Chapter 1 Finale
“This is Sakuragi Naoko. Leave a—”
Click.
Thought not.
My screen flips back to my contact list. It’s hard to read under the flat, unfamiliar bathroom lighting, but muscle memory serves me well.
I open our text chat and type.
“Staying the night. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
I stare at it.
I think for a moment about adding more: more context, more feeling, more something.
It’s not a lie.
It’s only half the story, but that half is completely true.
Ugh.
Fuck it.
Send.
I set my phone on the counter and grip the edge of the sink, shoulders tightening without my permission.
Breathe in through the nose.
Breathe out through the mouth.
Slow.
Count it.
Again.
The tile is cool under my bare feet. The faint hum of the ventilation fan fills the silence, steady and indifferent.
I turn the tap on and run my hands under the cold water, focusing on the temperature instead of the thousand thoughts all ramming the insides of my skull.
This is fine.
Not good. Not bad. Just… fine.
I shut the water off and dry my hands more carefully than necessary, folding the towel back over the rack the way I found it. Guest behavior. Minimal disruption. Leave things as you found them.
I glance up at the bathroom mirror and immediately regret it.
My reflection stares back at me, looking exactly the same as it did this morning. Just more tired. More… displaced.
I look like shit, basically. Surprise surprise.
Right. Enough of that.
I pull open the bathroom door and enter the hallway, then freeze.
No Fujimura sounds.
No Shizuka-san sounds, thank god.
Just the soft clink of dishes and running water from the direction of the main room.
I head that way, and sure enough, Auntie is at the sink, sleeves pushed up slightly as she rinses the last of the dishes. She glances over her shoulder when she hears me and offers a small, tired smile.
“Oh, Sakuragi-kun! I suppose you’ll need some things, huh?”
I just kind of nod dumbly.
She leads me back down the hallway to a door just shy of the bathroom.
Futon, comforter, pillow—one by one she pulls them from the closet and piles them into my arms.
A quick jaunt further down the hallway leads us to a matching door on the other side of the bathroom door. A peek inside reveals it to be a laundry nook.
Auntie pulls open the dryer door and feels around a bit before producing a subtly-striped pajama set from inside.
“I’m sure Ren won’t mind you borrowing these.” She shoots me a secretive wink, then piles that on, too.
I was half-expecting this, but I still blanch a little internally.
Guest behavior, Sakuragi. Minimum disruption.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
While I’m breathing she stares at the pajamas and seems to ponder something.
She must think of something, because she gives a light “oh!” and makes a hand gesture I don’t understand before scurrying off back in the direction of the kitchen.
I wonder for a moment if I’m supposed to follow her, but she soon returns with a paper shopping bag that she holds out to me.
“Here,” she says. “You can put your clothes in here.”
“Oh, thank you.” I try to grab the bag, but my arms are stuffed full of bedding.
She gives a bright laugh. “Here, let me trade you.” She takes the bedding from my arms and then hands me back the bag and pajamas. “I will go lay this out while you get changed, okay?”
I nod mutely.
She nods resolutely.
She slips into Fujimura’s room while I retreat to the bathroom.
Guest behavior. Minimal disruption.
I change quickly, folding my clothes before sliding them into the paper bag. The rustle sounds louder than it should in the small space.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Slow.
Everything is fine.
When I finally open the door again, Fujimura-san is just emerging from her son’s room.
“All set!” she says with a gentle smile.
“Thank you.”
I shift the bag in my grip. I can’t meet her eyes.
I can see her study me from my peripheral vision, and she must notice my squirming because her expression softens. “Don’t worry too much about what Shizuka said,” she says. “I really appreciate you being here. I’m sure Ren does too.”
It takes me a moment to put together what she’s saying. Dinner feels like forever ago by now.
“Oh.” I force a chuckle. “Thank you.”
It doesn’t feel like enough.
She nods, satisfied. “I’m going to turn in, then,” she says. “Sleep well, okay?”
“Um,” I say it before she can turn away. Before I can overthink it. “Actually, would it be okay if I stayed up a little longer? In the living room, I mean.”
She blinks, clearly surprised. Not suspicious, just… puzzled.
“Of course,” she says. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Comfortable.
Sure.
She gives another small wave before disappearing down the hall. A door clicks shut a moment later.
The house goes quiet.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind where every faint noise is too loud and your thoughts won’t shut up.
I sit on the edge of the sofa first, bag at my feet, hands resting on my knees like I’m on a train and I can feel it speeding forward around me.
Just until he’s asleep.
That’s reasonable, right?
I look at the clock on the wall.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
The longer I sit, the more aware I become of everything. The weight of the borrowed fabric against my skin. The unfamiliar smell of the room. The way the silence isn’t actually silent at all — just filled with faint house sounds I can’t quite place.
I press my palms together and inhale slowly through my nose.
Out through my mouth.
Again.
It doesn’t help.
Clock.
Eleven minutes?
Fuck.
This is so stupid.
This was supposed to make it easier and this is not easier.
If this is what waiting is going to feel like, then I might as well just go now.
I should…
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
And stand.
Grab bag.
Phone out. Flashlight On. Main light off.
The room falls into black and white, and my eyes take a minute to adjust.
Hallway.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Soon I’m outside Fujimura’s room. There’s no light coming out from under the door, so I turn off my flashlight and am met with total darkness.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Guest mode. Minimal disruption.
I pull open the door as quietly as possible.
-----
Fujimura’s room is brighter than the hallway, moonlight from the window subtly illuminating the outline of the room: desk and western-style bed to the left, my futon laid out on the floor to the right.
I set my bag of clothes down on the floor beside the futon I’ll be using, and it makes far too loud a noise in the quiet of the room.
A quiet that tells me that I’m holding my breath.
And so is Fujimura.
He’s still awake.
I kneel. Lay down. Wrap myself in the warmth. The futon is comfier than I would like to admit.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I don’t say anything.
He doesn’t say anything.
I can almost hear the gears turning in his head.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe i-
“Just say it,” I snap.
There’s a shocked pause. “Huh?”
“I know you’re thinking something. So whatever you have to say, just say it.”
Another pause.
“You’re here,” he finally says.
“I’m here.”
“And you were at the hospital?”
“…Yes.”
There’s another pause.
“So before then… were you at my game?”
“Is the pop quiz much longer, sensei?”
“No! Sorry. About all the questions. This is just… a lot to take in, is all.”
“Yeah. Well. Mom made me go, so.”
“…To my game?”
“Yeah.”
“...Why?”
“Why what?”
“Like,... she hasn't made you go before, right? So why this game?”
“Why not this game? Her favorite got promoted.”
“...oh.”
“Yeah.”
Bile rises in my throat.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Did Sakuragi-sensei send you to the hospital with me, too?”
What?
It takes a moment for my brain to register the question, but I know the answer immediately.
No. I try to speak, but my throat tightens around the word.
I hear Fujimura shift on the bed.
Breathe in…
“…Toji-kun?” He sounds hopeful. Careful. Like he’s trying not to scare me off.
Fuck.
“Would you stop fucking calling me that? No one but you has called me that since grade school, you know.Everyone else can read the room just fine, so could you please just stop pretending we’re still friends.”
Silence falls.
The words hang there.
Fuck.
Ren starts talking or I hallucinate or I don’t know—all I know is I can’t listen and I can’t stay and I can’t be here any longer.
One second I’m sitting up and tossing the futon cover aside.
The next I’m up and on my feet and at the door.
My fist grips the doorknob and my body freezes up.
I don’t hear anything.
I look back.
Fujimura is still lying there, frozen in place as his eyes track me in the moonlight.
He says nothing.
“So-…”
I choke on the word.
“Sofa. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
I leave without waiting for an answer.
-----
I wake up cold.
I reach out for covers, but find none.
I sit up.
Oh.
I’m on a couch.
Processing, processing.
Right.
Fujimura’s couch.
Fujimura’s house.
Last night.
My stomach twists.
I listen for some sort of noise, but the house is still peaceful in that early-morning way—dark but not pitch-black, and no movement, no voices, no footsteps in the hall.
Good. If I leave soon, I can be gone before anyone else wakes up.
No conversation.
No drama.
No repeat of yesterday.
I swing my legs off the couch and immediately register the fabric against my skin.
Pajamas.
Fuck.
I look down at the borrowed set like they’ve personally betrayed me.
My clothes.
They’re still in Fujimura’s room.
Because of course they are.
Ugggghhhh.
Fine.
I can do this.
With any luck I can be in and out without waking Fujimura up, and then I’m out of here.
I stand.
Creak.
Freeze.
…
I don’t hear anyone.
Good.
I creep through the house as quietly as I can on an unfamiliar floor.
Main room.
Hallway.
Fujimura’s door.
I put my ear to it and listen.
Silence.
Good. With any luck, he’s still asleep.
I pull the door open just enough to slip inside.
The room is again brighter than the hallway, washed in pale early light from the window. Shapes come into focus first—the desk, the bed, the futon,…
But where the fuck did the bag go?
I sneak over to where the futon got haphazardly strewn the night before and wince slightly.
I really didn’t do this futon any favors, did I?
I grab one of the corners of the futon and gently lift it up.
Nope, not under here.
I peek under the other corner.
Also no.
Sigh.
Corner back down.
I glare at the futon like it’s the worst traitor since the pajamas.
I really don’t have time for this.
I slide both my hands under the futon and lift the whole thing in my arms.
Which, frankly, is super fucking awkward.
The futon is bulkier than it looks, and holding it in my arms immediately takes up most of my personal space and a frankly irresponsible portion of my field of vision.
Great.
Fantastic.
I stand there for a second, holding an entire futon like an idiot, then try awkwardly to rotate my body so that I can see the floor around the futon.
I’m on my fifth extremely dignified spin when—
Thud.
—the paper bag drops out from the fold and lands near my feet.
The sound is muffled.
In the morning silence, it might as well be a gunshot.
I freeze.
To my left, the bed creaks faintly.
Shit.
I freeze on instinct.
Maybe he’s just turning over?
Maybe he won’t wake up to see a crumpled futon on human legs?
My grip tightens.
The room feels way too small.
Fabric shifts.
A slow rustle of sheets. Someone moving.
He’s awake.
He’s awake.
He’s awake.
Shit.
I half-drop the futon back onto the floor.
My heart is pounding.
I should grab the bag.
I should run.
But for some reason…
I turn.
The first thing I see isn’t a face.
It’s hair.
…Red hair?
Fujimura doesn’t have red hair.
Whoever is sitting up in Fujimura’s bed, they have a large tangled mop of red hair spilling out in all directions and curtaining their face. They’re currently trying to run their hands through it and grunting when their hand gets caught.
“…why is there so… much…”
The voice is soft. Hoarse. Wrong.
Not Fujimura’s voice.
Not even a boy’s voice.
My mind races with a million questions.
Who the hell is this?
How did she (?!) get in here?
Did she sneak past me while I was sleeping? (That’s kinda creepy.)
Wait, sneak past me… into Fujimura’s bed?
Did Fujimura have a girlfriend? One didn’t show up at the hospital yesterday, though?
The girl’s movements are sluggish and uncoordinated in that just-woke-up way, but she finally manages to shove enough hair out of her face to see properly.
Her gaze lands on me.
“…Toji-kun? …Oh! So-”
She cuts off mid-word.
Her eyes go wide.
Wait.
The only person who…
My eyes go wide.
“…Fujimura?!”