier at the school’s nearest lawson !
Kyomoto has attached an image.
Fujino : congrats.
Fujino looks at the meal package Kyomoto bought that day from Lawson. She turns off her phone, and takes a sip from her cream soda.
“Sorry about that, anyways, what do you think of the current release schedule we have planned for Shark Kick? I want to make sure there’s some breaks for myself and the assistants as well as you guys during its hopefully good run.”
“Yes, I actually brought some documents here for you to look at in regards to scheduling and pay…”
-+-+-+-
Fujino’s call just ended with her agent, and she’s particularly unsatisfied with the result of it and how the overall current assistant she has is performing, rushing even more than she does herself with the demanding publishing quota. She scratches her head roughly, her foot jumping up and down as she tries to refocus on her drawing tablet. It’s only then that the audio of the television reaches her ears.
“Tragedy struck this afternoon at the art college in Yamagata city—”
Her hand stops moving, the pen completely still in her hand while the words register in her head.
“--where a man believed to be a vagrant began attacking a number of students--”
Fujino’s head turns towards the screen as the news anchor’s voice becomes clearer in her head.
“—with what authorities are calling it a pickaxe. Yamagata police were called to the scene where they took the culprit into custody, ending his rampage.”
Her eyes widen as she stares at the live image of the Tohoku University of Art and Design’s main building.
“There are still no words on number of victims or severity of injuries.”
Fujino grabs her phone in a hurry, quickly opening it and finding Kyomoto’s contact. Still the very same, no profile, no nickname. Just Kyomoto, and she calls.
“The attacker seems to have chosen his targets at random, though police cautioned that their investigation is still ongoing.”
The call doesn’t go through. It’s interrupted by a call from her mother, and she answers.
She hears her mother’s voice, tearful and regretful as she tells Fujino:
“Fujino..Kyomoto, she’s—”
-+-+-+-
Her sister approaches Kyomoto’s alter. There’s white flowers everywhere, and Fujino’s nose is irritated from the smell of them. Orchids, lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, they’re all over her frame and up several pillars in the room. She watches her sister lean down towards the alter, bowing while kneeling onto the cushion.
Kyomoto is smiling just slightly in her picture. She’s wearing a nice suit with a dark blue tie. It must have been taken from when she had her photos required for her school identification card and applications. She would know, Kyomoto sent her the photos when she was asking how they looked.
Fujino never replied to that text either. She gave it a thumbs up.
She feels a hand on her shoulder. Her sister is next to her, whispering words of comfort that Fujino can’t hear. She hasn’t been able to hear anything since her mother called her that day.
“Fujino..Kyomoto, she’s—”
Kyomoto, she’s..
Fujino approaches the alter. She looks down at what remains of Kyomoto, in the tiny fancy wooden box. It’s the first funeral she’s been to. She isn’t really sure on how these things are supposed to proceed, and she wasn’t attentive to the officiators while they were setting up the scene before the rest of the guests arrived, only staring at Kyomoto’s picture.
Her knees touch the cushion, legs resting down as she stares ahead to the photo. She can distantly hear her parents ask for privacy on her behalf, people walking to leave and the door shutting behind them all.
Fujino turns, seeing nobody else remains in the room, and turns back to Kyomoto.
She leans closer to the picture frame, bowing low to it before looking back closer at Kyomoto’s eyes. Instead, she oddly brushes her lips right over the picture of Kyomoto, as if she could try feeling her through it, like she’s behind it or not dead.
She doesn’t feel the urge to cry yet, oddly enough. But she doesn’t feel much of anything when she leans back, because she doesn’t believe Kyomoto is here. Kyomoto can’t fit inside a small box like that, and Kyomoto is supposed to be finishing up one of her projects by now instead of being a picture frame. She remembers it clearly because it’s the last picture Kyomoto sent her, her last text message that day.
Kyomoto has attached an image.
Kyomoto : finished my door painting. what do you think, fujino-sensei?
Fujino read.
Fujino wonders where that painting will go. Maybe at Kyomoto’s family home, as most of her work is usually there since she stays there if not at the art school. She should go there, make sure Kyomoto’s things are in place. She wouldn’t want anybody to move things around or touch them. If anybody would keep Kyomoto’s things proper, it would be Fujino right? She would know best how to handle Kyomoto and her things.
She stands from the cushion, exiting the room with her arms stiff to her sides. It would be a long walk to Kyomoto’s house, Fujino thinks, but she can make it from here by dark. She knows she could, she walked that path all the time after school to go see Kyomoto and walk her to her own home and back.
It’s when she passes by the old farmfields in the night, no longer skipping on the wet puddles and mud but walking through the completely dry path with her dress shoes untainted, past the vending machine where Kyomoto and herself would buy their too-sugary drinks still lit up with the same optional flavors, and facing the front door of Kyomoto’s family home that she finally stops, her breath visible in the air.
She opens the always unlocked door, trekking through the empty entryway and leftward to the corridor filled with sketchbooks on its sides. Fujino walks up to Kyomoto’s door, and when she finally urges her hand to reach the doorknob, it drops with the realization that Kyomoto won’t be behind the door. She won’t be in her room, locked up like when she was young drawing those panels for the school newspaper. She isn’t here, and she isn’t going to be here.
Fujino glances down, and at the side where a copy of one of Shark Kick’s volumes lay. She flips through it, mindlessly. She knew Kyomoto told her that she would read it, but she didn’t think she would read all of it with how busy school was. They were both always so busy nowadays, when was the last time they ever looked at each other in person? Talked over the phone? Went out together or ate lunch?
She reaches the panel of Shark Kick where Shark Woman is given a romantic confession by the arc’s antagonist, and there laying it the first manga strip Fujino drew for Kyomoto. Shark Woman is kissed by the antagonist a page later. The antagonist, she looks like Kyomoto.
Kyomoto’s sketched skull stares at her, and the books drops down onto the ground as she holds that strip.
Don’t come out!
Come out! Come out!
Kyomoto, she’s..
“It’s all my fault..” Fujino whispers.
A young Fujino flushed as her cruel manga strip fell through the doorway, slipping into Kyomoto’s room when dropping off her diploma.
“Fujino..Kyomoto, she’s—”
A young Kyomoto flushed and smiling as Fujino draws her name on her back.
“Fujino..Kyomoto, she’s dead. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Ayumu.” Her mother sobbed over the phone. She dropped her phone with an expression so blank and dark, she couldn’t understand much after that. She didn’t want to hear after that, because it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.
“Because I drew this, back in the day we met..”
Fujino’s knees drop
Kyomoto is dead, and it’s all of Fujino’s fault.