Chapter Text
Ichika takes a deep breath in.
The rusty metal gate in front of her seems like the most imposing thing she’s ever seen, even though she’s been in the same school for the past nine years. She shivers, slightly, and watches as the other students slowly file into the courtyard, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Ichika sighs. She’s just stalling, but she thinks that she’s got a rather valid reason to be nervous, considering it’s her first day back at school. As a highschool student, as well.
She adjusts her smile. Thinks back to what Saki tells her, rolls her shoulders back, and stands up just a tad straighter. She’s known the people here since they were little; no one particularly hates or likes her.
And therein lies the problem – she doesn’t really have friends. And she doesn’t want to go into high school friendless.
Honami and Shiho aren’t really her friends now, are they? As much as she would like to think that way, Ichika won’t deny the truth – they aren’t friends anymore.
But
, they
could
reignite their friendship, and start over again. They’ll accept her again, won’t they?
Ichika knows that she’s naive. Knows that she doesn’t really see the worst in people, and knows that she’s way too idealistic. But what use is being pessimistic, when idealistic is what keeps her alive ?
Idealistic. That’s a word to describe herself, for sure, Ichika thinks as she walks to school. Saki uses it on her all the time – with a rather rough burst of laughter. Idealistic Icchan , she says and smiles.
Ichika would rather be idealistic if it meant that Saki would laugh like that again. Saki- Saki almost never laughs now, always keeping her happiness to herself, as if she’s scared that the world will burn her if she shows even some vulnerability. Ichika wants, so, so badly to eradicate Saki’s emotions and to make her laugh. All the time. Saki doesn’t deserve to be sad, she thinks. Saki doesn’t deserve anything negative , actually.
Sometimes, Ichika feels as if she’s special. Saki’s happy – around her. As much as she’d like to keep that brilliant smile to herself, Saki’s happiness is her first priority, and her starting to loosen up around other people is incredibly important to her.
Saki’s always been happy, as a child. It feels wrong, now, to see her so wistful and melancholic. Ichika would be a terrible friend if she didn’t feel worried for Saki’s mental state.
Their friends. Oh, their friends. How wonderfully ignorant they are, of how Ichika and Saki feels. And yet, despite the aching pain in Ichika’s heart, she smiles at them every day. Goes to their respective classrooms, and always,
always
waits until their classmates wave her away with an apologetic smile. Despite the pain of betrayal, of how they’re no longer by her side, she still
loves
them, so, so, much.
It’s a rather twisted and cruel thing to think about, no? Of sticking by someone, even while you’re clearly unwanted. Of believing, so purely and innocently, in them, of believing in the shaky truth that they won’t ever leave Ichika behind again. Ichika doesn’t want to think of what would happen if her friends truly left her behind. Would she be dead? Probably. But she loves nearly everyone who’s come into her life, and she’s sure that they feel the same way too. She doesn’t want to believe that they don’t feel the same way, even though a voice deep inside her says that it’s clearly the case.
Idealistic. That’s why Saki calls her idealistic – she’ll never assume the worst of her friends, and she’ll give them all infinite chances. She’d rather sacrifice herself again and again at the altar of their friendship than give up on them. Ichika is loyal , she won’t just leave others behind. At least, she thinks she’s above that.
Ichika takes another few breaths in. She’s standing at the gates of the school now, with her satchel heavy on her shoulder and the scratchy feeling of her school uniform on her skin. She doesn’t know if she can walk in like this, to be frank. She doesn’t feel settled enough, she never will, not without her friends- and yet, she laughs softly.
How ironic. They had promised each other a lifetime, and yet, here at the peak of their teenage years, she’s standing alone, breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.
(Excited giggles and shrieks. That moment of silence and peace when the stars had started falling, and the way that their arms were all touching in a way that seemed so affectionate and warm.)
In and out. There’s nothing but the sounds of her breathing and the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears.
(I love you, they said, and they had swore on the constellations above that nothing would ever bring them apart. I love you, they said, and they had fallen into a state of contentment and trust that no one else could ever give them. I love you, they said, and they had went home together, dreaming of frolicking in meadows. I love you, I love you, I love you.)
Ichika smoothens her dress. Taking a shaky step forward, she steps into the school courtyard, and she immediately crashes into someone.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you-” Ichika doesn’t dare look up as she babbles meaningless apologies. Her shoes suddenly seem very interesting, and, oh, look at the queer arrangement of the bricks over there; that brick’s sticking up from the floor-
“Silly Icchan,” a soft voice rings, and Ichika freezes in place. It ca n’t be-
(Ichika? You sound so pretty. Can I call you Icchan? It’s wayyy easier! Oh right, I’m-)
“When have I ever cared about stuff like this, when it’s you?” Saki laughs lightly, and there’s a teasing smile on her face that makes Ichika’s heart want to beat out of her chest. Ichika giggles, despite herself, and it develops into full-blown laughter as her mouth beams widely. Saki. Saki. Saki.
Saki is
back
.
Her
Saki is back, and she looks healthier than she’s ever been before. There’s a flush across her cheeks from the heat, she has a bad case of bed hair, and she’s gasping for breath, but it’s so undeniably
Saki
that Ichika can’t bring herself to care. Ichika’s smile grows so wide that her cheeks start hurting, but it’s Saki, and she’ll do anything for Saki.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ichika asks breathlessly. Saki doesn’t look much better either, with her forehead slick with sweat and her hand desperately gripping at the bench beside them.
“I wanted….surprise,” Saki gasps out, and they’re grinning at each other. It seems like they’re the only people within this world, and it feels brilliant , to bask in their happiness and warmth so openly. It feels amazing, and it feels like home , Ichika thinks, and she grins even wider. She reaches out for-
(A burst of laughter that seems so far away. A silent girl who would always light up when it came to astrology, and someone who was so, so, kind, yet never seemed to realise it herself.)
Oh.
The smile on her face slowly fades, as she realises, blankly, that there’s no Honami beside her. No Shiho to tell them to stop fooling around. Everything seems a bit blurry, now, and the colourful world around her fades to grey as she desperately tries to cope with the stabbing feeling in her chest. The happiness in her seems like it’s been abruptly cut off, and there’s nothing but that accursed emptiness that floods her heart.
Ichika thinks it’s funny, actually. She should have gotten used to this. She should have been able to laugh it off, with how many times this has happened already. Maybe it’s Saki – maybe, just maybe, it’s the feeling of actual happiness with someone she loves, and she’s just now feeling the absence of that feeling.
It hurts.
It hurts to know that you’ll never be as happy as you were when you were with the people who used to love you.
Saki’s staring at her with a knowing glint in her eyes, and Ichika doesn’t know what to make of that. Still, she manages a painful smile that looks more like a grimace, she thinks.
“Let’s head to class, Saki. Can’t have you missing anything on your first day back, right?”
“You’re still as responsible as ever, Icchan. I was hoping to skip the first few periods!”
Ichika groans. It’s getting easier to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, to be honest.
“No way. You’re not getting my notes after class if you *do* skip.”
“Aww! But Icchan’s notes are the best!”
They fall into bantering, oh so easily, and it feels normal. It feels normal, and Ichika lets herself go with the flow.
She doesn’t miss the way Saki looks relieved, when she sees Ichika smiling again. Ichika’s simultaneously touched and concerned that Saki knows to comfort her like this. She should be the one who’s protecting Saki, not the other way around.
It’s why she’s trying to reunite their friend group, anyways.
Ichika’s dream- no, their dream, has always been to form a band. Four friends who loved music, and were closer than physically possible. (And then, it had fallen apart. Fractured and fragmented like the broken shards of glass; painful to the touch. Despite that, Ichika has always tried to pick them up, piece them together. It’s only ever made her bleed more and more, but she’s never given up. Why would she?)
Ichika thinks of the guitar that’s in her room. The guitar that she plays in her free time. She remembers how she taught herself to play guitar. (She’s never stopped.)
It would be nice if she could play with Saki again. Ever since Saki’s hospitalisation, there’s been no chance for them to play together, and now that Saki’s back, she can’t help but long for that feeling of togetherness that she feels when she’s strumming along to Saki’s gentle piano. (And maybe, just maybe, she’ll play with the steady beat of a drum and the reassuring and warm hum of a bass.)
When it’s lunchtime, they manage to get through the crowd of students and make their way to the rooftop, holding their bentos. There’s a few students mingling around and chatting happily, so they settle next to a small flowerbed.
The food tastes better when Saki’s around. It’s the same rice balls as usual, the ones that Ichika’s mother makes her, but somehow, there’s a special sort of sweetness in it as she takes bite after bite, and watches Saki go through her own bento ravenously.
“I’ve not had food like this for so long,” Saki sighs happily, and Ichika can’t help but smile at her friend. Seeing Saki so happy, enjoying something as normal as a simple bento, makes Ichika feels warm. “I’m so glad we’re back here-”
Saki freezes.
Ichika tilts her head in confusion.
She looks up.
Time
freezes
in
place.
Oh, she thinks .
Honami is there, with her lips slightly parted. The bento in her hands falls to the ground, as if in slow motion. Acting on instinct, Ichika grabs the box before it hits the floor, and passes the bento back to Honami. She smiles, and she looks away again. The throbbing of her heart grows stronger and stronger as everything grows louder and louder and louder and louder and louder and-
There’s a warm feeling on her arm.
Ichika blinks away the tears that had suddenly congregated in the corners of her eyes, and realises belatedly that Saki’s hand is on her arm. Saki. Saki. Saki.
Right. Saki is here. Saki is here, and everything is fine.
Ichika looks at Honami. Honami looks…confused. As if she doesn’t know what Ichika had just been doing. As if Saki’s hand on Ichika’s arm was something perplexing that shouldn’t occur at all. (It hurts. It hurts to see Honami confused about something that Ichika’s long since gotten used to. It hurts to see Honami confused about something so simple. Something that a friend should know about.)
She ignores the way her heart yearns to say something, anything , to Honami. To ask her how she’s been. To tell her to be more careful next time. (To scream at her, to ask her why, why, why, why, why she’s only here now. Why she’s given up on them. Why she’s never come to see Saki.)
(Have you ever tried to understand us? Have you ever tried to understand who we were, what we liked? Were we just a prop for you to look good? Did I misplace my trust in you?)
But nothing comes out of her mouth, despite the urge to reach for Honami, to feel the touch and warm embrace of her friend once more. (Ichika thinks that it might be a good thing. She doesn’t know if she wants to scream or yell or laugh right now.)
“Leave,” Saki says, breaking the silence. Ichika’s head whips towards Saki – surely, she’s heard wrong – but, there’s nothing but stony anger within Saki’s eyes. She’s glaring at Honami with a surprising intensity, and Honami visibly flinches away from Saki. Ichika looks at Saki desperately, as if asking her to stop, and yet, Saki only glares harder.
“I-” Honami stutters, and Ichika thinks that Honami’s choking back tears. She barely stops herself from standing up and hugging Honami tight. (She wants to punch the shit out of Honami.)
“Leave, Mochizuki-san. You’re clearly making my friend unhappy.” Saki says, with that steely tone of voice. Ichika nearly gets whiplash from how different this Saki is to the Saki she knows. Honami’s eyes well up with tears, and Ichika feels
vindicated, let her feel even a fraction of how Ichika’s felt all this time
that overwhelming
something
that she can’t name. She loves Honami. And yet, it feels
right
.
Honami turns on her heel and quickly runs down the stairs. Ichika can hear her footsteps echoing in the narrow stairway, and she doesn’t know if she should feel relieved or not.
(It feels wrong, having to feel relieved when her once-best friend is gone. It feels so wrong, feeling unsafe around someone she loves. It feels so, so, wrong, having Saki defend her. She’s supposed to be the happy one. She’s supposed to be someone Saki can lean on. Not someone that needs protecting. She’s just going to be a burden to Saki at this point.)
“You didn’t have to do that,” Ichika says quietly, watching Honami’s shadow retreat.
“But I wanted to,” Saki retorts, that fierce anger flashing across her eyes again.
Ichika falls silent. There’s really nothing much that she can say to an answer like that.
“How long have you known?” Ichika’s mouth opens, and she asks automatically. She knows the answer. She truly does, and yet, she still asks. Like a broken record. She should have seen it. From the way that Saki knows not to mention their old friends, and from the way that Saki had immediately tried to distract her when she nearly mentioned Shiho. How did she not find it odd, the way that she was only looking for Ichika and not the others? Ichika really is stupid.
“Since the beginning, Icchan. You’re not a good liar, you know?” Saki chuckles hollowly, and Ichika can do nothing but watch her friend’s happiness fade away again. There was the misery that Saki was trying to hide from her. Ichika should have known that the day was too good to be true – the gods would *never* favour Ichika and Saki like that.
“It’s okay, Icchan,” Saki smiles lopsidedly. “You’ll always have me, as long as you want me by your side.”
“Forever?” Ichika asks, and her soul seems miles away from her body. She doesn’t know if this is real or not. If she should trust Saki’s word or not, but it feels good. And she’d rather be living in a lie than to live through a truth that hurts her so badly.
“Forever,” Saki says firmly, that determined fire burning in her eyes.
“Okay,” Ichika says, nodding. Forever seems like an awfully long time, and that’s what Honami and Shiho had promised her, but who would Ichika be, if not a believer? If not a devotee at the feet of a deity, who would Ichika be? Forever is so small a price to pay for happiness, and so, Ichika will gladly offer up her everything for Saki.
“Promise me that you’ll never hurt yourself like this again,” Saki leans forward and clutches Ichika’s hands tightly. “Promise me. Don’t ever try to go back to them again.”
I can’t promise you that, Saki, Ichika thinks. It’s the one thing she can’t give Saki, and she knows it will break Saki. Even so, she still wishes for the impossible to occur.
Ichika is a greedy, greedy girl. She’s always been like that. Wishing for more time with Saki. Wishing to be Honami and Shiho’s friends forever. Wanting to create a band regardless of the wishes of the others. Wanting them to stay together . Are these not selfish?
And yet, she’s only ever wanted to fix their relationship. She’s only ever wanted happiness for everyone around her, so is it really such a crime? No, Ichika thinks. It’s not a crime. Not to her.
Saki will come around. Saki understand Ichika. Surely.
And so, Ichika opens her mouth. There are a million possibilities of how this could go, and yet-
“I promise, Saki.”
Storm clouds gather as the first hint of rain appears. The students quickly rush down the stairs, into the school building, as rain begins to fall.
A crack of thunder sounds, and the sky begins to cry, as if sealing Ichika and Saki’s promise.