Archive of Our Own

Kanade is unlike anyone else.

At least, that’s the thought that suddenly crosses Mafuyu’s mind as she looks at her. As far as thoughts go, this is a stupid one – no one is like anyone else, after all. Everyone is different, everyone is unique. Which means that basically everyone is the same and Kanade is no dissimilar. Kanade, just like all the other billions of human beings out there, is her own person. She has her quirks and little mannerisms, her own habits and compulsions and her own way of doing things. All humans are different, yet all the same. Just like everyone else, Kanade lives and breathes and exists. She inhales the same oxygen particles as any other human being, and her lungs pump out the carbon dioxide trees will nourish themselves on, releasing in turn the oxygen Mafuyu will breathe in.

Mafuyu looks at her, and thinks.

• Kanade is a human being.

• All human beings are the same in that everyone is unique, therefore no one is special.

• Kanade is special.

Dialectically speaking, Kanade makes no sense. She’s either not human, or an oxymoron. To Mafuyu, Kanade is her very own paradoxical miracle.

Kanade frowns at her monitor, pressing an anxious hand to one side of her headset. She tilts her head slightly, pursing her lips and Mafuyu quietly observes her. She waits for Kanade to find the note that will make the most sense, the one that will fall into place like a puzzle piece completing a picture. She knows Kanade found the piece when the muscles in her face relax and she nods ever so slightly. She doesn’t smile – she never does, when composing.

“Kanade.”

Kanade doesn’t hear her, but that isn’t atypical, so Mafuyu waits. The blue light of the monitor makes Kanade look paler than usual – to Mafuyu, she almost looks ethereal, like she could vanish away at any give moment. Just the idea of Kanade disappearing causes Mafuyu’s stomach to feel cold as her chest tightens painfully. Mafuyu isn’t particularly fond of this pain, by now so frustratingly familiar. She’s always felt it, because of Kanade.

At first, she had welcomed that sweet, almost comforting ache; it was better than the maddening numbness and the quiet despair. She listened to Kanade’s songs and inwardly cradled the pain in her chest with gentle hands. It was precious.

Three years since meeting Kanade, and Mafuyu has started to shed some of that horrible, oppressive numbness. She has felt more and more, thanks to Niigo. She has felt warmth, joy, amusement, annoyance, pride, protectiveness, and what she thinks might be affection. No, she knows without a doubt, she loves Kanade, Mizuki, and Ena.

Kanade opens a new window, and her skin grows even paler. Mafuyu is suddenly taken by the impulse to reach for her, unzip her jersey and lift her shirt and pierce a hole right below her sternum. She could reach through her diaphragm, push her hand through muscle and tendons. She would carefully avoid her lungs, full of that same oxygen Mafuyu is breathing in, and reach for her beating heart. She knows it would be warm, and wonders how strongly it would beat in her palm – she thinks Kanade’s heart might pulsate with surprising vigor. Kanade is deceptive like that. Her gentle voice, so meek and peaceful and soft, has always carried authority and compentence, and has always had the power to stir Mafuyu in ways she will probably never be able to fully conceptualize.

“Kanade.”

This time, she uses a slightly louder tone. Kanade finally turns her head, blinking blindly at Mafuyu as her eyes struggle to focus on a figure a couple of meters away in the dark rather than on a bright screen just a few centimeters from her face. She slowly takes her headset off, letting it rest against the back of her neck, and smiles at Mafuyu like she always does – like she never does when composing.

“Yes?”

Her voice makes Mafuyu’s chest hurt. She doesn’t understand – she never does, when it comes to Kanade. But that’s okay. Because Mafuyu doesn’t have to understand her.

Kanade will make herself known to her.

“Come to bed.”

Kanade hesitates. She knows Mafuyu is well aware that Kanade is done composing the song she was working on.

“I-”

“You need to rest. You can start the new piece tomorrow. Come to bed.”

Ever since Kanade nearly collapsed while Mafuyu was on Nightcord in the other room, useless and unable to help, Mafuyu has been sleeping in Kanade’s bed. That way, she can keep a close eye on her and ensure she sleeps at least a few hours every night. That she eats and drinks and takes care of herself.

Kanade throws a longing look at the screen before nodding to nothing. She turns off the computer and drags her lithe body across the room. Mafuyu feels Kanade crawl around the bed so she can go lie down on the side of the bed she has been occupying – between the wall and Mafuyu, who can, in this position, ensure that Kanade doesn’t sneak out of bed to work while Mafuyu is asleep.

Mafuyu lifts the covers and Kanade thanks her quietly.

Mafuyu didn’t tell Kanade why she started sleeping in her bed. Kanade never asked.

The day after she collapsed, Mafuyu simply went to lie down in Kanade’s bed after her bath, and Kanade had looked at her like she understood why that was and did not question it.

“Good night, Kanade.”

“Mafuy-”

Kanade has spoken at the same time as Mafuyu, and bites her tongue. Mafuyu frowns in the darkness. She slowly turns to her side, so she can face Kanade as she does the same.

“Yes?”

Mafuyu can feel Kanade’s breath on her face – it’s warm and weak and Mafuyu is surprised to notice it has no particular smell. She inhales deeply, and enjoys visualizing the carbon dioxide particles traveling down her trachea.

“I… I don’t know. Nothing. Sorry.” Kanade whispers. More of her breath meets Mafuyu’s face, so she inhales even deeper than before.

In the dark, Mafuyu cannot make out Kanade’s figure, but knows this is the closest their faces have ever been. Mafuyu is feeling dizzy, and notices almost with medical, detached curiosity that her heartrate seems to have quickened. She places her thumb on her radial artery and counts to ten, keeping track of each heartbeat at the same time – she is good at multitasking. She multiplies the number by six. 90. Almost tachycardic.

Kanade reaches forward to wrap her fingers around Mafuyu’s hand, still curled around her wrist.

Her heartbeart accelerates. Her face feels warm, and tingling. Kanade exhales, Mafuyu inhales, and her stomach twists and drops and cramps.

“Hypercapnia,” Mafuyu murmurs in awe. A realization. Kanade’s hand tightens around her wrist.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

If Mafuyu told Kanade that she’s getting carbon dioxide poisoning by breathing her exhales in, Kanade would lean back. Mafuyu doesn’t want that.

A human produces roughly 1kg of carbon dioxide every day. Kanade’s tired exhales shouldn’t be enough to have caused Mafuyu to experience the tellatale signs of hypercapnia. How can all that carbon dioxide have already entered her bloodstream in a high enough concetration to make her feel like this? Yet, there is no denying it: she’s struggling to breathe, she’s nearly tachycardic, vaguely nauseous, dizzy and disoriented, her face feels warm and flushed and her skin is tingling.

“Mafuyu,” Kanade calls gently. Her cold, bony fingers let go of Mafuyu’s wrist to blindly reach for her cheekbone, “Are you happy?”

“Right now?”

Her breathing is close to becoming labored. Yet, she leans even closer to Kanade, chasing her breaths.

“I guess so, but also, just… Are you happy here? With me.”

There is some anxiety in Kanade’s voice. Mafuyu does not understad.

“I don’t know,” she admits. Kanade’s breath hitches and Mafuyu hates the loss of the precious carbon dioxide that will soon intoxicate her completely.

If Mafuyu had to die, she couldn’t think of a better way than to simply breathe in Kanade’s warm, humid, sweet exhales as they poison her bloodstream and lull her to sleep.

“I don’t know,” she repeats, “But I want to stay. I don’t want to go back.”

Kanade’s fingers trace a pattern over Mafuyu’s cheek.

“You don’t- You’d rather be here with me than-” Kanade cuts herself off. Mafuyu knows what she’s asking.

Would you rather be with me, or with her?

Thinking of her mother, however briefly, makes Mafuyu feel cold all over. Mafuyu would rather bask in Kanade’s gentle warmth, but that is not fair to her mother. Her mother who needs her. Her mother who is probably agonizing in her bedroom, wondering where she went wrong. Suffering, despairing. Because of Mafuyu.

Mafuyu wants to stay, even though it’s probably killing her mother.

Her chest aches, her throat tightens. She cannot say that out loud.

Dishonest. Cowardly. Selfish. Cruel.

Kanade lunges forward, wrapping her lithe, bony arms and legs all around Mafuyu’s taller frame.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, Mafuyu.”

Mafuyu hugs Kanade back, briefly wondering why Kanade’s shirt is wet.

“It’s okay. You’re good. I’m here.”

Kanade is here.

Mafuyu wants more of her breaths.

She lifts her head and rearranges herself so that she can keep her mouth as close as she can to Kanade’s.

Kanade doesn’t move away.

Mafuyu doesn’t bridge the distance between them.

“Breathe out,” Mafuyu demands softly.

Kanade never says no to her. She never denies her anything. Never questions her.

She exhales.

Mafuyu inhales.

“You and I are like carbon dioxide.”

“What do you mean?”

Kanade’s voice is barely a whisper. Her lips brush against Mafuyu’s as she speaks.

“Covalently bonded.”

“What do you mean?”

Kanade’s quiet murmur as she repeats her question now carries an edge of desperation.

“I’m not sure. But you’re a part of me and I’m a part of you.”

Kanade abruptly leans back, and Mafuyu instinctively rushes forward to chase after her.

Mafuyu knows they’re done talking. Sometimes, Kanade gets like this.

Scared.

Kanade slowly turns her back to Mafuyu to face the wall, and Mafuyu wordlessly wraps herself all around her. She burrows her face in Kanade’s soft hair like she has been doing for the past several nights. She focuses on the feeling of Kanade’s ribcage expanding against her chest, the way their fingers trace patterns on each other’s hand.

When Kanade is so close, Mafuyu feels safe. Even thinking of her mother doesn’t feel as agonizing and soul-crushing as usual. When Kanade is so close, Mafuyu can tell that Kanade is different from everyone else on the planet because she would not feel so safe with anyone else. Because only Kanade could ever be so physically close and bring her comfort. Because only Kanade stirs her heart, warming her from her core. Because only Kanade exists, sometimes.

And Kanade is all Mafuyu will ever really need.

Mafuyu knows, deep down, what she is feeling isn’t hypercapnia. Carbon dioxide poisoning doesn’t happen that quickly.

She knows that.

She also knows exactly what she is feeling. She refuses to name it.

Kanade will.

And Mafuyu will wait.