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Kanade couldn't sleep.
It had been commonplace, nothing new, nothing alarming or deeply concerning of the sort. It had been an issue even since before she became a teenager— multiple nights spent lying in bed, cotton white surrounding her, particles of misama static blurring her vision as she would hazily stare at her— her father's bedroom ceiling, thinking, thinking, thinking. Her mind would whirl, on some nights, laced with the sinking murk of guilt, notions of why are you resting, why aren't you creating, why are you atoning, why couldn't you save him why can't you saveanyone—
Those would end with her getting up to continue to create, to continue composing, only to placate the violent hum in her mind. Some nights, though, the 'some' lessening as she aged, as she grew, matured, from fourteen, to fifteen and then to sixteen. Some nights, better nights, they would be quieter, smaller, with Kanade lying there.
Serene could be a word to describe the world her body would place her in. They weren't dreams, yet they weren't a formulation of reality, either. Within those moments, the universe, the stars, the time and the physical conceptualisation of her body would be all but existent. She would splay herself outwards on the cotton of her pillow, her sheets, and press her palms, her fingertips flat against the bed padding, as if she were attempting to meld her body into pernamence— of objectification, and allow her mind to travel to that of a world outside of her mortal self— of a world of grey, to a world of swirled nothingness, to a world where her guilt was not one with her mind, to a world where her thoughts would dull down to a dull throb with her veins. The feeling of existing— of feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, yet being unable to do anything towards such. Heavy, like she was underwater. Compressed, weightless, drifting. It was a better reality than to live; it was a better reality than to sleep. To close her eyes and face the forefront brutality of her mind-crushing weight.
Then, some nights, more common nights, as she turned seventeen, and then eighteen, those nights would devlve just slightly differently, easily. It was still an issue, as Mafuyu had moved in— temporarily, and then within the blur of a few more years into adulthood to permanently— one pillow turned into two, a chopstick replaced in the wash to four. On those nights, when she could hear Mafuyu's similar nights through her thin walls separating the two, horrible senses of helplessness and torment, hearing Mafuyu's soft cries, her incoherent pleas of desperation within her dreams. She was unable to tolerate it— every beating ounce of her veins, of her skin and bones itching themself to run through those doors, and gently card her warm fingers through Mafuyu's hair, to wipe the stray tears that welled up against Mafuyu's closed eyelids. Come sleep in the same bed as me, she had suggested within the first two weeks of Mafuyu's stay away from her mother, you'll rest better.
So from there, Kanade, on all nights, lay next to Mafuyu, simply watching, listening, embracing as Mafuyu's chest rose and fell in such a calm manner. She didn't ever dare disturb her, for it was the only time where Mafuyu could exist in such a peaceful manner, but instead resulted in her listening to the inhale, the exhale— a rhythm to the constant hum of her computer and its soft glow.
In truth, she was afraid to close her eyes, despite it being years since her mother's death, since her father's hospitalisation.
(Why would she not? She had a horribly distinct sense of time, and an even more wretched ability of memory. Her dreams were not dreams— they weren't some form of hazy memory, a glimpse of her childhood, nor a random quirk. They were crawling with the noose of her soul— vivid, with the rotten stench of rot and gore, with the flashing lights and high-pitched beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep— of hospital beds, of guttural screams and of clammy hands with fish-dead eyes.)
She refused to allow her body to sleep for too long. Her body refused to let her enjoy a long sleep.
Since Mafuyu moved in permanently, since Mafuyu took a higher form of separation from her mother, they had been in this constant, strangely peaceful loop of domesticity. She would think about it, on some nights— pressing her neck's pulse on Mafuyu's wrist and feel their heartbeats— their life thrum into one rhythm, and shiver. She loved Mafuyu. She loved Mafuyu too much. It was more of this shifting sensation beneath her skin— as if she was wrong to be greedy for staying in Mafuyu's life, arteries crawling up her spine, phantom hands of weak, shaking hands at the hem of her clothes, against the daintiness of her wrists.
Kanade dreamt of failure on the few nights when her body could not handle being awake.
She dreamt of not being able to save Mafuyu, of letting Mafuyu disappear the first time they found one another in Sekai, of allowing her soul to dissipate with a horrid splat painting the asphalting grey of the structures. Of not finding Mafuyu the night she ran away, of Mafumum yanking Mafuyu further and further away with each failed song she would create. And Kanade had nightmares before, of her parents, of her family, of loneliness, but the ones with Mafuyu were different. They were disgustingly, revoltingly different, because she was Mafuyu's saviour, and she was Mafuyu's best friend, and she was Mafuyu's girlfriend. Mafuyu was the only reason that Kanade was still alive, and it was mutually reciprocated, and all the tells and realistic concepts that Kanade had been so, so close to losing Mafuyu coming true made her throat close, body violently trembling.
So, Kanade didn't sleep. She stayed awake, and only allowed herself a few hours of rest that was interrupted with quietly set noises that acted as an alarm, and careful placations to ensure she got woken to eat, or to walk, or to compose further.
She didn't tell Mafuyu this, nor Ena, nor Mizuki, nor Miku or Luka or Meiko or Len or Rin or god forbid Kaito. She knew it was a horrible idea not to do so, but why would she? Wouldn't it be more efficient if she continued to spend her time composing, anyway? Wouldn't it be more efficient for Mafuyu to not deal with her nightmares, her dry heaving, her rapid blinking, her cries of desperation in the middle of the night?
She was too tired to think further than that. On most nights, she closed her eyes and pretended to drift off as she listened to Mafuyu's carefully timed breathing begin to even out into a gentle wave. On this night, though, for an unexplainable reason Kanade couldn't provide, she didn't do such a thing. She kept her eyes open and sat up, propping herself against the hollow concrete of her white walls, attempting not to shuffle close towards pieces of sheet music pressed with gluetack against the walls, sitting cross-legged. She placed her arms within her lap, and began to count— rhythmically, silently, of the seconds, in rhythm to Mafuyu's breaths, in synch to the tick-tick-tick of her bedroom clock, and only began to near two thousand when Mafuyu sat up, and a little sleepily, tapped her slightly, on her knee.
"…You're still awake, 'nade?" Her tone whispered, yet still, Kanade could sense— a tinge of concern, of worry.
"Mmmhm."
"…Can you sleep? Or do you not want to?"
Yes, but no, no, but yes. One thousand nine hundred and eighty six, one thousand nine hundred and eighty seven, one thousand nine hundred and eighty eight. Kanade nodded, and faintly realised that the movement wasn't quite an appropriate, satisfactory answer for Mafuyu, for her brows furrowed, ever so slightly.
A beat, a second of silence passed between the two of them, and then a second, and then a third, before Mafuyu shuffled on the bed and placed herself cross-legged in front of Kanade, their knees gently touching. She leaned close, bringing her hands towards Kanade's neck, and softly, did whirls of petrichor and cedarwood engulf her senses as Mafuyu gently rubbed her neck, her shoulders, tracing below the chin, towards her nape. One thousand nine hundred and ninety four one thousand nine hundred and—
Mafuyu's touch prickled against her skin, blooming violets on her nape, all-consuming. She looked up— just for a moment, really looked at Mafuyu, and saw those sharp purple eyes, pupils dilated, shining evening dusk into the night. It was almost pathetic, the way Kanade practically melted in it, falling forward.
"—Wait—" Mafuyu stuttered, quick and panicked, from in front of her as she just barely caught Kanade from hitting her head against the bed— cold fingertips pressed into her cheeks. "You seem…exhausted. Don't faint on me, please."
"I wasn't going to…faint," Kanade said, with a degree of surety. And then, slightly less certainly, "…and I'm not that exhausted. I'm just tired."
Vaguely from above her, did she hear Mafuyu make a sound of disbelief.
"I…don't really need sleep. I need less of it, actually—" Her eyes squeezed shut against her skull, and she bit her lip before making Mafuyu even more concerned. She breathed, inhaled, and exhaled cedarwood and raindrops, blinking away the urge to delve into a world that isn't hers. "I'm m'okay," Kanade whispers, and yet made no effort to move from the grasp Mafuyu had on her face, keeping her at a 45-degree angle.
"…Is it something you want to talk about…?" Mafuyu mused in a low tone.
She paused. Thought, for a moment, in her hazed, illogical mind. "Just meditating—"
"Kanade." Her palms tilted upwards, tenderly, slowly bringing Kanade's face upward to meet her own.
Another beat.
"…I don't want to lose you again," Kanade replied, truthfully, simply, looking away.
"You're not going to," Mafuyu replied, with such an easy degree of certainty. "I'm staying here, 'nade."
She made a soft noise in the back of her throat. "Not in…that way." Pressed her face back into Mafuyu's palms. "…Dreams— nightmares."
Somehow, talking with Mafuyu would always strip her of all sense and ability to keep lies and important truths hidden. It was something in her eyes— exposing her emotion, cool slate grey evaporating like mist from her pupils, out of her mouth.
Mafuyu stayed silent, brushing her thumb against her cheekbones. "…Is there any way I can help you?"
Something prickled in the back of her throat— something raw, something weak. Like a little kid, with the wish to be sung to sleep, for fingers to be cradled and combed through moon-blue strands, to be warm and taken care of.
She inhaled, exhaled, once, twice. The air tasted like sandalwood in her lungs.
"…I don't…like sleeping," Kanade whispered. "I don't dream of….good things."
(Blood stains, bitten fingernails, ripped sheets of music, broken music equipment. Kanade shuddered, feeling that horrible, cold feeling rip through her knees to her stomach, and squeezed her eyes as tightly as possible shut and then as widely open as possible to find Mafuyu closing her arms around her, enveloping her whole, hugging her frame tightly.)
And Mafuyu had said that she always ran cold before. She and Kanade would joke about how ice-cold her fingers always were. Yet, Kanade had never felt warmer, being hugged by Mafuyu. It felt like the rays of sunlight after a cold winter's day, peeking through the glacier grey of snow clouds, a pillar of white light colourising her whole world.
"Can I help, my moon…?" Mafuyu questioned, once more. Quieter, reflected in the midnight glow.
A beat. Another beat left uncounted.
"…Can you hum something?" She asked weakly.
"Of course I can," she said, caring, like the rays of moonlight beginning to peak its way through her curtains. Lint catching on the dusty air. Her body shifting to accommodate Kanade's— her body weight leaning on Mafuyu, in her lap."Rest, just a little, okay?"
She nodded. There was a sense within her— a sense to protest, yet as Mafuyu began to hum, and Kanade recognised the melody almost immediately to be that of her own composition— of Lamplight, did she just for that night, decide that maybe, maybe it was okay to try sleeping again.
And truly, was it alright, that night, for Kanade had woken the next morning, with a vague sense of surprise, of nothing plaguing her mind, haunting her vision. And from there, did there become an unspoken routine that changed between the two of them— lamplighter connecting the two of them, gently dosing Kanade to sleep on some nights.
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Mafuyu had never thought of proposing.
She wasn't against it, or anything, she just never imagined it would ever occur, not when she had been struggling to survive, to live.
Until recently, until now. Until she started to think of Kanade as her universe, and her one and only. Until she brushed the stray tears that fell from Kanade's eyes when she cried in her sleep, and thought that if she were married, they could be together, for a long, long time. Until she thought about it, considered marriage, almost. Until her want for Kanade simmered, and before long, she found herself with Mizuki, with her frantic planning.
"You can like— have diamond rings, or rings with each other's eyes as the gem, or—" She leaned back on the cafe chair they both were at, tapping her pen against her notebook. "God, and propose somewhere scenic. Somewhere meaningful, and—" She paused. Looked at Mafuyu. "Dude, you good?"
"This is… a lot," Mafuyu said, rather blandly.
"Ah." Mizuki nodded. "Don't feel pressured to take whatever advice I've got. It is genuinely just a few ideas I'm shooting off blankly."
Trust what you know is the best for you and her, was the unspoken prompt, hidden within Mizuki's smile.
(And from there, it was decided— two rings, one blue, one purple, and a familiar street not crowded, and plans to ask more people for help.)
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Something was strange.
Kanade, in all perspectives, including her own and others close to her, would probably be able to say she knew Asahina Mafuyu quite well. She knew Mafuyu, the big, the small, since they were entwined through Kanade's melody, since Sekai melded them into physical formations dancing in each other's physical lives, since Mafuyu began to live in Kanade's house, splaying waves of earthy, crisp snow gently across Kanade's clothes, Kanade's furniture, Kanade's life.
She knew Mafuyu quite well, in all honesty— and that was not in the way of a vaunt, but an assured fact of knowledge. The sun rose in the East, the world revolved and continues to spin, and Kanade knew Mafuyu's soul better than anyone else could. Mafuyu was her muse, Mafuyu was her best friend, Mafuyu was her lover. It was inherently commonplace in the formulation of which Kanade would know about her— the little hums Mafuyu would muse when thinking, the rhythm of cracked knuckles when she was struggling to come to a conclusion, the way she would constantly brush back the wisps of her side bangs when eating food.
She knew Mafuyu quite well.
Except until recently.
Usually, there would be this— clear, distinct understanding that delved within the synapses of both her and Mafuyu's mind— working together in a singular formulated identity of synchronisation, for she was wrapped within all the tendrils of Mafuyu's soul, and within Kanade's, all the stars, all the galaxies and shining constellations pointed and whirled around hues of wisteria, amethyst elegance. Ena had pointed it out once, before, in a call. It's like you guys are the same person; you spend too much time around each other, and Mizuki's careful chuckle of I've got to be more careful, because it feels like I'm just talking to another duplicate of one of you when I talk to the other. It was a lifetime of found comfort, of built shared space of breath and touch, veiled with the constant need of two souls' warmth found within the other.
But there had been this— subtle kind of change, within Mafuyu. Not prominent enough physically, nor mentally, nor emotionally between the two of them that Kanade could be able to point it out and ask out of curiosity, but just enough for someone as hyperaware as Kanade to notice— one shift too left in their sync, one beat too slow in their heartbeats pressed together. It had been like this for a while now— maybe two weeks, three weeks, twenty-two days, maybe? (And maybe Kanade had been counting, and maybe Kanade had scoured through every possible scenario of what's gone wrong, have I done something wrong, is she okay—)
It had been a little more than three weeks when Mafuyu said, in an oddly, calmly nonchalant tone, "Do you think we're going to be together for a long time?", and Kanade, also just as calmly and nonchalantly, dropped the bundle of metal forks she had been holding and let them all clatter to the wooden boards of the kitchen floor.
Well, no. It wasn't— there was context behind it. It didn't just come out of the blue and out of complete silence.
Mafuyu was—
Strange. In the good way that Kanade really, really loved. She was perfect in her mannerisms and a shell of all of the carefully created personas when around those she could feel comfortable with. Kanade would get mixed and washed away in the way she just— existed— the way she was spiralled and interlaced into her own life. She had almost lost track of it all, from when she moved in, to when she very calmly, normally asked her if she wanted to become her girlfriend.
It was nice living with Mafuyu. It was nice being Mafuyu's one and only— her partner, her girlfriend, her beloved.
But she was not, in any way, any sort of prepared for the quiet evening between the two of them to turn into a discussion on their mortalised relationship, and like clockwork, did it manifest itself into a physicality— Mafuyu's nonchalance leaving her tone as she widened her eyes, just slightly. "Wait, sorry—"
"Nono," Kanade replied, automatically, without the thought of whether it truly was okay or not. "…Not your fault. Just got— surprised, that's all…"
"I still shouldn't have…said it so suddenly."
She smiled, bending down to pick them up, one by one. "It's okay. Really."
"…It wasn't a question in regard to whether we should reconsider anything, by the way," Mafuyu proposed, really quickly, and somewhere in the back of her mind felt a little warmth at the fact that she knew Kanade well enough that she would think such a thing. "I was just…thinking out loud, that's all."
"…I'd want to," she responded, quietly, and the words spilt out. "If possible, I'd like us to be together, forever."
She looked at Kanade. "…Really?" Mafuyu asked, in this— rare, intrignuinly hopeful tone that barely had ever been used— and there was not a singular bone within Kanade that could ever deny such a fact. For she loved Mafuyu, and it was a stated fact of obviousness that yes, she would want to be with Mafuyu, forever, for a long, long time.
"Mm," Kanade agreed. "It feels like we're— destined, together."
"Oh," Mafuyu replied. Paused. Nodded, with a degree of finality that Kanade couldn't quite understand."Oh. Okay."
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…sterling silver, unripe cherry blossoms set to bloom in a few months, warm clothing, soft silk, purple and pink light, cherished, universal love, constellations twinkling, then,
another idea, a musical box, luring towards peace and tranquillity, white wood, metallic strings, mechanical gears splayed out on the spare table where Kanade would never check…
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It might've started to affect Kanade slightly.
"I can't…concentrate," She told Ena, with hesitance. She could hear Ena's microphone crackling with static from the movement of her chair against her wooden floor.
As per usual, she had no mercy or forgiveness in her words when it came to the two of them as a couple. "You'll be able to concentrate fine enough on our new song."
She sighed, long and deep, planting her face in her arms, lying on her desk on top of the layerings of sheet music. They melded with the scenery of an empty water bottle and a half-eaten, cold cup of instant noodles, and additional paper filled with crossed-out marks. ¾ for a time signature didn't sound right, and 4/4 sounded too full, and— whatever. None of it was working when strands of midnight lavender and pupils the shade of the galaxy infested her mind and every confusing thought. Mafuyu just wouldn't get out of her head.
(Something going unsaid? Something changing?)
Not right to describe her beauty, was noted across a page. Needs to be more ethereal, wrote another.
Mafuyu was woven into the seams of her soul, her universe, in her head all the time, but especially recently, it had been awfully worse. The small glances that she gave Kanade when she thought Kanade wasn't looking. The subtle change in her cologne smells more of earthy cedarwood and just about everything else."It's not usually this bad." Kanade responded, muffled.
She stared at the blinking cursor of the screen in front of her. It was meant to be a short instrumental about the depths of Mafuyu's presence being a reassurance to her life. Two instruments: piano and guitar, a normal piece. It was short and casual as an artist spilling out their soul to portray their entire world as can be.
Ena hummed in the equivocal, neutral tone that vaguely implies that she could not care less.
"I can't compose a simple instrumental about Mafuyu because of Mafuyu," She filled in the silence with words of patheticality and soft pining over a girl she was already dating. "She's not even doing anything bad. There's just…something off. This...is a dilemma."
"You could just compose different things, you know."
"It's still going to be all about her," Kanade mumbled, pitifully. "She's my muse. All I do is think and write and compose about her."
"Well aware."
She clicked out of her composing software, then back in, and then back out. It was an instrumental, but it felt more right with the accompaniment of Mafuyu's lyrics. Everything was better with Mafuyu. Kanade slumped in the spin of her chair and closed her eyes to the tick-tick-tick of her clock. Faintly away from her, the keys to their apartment jingled, and the door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded softly. Kanade heard through it all with a muted sense of understanding, like sound proofed headphoenes placed around all her senses. Then—
"I'm home, Kanade—"
Kanade jumped and shocked herself so fast that she spun out of her spinning chair and toppled unsmoothly to the floor. Strands of hair splayed onto creaky wooden floorboards, and Kanade stared up at Mafuyu, and then at the sheet music strewn across the table, and then back up at Mafuyu. Gods, she was beautiful. Her bangs were a little messy and tussled— probably from the autumn wind outside, and she had a bag of what was most likely going to be groceries for her divine, cooking— no, irrelevant. She was standing here right now, in their composing room. There was Kanade's writing everywhere. Oh, god. That wasn't good, that really was not good. Panic scurried through her mind, and she just—
Something slammed, something sloshed, and then the sound of papers flying everywhere commenced through the call. Another slam of what sounds like keyboard keys was orchestrated— and just like that, the call disconnected.
Both Kanade and Mafuyu stare at the pages of sheet music covered in cold instant noodle soup and the unplugged computer in…dead silence.
"…Clumsy move of me…?" Kanade suggested, smiling a little awkwardly.
Mafuyu, still holding her bag of food, blinked. Eyes watching down at her, casting dark shadows across her frame. With a look of amusement, a little look of curiosity.
(And a little bit of that sense again, Kanade felt.)
"Right," Mafuyu started, and then stopped. "Right."
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…love, love of silky hair, of rainy days, black ink on paper, soft wisterias and carnations, lemon water, the gentle murmur of speeliness, blooming lotuses, hearts sown in together with the moonlight, sparkling jewels, words of Miku, help me out, ring sizing, the cosmos in her eyes…
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She loved Kanade, in all honesty. She loved Kanade with such a fervent, burning passion that it felt wrong to say such a common word as love. It went deeper than that, much deeper. Thick within the capillaries of her veins, the arteries of her heart, thumping wildly with every single thought screaming Kanade, Kanade, Kanade. It was an obsession. It was devotion. Her saviour, her god, her universe, her moon, her world.
(Calling Kanade 'moonlight' made sense for her. Yoisaki, meaning night, with the dusky white of her hair, and a smile so gentle, a tone so soft it felt distantly worshippable.)
Maybe, at some point, did Mafuyu realise that she was loved by such light. She was within the family restaurant— on the weekly meetup between the four of them, and they were discussing plans for making music as they've always done, talking about what song to write next, what theme, what lyrics and what instruments to include, and Mafuyu was hit with this sense of—
Love.
Adoration.
(Guilt? Thankfullness?)
It happened when— it's stupid, really. It was when Mizuki ordered fries as she usually did, and fed them to Ena, who took them begrudgingly. They were both playfully bickering, and Kanade, in a very rare act of public affection, leaned on her shoulder, pressing her ear against Mafuyu's shoulder, into the warmth of the side of her nape.
It's not as if she didn't know before that she was loved, especially loved by Kanade, out of all people; she did know. Ever since Kanade promised to save her, since she agreed to be Mafuyu's girlfriend, ever since she asked Mafuyu to move back into her house permanently, had she known that Kanade loved her. They didn't express that love ever to each other with some sort of big gesture, some sort of loud words. It was in the familiar tinkering of their music, in the soft brushes of their knees underneath the desk they both worked at— in the not so subtle, long glances they took into one another's eyes— their souls reflecting one's own— a mirror. Knowing wasn't the same as realising the extent, though. Soft beige walls reflected off rays of gentle sunbursts through dusted windows, glinting off ice-cold cups of water.
The memory surfaced: Kanade, one evening, with the rays of sunlight fading into murky willows of hollow purple and dusted blues towards grey, at their house, both of them resting on their balcony, Kanade's hand playing with her strands of untied hair. Their house, their home. A whisper as the summer wind breezed through the two of them: Mafuyu, you're my world, you know that? Her hand, warm as always, iced from midwinter, of January snow, knuckles tinged red, fingers white, holding the balcony ledge. You're so much more gentle than you could ever imagine, she had said, as Mafuyu watched her, with hazy eyes, and then: you're the only reason why I'm alive.
She blinked frantically and swerved her head—rapidly ricocheting her neck carefully towards Kanade's direction, with a sense of intensity— something soft, something deep pulsating through her ribs, down her spine, a knowledge of saving, of— of—
"Mafuyu?"
Ena was in front of her, looking up at her with a tinge of concern within her eyes, hand still frozen midair with a fry squished against Mizuki's cheek. Mizuki stopped too— menu splaid flat against her palms, left unread. Kanade stilled in her breathing on her shoulder. They all went quiet— when did they go quiet?
"Mafuyu? Everything okay?"
Her Mom. Her Dad. Her lifeline of a perfected facade not mandatory, for she had them, and only them. She needed to—
"…I really cherish you guys," She blurted, and the feeling pulsated through her ribs, dancing intensely through her lungs and up her throat to say— "I love you all. Like really. You guys mean— mean everything to me. You guys should…know that, okay?"
There was a sense of silence from the three of them. And then, "Of course we do," Ena shrugged, as normally as she did, as if Mafuyu merely observed that the sky was blue. "We've known that since the start, haven't we?"
"Yeah," She nodded, but it doesn't feel like enough. It felt deeper than that, somehow. Like all of the organs within her stomach all gnawed at their linings. "But I really, really do appreciate all of you. For everything you've done for this group and for me."
They were taken back, just slightly, before Mizuki broke the silence, a grin spreading to her cheeks, eyes squinted with a vibrant love. "Aw, Mafuyuu," She said, drawing out the last syllable of her name. "We love you too, just as much."
"Really," Kanade agreed. "You help with so much more than you realise."
(And Mafuyu thought of sleepless nights whispered away by hums.)
(She let the words flow off of her, and spent a moment to understand her thought process. Of music boxes, of carnations, symbolising love, symbolising Mafuyu's own birthday month, symbolising what meant the most cherishable to her and Kanade both. Of Lamplighter, played on piano, vibrating now on small cylinders. Of carefully placed ink, a message on the tip of the box. I love you, my moonlight.)
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Mafuyu could remember, very clearly, very distinctly, Shibuya's city, of the evening of which the four of them— still teenagers, still struggling, still full of miscommunications but still wonderfully alive were walking around, enjoying the streets, enjoying their festival. She could remember, at some point with Mizuki and Ena talking in the background, looking at the sky, and going still— for the sky had melded into hues of merlot red, to apricot orange, down to baby pink fading into the shades of purple and blue, deep and rich the shine of sapphires. Rays of light danced in pillars, and silently, in some form of awe, did Mafuyu stare upward, stare up at the burning rich sky, at the atmosphere holding her and her friends both, and prayed, prayed for her friends to always be there for her, for her friends to always be by her side.
She could remember, at the time, all the thoughts and quick musings darting around her mind, worrying about the syehtsizer, worrying about her mother, disappearing as Kanade's voice echoed clearly, resoundingly through her mind.
"Mafuyu…" Kanade had smiled, pressing her hands together, "Would you like to play the piano?"
"What?" For her eyes had trickled and honed in on the piano, laid flat on its wooden structure, sitting on the corner of the road, left unplayed, dusted, but still intact. The piano, the instrument she had always played since she was young.
"You seem to be very interested in it. I was wondering if you wanted to play it…" Her head tilted.
"I do…" Her head nodded. "I want to try playing it…"
Ena laughed. "Sure, why not?"
Mizuki had also giggled, rather enthusiastically. "Yeah! I totes wanna hear you play, Mafuyu! Oh, the piano's free now, have fun!"
She had nodded, and then softly, did her fingers hover above the keys, and with the sense of setting sun, with the warmth of her friends, did she play the song that she found most cherished and dear to her— her cherished, her Kanade. The first song she had made for Mafuyu that made her truly smile— that had tinged slightly in her heart.
The keys trickled, dainty sounds filled with the chorus and melody of Kanade's love for Mafuyu. Rising, falling, like the waves of crystalline ocean, like the rotation of the stars, the constellations in the night sky, the rise and fall of the sun and moon. Mafuyu could remember; then, Kanade joined in, sitting to her right, adding to her harmony, blooming red camellias, soft cherry blossoms, bluebells to Mafuyu's ears.
"Mafuyu?" Kanade had asked.
"Yes?"
"Are you having fun right now?"
She paused. Waited. Mused.
"…I'm not sure…" She had responded. "But I'd like to keep doing this for a bit longer."
"Mm, " Kanade replied. Keys tinkering in sync. Two souls merged as one. "Let's keep on doing this, then, for a while."
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And now, eight years later from that one afternoon, long after Mafuyu talked with her mother, long after Kanade "saved" Mafuyu in a manner that saved the two of them with their love, did Kanade hear from Miku, telling her with that unknown tone again, to come and find Mafuyu, at the spot they once played the piano at.
Eight years from that one afternoon, did Mafuyu stand there, at the piano and its dirtied keys, with a box behind her back, wood carved with the efforts of her love etched into permanence, winding lever on its side ready to play its musicality of soul.
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So Kanade's feet were carrying her somewhere.
It wasn't completely dark just yet— not completely fallen to the blues and blacks, for it was spring, and the cicadas were already screeching, and the sun was still pouring its last remnants of light into the slabs of concrete skyscrapers. Her hair was tied— a singular ponytail holding a decade's worth of life, of memories, swaying back and forth, like deja vu, like once more, like seven years ago, when the rain poured buckets down and screamed cries of change between Mafuyu and her mother, Kanade ran out into the street, past into her neighbourhood, looking for her.
That feeling— that feeling of unknown ease, of being left in the dark, of not being able to understand her one and only, of not knowing what she was thinking, stained the tips of her fingers. It dripped from the engrainments of her fingertips up to her knuckles like glass panes reflecting the afternoon light. Heavy, dry, chalky. Painting her skin a shade of paleness, ringing in the back of her throat— like some form of warning.
Kanade was Mafuyu's, and Mafuyu was Kanade's. They had known each other for almost a decade at that point, and they were not as immature and struggling for Kanade to blindly have the world pulled out underneath her like a rug.
(Not again, however, a faint cry circled her. Don't let it happen again.)
Unease. Residuals of shame. It was a carefully crafted tower of barely hanging pieces sculpted off the overthinking habits of Kanade's love. It was a pointless affair—meant to be passed away, whispered into the silence of the spring air, yet within its waft, stupidly enough, had Kanade grasped it, held onto it tightly, placing her worries in the forefront of her mind like the jaws of a tiger. Her heart beat— a fierce, intense thing, for Mafuyu. Her heart craved all, her heart craved more— filled up with so much love it would drive one crazy with obsession.
She realised, a bit too late, where her feet had ended up taking her. Past the busy streets of Shibuya, into the dwindling alleyways filled with miscellaneous pot plants, and flowers sprouting from the cracks in the concrete.
Of where they first played together. Of where Kanade saw the universe encapsulated in the small tug of Mafuyu's lips as she played. The faint twinges of cherry blossom hid themselves behind a street sign, dancing pink across her vision. The piano, somehow, despite it being decades old, exposed to the elements of the weather, was still in relatively good condition— not damaged in any sort of way from when Kanade had first seen it.
(Faintly, could Kanade see a figure standing near the piano.)
Just a standing figure, next to the piano. As if they had been awaiting Kanade's arrival.
(It was Mafuyu.)
Oh, and it was Mafuyu, purple-haired Mafuyu, her Mafuyu, her girlfriend, who had stepped from the corner of the piano, and tilted her head, letting her hair (her hair was down, for once) fall to her shoulders in wisps and curls. "Kanade," She said, with a degree of finality, of adoration, of- love.
"Mafuyu," Kanade's voice said— trembled, on the vibrato sculpted off of something akin to nervousness. Like the word wasn't exactly hers.
They both stood there, for a beat, maybe two— not of awkwardness, but just— taking in one another's presence. Existence.
And then Kanade blurted out abruptly, "I'm glad you're…okay," she said, "I got—" (worriedconcernedscaredscared) "…concerned, a little. Sorry."
Mafuyu shook her head instantly. "No, no, I'm sorry," She shook her head in the tone that harboured no appeal for argument. "That's entirely my fault. I'm not good when it comes to this kind of—" She paused. "—stuff. And I didn't mean to freak you out."
She didn't argue back. They never did argue— it wasn't their thing. Her tongue darted over her lips, as she watched Mafuyu be— nervous?
Mafuyu, slowly, took a step towards Kanade, and then another, and then another, until she was a metre away from Kanade. Standing in front of her, gazing at her. Something soft in her eyes, longingly.
Kanade smiled. "Everything alright now?"
"…Yeah," Mafuyu said, gently. Her pupils flickered, up and side and left and right, but never leaving Kanade's self once.
"I've known you for eight or nine years," Mafuyu said, before giving Kanade a chance to ask another question. "And I've been dating you for about three, close to four."
Faintly, could Kanade see that Mafuyu, very rarely, was— shaking. Her posture was rigid, as if she was forcing herself to stand up straight, and one of her hands was hidden behind her back.
Kanade stirred.
"We've been through a lot, Kanade. You and me both. And…" Her voice faltered, just slightly. "I think you're the strongest and bravest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You mean the world to me, my moonlight."
She was wearing her good, exterior clothing. Of white cotton sweaters, her hair dangling to her sides in synchronisation with the wind. Of that of an angel, with the sunset dangling rotations of starbusts in between her eyes.
"You've saved me, multiple times on occasion, Kanade. You're kind and beautiful and so deeply pretty, and you deserve so, so much happiness,' Mafuyu said, slowly. Carefully.
(And slowly, did the nervousness, did the panic, begin to drift and wash away with each fall of cherry blossoms.)
"…Oh," She breathed, and the tension drifted away from her. "Mmh, yeah."
"What's…in your hand?" Kanade asked, a little curious, a little nervous, in her stomach. A good nervous.
As she loved Mafuyu to do.
"I think," Mafuyu said, and there was this— rapid floodgate tone within the timbre of her voice. Like the constellations and the galaxies of her eyes, within the locks of her hair and on the surface of her soft tongue had flown out and flooded the air with love. "I think I love you, I really do love you— you saved me from disappearing, you saved me with Mom, you lit my world into coherence," she nodded rapidly to herself. "I love your music, and I love living with you, and I love that you love me, and that you're the kindest person ever, and I think— you're so much stronger than you could realise, and it's— it's so incredible, Kanade. You're, you're perfect. I want to—"
She paused.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, forever, Kanade."
And in rhythm, did Mafuyu look at Kanade, look at her universe, her other half, her other soul, and carefully, stagetically, lower herself down onto one knee, and bring her other hand out in front of her. Her knuckles were closed in on the object too loosely yet tightly— as if she was afraid to lose it, but if she gripped it too hard, it'd end up shattered in her palm.
She opened the box, and like clockwork, the piano melody began to play to Kanade's ears.
(Lamplighter, her song, the song that made Mafuyu smile, the song they played together all the time. The song that drifted Kanade to sleep every night.)
And in the box, lay carefully upright— a ring of amethyst— a wedding ring. It was in silver, with the shine of the crystal laid in the middle, the same shade as Mafuyu's soul, the same hues of her irises. It looked genuine, expensive, but genuine. Surrealist, perfectly sculpted, as if Mafuyu had handpicked the crystal out herself.
Kanade froze.
"I have a sapphire one…the same colour as your eyes," She looked up at Kanade. "…And lamplighter— your music means the universe to me. Your music is something I want to spend the rest of my life embracing."
Mafuyu's voice wavered.
"Will you marry me, Kanade?"
"Oh," Kanade's voice came out, in a sort of softer tone so much quieter than she ever could've imagined.
(And she let the notes, the rhythm connect their two souls, merged as one.)
"…Yes, I will."