Chapter Text
Kyoto wasn't that different from Tokyo, Takada figured.
Well, maybe it was, but Takada felt numb. Her mum always told her that being near God meant safety, that staying in Tokyo to visit the church every weekend was worth it. She had tried to believe it, but the pathetic woman in the patient's clothes who prayed every day only to get worse had made it impossible to do so.
Takada Chisaki had promised her daughter that Jesus Christ would answer her prayers, but the doctors had shaken their heads somberly, her husband had shaken his head wearily. Even her daughter - Takada Kiyomi - the one she had convinced to share her belief, had also secretly shaken her head in tears.
Takada returned to Kyoto with her sick mom and tired dad. It was her hometown, the one she used to live in as a small kid. Taking her first step onto the ground, she tried searching for a feeling within her - surprise, sadness or even hatred, but she felt none.
The sky was blue like always. The clouds were white. The trees were pink. The ground was grey. The pavement was red. The traffic light flickered red, yellow, green. Like always. Bland and dull.
"Hey. Be careful!"
She felt someone grab her arm and pull her back onto the sidewalk. The movement had been quick and intense but remained polite.
Takada blinked, and a red car went past as a worried pair of eyes appeared. What had she been doing? Where were her parents?
Without warning, she felt an urge to vomit. Her stomach somersaulted as she covered her mouth and ran to the hospital before her, leaving the stranger behind with a quick "sorry". Nausea came like a tsunami. She made sure no one was around before throwing up in a bush behind the hospital.
So ugly. Filthy. Dirty. She looked at the puddle, unsure how to react.
No one should see her like this. No one would want to see her like this, even herself. She was supposed to be fine, to be mature and confident as usual - always know how to handle things well, stand out and shine with her beauty and wit; just like what people used to call her, both playfully and sincerely: "Daikoku's Belle". It had merely been a brief moment of fragility after a series of overwhelming events. Takada wouldn't let that happen again.
She let out a heavy sigh and straightened her back again—She needed to go find her parents. Luckily her dad had told her their destination before, it shouldn't be too hard to find them.
The scent of blood and medicine filled Takada's nose as she entered the hospital. Here they were, a couple at the stall. The man facepalming and the woman blinking soullessly. They were still clinging to hopes even when Tokyo hospital couldn't cure her disease? Dumbasses, Takada thought.
That was right, Takada had given up. She once found the idea of it terrifying, and still sometimes did today, what kind of person didn't want their mom to survive?
She'd spent several nights wondering the same question over and over again, once desperate to find an answer. Takada was still longing for the ordinary moments; she craved the sound of her mom's laughter before the wheelchair - the feeling of living in a healthy happy family like before. It was weird. She felt like she didn't want to lose her, yet she'd accepted the idea of losing her so soon.
It had all been caused by an illness, a straight-up cruel one:
ALS, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, the three words she'd grown to hate despite repeating its full name every night to the point that she'd memorized it by heart. Everyone knew there was no hope with this disease. Yet they still followed a tiny bit of hope to the hospital.
Of course the result was no different from what they had received in Tokyo. Takada saw her parents frown at what the doctor said. She had expected that, and maybe they had expected that too. Maybe they were too absorbed in the vague glimmer of hope to care.
God, her head hurt. Takada closed her eyes as she took a seat. There was no use thinking about all that. Her throat was still bitter. She needed a break, just a bit...
"Kiyomi, wake up."
The hoarse voice and a pat on her shoulder woke Takada up from her shallow rest. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood up. Her dad was standing in front of her, his lips dry and his eyes tired. Her mom must have been kept in the hospital, she figured. He turned his back at Takada, simply said:
"Let's go to your grandparents' house."
She quietly nodded and followed him. Great. He hadn't even realized she had been lost a few minutes ago. Takada felt frustrated out of nowhere, did he even care about his own daughter? She bit her upper lip till it bled, and suddenly felt an urge to laugh.
How terrible of a daughter was she to be so selfish? Her mom was dying, her dad was exhausted, yet she still acted like a child craving attention. She'd been behaving so strange lately to the point that it was pissing her off, and her head hurt as fuck. She couldn't take this anymore. Takada took a deep breath as she ducked her head down and started to count her footsteps.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Her grey boots made soft sounds when they touched the ground.
Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Her head felt lighter, though not by much. Now she needed to distract herself.
Takada then found herself reminiscing the memory of the red car. She had nearly died at that moment, but a stranger had managed to pull her back. She owed them her life, yet they couldn't receive even just a "thank you" from her. Takada felt sorry and thankful at the same time; she couldn't believe that just a simple nausea could successfully stop her from acting well-mannered and polite as she normally did.
Takada didn't have time to think further because before she knew it, she and her dad were in front of a house. It looked basic, with rusty gold paint and red roof. Maybe every child had accidentally drawn this house once in their life. It seemed like an old, medium-sized house - too big for two people but too small for four people. After a brief moment of carefully scanning through her memories, Takada surprised herself by how little she remembered.
It didn't take long for her grandparents to come out after her dad had rung the doorbell. Two faces appeared behind the gate - an old woman with short white hair and an old man with tired eyes. Her grandparents. Their eyes softened as they saw the pair of father and daughter. The man mumbled: "Jesus Christ..., here you two are. Come on in." and the woman opened the gate wide to welcome them. Takada took a step in as a small yard appeared before her eyes.
After unpacking things from her suitcases, she got a room next to her grandparents' as it used to be her room when she was little. It was tidy, she noticed. Maybe her grandparents had taken time to clean it before she'd arrived.
Touching the old rusty wall, Takada found a sense of nostalgia within her. The carefree days - she wasn't sure how it had been exactly, but it'd certainly be better than whatever kind of life she was living right now.
The thought brought back Takada's headache. She quietly rubbed her temple, annoyed by how much of a pain the day had been. Moving, car, nausea, doubt, headache. It should've been enough by now.
The sky was slowly turning amber, Takada noticed while glancing at the window. It was sunset already. It reminded her of those afternoons when she'd spent time in class studying, surrounded by admirers. The cozy sunlight would add a soft hue to the pages and wrap them in a warm orange tone. Come to think of it, had her dad enrolled her in a school yet? He cared a lot about honor, so Takada thought she'd end up in a decent school, if not an excellent one.
As if answering her question, her room's door creaked open, followed by her dad's usual deep voice:
"Kiyomi, you'll need to get fitted for your school uniform tomorrow for enrollment in the Kyoto Prefectural Rakusei High School. Prepare yourself for tomorrow morning."
Kyoto Prefectural Rakusei High School. She remembered taking its placement test just a few days ago. Whatever. Another school was just another school. She nodded at her dad and he closed the door.
Next morning; Uniform; Enrolling;.... She'd live here. She'd study here, eat here, make friends here like any local. Takada stared at her stuff and flopped onto the bed. Ouch, the sheet was a bit hard so it was not enjoyable like she imagined. Nevertheless, a thought spiraled in her mind: Will things be okay?
She felt cowardly for even asking herself the question, yet an unfamiliar uneasiness had already begun settling into her bones.
Kyoto's weather was pretty stable, Takada thought to herself while looking at the clear blue sky. The weather forecast was being replayed on TV with her grandparents on the couch watching it. Her dad handed her a jacket as they left the house and strolled through the narrow road. Takada figured that yesterday she had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even realize how far it had been from the busy city to the quiet residential area.
Cherry blossom petals scattered along the roadside, reminding her it was spring in April - the start of a new academic year. Takada didn't even lift her eyesight to see them, she just sighed and stared at her boots.
The walk did take a while—not too long whatsoever. Takada and her dad were currently in front of a uniform store. Her father took a final look at the paper before 'mmm'ing and pushing the store's glass doors to enter. Takada followed him. As the doors slowly closed, her eyes scanned the large room. There were unsurprisingly many other students here since it wouldn't be long before a new academic year. The uniform was pretty basic, Takada didn't really mind as she's expected that.
Comforted by the sound of people chattering and the warm scent of newly-made fabrics, she quietly tapped her fingers on her thighs to the song in her head. Meanwhile, her dad and a clerk in the store exchanged some words before they started to get her fitted for the school uniform.
That was simple. Takada had done this plenty of times before so it was merely a piece of cake to her. After getting things done rather quickly, she took time observing different kinds of uniform in the shop as they wrote her sizes down. And the doors were pushed again.
"Mom, I don't think I need a new uniform. Those fit perfectly fine!"
The soft yet deep tone had Takada turn her head behind. A black-haired boy was trying to convince his mom about something. She quietly glanced at him: mature, patient and also caring. He looked every bit the model student with thick glasses on his face and a stack of books in his hand.
His mom, seemingly a brown-haired lady, shook her head as she gestured for him to go inside:
"No, Teru. They're getting a bit too tight. You should have a properly fitted uniform!"
The boy sighed and walked into the store anyway. He looked like he cared about his mom a lot. Takada observed him with pensiveness in her eyes - there was something oddly....striking about him? She couldn't word it, but that boy had something really special, really....familiar.
It would be rude to look at people like that, Takada realized as she turned her head back and tried to get it off her head by focusing on admiring the basic uniforms. However, at the corner of her eyes, she saw that boy looking at her. Not just looked—he stared, like spying on a completely new creature. Takada's whole body tensed up when she felt the gaze.
Did he know how impolite and straight-up weird it was? Takada made an attempt to hide her discomfort while she tapped her dad's arm and asked: "Is it done?"
He said the last two sentences and nodded at her. They went out of the store together.
On her way out, Takada could feel the boy's eyes on her back. The feeling lingered until she actually closed the doors. She shivered, Jeez, what a weird boy. A rude one.
Takada's dad still walked in front of her like usual. Then he suddenly stopped moving and turned his head at his daughter, informing:
"They said uniforms would be ready in four days. I have business from Thursday to Saturday, so you'll have to go take them yourself, is that okay?"
What business? Takada wondered. However, she wasn't the type to question. What she had to do was simply accepting the plan, so she nodded:
"That's okay."
They kept walking back home in pregnant silence. Never had Takada realized how little they talk to each other. She turned her head aside to look at the cherry blossoms blooming on the trees, not to admire their beauty, but to distract herself from thinking too much. A faded sky lingered above the city. The morning sun covered itself in a thick layer of clouds. Winds sometimes blew the petals off the branches of trees. All of that screamed a beautiful day, but Takada had no intention of trying to feel it.
In the afternoon, Takada visited her mom in the hospital. She - Chisaki, looked the same - a scrawny woman in patient's clothes lying in the hospital bed. Her once-neat hair had become dull and unkempt, but her smile was still there.
Takada sat in a chair beside Chisaki's bed, listening to her praying. With her trembling hands, Chisaki reached out for her daughter's. It took a few tries, but eventually she took hold of Kiyomi's hands. She closed her eyes and whispered with her weak voice:
"Don't worry, Kiyomi. We all know God has a plan."
Kiyomi wanted to tell her mother that praying wouldn't make any of this disappear. It wouldn't make the doctors' words less frightening, or make the illness go away. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Chisaki seemed to need something to hold on to, and for now, Kiyomi could let her have that. She let Chisaki hold her hands like grasping at a lifeline and just sighed internally. Suddenly, her mom asked:
"Kiyomi, do you still believe in God?"
Did she still believe in God? Takada had wondered many times before. First with fear and terror, then those feelings had slowly disappeared, leaving only numbness and somewhat acceptance.
Takada Kiyomi didn't believe in God. She didn't believe in Jesus Christ nor any other being in any other religion. And perhaps that was fine, she thought.
"Of course, mom. May God bless us."
But she had a feeling her mother needed those lies more than she needed the truth.
Four days had passed faster than she'd expected. The house was now empty except for Takada in her room, getting herself ready. She wore a white shirt, black trousers and grey boots - basic but polite. Grabbing herself a small piece of bread for breakfast, Takada walked out of the house's yard. She made sure the gate was properly locked before strolling through the small road, following the route she had taken four days ago to the uniform store.
Opening the glass doors, Takada was greeted by the same scene as before. Large room, students' chatter, fabric scent lingered in the air. The same clerk from four days ago recognized her immediately:
"Takada-san? Your uniforms are ready."
He disappeared into the storage room and returned with a large paper bag. After he handed it to Takada, she carefully looked into it.
"Please check if everything is correct."
Three white shirts. Two blazers. Two skirts. One ribbon. Basic uniforms. Takada's eyes scanned the inside of the bag before nodding:
"Everything's fine."
After signing a small receipt, she took the bag and turned to leave. Yet, she heard a familiar voice:
"Thank you, everything is fine."
She immediately turned her head back. In the corner stood a boy that she met four days ago, or even earlier. He was holding a bag just like hers while politely thanking the clerk. Same neck-length black hair, same thick glasses, same maturity in his tone. Takada couldn't help but stare at him. As impolite as it was, she was the one staring now.
The boy turned his back to leave, and their eyes met.
Takada froze. The boy also froze. And a flash of recognition came across his face. Takada also found herself remembering something looking at that pair of eyes.
That black pair of eyes widened out of surprise, not out of worry like it had done five days ago.
Wait.
It had been him.
It was him.
The one pulling her out of the traffic when she first got to Kyoto. The stranger to whom she owed her very life.
Yet she hadn't thanked him and even hadn't recognized him four days ago when he clearly had.
Shame washed over her like a tsunami. She had to thank him, no, she has to do more for him to express her gratitude. But before Takada could even say anything, that boy gave her a polite bow before walking away, leaving just a sentence:
"I'm glad you're alright."
Takada watched him leave, unable to move even a muscle. Only when he took his first step down the road and the doors closed did she gain back her ability to move. She stared at the boy's back, mind spiraling with thoughts, but only one can sum up her feeling right now: What a weird boy. A kind one.
Her steps toward home were light and unsure. Everything felt unreal to her at the moment. She should've asked his name, she should've thanked him. But he deserved more - that was her lifesaver! Takada felt bad, who knew if she'd meet him again? Think, Takada. Think. What should she do?
Takada stopped midway, took a deep breath in and began to count her footsteps.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Eight…. Eight? Seven? Nine?
Where had she counted to again?