[{"content":"A cool breeze blew over the grass on the levee, leaving the air unsettled, filled with the sort of latent, electric energy one can only feel as summer draws to a close. It felt as if at any moment it might let the water trapped within it burst out all at once, soaking the dirt and the concrete. A final act of catharsis after months of shouldering its burden.\nIt was enough to make anyone\u0026rsquo;s heart race.\nThe slope of levee was dark, but in the distance one could see the glowing lights of the ongoing festivities; faintly hear the murmurs and shouts of its participants.\nRaana was sitting on the grass, looking elsewhere.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori stepped up beside her and leaned in, holding something out.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; brought you some taiyaki.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked up at her, took the fish-shaped pastry with one hand and bit down on it. A smile crept up on her face as she tasted its matcha filling. She chewed on, still looking out past the river below.\nTomori cleared a space next to Raana and sat down. A minute passed in silence. Another breeze stirred the shrubs nearby.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Did you not\u0026hellip; like it at the festival, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Too many people. Hard to move around,\u0026rdquo; she said, her mouth still full of dough. \u0026ldquo;I got bored.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; I get overwhelmed too, sometimes. When it\u0026rsquo;s crowded.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori fidgeted with her fingers. She caught a glimpse of Raana looking her way and jumped; Raana smiled.\nThen another minute passed. Scattered clouds crept along overhead, dancing along the starry sky.\n\u0026ldquo;Why are they all there?,\u0026rdquo; Raana asked.\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;The festival. How come?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh!\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes lit up. She leaned over towards Raana and pointed nearly straight upwards. \u0026ldquo;Um. You see\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She searched through the stars until she found her mark.\n\u0026ldquo;Up there\u0026hellip; Altair, a-and Vega right above it. The two really bright ones.\u0026rdquo;\nThe sky was just clear enough to make out the faint traces of the Milky Way cutting between them.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;ve shown you them before, I think\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana responded with an ambiguous hmmm.\n\u0026ldquo;A-Anyways.\u0026rdquo; Tomori continued. \u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; there\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; a story about them. Once upon a time, there was\u0026hellip; a princess, named Orihime. She\u0026hellip; um, fell in love with a boy named Hikoboshi. But\u0026hellip; Orihime\u0026rsquo;s father didn\u0026rsquo;t want them to be together, so\u0026hellip; he cut open a river between them, to separate them.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana was still chewing on her taiyaki, a placid expression on her face. Her interest was hard to gauge.\n\u0026ldquo;That river is the Milky Way. You can sort of see it, separating them\u0026hellip; B-but! Orihime was so sad that her father felt sorry for her, so\u0026hellip; he decided to let her visit Hikoboshi, once a year. And\u0026hellip; that\u0026rsquo;s today. That\u0026rsquo;s, um, what the festival\u0026rsquo;s for.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana turned and gave Tomori a stare.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;R-Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nShe kept staring.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;—Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh?\u0026rdquo; Tomori jumped again. \u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s \u0026rsquo;love\u0026rsquo;?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori blinked, looking at Raana like a deer in headlights. After a moment, she found a bittersweet smile.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not sure,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;People use that word a lot\u0026hellip; it\u0026hellip; feels like there\u0026rsquo;s a lot of things I don\u0026rsquo;t really get about it. B-but\u0026hellip; If I had to try and guess\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe took a blade of moist grass in her fingers and began playing with it, rubbing it until it broke off its roots.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-if I could only see you once a year, Raana-chan\u0026hellip; I think I\u0026rsquo;d be really, really sad.\u0026rdquo; She squeezed the grass between her fingers. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;So sad I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t know what to do.\u0026rdquo;\nThe clouds rolled briefly over Altair, then Vega.\n\u0026ldquo;B-but what about you, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; she finally asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;I-if you couldn\u0026rsquo;t see me more than once a year\u0026hellip; how\u0026hellip; would you feel?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, with some trepidation.\nRaana blinked, then looked away. The silence lingered for just long enough to make Tomori anxious. \u0026ldquo;Um, s-sorry—you don\u0026rsquo;t—\u0026rdquo;\nA sudden, heavy feeling came over her shoulder.\nRaana was resting her head on it. Both her arms were wrapped around Tomori\u0026rsquo;s right. Her half-eaten taiyaki was matcha-first in the dirt. Her skin was warm.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-01/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eA cool breeze blew over the grass on the levee, leaving the air unsettled, filled with the sort of latent, electric energy one can only feel as summer draws to a close. It felt as if at any moment it might let the water trapped within it burst out all at once, soaking the dirt and the concrete. A final act of catharsis after months of shouldering its burden.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt was enough to make anyone\u0026rsquo;s heart race.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 1 - Love","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"It was a Friday evening.\nThe autumn sun cut through the clouds. Bathing the city in an otherworldly glow.\nI went straight home from school.\nWe weren\u0026rsquo;t practicing this week.\nSoyo was sick. She had a cold. Ano-chan said she was going to see her.\nSince we didn\u0026rsquo;t practice, Taki-chan wasn\u0026rsquo;t walking home with me.\nWhen I reached the bridge we normally part ways at, I pulled out my phone and sent her a sticker. A Gentoo penguin. Waving.\nShe replied before I even managed to put my phone away, with a panda, waving back.\nI smiled.\nThen, I reached our apartment.\nI tried my key, but the door was unlocked. Actually, it was open.\n\u0026hellip;That wasn\u0026rsquo;t right. Mom and Dad were both out late today.\nI panicked a little. But I opened the door, and let out a weak \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m home\u0026rdquo; as I walked in.\nThen I heard it.\nThe quiet, gentle strumming of an unplugged electric guitar, coming from my bedroom.\nI saw a pair of black boots on the rack as I took my shoes off.\nThen I closed the door behind me. I slowly followed the sound to its source. I turned the corner into my bedroom and walked past its open door.\nRaana was there.\nSitting on my bed, playing her guitar.\n\u0026ldquo;R\u0026hellip;Raana-\u0026hellip;chan?\u0026rdquo;\nShe glanced over at me with her blue eye, then looked away again. She didn\u0026rsquo;t say a word, and kept on playing.\nI walked over to her, cautiously. I put my bag down next to her.\n\u0026ldquo;How did\u0026hellip; you get in here?\u0026rdquo;\nShe kept quiet for a bit. She walked up the frets on her guitar. In a melody. Quickly, deftly. But still, delicately. Then she strummed a tonic chord. And looked at me. Her gaze made me recoil.\n\u0026ldquo;Unlocked it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;Huh?\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;H-huh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hairpin.\u0026rdquo;\nShe pulled one out of her pocket. A hairpin. I stared at her, in astonishment.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; think you should be doing that? You\u0026rsquo;ll get in trouble\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Trouble?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Like, with the police, or something\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Wanted to be here.\u0026rdquo;\nShe wanted to be here.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Here? W-Why?\u0026rdquo;\nIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t her first time in my room. But it was her first time here on her own. We\u0026rsquo;d had a songwriting session here once, as MyGO, but\u0026hellip; having everyone in my room felt strange. I preferred Soyo or Ano-chan\u0026rsquo;s.\nTaki-chan never offered to have us over. I don\u0026rsquo;t know why.\nRaana looked me over. The way her eyes climbed around me made me shiver a little. Each of them a different color. It made her stare pierce twice as sharp. And I already didn\u0026rsquo;t like being stared at\u0026hellip;\nShe raised her plucking hand and pointed her index finger at me.\n\u0026ldquo;Interesting girl.\u0026rdquo;\nShe called me that a lot\u0026hellip; It still felt strange, like a knot in my stomach, every time she did.\nI had no idea what she meant.\nI sighed and sat down on the floor. Or I dropped onto it. I don\u0026rsquo;t know why I expected a different answer from her.\nMaybe being away from everyone all week had gotten to me. I blurted something out, something I would normally keep to myself.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; so interesting about me, anyways\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI muttered, holding back my voice, regretting every word, as they left my mouth anyways. Not expecting an answer.\n\u0026ldquo;Lots.\u0026rdquo;\nI got one anyways. It made me jump.\nRaana stood up. She rested her guitar against a wall and reached inside the box I kept my notebooks in. She pulled one out. Horned beetle. And she opened it and pointed at it.\n\u0026ldquo;Interesting words.\u0026rdquo;\nI gasped a little. I reached my hand out and tried to say something. But nothing came out.\nIt always made me feel uneasy when people opened my notebooks. They always did it so casually. But it felt like something was being ripped from my insides.\nI just looked at her. She tossed the notebook aside. She didn\u0026rsquo;t put it back where it was.\nThen she walked over to me. She crouched down, eyes level with mine. And pointed at me again.\n\u0026ldquo;From an interesting voice.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Huh? Voice? \u0026hellip;No, my voice is\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s nothing\u0026hellip; special\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I like it.\u0026rdquo;\nShe was smiling at me.\nI felt\u0026hellip; lightheaded.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s pretty. I feel calm. When I hear it.\u0026rdquo; She said.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I wanted to hear it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;She hadn\u0026rsquo;t heard it in a while. That\u0026rsquo;s right.\nI had a thought. It snapped me back into place.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;ve been\u0026hellip; writing lyrics for a new song. Since last week.\u0026rdquo;\nI noticed Raana perking up. She tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Do you want to hear them?\u0026rdquo;\nI hesitated. \u0026ldquo;Um, it\u0026rsquo;s okay if you don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nHer eyes narrowed. She smiled again.\n\u0026ldquo;I wanna hear it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ndash;\nI grabbed a notebook from my desk. I brought it over and sat down in front of Raana, and turned the pages over.\nShe\u0026rsquo;d grabbed her guitar again.\nI looked at her. Then back at my notebook.\nThis was\u0026hellip; uncomfortable. Having her there. Sitting and staring.\nStill, I started to read. In fits and starts and in whispers. Like dragging my legs through mud.\nAnd then she started playing.\nShe found a rhythm to my stuttered words.\nOne I didn\u0026rsquo;t even know was there. And she filled it with melody. That my voice couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but follow.\n\u0026hellip;Just like that day. She did the same thing.\nI felt like I was on that stage again. Before I knew it, I started singing.\nForcing the words out into notes. Chasing after hers. And it felt like\u0026hellip; like she always led me where I wanted to go.\nLike\u0026hellip; she knew.\n\u0026hellip;Eventually, though, the words on the page dried up. I got as far as I\u0026rsquo;d written.\nI glanced up at Raana. She seemed confused. Expectant. She finished a phrase, then let her strings ring out.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry. That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; all I have for now\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI turned my eyes away.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve been\u0026hellip; a little stuck, to be honest\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I mumbled.\nShe kept quiet. For a second, then another.\nAnd another.\nThen\u0026hellip; she said something. No, she sang something.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip;-alone\u0026hellip;-me.\u0026rdquo;\nI jolted up and looked at her.\nWhat\u0026hellip; did she say?\n\u0026hellip;Why can\u0026rsquo;t I\u0026hellip; remember what she said?\nHer words pierced through my heart. But they left me as soon as they came.\nLike a sudden breeze. Gone before I could notice.\nI wanted to write them down.\nIt took me over. My body moved on its own.\nI reached out and grabbed Raana\u0026rsquo;s wrist. With all the strength I could muster.\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t react. She was still, just, looking at me.\nI looked back at her.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Say that again. Please.\u0026rdquo;\nI was trembling.\n\u0026ndash;\nRaana looked down at my hand. Gripped around her arm.\n\u0026hellip;My nails were digging into her skin.\nI hadn\u0026rsquo;t realized.\nShe was\u0026hellip; bleeding.\nHer blood pooled up around my thumbnail. Danced around it. A drop of it swirled around and down her arm. Then it fell. It stained my bedsheets. Fading from crimson to pink.\nI caught myself staring at it. Then I recoiled and whimpered, jerking my arm away from her.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan! I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry! I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t look like she was in pain. Or surprised. She glanced over at me. Then back at the bleeding imprint of my nail on her forearm.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;ll get something! From the bathroom. Wait here.\u0026rdquo;\nI ran off and into the bathroom. I was in a haze. I looked at my thumb. Some of her blood was flitting along its ridges. In a spiral. Like a snail shell.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t know why I did that. I didn\u0026rsquo;t mean to. I wasn\u0026rsquo;t thinking.\nI found the cabinet and opened it. Peroxide. Cotton ball.\nI rushed back to Raana.\n\u0026hellip;She was sitting on the edge of my bed. Licking the wound. \u0026hellip;Like a cat.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan!\u0026rdquo;\nI called out to her weakly.\n\u0026ldquo;You can\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; You shouldn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; do that.\u0026rdquo; I walked over to her, holding out the bottle of peroxide.\nShe looked up at me. She said: \u0026ldquo;Why not?\u0026rdquo;\nI hesitated.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; get infected.\u0026rdquo; Mom taught me. In kindergarten, when I got a scrape on my knee.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;ll get\u0026hellip; really sick.\u0026rdquo;\nShe ignored me.\n\u0026ldquo;Tastes like matcha.\u0026rdquo;\nLike\u0026hellip; matcha?!\n\u0026ldquo;H-huh?\u0026rdquo; I stared at the wound as her tongue lifted off it.\nShe does eat a lot of matcha\u0026hellip; Is that\u0026hellip; how that works?\nI snapped myself out of the thought and inched closer to her.\n\u0026ldquo;Here, just\u0026hellip; let me clean it up\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;ll get you a band-aid, so\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe ignored me again.\n\u0026ldquo;Wanna try?\u0026rdquo;\nT\u0026hellip;try?\nShe was holding her arm up to my mouth.\nI could smell the blood. It smelled like\u0026hellip; some kind of metal. Like the metal parts of my desk in class.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t know why, but my face started feeling hot. Really hot. Like a fever. Like my brain was drowned in a cloud of steam.\nI stood there in a stupor. She nudged her arm forwards. \u0026ldquo;Try it,\u0026rdquo; she said. Casually, like she was offering me a piece of candy.\nSomething\u0026hellip; came over me. I must have gotten dizzy from the heat and stopped thinking. I dropped the bottle and the cotton on the floor. And took her arm in my hand and then I put my tongue on the cut and let her blood leak onto it and I tasted it.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;How is it?\u0026rdquo;\nIt took me a few seconds to realize what I was doing.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;This\u0026hellip; doesn\u0026rsquo;t taste like matcha at all, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Really?\u0026rdquo; She pulled her arm back and licked herself again.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Matcha.\u0026rdquo;\nShe really seemed convinced.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s not\u0026hellip; a bad taste, though\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I blurted something out in stuttered murmurs. My head still felt funny.\nWhen I was younger, Mom would give me 500-yen coins so I could buy candy. I caught myself licking them sometimes. It was comforting. She noticed it and made me stop, eventually.\nThe taste reminded me of that. Except it was\u0026hellip; warmer. Brighter. Like it was alive.\n\u0026ldquo;I think it tastes like\u0026hellip; you, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Me?\u0026rdquo;\nI felt my awareness snap back into place. Like a splash of cold water from the sink in the morning.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry! Sorry\u0026hellip; Ignore that, I\u0026hellip; Let me\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI crouched down and fumbled trying to grab the bottle I\u0026rsquo;d dropped.\n\u0026ldquo;What about you?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;M-me?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Your taste.\u0026rdquo;\nI froze up.\n\u0026ldquo;Let me try.\u0026rdquo; I heard her slide off the bed. She was suddenly crouched beside me.\nShe was staring at me. Her blue eye, her amber eye. Each of them fixed on me.\nJiiii.\nI felt my face flush again. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t get a word out. Like something was stuck in my throat. Then I felt her arm pushing on my chest.\nI gave way. Like a flimsy\u0026hellip; house of cards. I crumpled apart and fell onto the carpet.\nShe was kneeling on top of me. Still staring. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but look away. At the window. Then over at my desk and my pegboards.\nI whimpered her name. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nBefore I could finish speaking, she dove down at me.\nI felt her hand on my shoulder. She grabbed the shoulder of my hoodie and pulled it aside. I felt its cloth and her fingers dragging along my skin.\nAnd then she bit me.\nIt hurt. It hurt so much. My shoulder felt like it was on fire.\nI saw tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. I must have let out so many pathetic whines. I don\u0026rsquo;t remember.\nI tried to push her away, instinctively, but my arms felt like jelly.\nShe stopped. When she did, I felt the skin she\u0026rsquo;d bitten pulsing. It sent a wave through my whole body. I\u0026rsquo;d never felt this before.\nThen I felt her tongue tickling the bite. Wet and soft. And hot. It burned.\nI whimpered. I heard Raana licking her lips. She was\u0026hellip; really close to my ear.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I like it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What\u0026hellip;does it taste like?\u0026rdquo; I pushed myself to ask.\n\u0026ldquo;Matcha.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I felt a pang of disappointment. I don\u0026rsquo;t know why.\n\u0026ldquo;Matcha. Strawberry. \u0026hellip;Chocolate.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-That many flavors?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Like a parfait. I like it.\u0026rdquo;\nShe went in for another taste. More weird high-pitched noises escaped my lungs.\n\u0026ldquo;Good voice.\u0026rdquo; She noticed them.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Wha-ah!\u0026rdquo; She brushed her finger along my shoulder, then presented it to me. It was covered in\u0026hellip; my blood. The sight made me a little faint.\n\u0026ldquo;Try it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan, I don\u0026rsquo;t-\u0026rdquo;\nThe second I opened my mouth, she put her finger in.\nIt was squirming around in there. Like\u0026hellip; a bug. A caterpillar. My tongue couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but find it.\n\u0026hellip;It did taste a little like chocolate.\n\u0026ldquo;How is it?\u0026rdquo;, she asked, with her finger still inside my mouth.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t think I could have said anything, even if I could speak.\nRaana tilted her head. She pulled her finger out of my mouth. She stared at the spit trailing towards its tip.\nShe gazed at it, while I coughed from the mess of liquids dancing around inside my mouth.\nShe looked at me. Her face drew closer and closer to mine.\nHer lips parted. My vision grew dimmer. I felt her breath leave her, and graze my mouth and my nose.\nAnd her lips touched mine. And\u0026hellip; I think, her tongue did too.\nWas it a kiss? I\u0026rsquo;m not sure.\nIt didn\u0026rsquo;t really feel like what you see in movies and TV shows. It was. Messy. Crude. Like she was just feeling out the inside of my mouth with hers.\nEither way, I was in no state to resist.\nMy mind had gone completely blank.\n\u0026hellip;As she drew back, I felt her teeth dragging on my lower lip.\nAll I could do was look at her. I was adrift in a fog of unfamiliar sensations. Overwhelmed. Completely overwhelmed. Confused, and adrift.\nI think you\u0026rsquo;re not supposed to like this. Being touched, pushed around, chewed on, treated like a toy.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t know if I did like it. But I didn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; want to run.\nIt felt like Raana was showing me what she really wanted.\nAs the haze cleared, I could hear my own labored breaths fade in. I took the room in, trying to find a sense of place.\nI looked up at my bed, a thin, wispy red line running down its side.\nMy heart was racing.\nRaana rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori, you taste nice.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Can I have more later?\u0026rdquo;\nI wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure what to say.\n\u0026ldquo;M-maybe\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe nuzzled into me. She was warm.\nWe laid still for a minute. Then, I finally worked up the courage to say something.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; Will you\u0026hellip; tell me what you sang, earlier?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo; She looked up, her eyes opened slightly.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you know, before I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Forgot.\u0026rdquo;\nShe forgot\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;Sleepy. Goodnight.\u0026rdquo;\nShe drifted off on top of me. Her snores were quiet and gentle.\nI looked out the window, trying to collect my thoughts.\nI saw the last trickles of sunlight whisking away behind an apartment building.\nWith every beat of my heart, I felt my shoulder itch.\n","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/chapter-01/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eIt was a Friday evening.\u003cbr\u003e\nThe autumn sun cut through the clouds. Bathing the city in an otherworldly glow.\u003cbr\u003e\nI went straight home from school.\u003cbr\u003e\nWe weren\u0026rsquo;t practicing this week.\u003cbr\u003e\nSoyo was sick. She had a cold. Ano-chan said she was going to see her.\u003cbr\u003e\nSince we didn\u0026rsquo;t practice, Taki-chan wasn\u0026rsquo;t walking home with me.\u003cbr\u003e\nWhen I reached the bridge we normally part ways at, I pulled out my phone and sent her a sticker. A Gentoo penguin. Waving.\u003cbr\u003e\nShe replied before I even managed to put my phone away, with a panda, waving back.\u003cbr\u003e\nI smiled.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 1 - taste","work":"in a world of her own"},{"content":"It\u0026rsquo;s finally spring.\nNearly every morning now the ground is wet with dew and the remnants of overnight showers. It makes me wonder if the earth itself has been crying itself to sleep.\nIn my favorite park, across the railway tracks from home, there\u0026rsquo;s a cedar tree I\u0026rsquo;ve grown really fond of.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s easy to miss. It\u0026rsquo;s not especially big, and it\u0026rsquo;s out of the way, off the beaten path near a little pond. Its trunk has a unique, crooked shape. It calms me down whenever I see it. I hope it appreciates my company, too.\nI\u0026rsquo;ve started going out of my way to visit it. I set aside one of my notebooks to fill with sketches of its bark. I really like the way its bark looks. I could sit there copying its patterns until the sun went down. I think I did, once.\nEvery so often, I see the same caterpillars crawling along its branches. Six of them, all one species. Green with black stripes and orange dots.\nSlowly I\u0026rsquo;m managing to tell them apart. They wriggle around, looking for good leaves to eat. Sometimes they crawl down onto the grass and stay there for a while, perfectly still.\nI always wonder what they\u0026rsquo;re thinking.\nLately, our band hasn\u0026rsquo;t been playing as much. I think everyone\u0026rsquo;s been busy with the new school year. But it feels lonely. It makes me kind of scared.\nI still text everyone. It\u0026rsquo;s not like we aren\u0026rsquo;t keeping in touch. But if I can\u0026rsquo;t hear their voices, if I can\u0026rsquo;t be near them and feel their warmth, I start to worry they\u0026rsquo;re not real, in the back of my head.\nThe last two times we did get to practice, Raana-chan didn\u0026rsquo;t show. She hadn\u0026rsquo;t done that in months.\nTaki-chan was really upset, but I\u0026rsquo;m sure she has her reasons. She\u0026rsquo;s starting high school, after all.\nI\u0026rsquo;ve been seeing less of the caterpillars lately. They must have started pupating, but I looked and couldn\u0026rsquo;t find them.\nI spent so long searching for them I got my favorite hoodie stained with the pigment of its leaves.\nI threw it in the wash as soon as I got home, but there\u0026rsquo;s still a faint green blotch on its pocket.\nI found one of the caterpillars today.\nIt was curled up on the ground. It wouldn\u0026rsquo;t move. It was stiff and dry and half-buried in the dirt.\nI stayed up all night thinking about it.\nIt feels so much harder to control my own thoughts lately.\nRaana-chan finally showed up to practice. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t help myself. I ran up to her and hugged her. Her body felt unusually warm.\nShe left after just two songs. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t bring myself to stop her.\nI feel like I know her even less than when we first met.\nI\u0026rsquo;m scared.\nI finally found the pupae.\nThey were in the last place I hadn\u0026rsquo;t looked. Five of them, all lined up next to each other, on the same branch.\nThree of them were empty husks.\nI looked for the butterflies, but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t find them. Of course I couldn\u0026rsquo;t. They could have flown off anywhere by now.\nAnd even if I could find them, I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t recognize them.\nI couldn\u0026rsquo;t sleep again that night.\nI went back the next morning. I was so tired my head was spinning, but I didn\u0026rsquo;t want to miss the last two chrysalides emerging.\nRaana-chan was there.\nShe was sitting by the tree. I rubbed my eyes. They say enough sleep deprivation can make you see things that aren\u0026rsquo;t really there.\nI sat down next to her and said hi, but she stayed silent, and shifted closer and closer to me.\nAnd then she leaned over and pushed my hands down.\nShe pressed her lips against mine.\nGently at first, then not so much.\nI felt that unusual warmth from her again. No, everything was warm. It was like spring had died and turned to summer in an instant.\nShe even smelled different from before. No longer sweet, but something else. Something distinct and indescribable.\nBut she was real. She tasted real.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t know how much time passed. Eventually she pulled back and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and smiled. Then she stood up, turned around, and walked away.\nI was too stunned to do anything.\nAs she left the clearing, two yellow swallowtails flew after her.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-02/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eIt\u0026rsquo;s finally spring.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNearly every morning now the ground is wet with dew and the remnants of overnight showers. It makes me wonder if the earth itself has been crying itself to sleep.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn my favorite park, across the railway tracks from home, there\u0026rsquo;s a cedar tree I\u0026rsquo;ve grown really fond of.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt\u0026rsquo;s easy to miss. It\u0026rsquo;s not especially big, and it\u0026rsquo;s out of the way, off the beaten path near a little pond. Its trunk has a unique, crooked shape. It calms me down whenever I see it. I hope it appreciates my company, too.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 2 - Butterflies","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"The clock on my bedside ticked away, and my consciousness swayed and blurred into a muddy focus.\nIt was dark. I could see traces of my bedroom, faintly outlined by moonlight. My bed, and my desk. The window, and the city outside it. The waning crescent moon.\n\u0026hellip;How much time had passed?\nI looked at the clock. It read eight. An hour.\nI must have fallen asleep.\nOr maybe I just\u0026hellip; lost track of time.\nRaana was still on me, her eyes still closed. She was still dreaming.\nI felt the weight and warmth of her body press down on my chest with every inhale and give way with every exhale. She was snoring, ever so slightly. Her breath tickled my neck. She sounded\u0026hellip; cute.\nI raised my hand up to my face and touched it, and I felt the traces of dried saliva she\u0026rsquo;d left there. Both mine and hers.\nI rubbed them off, then stared at my thumb. It was lightly tinged red. \u0026hellip;I felt a little lightheaded, looking at it.\nI looked over at Raana; I could just barely make out her sleeping face, and there was\u0026hellip; a small, blurry, crimson stain, left just below her lips. Seeing that made me even dizzier.\nThe rest of my body slowly started waking up, pins and needles washing over my chest, like a tide coming in. They spread to my limbs, and, when they reached my left shoulder, the pain came back.\nIt stung. I squirmed, and jolted upwards.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026ndash;!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s eyes peeked open. She looked at me, squinting.\nI looked away, off to the side.\nI couldn\u0026rsquo;t bring myself to face her.\nThen, as I turned, I saw the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, on the floor. It was rolling, ever so gently, and its plastic glinted a pale blue. The ball of cotton sat next to it.\nI read the label printed on its side.\n\u0026ldquo;Oxydol\u0026rdquo;. \u0026ldquo;Class 3 pharmaceutical.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Japanese Pharmacopoeia.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;3.3% solution. For disinfection and cleaning of wounds.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;d forgotten, after everything that happened. The urgency hit me like a bolt of lightning.\nI reached for the bottle, and the cotton, and I finally looked up at Raana. She\u0026rsquo;d sat up, but her legs were still straddling mine. She was rubbing her eye with one hand.\nShe made a sleepy, confused noise.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan. Let me\u0026hellip; Let me clean it.\u0026rdquo;\nI sat up, too, and spoke to her. She was\u0026hellip; really close, now. I could feel her breath again, winding its way around my cheek.\nI dampened the cotton with the peroxide and I reached out to her arm. To\u0026hellip; the, mark I\u0026hellip; left on her.\nThe cut was still bright red, but it had stopped bleeding.\nI thought she would resist, but\u0026hellip; she didn\u0026rsquo;t. She let me take her arm. It was really, really cold, and covered in hard, pointed goosebumps. I could feel it leeching the heat from my palm.\nI lifted it up, and gently pressed the wet cotton against it.\n\u0026hellip;She flinched.\nAnd, she made a noise. Like a mewl, or a hiss. Both, I think.\nI looked over at her face. She\u0026rsquo;d turned hers away. It looked a little flushed.\n\u0026ldquo;Hurts.\u0026rdquo;\nShe forced her voice, through pained whimpers.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry\u0026hellip; Just, hang in there a little longer\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mmn\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnother\u0026hellip; little\u0026hellip; mewl.\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s voice could pitch surprisingly high. I knew that already. But\u0026hellip; I didn\u0026rsquo;t know what to think, now that I was forcing it to.\nIt felt, weird. Making her hurt.\nI\u0026rsquo;m too scared to even touch people, normally. And this\u0026hellip;\nIt felt like I was reaching past her skin, and touching her soul.\nIt made my skin crawl. It made my stomach turn, and, yet, I couldn\u0026rsquo;t stop.\nMy mind lingered for a few seconds too long. I hurriedly let go of her.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry. I\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; get you a band-aid, okay?\u0026rdquo;\nI said, trying to sound reassuring.\nI shuffled out from under her legs, set the bottle and the cotton down, and stood up, and walked over to my desk, and flipped the switch on the cable leading to my reading lamp. The room glowed a dim orange.\nI started looking. Third drawer, bottom right. Band-aids, sorted by color. A pattern of white cats, on a blue background.\nI recall buying this, a few weeks ago, at the local stationery store. I was planning on giving it to Raana.\nShe was still hiding her face when I came back to her. She turned it away from the light, cloaking it in shadow.\nWhen I put a band-aid on, I always start by taking off the left half of the film covering the adhesive. You don\u0026rsquo;t take the other off until the first side is adhered. That way, you can just pull the other half off as you press the adhesive down, all in one motion.\nWhen the pad pressed down on her cut, I felt Raana\u0026rsquo;s arm pull back, just a little bit. Then I ran my finger over the length of the band-aid, to make sure it fully adhered.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;There.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re done?\u0026rdquo;\nHer voice was\u0026hellip; lower than normal.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-Yeah.\u0026rdquo;\nShe turned towards me. Her gaze landed on mine, and made me flinch, and look away.\n\u0026ldquo;Your turn, then.\u0026rdquo;\nI think I heard her snicker under her breath.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; Y-you don\u0026rsquo;t, need to\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe\u0026rsquo;d already picked up the cotton and the bottle by the time I finished protesting, though.\nShe tilted the bottle, and dumped the liquid over the cotton, until it was completely wet. The peroxide ran over it, then spilled into a puddle on the floor.\nThe liquid slid around and danced, along the gaps in the floorboards. It reached my knee, and I felt it touching me.\n\u0026ldquo;T-that\u0026rsquo;s way too much, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm? Isn\u0026rsquo;t more better?\u0026rdquo;, she asked, tilting her head. She was holding the dripping blob up to her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; think so?\u0026rdquo;\nI wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure, though.\nMaybe it is\u0026hellip;?\n\u0026ldquo;Hold still.\u0026rdquo; She dropped the subject, and started inching her legs towards me.\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana peeked over my shoulder, and pulled my blazer and shirt aside. I felt the cloth drag over the bite marks.\n\u0026ldquo;Ow\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe ignored me, and reached her hand onto the wound, forcefully rubbing the cotton over it. She held it down. Hard.\n\u0026ldquo;I-iiiiiiii\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nMy head jerked backward and my eyelids closed themselves. I felt my tears welling up again.\nThe liquid squeezed out of the cotton, and it ran down along my spine, and stopped at the small of my back, like, sterile, chemical sweat.\nThen she leaned even closer, pressed down even harder. Her nose was right next to my ear, now. I could hear her breathing battering against it. It was\u0026hellip; surprisingly fast, and it was ragged. It sounded like she was\u0026hellip; excited.\nWas she\u0026hellip; paying me back?\nI held my own breath in, trying to bear through the pain. Until I couldn\u0026rsquo;t, and the air heaved out of my lungs, and when I tried to catch it on its way, I let something slip into my trachea, and I started coughing like a sick puppy, desperate, and stuttering, and I fell onto my back.\nShe finally backed off. When the reflexes in my throat calmed down, I reached for my shoulder, instinctively, but I stopped myself.\nRaana stood up, and started rifling through my drawers. Running her hand through their insides, then throwing them mostly-closed, ajar, when she didn\u0026rsquo;t find what she wanted.\n\u0026ldquo;Where\u0026rsquo;s the big ones?,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah!\u0026rdquo;\nI reached a hand out to her and tried to answer. Two more coughs leapt out of my mouth, then they let me speak.\n\u0026ldquo;T-they\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; in the second-to-last drawer, and they\u0026rsquo;re sorted from dark to light from left to right and by their pattern from top to bottom, and, and\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Got it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI turned away, and stared at the ceiling.\nI wiped my mouth, then I lifted my hand up, trying to reach out and touch the thin pane of glass that stood between me, and everything in front.\nI think\u0026hellip; I was having a really strange Friday night. Probably.\nRaana put the bandage on my shoulder, then went back to fiddling with her guitar, without speaking another word. She was still looking over at me, though.\nIt was a big, square bandage, with the Milky Way printed on it. It was also the first one in the drawer, counting from the top right.\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t apply it evenly. There were creases left all over it, leaving little gaps exposed to the air. I tried to press on them to flatten them out, but it hurt a lot, so I stopped.\nI took my hoodie and my shorts out of the closet, and I walked over to our laundry room, and took off my skirt and my blazer, then my tie, which was loosened and messily hanging off the back of my neck, and my shirt, which was partly unbuttoned and scrunched up and wrinkled at the shoulder.\nI held the white shirt out in front of me, and looked it over. It was stained a diluted pink with my blood and wet with long, comet-like streaks of hydrogen peroxide running down its back.\nI threw it in the washing machine, with the water set to hot, hoping it would just fade away. Then, I put on my change of clothes.\nWhen I got back, Raana was sitting on the floor. She had her legs and one arm wrapped around her guitar, like it was a body pillow, and she was looking at her phone.\nThe screen\u0026rsquo;s light colored her face a pale white, and cast shadows over the pores on her skin, like the surface of the moon.\nHer cheeks looked perfectly soft.\nShe had her usual, monotonic expression, but her eyes were fixed on the screen.\nA moment passed. She looked up. She caught me staring, and my gaze dodged down to the floor.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nI jumped when I heard my name, but I didn\u0026rsquo;t look up.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Y-yes?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m staying over tonight.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-staying over\u0026hellip;? Here\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nI hadn\u0026rsquo;t done that since\u0026hellip; sixth grade, I think.\nMy\u0026hellip; friend at the time, Mio-chan, wanted to stay the night. So she did. I still wish she hadn\u0026rsquo;t.\nIt was an awkward, and uncomfortable sleepover. I think I made a complete fool of myself. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t face her at school afterwards, and I think, because of that, we started drifting apart.\n\u0026hellip;I thought about it for a while, and as I did, I caught myself running my fingernail down the length of my cheek and neck, to calm myself down.\nI wanted to say no.\nI was scared. Scared enough already having her here, in my room, all on her own. Just looking at her was enough to raise my heartbeat and open a pit in my stomach.\nI wanted to be alone, and turn the lights back off, and jump into my bed, and hide under my covers until everything turned black.\nMy nail dug deeper into my skin.\nI thought she\u0026rsquo;d get sick of waiting for my answer, and start prodding me for it.\nBut instead, she said, \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna go home.\u0026rdquo;\nShe whispered it. So quietly that I could have missed it just from focusing too hard on my own thoughts.\nRaana always says things so confidently. Like she\u0026rsquo;s been ready to say them her whole life, like she doesn\u0026rsquo;t need to think about them at all. I\u0026rsquo;ve always admired it. She\u0026rsquo;s always felt so\u0026hellip; unreachably comfortable with herself.\nBut right now, she sounded like she was wringing out every drop of her strength to pull the words from her mouth. She was right down here with me.\nI looked at her. She wasn\u0026rsquo;t looking at me.\nHer phone was on the floor, still bathing her with its glow, at a different angle.\nI could see her lock screen, her mountain of unread notifications. I could see new ones popping up.\nShe was resting her forehead on the neck of her guitar.\nShe was hugging it with both arms now.\nBefore I even realized it, I was by her side, on my knees.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t remember running over to her, or tripping onto the floor, or pulling my phone out of my pocket. But that\u0026rsquo;s what happened.\nI looked her in the eyes. She gently turned towards me.\nHer face looked different from usual. It looked like there was something\u0026hellip; welling up inside her. Just the slightest amount, just a little.\nI told her, \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll call my parents.\u0026rdquo;\nMom and Dad are out on a date tonight. It\u0026rsquo;s their anniversary. They said they won\u0026rsquo;t be home until midnight, and they left me some curry to reheat in the fridge.\nI called Mom, and I told her one of my bandmates wanted to stay the night. She said that that was fine, and told me to have fun.\nI think I heard a little, \u0026ldquo;ooh\u0026rdquo;, right after I told her.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. Mom says it\u0026rsquo;s okay. You can stay over.\u0026rdquo;\nI walked back into my room to tell her. She was still there, sitting on the floor, hugging her guitar.\nHer phone was turned face down on the floor, so I couldn\u0026rsquo;t see her face anymore.\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t say anything. Instead, she sighed. I\u0026rsquo;d never heard her sigh before.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Do you want\u0026hellip; to have dinner? I only have one serving of curry, but\u0026hellip; we can split it, if that\u0026rsquo;s okay\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Mmm.\u0026rdquo; She didn\u0026rsquo;t sound interested.\n\u0026ldquo;Is that\u0026hellip; a no?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Curry makes my tongue itchy. I don\u0026rsquo;t like it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; Then\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Give me something sweet.\u0026rdquo;\nWe sat across from each other at our kitchen table.\nI had my plate of reheated curry, with a serving of rice. I can\u0026rsquo;t cook at all, but I can at least work the rice cooker.\nRaana had a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of milk I set out for her.\nShe was chewing on one of the cookies, and, at the same time, she was looking at me. Straight at me. Like, jiiii.\nI was dodging her eyes with mine as I ate.\nI concentrated on getting a perfect one-to-one ratio of curry to rice in every spoonful. Just to distract myself from the daggers being stared into me.\nI fed myself another bite, then chewed it twelve times, like Dad taught me, then I swallowed it, then took another bite, then chewed another twelve times.\nThe silence and the clinking of my spoon against my bowl and the sound of Raana chewing her food filled my head. And it all felt as loud as a really loud car horn blaring right into my ear and all my thoughts started to turn into white noise and so I finally blurted something out just to break it up.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry we didn\u0026rsquo;t have anything matcha-flavored.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mmm.\u0026rdquo; She narrowed her eyes at me.\nNo response. \u0026hellip;Of course, I should have expected that.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;A-are the cookies good, at least? Um, Dad baked a big batch the other day, so, you can have as many as you want\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Bretty goob.\u0026rdquo; She said, while chewing on one.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-\u0026hellip;chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo;\nI finally looked back at her. She was tilting her head.\nI tried my best to swallow the anxious feeling building in the back of my throat, and I breathed in, and finally, I got myself to ask the question that had been slowly taking over my mind this whole time.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Why\u0026hellip;don\u0026rsquo;t you want to go home?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t say anything, at first. Instead, she raised her knees up to her chest, and tucked them in with her arms.\nShe was looking away.\nThe anxiety I\u0026rsquo;d swallowed came rushing back up from the depths of my stomach.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry\u0026hellip; Y-you don\u0026rsquo;t have to answer that, I just\u0026hellip; Sorry, sorry, sorry\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI looked down, and started to play with what was left of my food, dragging it around the plate in a circle.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026lsquo;cos they don\u0026rsquo;t get it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;E-eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I said, they don\u0026rsquo;t get it.\u0026rdquo;\nMy anxiety turned to confusion, and my mind raced, trying to figure out what she could mean.\n\u0026ldquo;W-who?\u0026rdquo;\nI ate another spoonful of curry.\n\u0026ldquo;Mom. And grandma.\u0026rdquo; Her voice got lower with every response.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; And, what don\u0026rsquo;t they\u0026hellip; get?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Anything.\u0026rdquo; She was speaking through her teeth, I could hear it.\nI kept going through scenarios in my head. Things I\u0026rsquo;d heard about at school, things I\u0026rsquo;d read about, or seen on TV.\n\u0026ldquo;Did they\u0026hellip; did they hurt you, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nI heard my voice raise, on its own.\n\u0026ldquo;No. Not like that.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay\u0026hellip; That\u0026rsquo;s, that\u0026rsquo;s good\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;m sick of them. All they do is order me around.\u0026rdquo;\nI could hear a fire, burning in her chest, rising up and spewing from her mouth.\nI had never seen Raana like this before. Taki-chan did let her temper get the better of her sometimes. But not Raana. She was always so laid back.\nShe grabbed another cookie from her plate, and spread her knees apart so she could put it in her mouth. She bit into it, hard enough that crumbs spilled all over the table. When I saw her teeth come down on it and split it in half, I jumped.\nShe took another bite, then another. She\u0026rsquo;d stuffed the whole cookie into her mouth before swallowing any of it. Then she picked up her glass of milk and drank it all in a single breath, and let out a raspy breath when she was done.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m full.\u0026rdquo; She still had a few cookies on her plate.\nI\u0026rsquo;d finished my curry by now.\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay. Um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI wanted to ask more. I really wanted to.\nBut getting this far had already taken so much out of me. I felt like I had run out of breath, like I do every time I try to run.\nSo I changed the subject, to try and catch it.\n\u0026ldquo;Do you\u0026hellip; want to take a bath? I can get the water ready\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe looked at me. \u0026ldquo;Hmm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmmmmm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What\u0026rsquo;s, what\u0026rsquo;s up\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nSuddenly, she smirked.\n\u0026ldquo;Take it with me.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/chapter-02/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThe clock on my bedside ticked away, and my consciousness swayed and blurred into a muddy focus.\u003cbr\u003e\nIt was dark. I could see traces of my bedroom, faintly outlined by moonlight. My bed, and my desk. The window, and the city outside it. The waning crescent moon.\u003cbr\u003e\n\u0026hellip;How much time had passed?\u003cbr\u003e\nI looked at the clock. It read eight. An hour.\u003cbr\u003e\nI must have fallen asleep.\u003cbr\u003e\nOr maybe I just\u0026hellip; lost track of time.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 2 - disinfection","work":"in a world of her own"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Tomori. Over here.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana slid down the hill and beckoned. Mottles of sunlight danced on her white hair as it streamed in through the canopy above, then vanished as she left the shadows. She hopped off the small cliff at the edge of the clearing.\nTomori followed gingerly down the incline, holding onto the trees as she did. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t trust her own body to move how she wanted it to; she had plenty of faded old scars, and gashes on her childhood clothes (which she refused to throw away) to remind her of this.\nThe sun dazzled her as she emerged. Even with her hand covering her eyes, it took seconds to adjust. The view before her faded in slowly, like a photograph soaking in a chemical bath.\nFirst came the grass at her feet; scorched to a dry yellow by the year\u0026rsquo;s droughts. Then the shape of a building out in front: a small concrete cabin with a sheet-metal roof. Its walls were painted by decades of dust and rain. On its front, a window made of rotted old wood and broken glass; and a bulky cast-iron door, caked with rust. It was open.\nBehind the building lay a railway track, flanked by the imposing apparatus of a level crossing. Yellow crosses held up by posts framed the two raised barriers. And through the tracks crossed an old asphalt road, cracked and overgrown with grass, as if it had been worn down with overuse and then left to rot.\nRaana stood in front, bouncing on her feet with impatience. She looked eagerly over at Tomori.\n\u0026ldquo;I-Is this the place?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;In here,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, and ran into the cabin.\nThe inside was somehow even more run-down. Cracks ran from the ceiling to the floor. Old trash and dirt piled up in the corners. By the wall to the right, a table and a toppled chair, all next to a rusty, disused lever.\nRaana turned and sat below the window, right where the sun painted a bright square on the floor. She patted the ground beside her. She\u0026rsquo;d shifted to the side, leaving some room for Tomori in the pool of sunshine.\nAs she sat down and let its warmth touch her, Tomori felt suddenly, incredibly\u0026hellip; comfortable.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you\u0026rsquo;re right.\u0026rdquo; She took a deep, careful breath. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; this is really nice.\u0026rdquo;\nOutside, sparrows sang from the trees.\n\u0026ldquo;Hehe. Told you,\u0026rdquo; Raana said. \u0026ldquo;One of my favorite spots.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;How\u0026rsquo;d you\u0026hellip; find it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head. \u0026ldquo;Dunno. I just did.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;This air is so warm\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s like it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; alive.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori dragged her finger across the floor, then looked longingly at the dust she\u0026rsquo;d gathered.\n\u0026ldquo;Like\u0026hellip; all the people who\u0026rsquo;ve been here before\u0026hellip; left part of themselves behind.\u0026rdquo;\nShe let her gaze linger in the silence for a moment, until she noticed a dull weight on her shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nA snore rang out through the cabin. Raana had been lulled away by the sun, and drifted off into her dreams.\nTomori watched her and smiled.\nAnd then—an alarm blared into the room from outside. Tomori froze up, trying not to let her shock unsettle the girl resting on her.\nBeyond the door, the barriers creaked as they lowered. The clatter of metal crept in from the distance, at first slowly, then faster and faster, until all of a sudden the lead car broke through the crossing and sped past the cabin.\nAt first the sheer volume of it overwhelmed Tomori\u0026rsquo;s senses, like a tidal wave crashing against her very being, drowning out anything and everything else. It was as if her mind were about to simply shut down.\nBut then it didn\u0026rsquo;t.\nShe realized she was calmer than she\u0026rsquo;d been in weeks.\nThe sound of the wheels hitting track was rhythmic, predictable. Its booming echo fell upon her like a weighted blanket. As if she and Raana were ensconced in their own little universe; as if nothing existed beyond these four walls.\nTomori felt suddenly, utterly convinced of what she should do. Right now, it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.\nShe turned to Raana; still asleep, despite everything. She cupped her cheeks, and gave her just one little kiss on the forehead.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-03/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tomori. Over here.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana slid down the hill and beckoned. Mottles of sunlight danced on her white hair as it streamed in through the canopy above, then vanished as she left the shadows. She hopped off the small cliff at the edge of the clearing.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori followed gingerly down the incline, holding onto the trees as she did. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t trust her own body to move how she wanted it to; she had plenty of faded old scars, and gashes on her childhood clothes (which she refused to throw away) to remind her of this.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 3 - Crossing","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"I don\u0026rsquo;t know Raana.\nI\u0026rsquo;m not sure\nthat I know anyone,\nbut I know I don\u0026rsquo;t know her.\nMaybe nobody does.\nBut I think\nshe knows me.\nThe way she looks at me. The way she speaks to me. The way she smiles when our music intertwines.\nShe knows something about me that I don\u0026rsquo;t know myself.\nWe live in the sixth floor of a cramped apartment building, not in a house. So our bathroom is really, really small. It\u0026rsquo;s way below average.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s barely big enough for two people to stand and use the shower in, let alone for them to sit in the tiny bathtub together.\nIt was obviously an absurd request. I know that. Even I know that.\nBut tonight, I felt something, growing inside of me. It was a feeling. A squirming writhing tugging burning feeling in my chest. A feeling that pulled me towards her, and made me want to know, to let go and jump in, so I could know.\nTo know just how deep in she would drag me,\nand what I could pull from those depths.\nThe sound of the bathtub slowly filling up with hot water echoed through the hallway leading to our bathroom, like a little flowing river. I stood there for a moment, and listened. Then I walked in.\nI had taken my main and spare sets of pajamas from the closet and brought them to the laundry area. Raana was there.\nShe was undressing.\nHer body was small, and she was shockingly thin. I could see the traces of her ribs poking through her skin. My eyes lingered on them, and I wondered how she could stay like that with all the sweets and noodles she ate.\nShe must have noticed I was staring, because she started staring back.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry.\u0026rdquo; I came to my senses, and turned and set the pajamas down. I felt my skin crawl with guilt.\n\u0026ldquo;Fufu.\u0026rdquo;\nShe giggled. Then she casually threw her blouse, and then her socks, shorts, and finally her underwear on top of her shirt.\nI looked at the pile of clothes. My hand reached out and lifted up her shirt to give me a closer look. I hadn\u0026rsquo;t noticed until now, but\u0026hellip; her shirt was covered in cat hair, and stained with dirt and grime in spots, and had bits of leaves and twigs stuck in between its ragged and ripped hemline.\nHer shorts, too. I usually couldn\u0026rsquo;t see them for how long her shirt was, but they were just as dirty.\nShe wasn\u0026rsquo;t wearing a bra, apparently. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t see one.\n\u0026ldquo;You gonna take yours off?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo;\nMy hand dropped the shirt back onto the pile.\n\u0026ldquo;Your clothes\u0026rsquo;ll get wet if you don\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Huh? N-no, I will\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI felt Raana\u0026rsquo;s gaze on me, telling me to hurry up, pulling me towards her.\nSo, I took the hem of my hoodie in one and then another, and slowly started taking it off. Slowly, slowly\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;Too slow.\u0026rdquo;\nI felt her bare arms reach around in front of me, and grab onto my hoodie and the shirt under it and start clumsily pulling them up. My vision was muffled by cloth before I could even react.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah!\u0026rdquo;\nShe pulled harder, and without thinking twice I lifted my arms to let the clothes come off. Muscle memory, I think.\nThe way her fingernails and the cloth of my shirt traced over my skin sent shivers through my whole body, and stood my hairs on end.\nHer hands touched my bare back. They were so, so cold. I closed my eyes and inhaled and let their chill wash over me.\nThen she slid them under my bra and pulled it off.\nShe unbuttoned my skirt and let it drop, she pulled down my underwear, she reached for my socks and took them off. I helped her along the whole time.\nWhen she was done, I could feel the cold air in the room crawling up the bare skin on my arms and on my stomach, like a colony of carpenter ants. I stood there, rubbing my hands up and down my upper arms.\nI looked over at Raana. She was looking back at me.\nWe went into the shower. I was covering myself as I went, but Raana wasn\u0026rsquo;t, so my eyes were jumping around the whole time, trying not to stay in any one place for too long.\nI didn\u0026rsquo;t like the way my head felt when they did.\nLike I thought, it was cramped, so much that I couldn\u0026rsquo;t take a single step once I slid the door closed.\nRaana sat down on the little white plastic bench and started washing her arms. She picked up a bottle of shampoo and handed it to me. I took it.\n\u0026ldquo;D-do you\u0026hellip; want me to wash your hair, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Okay.\u0026rdquo;\nI wet her hair with the showerhead, then squeezed some shampoo into my hand, rubbed it into a foam, and started working it into her scalp.\nAs my fingers ran through her wet hair, they noticed just how messy it was. It was tangled and matted, and I kept getting caught on it and feeling her flinch and protest with little catlike growls. Every so often I would spot some dirt or a pebble or a leaf, right before they were caught up in the foam and fell down and flowed into the drain.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. You\u0026hellip; take naps outside a lot, right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. In parks, under the trees.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Is that\u0026hellip; do you, like it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Usually.\u0026rdquo;\nUsually, she said.\n\u0026ldquo;When I can find a spot under the sun.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;That did sound nice. It made me want to try it.\n\u0026ldquo;But yesterday I did it at night, so I couldn\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;Eh?\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh? You\u0026hellip; spent a whole night outside?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. I didn\u0026rsquo;t wanna be at home. \u0026hellip;Ow.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry.\u0026rdquo;\nI was so stunned, I let my fingers start pressing harder into her scalp, enough to let my nails dig in a little.\nI took a bucket of water and dumped it over her head. She made a noise.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan, you should have\u0026hellip; You should have asked me to stay over then, too\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe stood up.\n\u0026ldquo;I wanted to be alone.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Alone with the cats.\u0026rdquo;\nShe climbed into the tub and started staring at me, so I quickly got my shower over with and went to join her.\nHer eyes crawled down my body as I put one leg into the water, then the other, then lowered myself into it until it touched my collarbone, with my knees pressed into my chest, taking up half of our bathtub.\nThe steam washed over me, cleared my head and filled my lungs; the water it left behind was warm, and gentle and heavy like my blanket, and it felt like I could close my eyes and let myself drift into it. But I kept them open, and I looked at Raana, as she looked back at me.\nAfter a minute of silent staring, Raana started looking bored, and she suddenly reached over with one hand, then another, and put them on my knees, and then she pulled them apart from each other, as much as the space would allow.\nI just let her, and I looked, looked at her hands digging into the skin on my legs, at her playful face as she had them do so.\nShe turned herself around, leaned back, and nestled her head into me, so that my legs would straddle it. It was tight, and uncomfortable. I felt the shape of her head pressing into my chest and into my stomach, and her wet hair clinging to my thighs. The skin on her shoulders grazing mine.\nShe closed her eyes, and said, \u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What\u0026rsquo;s up, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nI said back, as I was pressed from every direction into the walls of the bathtub.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re soft.\u0026rdquo;\nShe sounded so relaxed, like she was about to fall asleep, her voice drowning into the water.\n\u0026ldquo;R-really? Thanks.\u0026rdquo;\nI think that\u0026rsquo;s what you\u0026rsquo;re supposed to say, if someone tells you that you\u0026rsquo;re soft. That sounded right.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up now?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Just wanted to say it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh. Okay.\u0026rdquo;\nI let a long, gentle, suffocating moment pass us by.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; What\u0026rsquo;s, what\u0026rsquo;s that on your ear?\u0026rdquo;\nI\u0026rsquo;d noticed something.\nHer hair was wet, so it wasn\u0026rsquo;t covering her ears anymore, and I could see it.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo;\nI reached over and took her ear between my fingers, and bent it a little to let me see it better.\n\u0026ldquo;T-this.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A piercing.\u0026rdquo;\nThat\u0026rsquo;s what it was. A metal piercing, going through the lobe of her left ear.\nAnd another one, on her right.\nThey were both subtly shaped like cats, with little metal ears.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Did they hurt?\u0026rdquo; I asked, as I peered into the metal that had been run clean through her flesh.\n\u0026ldquo;A little. I did it myself.\u0026rdquo;\nI pictured her holding one of those plastic, pistol-like things, with a sharp needle at its tip. I heard the metallic sound of it closing, and I shivered.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Isn\u0026rsquo;t that, against the rules? Like, at school\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t care. Haven\u0026rsquo;t been going.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A, ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI sat there, sinking into my thoughts.\nShe hadn\u0026rsquo;t been going to school. She\u0026rsquo;d pierced her own ears, and ran away from home, and slept among the trees. And now she was here, sitting in my bathtub, with her head nestled between my legs.\nOf course, I was worried about her. About what could have happened at home to make her do this, about the trouble she must be in with her school, worried about what else she\u0026rsquo;d done, about what I\u0026rsquo;d do if someone showed up looking for her. But\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;Your heart.\u0026rdquo; Raana said, sinking her head deeper into my chest.\n\u0026ldquo;H-huh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s beating. Fast.\u0026rdquo;\nIt was.\nIt was beating the same way it did right after I got done running down the street, right after singing a song on stage.\nI kept breathing in, and out, in, and out, but it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t stop.\nIn the end, I just sat there, saying nothing, sitting still, looking at her.\nEventually, she lifted her head. She said \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m bored,\u0026rdquo; and got up.\nI stayed and watched her as she walked away.\nI reached over and turned the heating off, and sank into the tub, and felt my skin slowly grow cold in its water.\nThe tips of my fingers were wrinkled like dried plums. I was staring at them as I walked back into my bedroom.\nThe light of my desk lamp shone through the gaps in between.\nI looked up. Raana was sitting on my loft bed, above my desk. She was staring off, looking at nothing.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nI called out to her.\n\u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; want me to bring out a futon for you?\u0026rdquo;\nShe shook her head.\n\u0026ldquo;I like it up here.\u0026rdquo;\nI went to turn my lamp off. Then I climbed the ladder up and onto the bed, and sat down next to Raana.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; So, are we, both\u0026hellip; sleeping here? I can\u0026hellip; get myself a futon\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No. Stay here.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Okay.\u0026rdquo;\nThere\u0026rsquo;s not really enough room, but\u0026hellip; I was okay with that.\nI sat there, for a while, hugging my arms with my legs. Looking down at my room, trying to see what I could make out in the darkness. At Raana\u0026rsquo;s guitar, leaned against the wall. At my telescope, sitting on its tripod. Then I looked at Raana, who was rubbing her eyes, and yawning.\nIt was so dark, that on her face, my eyes showed me after-images, little glowing worms of imaginary light, wriggling inside the crevices.\n\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana said my name. I jumped - I\u0026rsquo;d been spacing out.\nShe inched towards me until our noses were nearly touching, and tugged on the sleeve of my shirt. The warmth of her breath tickled my cold skin.\n\u0026ldquo;I wanna make you sing again.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sing\u0026hellip;? What\u0026hellip; what do you mean, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nShe opened her mouth, and pulled her cheek aside with one finger, and pointed to her canine teeth with another.\n\u0026ldquo;With these.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nThe blue moon light glinted off her fang, and I stared at it, and gripped my sheets.\nI realized I was shivering. My arms were shaking.\nShe leaned in with her amber eye tilted towards me. I pulled back.\n\u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t?\u0026rdquo;\nI took a long, deep breath, keeping my eyes on her, stopping myself from looking away.\nMy legs had started to tremble.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You can.\u0026rdquo;\nShe perked up immediately, and she grabbed the collar of my shirt. I felt her letting herself fall towards me.\n\u0026ldquo;W-wait.\u0026rdquo; I panicked.\nI reflexively turned away and put both of my hands between us.\n\u0026ldquo;Wait. Um. Just\u0026hellip; just stop before it, starts, bleeding.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm? I like that, though.\u0026rdquo; The tip of her tongue peeked through her lips as she said this.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I know you do, but, it\u0026rsquo;s, dangerous, and\u0026hellip; I have to disinfect it, and people will notice if I\u0026rsquo;m totally covered in bandages, and I\u0026rsquo;ll run out eventually\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI carefully turned back towards her.\nShe seemed disappointed, like she did when someone told her she couldn\u0026rsquo;t have a treat she wanted. She was looking away, sulking, with a pout in her mouth.\nI closed my eyes, and I thought really, really hard.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nShe perked back up.\n\u0026ldquo;Once a week. You can make me bleed\u0026hellip; once a week.\u0026rdquo;\nI set a rule for her.\nAn allowance.\n\u0026ldquo;This one count?\u0026rdquo;\nShe put her finger on my shoulder, where the bandage was. I flinched.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah. It counts. You have to wait, okay?\u0026rdquo;\nShe pondered my words for a moment, holding her finger against her lips.\n\u0026ldquo;Okay.\u0026rdquo; She assented, and without giving me even a second to steel myself again, she pushed me down.\nHer eyes were fixed on mine, with an unreadable expression,\nShe slid her thin, icy fingers in between the gaps in my shirt. They numbed my skin as they brushed it. Then with a single, deft flick of her thumb, she undid its top button, like it was never there to begin with.\n\u0026hellip;She is good with her hands. That much, I should know.\nShe did it again, and then again, down to my chest, and then she pulled the shirt down to my shoulders.\nThe tip of her index finger traced along my collarbone. I could feel its ragged calluses dragging against it. I yelped.\nThen, in one motion, she dove down and dug her teeth into my other shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; a, ah!\u0026rdquo;\nI closed my eyes and cried out.\nShe agreed to, but she wasn\u0026rsquo;t holding back at all. The louder I cried, the harder she dug in, making me cry louder still, in a cycle. She was treating me like a piece of fresh fruit, like my screams of pain were my nectar.\nI could feel the tips of her canines, desperately trying to break me open, flooding the nerves on my skin with bright, blinding agony. My eyes started welling up with tears.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Ra\u0026hellip;st, stop, you\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nMy hand tried to push her away, but my whole body was shaking with weakness, and it couldn\u0026rsquo;t put any pressure on her. It just slipped off. Her fangs dug in deeper, and my neck twitched, and I whined and kept begging for her to stop.\nBut right when it felt like my skin would finally break and spill my blood into her mouth, she let go. She looked at me, panting, with the trail of saliva from my shoulder still hanging off her lip. She was smiling. Actually, she was grinning, cat-like.\nShe pointed at the mark she left behind.\n\u0026ldquo;See? Not bleeding.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI looked at the ceiling, and caught my breath, and soaked in the mingling aftershocks of pain and chills.\nRaana backed off, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.\nWhen she did, I felt a pang in my stomach. I felt a wave of fresh, burning anxiety run through my veins up to the tips of my fingers.\nI grabbed her arm with the little strength I had.\nI looked at her, my eyes clinging to her desperately, like I was trying to pull her back in with them.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;R-Raana\u0026hellip;Hey\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI whimpered, as quietly as I could manage, through the tears still running from my eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo;\nShe tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Don\u0026rsquo;t stop.\u0026rdquo;\nI saw a glint in her eyes.\nShe pounced, and sank her teeth into my upper arm, right where it was the fattiest. The most\u0026hellip; sensitive.\nA sudden shock coursed through me, electrifying, making every muscle in my body tense up with its voltage.\nThis time, she didn\u0026rsquo;t linger. She waited for just long enough for my skin to take her shape, and then she dragged her teeth up an inch and bit down again, and then again. I cried out in a different, ragged, wavering note with every bite she took. But I didn\u0026rsquo;t try to stop her. No, I had my hand curled around the back of her head, clinging to her hair, digging into her scalp.\nShe climbed up my arm, my shoulder, my neck, using less of her teeth as she did, but biting harder to compensate.\nShe was painting a picture on the surface of my skin.\nShe jumped up to my ear, and she took it between her teeth. I could hear her breath; it burned through my thoughts like static.\nThen, her mouth reached my cheek. But she didn\u0026rsquo;t bite it.\nSomething warm, and wet, touched it instead.\nHer tongue.\nShe started moving it along the contour of my face, leaving a trail behind.\nI could smell traces of chocolate and vanilla on her breath.\nMy skin started crawling and my whole body froze in stasis, but my grip on her hair only tightened.\nShe slithered up, slowly, so slowly. I could feel every crevice on her tongue and every pore on my skin as they pressed against each other. The skin she went over turned from warm to freezing cold, once the air touched it.\nShe reached my eye, and I felt her slip into its corner, its tear duct. I flinched.\nShe lingered for a moment, then pulled away.\n\u0026ldquo;Salty.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-uuu\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI curled up, and ran my finger along the line she left on my face.\n\u0026ldquo;You satisfied?\u0026rdquo;\nI didn\u0026rsquo;t respond. Instead, I crawled away from her, and took my pillow between my arms, and buried my face into it.\nI felt the tears still in my eyes soak into the pillow case, and my ragged warm breaths bounce off it, and I stayed there, until my consciousness started to fade.\nAs it did, I felt her presence at my back, then an arm sliding around me, and I heard her whisper in her raspy, monotone voice.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomori. You play well.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/chapter-03/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eI don\u0026rsquo;t know Raana.\u003cbr\u003e\nI\u0026rsquo;m not sure\u003cbr\u003e\nthat I know anyone,\u003cbr\u003e\nbut I know I don\u0026rsquo;t know her.\u003cbr\u003e\nMaybe nobody does.\u003cbr\u003e\nBut I think\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eshe knows me.\u003cbr\u003e\nThe way she looks at me. The way she speaks to me. The way she smiles when our music intertwines.\u003cbr\u003e\nShe knows something about me that I don\u0026rsquo;t know myself.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003chr\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWe live in the sixth floor of a cramped apartment building, not in a house. So our bathroom is really, really small. It\u0026rsquo;s way below average.\u003cbr\u003e\nIt\u0026rsquo;s barely big enough for two people to stand and use the shower in, let alone for them to sit in the tiny bathtub together.\u003cbr\u003e\nIt was obviously an absurd request. I know that. Even I know that.\u003cbr\u003e\nBut tonight, I felt something, growing inside of me. It was a feeling. A squirming writhing tugging burning feeling in my chest. A feeling that pulled me towards her, and made me want to know, to let go and jump in, so I could know.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 3 - piercing","work":"in a world of her own"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Excuse me. Do you know the way to the station?\u0026rdquo;\nLate October brought three things to Tokyo without fail: biting winds, dazzling autumn colors, and tourists. So many tourists.\nThere were always some, of course, but for a week or two as November grew closer one could hardly turn a corner without tripping over a foreigner, even in Toshima\u0026rsquo;s least-trafficked residential zones.\nTomori was used to it by now, but still she never quite managed to navigate the encounters. She was supposed to know a little English—she studied it in school multiple times a week, after all!—but the words just wouldn\u0026rsquo;t come naturally to her. And if she tried to force them out through rote memorization, the sounds felt unsteady and indistinct in her lips, permanently, barely out of reach.\nShe was leading MyGO on their way to a café after practice when a man waved her down. He wore a dress shirt, jeans, and a padded vest, and was of course blonde, as most Americans are. Tomori tried to respond, but found herself helplessly stuttering.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; I\u0026hellip; I am\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAs always, the words wouldn\u0026rsquo;t materialize. She felt a cold sweat running down her temples. But then a comforting hand landed on her shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t worry, Tomorin. I got this.\u0026rdquo;\nAnon strode past her and, with a flick of her hair, she squared up against the foreigner. She began to speak with the confidence and command of a true veteran.\n\u0026ldquo;#!@$\u0026amp;. #+;! #@ )+\u0026amp;# #@!. !# \u0026amp;$#@ $#@) \u0026amp;$#@ \u0026quot;$# )\u0026amp;$#.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, but I\u0026rsquo;m afraid I can\u0026rsquo;t understand you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Eh?\u0026rdquo;\nAnon quickly turned around and leaned towards Tomori.\n\u0026ldquo;Sorry, Tomorin,\u0026rdquo; she whispered. \u0026ldquo;I only speak British English. This guy\u0026rsquo;s American\u0026hellip; I think they\u0026rsquo;re practically different languages. You know, like the Tokyo and Hakata dialects?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori gave a slight nod of understanding.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What on earth are you doing?\u0026rdquo; Taki walked up to the two of them. \u0026ldquo;Tomori. Don\u0026rsquo;t worry, I\u0026rsquo;ll handle this. We get Americans at RiNG pretty often.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki crossed her arms and held her head high as she approached the man. She knew how Americans were. She was determined to not let him smell her fear.\n\u0026ldquo;I am Japanese. I will help you,\u0026rdquo; she said.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, thank you! Do you know where the station is?\u0026rdquo;\nA smirk crept into Taki\u0026rsquo;s face. Tomori and Anon looked on in tenterhooks.\n\u0026ldquo;Of course. え…えと、あの。Righ\u0026hellip; ライト、ダウン・ザ・ストリート、ゼン…あれ。なんだっけ\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, what was that?\u0026rdquo; The man turned his ear towards Taki. She recoiled.\n\u0026ldquo;Uh\u0026hellip; Time. Time! Foul!\u0026rdquo; Taki raised both hands as she retreated. She was forced to rely on the Pacific lingua franca of baseball.\n\u0026ldquo;Crap. Anon\u0026rsquo;s right,\u0026rdquo; she whispered. \u0026ldquo;He must be from some weird part of America. Like\u0026hellip; Massachusetts.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Masachu-huh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t think I can do it. We might have to back off. \u0026hellip;Sorry, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-that\u0026rsquo;s okay, Taki-chan\u0026hellip; Thank you for trying\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnon brought a hand to her chin. \u0026ldquo;Unless\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nThe second Soyo noticed her looking, she shot back a glare that had \u0026ldquo;absolutely not\u0026rdquo; helpfully written on it in several languages.\n\u0026ldquo;Crap. Hm? Wait, where\u0026rsquo;s Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What?\u0026rdquo; Taki sighed. \u0026ldquo;Oh my god. I swear, this stray cat—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hey.\u0026rdquo;\nBehind them, a familiar voice spoke an unfamiliar tongue.\n\u0026ldquo;Hey!\u0026rdquo; The man crouched down slightly to meet the young girl face to face.\n\u0026ldquo;Where you wanna go? The station?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yes, that\u0026rsquo;s right,\u0026rdquo; he responded with a smile.\nRaana pointed to her right. \u0026ldquo;Down that street. Turn right at the cake shop. You\u0026rsquo;ll see it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, great! That\u0026rsquo;s a huge help. Thanks, kiddo!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana nodded as the man walked off, following her directions.\nA strange, awkward silence hung over the group.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ha?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh no.\u0026rdquo; Anon clutched her stomach. \u0026ldquo;This one\u0026rsquo;s rough. That\u0026rsquo;s gonna sting for a while.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan! That\u0026rsquo;s amazing\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes sparkled. She took Raana\u0026rsquo;s hand and looked at her in admiration. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip; you speak English\u0026hellip;?!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana tilted her head. \u0026ldquo;That what you call it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-um. I\u0026hellip; I think so\u0026hellip;? But\u0026hellip; how did you learn\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nShe smiled. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll show you.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-04/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eExcuse me. Do you know the way to the station?\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLate October brought three things to Tokyo without fail: biting winds, dazzling autumn colors, and tourists. So many tourists.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere were always some, of course, but for a week or two as November grew closer one could hardly turn a corner without tripping over a foreigner, even in Toshima\u0026rsquo;s least-trafficked residential zones.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori was used to it by now, but still she never quite managed to navigate the encounters. She was supposed to know a little English—she studied it in school multiple times a week, after all!—but the words just wouldn\u0026rsquo;t come naturally to her. And if she tried to force them out through rote memorization, the sounds felt unsteady and indistinct in her lips, permanently, barely out of reach.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 4 - American","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"I dreamed.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t remember what about, I never really do. But I did dream.\nI can tell. When I wake up, I\u0026rsquo;m still half-drowning in the murky waters of my mind; my head is heavy with a lingering feeling, and it feels like something has its clutches around me, trying to drag me back in.\nI must have been holding something in my arms, in that dream. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t there anymore, and it hurt like a long-lost limb.\nIt was ten in the morning on Saturday. The sun peered into my room through a small gap in the curtains, and Raana was gone.\nBut as I traced my fingers along the unmade sheets of my bed, I noticed, the warmth of her body hadn\u0026rsquo;t yet left my sheets, and the dull, tingling soreness hadn\u0026rsquo;t left my arm.\nOnce I finally felt conscious, I let my body climb the ladder down from my loft and walk out of my bedroom, like it always does. I followed it, lagging behind, looking down at the floor as I went.\nI noticed my spare set of pajamas, strewn haphazardly over the floor, leading out of my room like footprints. In its wake, I kept walking.\nAt some point, I got to the kitchen. It was lit by an eerie, almost\u0026hellip; bleach-like morning gleam, shining right through the window, making my eyes squint as they adjusted. Dad was sitting at the table.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori. Good morning.\u0026rdquo; He noticed me peeking through the doorway, as he ate a piece of toast, on his own.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Morning.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Your friend rushed out the door a little while ago. She told me to tell you \u0026lsquo;bye-bye\u0026rsquo;.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; Y-yeah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI glanced down the hallway, and at our closed front door.\n\u0026ldquo;Um, where\u0026rsquo;s Mom? Did she go to work already?\u0026rdquo;\nThe chair she usually sat in was empty.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. We got home and went to sleep, but she got called in at six in the morning. She really can\u0026rsquo;t catch a break\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nDad rubbed his temples and took a bite.\n\u0026ldquo;Did you two have\u0026hellip; a good time together, at least?\u0026rdquo; I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, we did! How about you, Tomori? Did you two have fun?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori? \u0026hellip;You okay?\u0026rdquo;\nI looked away and ran my hand along my arm.\nDid I have fun?\nI\u0026rsquo;m still not sure what \u0026ldquo;fun\u0026rdquo; is.\nI\u0026rsquo;ve tried to figure out what the word means from the way people use it, but I still don\u0026rsquo;t feel like I can grasp it, feel its shape in my hands.\nCould what I felt last night have been it?\nCould that be fun?\nCould it be that feeling\nthat rushes into my head\nwhen I don\u0026rsquo;t know what\u0026rsquo;s about to happen,\nbut I want to find out so badly my chest hurts?\nlike when I\u0026rsquo;m lifting up a moss-covered boulder near the water at the park, wondering what\u0026rsquo;s crawling under it, or\nwhen I\u0026rsquo;m walking into my favorite stationery store at the mall, after hearing they got a new series of buttons in or when\nI see orange leaves start falling off the zelkovas outside my window in October and I want to run outside and pick them up see what shapes they dried into this year and how they crinkle apart in my hand\nor, when I feel her hair and the tip of her nose, grazing against my skin, and I don\u0026rsquo;t know when or where she\u0026rsquo;ll sink her teeth into me, or how hard, or for how long?\nIs that what it is?\nDid I have fun?\nI\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;You think you did, huh? Well, your friend looked pretty happy.\u0026rdquo;\nI must have said something.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;She did?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. She was skipping along and humming a little song on her way out.\u0026rdquo;\nThat lingering feeling didn\u0026rsquo;t go away like it normally does. It stayed with me, like an anvil, weighing me down.\nI had some toast with Dad and talked about Mom\u0026rsquo;s work, and then went to wash my face and brush my teeth.\nI got dressed and I sat at our couch in the living room, turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels for a while, but the longer I did it, the more it started feeling like the light from the screen was singing the back of my eyes and the sound from the speaker was digging claws into my eardrums, so I turned it off.\nI looked at my phone.\nI tried to put my earbuds on and listen to some music, but no matter what band I put on, it gave me this strange itchy feeling in my chest like it was eating me up from the inside, so I stopped.\nI looked at my phone again.\nI stared at the ceiling, at the patterns of sharp bumps on the stippling. They seemed scarier than usual today, and the way they swirled around in my vision gave me vertigo.\nI looked at my phone a third time.\nThis time, I opened my messages. I sent one to Raana.\nIt was the first time I\u0026rsquo;d messaged her privately, outside of our group.\nraana-chan\n11:38AM\nare you okay\u0026hellip;?\n11:39AM\nwhere did you go\u0026hellip;\n11:39AM\nI lingered on the chat screen for minutes, hoping she\u0026rsquo;d see it and respond. Eventually, I sighed, held my phone to my chest, and closed my eyes.\nWe had lunch. A piece of roasted salmon, with tamagoyaki, cabbage salad, and miso soup for sides. I took longer than usual to finish it. Then I went for a walk, to try and think about something else. Dad waved me off with a smile.\nThe park closest to home is a fifteen minute walk away. I have the route memorized, and I take it slowly, walking close to the buildings by the road, watching the relief on their facades jump up and down, watching the fences come and go, all with their own, comforting grids and lattices of wood and metal and brick, seeing how the patterns of dust and pollen and grime on all of them change from week to week.\nAnd on days when I\u0026rsquo;m feeling especially lost, I run my fingers over those reliefs, and drag my hands along the fences, trying to feel them as much as I can, to remind myself I\u0026rsquo;m still really here.\nI reached the park. It was a half hour later, and my fingertips were mottled with black and brown and gray dust, and they pulsed with a delicate soreness.\nThe park grounds were hidden from the sun this time of year and day by the rows and rows of trees lining its perimeter. That thought gave me some relief.\nThere was a large pond in its western section where some turtles lived. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t see any of them on that day, though, and the sheer emptiness of the water made my hands tremble, so I turned around and took a walk along one of the paths instead.\nThe gravel road was covered in withered amber leaves, which were peeling from the trees above it and falling down, scattering over the path in clusters and pockets. It looked just like a fish kill, like when sardines and mackerel die by the hundreds from pollution or acidic algae blooms and then wash up, their corpses dotting themselves along the beach.\nI walked up the path, letting my sneakers dig into the gravel as I did, looking down all the while, seeing what would come up from the depths. Two large, reddish brown rocks surfaced amid the sea of gray, and I picked them both up and I looked them over.\nThey were about the width of my thumb and mottled with white marbling and dirt, and their texture was rough and bumpy. When I held them up to the sunshine that snuck in through the trees, the light painted calm, scattered shadows on their surface.\nAs I turned them over, I noticed both rocks had a sharp, clean break on one side. I touched them against each other, and they fit together perfectly, sending a warm chill down my spine. They were one and the same.\nI held them together as I put them into my pocket, hoping they wouldn\u0026rsquo;t come apart.\nI kept walking, drifting, letting my feet take me along, past flower patches and little ponds, catching squirrels and birds in the trees in my peripheral vision, but never managing to get a good look at them.\nAnd then, I felt a buzzing vibration at my hip, then another, and another. I hurriedly snapped into focus, and I reached for my phone and pulled it out in a hurry, but my grip on it was weak so it slipped out of my hands and fell on its face into the dirt and grass at my feet; I scrambled to pick it up and get a look at the screen. The glass was caked with mud, but my eyes barely noticed that.\nおk\n1:41PM\n[Kaname Raana sent a photo.]\n1:41PM\nCat\n1:42PM\nThe photo was of a tuxedo cat, just like she said. It was streaky and out of focus, but you could make out the colors, the pointed shape of ears, and lines of glowing green light that seemed to be a pair of eyes. I also saw Raana\u0026rsquo;s finger poking in front of the lens in the corner.\nI replied.\noh\n1:43PM\nthat looks like a nice cat\u0026hellip; do they have a name?\n1:43PM\nyeah\n1:45PM\nCat\n1:45PM\ncat\u0026hellip; i think that\u0026rsquo;s a nice name, it\u0026rsquo;s\n1:46PM\nhonest\u0026hellip;?\n1:46PM\nhey\u0026hellip; raana-chan\n1:47PM\nwhere are you?\n1:47PM\ni\n1:47PM\ni want to see you\n1:49PM\nI stared at the screen, but no response came. I didn\u0026rsquo;t see a read receipt, either.\nI realized slowly, then suddenly, how fast my heart was beating, and that I was still in that park, and my knees were buried in the dirt below me.\nI thought. I thought as hard as I could.\nI opened the photo Raana sent me again, and I tried to find something, anything, that might show me where she was.\nImmediately, I saw a bright, colorful sign. It was nestled in the corner of the picture. If she\u0026rsquo;d moved her finger a little, she would have covered it up, but it was there; I zoomed in, deciphered the blurry text as best I could, and typed it into Guruguru Maps.\nMejiro station is quiet, especially on the weekends, since it only serves the Yamanote line. It has a really high ceiling, and the tiles on its floor are big, comforting squares of off-white ceramic. I made sure to keep my feet away from the gaps between them as I walked through the building and out into the concourse.\nThe train snaked its way into the station, and ground itself to a loud, metallic stop. Something about the way it lurched past me made my stomach queasy.\nI rode that train for just one stop, and got off to transfer at Ikebukuro station.\nIkebukuro\u0026ndash; is much more crowded. Every time I come here, I feel really thankful that I live somewhere I can take the tram to school and to practice.\nThe tiles on the station floor are angled so they looked like sharp rhombuses, and they\u0026rsquo;re much smaller, too small to avoid their gaps. And there were people everywhere, so I had to keep my eyes up and off my feet anyways. I tried not to think too hard about it, and I kept walking until I reached Tokyo Metro platform 4, got on a train on the Yūrakuchō line, and rode it for one more stop.\nMy phone told me I had arrived at my destination.\nIt was hard to believe it when I was just reading off directions on my phone. I must have let it slip by my conscious thoughts, but, seeing the sign in person as I left the train, it was hard to ignore the name of the neighborhood I was in.\nI looked at it, at the kanji and the Latin letter transcription beside it, and felt a thought about fate in linger my head.\nI let it pass, and walked past the sign, and out into the streets.\nThe avenue in front of the station was quiet, so quiet that I could hear the wistful cries of unfamiliar birds. I walked along it, past bookstores and family restaurants, and kept going until I saw the sign I was looking for.\nI scanned the area, straining my eyes, until they finally caught her white hair shining in the sunlight.\nA soba shop sat on the street corner: a small, timid-looking green building with slats of bamboo over its windows, shrinking into the rest of the block. In front of it was Raana, sitting on the floor, slurping soup noodles from a little cardboard box, with her eyes set on the stray cat napping across from her.\nI walked towards her.\nI went slowly at first, but the more clearly I could see her face, the faster my feet started moving.\nIt felt like I\u0026rsquo;d been suddenly cut loose from something. I sprinted across the crosswalk, and tripped over the curb and stumbled onto her side as I called her name.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo;\nMy knee slid across the pavement, leaving a faint trail of the dirt that it had picked up back at the park.\nShe looked at me. Her eyes had widened ever so slightly.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan. Um, hi.\u0026rdquo; I said, through ragged breaths.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo;\nShe pulled another strand of soba into her mouth and sucked it in.\n\u0026ldquo;How\u0026rsquo;d you know?\u0026rdquo; she asked, while chewing on it.\nI pointed at the sign, a few meters past her. \u0026ldquo;I saw that\u0026hellip; in your picture.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmm,\u0026rdquo; she said as she looked over at it, then back at me.\nShe swallowed her food, then asked–\u0026ldquo;Why?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;Why?\nThat question hit me like a punch to the sternum.\nI gasped when I heard it, and once I did I couldn\u0026rsquo;t breathe back out.\nI hadn\u0026rsquo;t considered it even once.\nI\u0026rsquo;d just let this tugging in my chest pull me all the way to this street corner, in this quiet, unfamiliar, unsettling neighborhood; pull me with such force that I\u0026rsquo;d ended up half-collapsed on the sidewalk, in front of her, with a gash on the cloth of my mud-stained leggings.\nWas I worried about her? About what had happened in her home that led her to run away?\nI think I was; I must have been\u0026hellip; but it didn\u0026rsquo;t sit right as an answer. It felt like\u0026hellip; like it was hiding something.\nSomething frightening. Something I couldn\u0026rsquo;t touch.\nI just sat there. I felt the cold sweat start to run down my temples, and all my hands could do was weakly reach out towards her. That was the best answer they could muster.\nRaana seemed almost to smile as she watched me.\nShe reached out and grabbed my wrist, then said, \u0026ldquo;follow me,\u0026rdquo; and stood up, still holding her box of noodles in one hand.\nI went along with her. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t manage to do anything else.\nWe walked past and under the colorful sign that hung over the street ahead, which read \u0026ldquo;Ebisu-dōri Shopping Street.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana pulled me along for a long while, but she eventually let go to take another bite of soba. I kept moving behind her, like a shooting star fueled by gravitational inertia.\nI managed to ask her where we were going.\nShe said, \u0026ldquo;somewhere calm,\u0026rdquo; without looking back.\nThe shopping street was nearly silent. It was devoid of the stirring sound of crowds, and many of its stores were closed and boarded up or replaced with residential developments, except for a restaurant here and there, or a secondhand clothing store, and a single café. I could hear both of our footsteps echoing through the alleyways.\nEvery so often, we would move past an older person out on a walk, and they would all eye us with expressions I couldn\u0026rsquo;t decipher.\nEven the air seemed to be frozen in time here. It felt a little sad, and a little beautiful.\nRaana took a turn into a dark alley and stopped in front of a door.\nIt was tall, and made of steel or iron. Its gray paint had flaked off almost completely, and layers upon layers of striated corrosion dyed the metal reddish orange. My eyes lost themselves in it for a moment.\nShe grabbed something from her pockets and reached for the chain and padlock that were holding the door shut. The lock looked brand new, compared to the door, its silver shackle shining among the rust.\nShe held two bobby pins. One was in her left hand, bent into an L shape. The other was in her right, spread open, with its flat side held out.\nShe slid them both into the lock\u0026rsquo;s keyhole, and it clattered and creaked with mechanical noises, like it was crying out in pain.\nI shuddered as I heard them, and averted my gaze, but the curiosity overtook me, and eventually I looked.\nHer left hand held the lock steady between its fingers, and at the same time, pushed the L-shaped hairpin into tension. Her right was holding the other hairpin as she deftly wriggled it into the lock\u0026rsquo;s innards, probing for something.\nI caught a glimpse of her face. She looked like she was comfortable; confident. Raana was good with her hands, after all.\nEvery so often, the lock would ring out a click, and it would make my heart skip two beats.\nThe fourth click was louder. It released the shackle, and Raana grabbed it and undid the chain holding the door closed. She looked to her side and then her other, and then finally opened it.\nIts creaking rang through the alley. I thought that it sounded just like those hyenas I saw once at the zoo in Chiba.\nThe door opened into a large, deserted room made of brownish-gray concrete and granite. It looked like a warehouse or a storage space, but nothing sat on the metal shelves lining the wall. There were skylights across from me, and the sun shone through their shattered glass panes, and painted an unsettled square on the floor with its light.\nThe one thing that lived here was dust. It covered every surface I could see, and it danced around in the light, looking for somewhere to settle. It filled my nostrils as soon as I walked in, carrying with it a peculiar smell, the smell of something tired and lonely. It sent me into a sneezing fit.\nRaana watched me blow my nose as she closed the door behind us.\nShe walked past me and into that square of light in the middle of the warehouse. It cut across a ledge that split the room in half. She jumped up and sat on it, letting her legs dangle.\nThen she patted the ground beside her, sending more dust flying, and she said my name, and called to me with her eyes. She kept picking away at her lunch.\nI walked over, still wiping off the liquid that ran from my nose, and I joined her.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm. Soba got cold.\u0026rdquo; Raana spoke through a mouthful of it, then took a sip of the broth.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I kinda like it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh, me too! I\u0026rsquo;ve always, um, I\u0026rsquo;ve always liked zaru soba better than kakesoba. A-and sōmen better than ramen, too.\u0026rdquo;\nThe words leapt out of me, like a dam had burst.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She looked at me.\n\u0026ldquo;B-because hot food\u0026hellip; feels like it doesn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; want me to eat it, like it\u0026rsquo;s fighting back, so, it makes me a little uncomfortable\u0026hellip; but if it\u0026rsquo;s cold, or room temperature, it feels like it\u0026rsquo;s telling my mouth, \u0026lsquo;it\u0026rsquo;s okay\u0026rsquo;, and that thought calms me down\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nIt felt like I\u0026rsquo;d found something to cling to, and I was holding onto it for dear life.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm~mmm.\u0026rdquo; Raana narrowed her eyes. I noticed too late that I had inched up towards her and that I was leaning into her face. I recoiled away, certain I\u0026rsquo;d creeped her out, and mumbled a \u0026ldquo;sorry\u0026rdquo;.\n\u0026ldquo;Here. Last one.\u0026rdquo; She was dangling a noodle from her chopstick, holding it towards me.\n\u0026ldquo;U-um, okay.\u0026rdquo;\nI tried to catch it with my lips, but Raana pushed it into my mouth as soon as it was open.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm-!\u0026rdquo;\nIt was cold. Not ice cold, but room temperature. It sat comfortably on my tongue, slowly melting away. Its springy texture pushed back against my teeth, and its taste was pleasantly doughy, and salty.\nI felt it around, and swirled it around in my mouth.\nIt reminded me of yesterday.\nOf how she felt.\nHer right index finger. And her dry, chapped lips. And her tongue.\nThe taste in my mouth at that moment flooded back from my memory, like it had never left. Iron and zinc. It swept away any taste of the broth.\nI caught my teeth digging into my lip.\nWe sat there in silence for a moment. Raana had set the little noodle box, now filled with just a shallow pool of broth, aside, stretched her arms at her sides and closed her eyes. I closed my own, trying to chase away the anxiety welling up in my chest.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; After a while, I spoke up.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Is\u0026hellip; I-is it really okay for us to\u0026hellip; be here?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; she said, and she smiled as she did.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s why it\u0026rsquo;s fun.\u0026rdquo;\nFun. The word bounced around in my head, and I started fiddling with my fingers.\n\u0026ldquo;And it\u0026rsquo;s fine.\u0026rdquo; She kept talking. \u0026ldquo;I come here all the time, no one\u0026rsquo;s ever caught me.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; someone could, couldn\u0026rsquo;t they?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. We\u0026rsquo;d be in trouble if they did.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Is that\u0026hellip; fun?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. Doing what you want is fun.\u0026rdquo; She wasn\u0026rsquo;t smiling anymore, she was grinning. \u0026ldquo;Twice as fun if someone doesn\u0026rsquo;t want you to.\u0026rdquo;\nShe looked up and out through the broken skylight.\nI didn\u0026rsquo;t say anything back.\nThe taste of salt and chicken lingered in my mouth, but turned to blood and metal as soon as I took notice of it.\n\u0026ldquo;What do you want, Tomori?\u0026rdquo;\nShe\u0026rsquo;d turned to look at me.\n\u0026ldquo;M-me?\u0026rdquo;\nWhat I\u0026hellip; want?\nThe first question Raana asked hit me like I\u0026rsquo;d opened my front door to let in a freezing winter wind. It paralyzed me, it made me tremble, it made me want to hide.\nThe second question, this one, it was different. It hit me like a white-hot iron had been shoved into my chest. It stung, and it burned.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI leaned towards her and I rested my hands on the concrete by her legs.\n――I\u0026rsquo;m not very good at talking about myself.\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s face glowed in the sunlight as she looked at me. Something about it looked just right, her skin, the outline of her hair and of her jawline meeting.\n――I\u0026rsquo;m not good at answering questions, like what I thought of something, or how I\u0026rsquo;m feeling.\nI reached for her. My right hand was covered in grime where it had rested on the concrete. I placed it on her cheek, and as it trembled with nerves I ran it slowly along her face, and watched the dirt smear onto her soft supple skin.\n――I always seem to say something people don\u0026rsquo;t expect, and trying to explain it always makes things worse.\nI leaned further in. Still, she just stood there. I didn\u0026rsquo;t know what she was thinking.\n――But right then, I didn\u0026rsquo;t feel like I had to use my words.\nI closed my eyes, and my lips grazed hers. A spark of static electricity danced between them.\nThe shock ran through my whole body, standing every hair on end, and a shrill cry of adrenaline filled my mind.\nI let it take me over.\n――I want to know her.\nI threw myself in, and the desperate fire in my chest spread to my hands and my legs and through to the topmost layer of my skin. It was like I was burning up in the atmosphere.\n――I want to know everything about her.\nHer lips were still dry, rough and chapped, and\nthe way they leeched the moisture from mine was intoxicating.\n――Even if she doesn\u0026rsquo;t want me to.\nMy hands danced up and down her arms, spreading their dirt onto her clothes\nand her breath tasted like soba, like sleep, and like her\nand her tongue touched against mine, and it was soft and perfectly warm, like it was inviting me in.\nA hand slid around my waist and pulled me closer. It slipped under my clothes and touched the skin on my back. It was so cold, that I whimpered into her mouth, but as it stole away my body heat, it started feeling like just another part of me.\nMy consciousness faded, into the blurry haze of our mingling breaths, of the threadlike water dancing between our mouths, of our bodies touching and sharing their warmth.\nI don\u0026rsquo;t know just how long I spent there. Eventually, I woke up, as if it had been a dream. A lucid dream. One I could remember.\nMy skin washed over with pins and needles and prickles and thorns as I opened my eyes. It turned hot, then cold, then hot, then incredibly cold as I reeled from the adrenaline.\nRaana was still there, and I was straddled over her right leg. A strand of saliva still held on between us both, and my breathing was ragged. Her eyes were half-closed into a gentle, peaceful shape I\u0026rsquo;d never seen them in before, and it kind of felt like if I stared into them for too long, into the gravity well of her shining Albireo, I would fall into a deep, dark sleep that I\u0026rsquo;d never wake up from.\nI blinked.\nAnd I noticed that the trail of dirt that I\u0026rsquo;d left on her still ran from her cheek down the length of the sleeve of her shirt. So it wasn\u0026rsquo;t a dream, after all, I thought, once I could think in words.\nI tried to catch my breath, drinking in a mouthful of dusty air and holding my hand up to my chest, but right then, Raana took my chin in her hand, leaned in, and bit my lower lip, hanging onto it for a second, and another.\nIt didn\u0026rsquo;t hurt. Her teeth felt just right, digging into the vermilion border of my skin. I kept my eyes open, as did she. I looked into Albireo again.\nOnce she let me go, she ran her tongue around her own lips, and she said, \u0026ldquo;that was fun.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah,\u0026rdquo; I said, now trying to calm my heart. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026hellip; yeah, it was.\u0026rdquo; I think I was smiling, a nervous, tired smile.\nI looked at the girl in front of me, at the way she grinned ever so slightly and at how she started rubbing her face clean, and considered licking the dirt off of herself, but stopped short, like she had thought better of it. And one of the million knots in my stomach undid itself, and I breathed out in relief.\nShe was at home in my eyes, finally.\nI felt like I knew her just a little better.\n","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/chapter-04/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eI dreamed.\u003cbr\u003e\nI don\u0026rsquo;t remember what about, I never really do. But I did dream.\u003cbr\u003e\nI can tell. When I wake up, I\u0026rsquo;m still half-drowning in the murky waters of my mind; my head is heavy with a lingering feeling, and it feels like something has its clutches around me, trying to drag me back in.\u003cbr\u003e\nI must have been holding something in my arms, in that dream. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t there anymore, and it hurt like a long-lost limb.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 4 - salt","work":"in a world of her own"},{"content":"Her armor creaked as she knelt before the throne. It was half-covered by a cloak made of ragged old cloth, frayed at the edges.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;M-my lord. I would offer my services to your court.\u0026rdquo; Her voice was tinged with the traces of a worn-down innocence.\n\u0026ldquo;And why should I want to accept them, young knight?\u0026rdquo;\nThe viscount of the Kaname domain was a well-built man, around forty. His striking golden eyes peered down from on high onto the kneeling figure below. He seemed unimpressed.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m well-trained with the sword, my lord.\u0026rdquo; A long, heavy blade was slung across her shoulder. \u0026ldquo;A-and though I cannot incantate, I have a keen sense for magical resonance.\u0026rdquo;\nShe lowered her head. The viscount stared in silence.\n\u0026ldquo;I do not\u0026hellip; seek gold, o-or power,\u0026rdquo; she pleaded. \u0026ldquo;I only\u0026hellip; wish to atone for my past, by pledging my life to you and to your line.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;And what is your name?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori, my lord.\u0026rdquo;\nShe waited outside the throne room for an hour. She was scribbling idly on a piece of parchment when the tall doors swung open and the page called for her.\n\u0026ldquo;Ser Tomori, former servant of the Togawa dynasty.\u0026rdquo; The viscount\u0026rsquo;s voice now boomed with authority.\nHe stepped down towards Tomori and tapped her shoulder with his scepter. \u0026ldquo;I hereby name thee a knight of the Kaname domain.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you have my deepest gratitude. I\u0026hellip; I will not disappoint you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Truth be told,\u0026rdquo; the viscount said, \u0026ldquo;I was ready to have you sent away. My opinion was swayed.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori looked up at him, trying to hide her curiosity. \u0026ldquo;May I\u0026hellip; ask by whom, my lord?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;My daughter. Princess Raana.\u0026rdquo;\nBehind him, a young lady lay on an ornate chaise lounge. Her hair was a perfect angelic white, and her eyes were different colors, both even more striking than her father\u0026rsquo;s.\nThough her appearance and dress were elegant, her posture was not. She was splayed out on the upholstery with an air of boredom about her.\nShe shot Tomori a look and a smile. Tomori pretended not to notice.\nThe viscount sat back down. \u0026ldquo;She says you seem\u0026hellip; interesting.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;P-princess!\u0026rdquo;\nSer Tomori swung open the door to the carriage. With her other hand, she held her sword by its blade; she was bathed in blood.\nThe princess looked back at her from her seat. She seemed strangely unfazed by the carnage surrounding her.\n\u0026ldquo;A-are you unharmed?!\u0026rdquo; Tomori looked over her shoulder. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026hellip; must go. It isn\u0026rsquo;t safe here.\u0026rdquo; Her breath was ragged.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Kay.\u0026rdquo; Raana took Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hand and stepped outside.\nTomori felt a pang of shame wash over her. Though she had been serving her for months now, this was the first time she had ever laid hands on her.\nShe scanned the horizon, past the bodies, looking for a path to the village nearby.\n\u0026ldquo;Princess. This wa—\u0026rdquo;\nShe immediately covered her eyes as she turned and saw her highness stripping, leaving her priceless dress in the dirt, and stealing the clothes off a dead bandit.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;W-what\u0026hellip; in the Gods\u0026rsquo; names a-are you doing, my lady?\u0026rdquo;\nHer old innocence crept back into her voice.\n\u0026ldquo;Changing,\u0026rdquo; said Raana. \u0026ldquo;Hate that dress.\u0026rdquo;\nThey reached the village as the sun began to set. The market was still bustling with activity.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-if we take a carriage now, we should be back by sunrise. Follow me.\u0026rdquo; Tomori moved to push past the crowd—when she felt a tug on her wrist.\nRaana was holding her back.\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t wanna.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;P-pardon\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes, my lady?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Let\u0026rsquo;s go somewhere else. Far away.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori blinked in disbelief.\n\u0026ldquo;I hate the castle,\u0026rdquo; Raana continued. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s boring. I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna be a princess. I wanna be\u0026hellip; a bard.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori began to tremble. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip; you would have me break my oath? I-I couldn\u0026rsquo;t. Not again. My\u0026hellip; c-conscience would not bear it.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Uh-uh. Here. Just swear a new one.\u0026rdquo;\nShe held out her pinky finger.\nTomori looked at the princess\u0026rsquo;s hand. Then she looked into her eyes.\nAll this time, she had somehow missed the magic hiding behind them.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;F-fine,\u0026rdquo; she whispered, and joined her own pinky with Raana\u0026rsquo;s.\n\u0026ldquo;Then, I offer you my life.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-05/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eHer armor creaked as she knelt before the throne. It was half-covered by a cloak made of ragged old cloth, frayed at the edges.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;M-my lord. I would offer my services to your court.\u0026rdquo; Her voice was tinged with the traces of a worn-down innocence.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;And why should I want to accept them, young knight?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe viscount of the Kaname domain was a well-built man, around forty. His striking golden eyes peered down from on high onto the kneeling figure below. He seemed unimpressed.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 5 - Maiden","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"The pain blossomed outwards from the nape of my neck as her teeth sank into my skin. I closed my eyes and caught a breath of the dusty, stale air, letting the fresh oxygen blunt its edge. Its bitter sting turned into a sugary-sweet and comforting blanket that laid itself in gentle, stuttering steps over my nerves, forcing desperate whispered whimpers out of me as it went.\nI reached around and under her clothes and pulled her towards me, begging her with my hands to keep going. My fingernails dug into her back and immediately I felt her listen and respond and shift her weight forwards, pushing me into the wall behind me. The rough texture of the granite dug into my back and caught itself in the fabric of my hoodie. And then she kissed me with her teeth again, and again, and somehow, she knew how to make it hurt just as much every time, like she knew my body better than she knew her own.\nI had only lasted a few seconds after we shared that kiss. And soon enough, I\u0026rsquo;d succumbed to the urges stirring inside me and selfishly dragged her into them. But she accepted them without a word of protest, gently pulling me along, lending me her hands and her mouth.\nThe bright patches of sun filtering in through the skylight crept slowly away from us, marking the passage of time, and as the minutes went, I ran out of breath, and then she ran out of breath, and we collapsed into each other, gasping for air. Her breaths filtered into my clothes and ran along my back, and her warmth mingled with my cold, leaving behind an absence of feeling. A pleasant numbness. I closed my eyes and simmered in it.\nOnce she\u0026rsquo;d caught her breath, which took her so little time I had barely come to my own senses, she shifted over and sat down beside me with her knees tucked around her arms. She looked at me. I was still recovering, running my hands along the marks on my back.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re funny, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; she said. Apparently, she was enjoying the spectacle of my awkward, unsettled fidgeting.\n\u0026ldquo;Eh? F-funny how\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo; My voice came out sounding hoarse and tired, and it cracked a little.\n\u0026ldquo;Unpredictable. I can\u0026rsquo;t guess how you\u0026rsquo;ll react.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um, is that\u0026hellip; is that bad?\u0026rdquo; I shrank and stuttered. Had I… put her off by scratching her?\n\u0026ldquo;I like it,\u0026rdquo; she answered. \u0026ldquo;Never met anyone like you before.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI looked down and touched my left cheek, and a strange warmth settled over it.\n\u0026ldquo;Reminds me of when I learned guitar. Ages ago,\u0026rdquo; she continued, staring off and into the corner of the room, a faint glow of reminiscence settling in her eyes. She looked\u0026hellip; happy, or wistful. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t decide which.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;d just put my fingers all over it, and it\u0026rsquo;d sing out these weird new noises every time.\u0026rdquo;\nI saw her, a tiny version of her, messing around with a guitar way too big for her hands, plucking out confused, discordant melodies. It took a toll on my imagination to think of her like that. When I saw her play, at practice and in our shows, the instrument seemed like a part of her body. Like she\u0026rsquo;d been born with it in her hands.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; nostalgic,\u0026rdquo; she said after a moment, and she reached out and touched the wrinkled bandage she\u0026rsquo;d placed on my shoulder yesterday evening with her index finger. I jumped and made a noise, and she giggled.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana.\u0026rdquo; I said her name, and just her name. She perked up and stared at me expectantly, her head tilted to one side.\nHer recounting had reminded me of last night; of everything she\u0026rsquo;d told me; and a murky substance equal parts concern and curiosity had slowly coalesced and spread throughout me, and forced me to speak.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I want to know about\u0026hellip; your family. A-about why you\u0026rsquo;re skipping school.\u0026rdquo;\nUpon hearing this, her smile faded, and she narrowed her eyes. \u0026ldquo;Hmmm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I want\u0026hellip; I want to know you. So tell me. Please.\u0026rdquo; I leaned over and noticed I\u0026rsquo;d put my hand on hers.\nShe narrowed her eyes even more.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmmmm.\u0026rdquo;\nHer gaze quickly turned that mixture of concern and curiosity into an acrid poison made of guilt and regret. I averted my eyes and shrank into myself.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah, n-nevermind\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s okay if you don\u0026rsquo;t–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll tell you,\u0026rdquo; she said, interrupting me. The look in her eyes immediately melted my worries away, somehow.\n\u0026ldquo;But you gotta wait. Five minutes. I\u0026rsquo;ll be back.\u0026rdquo; She held up her hand with all five fingers spread open. Then she pushed herself off the floor, dusted herself off, and walked out of the room.\nI waited, and counted the minutes.\nI ran my finger over the dust-covered ground, wondering what she was doing. I tried to draw something, like a pillbug, with the negative space in the dirt to focus my thoughts, but the strokes were too thick, and it ended up a messy, unrecognizable splotch.\nI kept counting. Five, six minutes, seven.\nShe wasn\u0026rsquo;t back yet. Eight. I started to worry that she might have just gotten sick of me and left. Nine minutes, then ten. I started drawing again to stop the racing thoughts.\nJust as I did, the door creaked open, and she was there, with a small plastic bag hanging off her hand.\nShe walked over and sat cross-legged across from me, putting the bag down between us both. The white polyethylene slid away and revealed two things.\nThe first was a large green bag of hard matcha candy, which described itself as \u0026ldquo;extra crunchy\u0026rdquo;. The nutrition label said that one serving contained 20 grams of sugar.\nThe second was a can, the tall, 500 milliliter kind. It was colored like bare metal, and the label read \u0026ldquo;Masashi Super Dry,\u0026rdquo; and said that it contained 5.2% alcohol by volume. I stared at it for what felt like ages. At some point, she snapped me out of my trance by grabbing it and opening its tab with one hand. A shrill pop and a threatening hiss rang out in succession, and an overpowering, medicinal smell permeated the air.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-is that\u0026hellip; is that\u0026hellip; beer?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo; She stared at the can dangling from her hand.\n\u0026ldquo;Is\u0026hellip; isn\u0026rsquo;t that, um, against the law? How\u0026rsquo;d\u0026hellip; you get it?\u0026rdquo; I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Little store nearby.\u0026rdquo; She motioned towards the door with her head. \u0026ldquo;The owner\u0026rsquo;s scum, so he lets me buy it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-scum\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;So he says. \u0026lsquo;I\u0026rsquo;m scum\u0026rsquo;. Funny guy,\u0026rdquo; she smirked.\nI stared, my mouth agape. \u0026ldquo;S-so you\u0026rsquo;ve\u0026hellip; had it before\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Once.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And\u0026hellip; you like it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No. I hate it. It\u0026rsquo;s gross.\u0026rdquo; She shook her head, then picked the green bag up. \u0026ldquo;But it feels nice. That\u0026rsquo;s what the candy\u0026rsquo;s for.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;This stuff makes your head go all funny. Makes it easier to talk. If I have some, I can answer you.\u0026rdquo;\nShe raised the can up to her mouth, then suddenly jerked backward and took a swig of the drink, rushing through it as if to get it over with as quickly as possible. She swallowed, immediately started coughing, and then she hissed. She hurriedly opened the bag of candy with her teeth and threw one into her mouth. It cracked between her molars. The cloying matcha flavoring seeped out of the shattered sugar block and floated towards me on her breath.\nShe held the can of beer out to me and spoke between two little coughs. \u0026ldquo;Here. Try it.\u0026rdquo; She was rubbing her temples, looking like she was struggling with something as she chewed on the candy faster and faster.\nAs I looked at the can, I felt the slightest pang in my stomach, like it was trying to tell me I was about to do something I shouldn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; but it was unusually, scarily easy to ignore it.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Okay.\u0026rdquo; I took it from her. The condensation on its surface clung to my palm, making me flinch. Cautiously, I brought it up to my mouth.\nThe sharp, volatile smell of the alcohol drifted into my nostrils and set their sensitive lining alight. I inhaled and let it travel down into my lungs. It was a strange, fascinating feeling, and it made my hands tremble slightly. And overtaken with curiosity, I turned the can upside down and let the cold, fizzy substance spill into my mouth.\nIt hit me all at once. My taste buds were overwhelmed in an instant by a burning, bitter flavor. Soon enough, they\u0026rsquo;d stopped registering anything at all.\nBut\u0026hellip; I didn\u0026rsquo;t hate it.\nActually, I was\u0026hellip; captivated.\nThe way it overwhelmed my senses was like nothing I\u0026rsquo;d experienced before. The heat, giving way to the cold, giving way to the tickling feeling of carbon dioxide effervescing on my tongue, and then fading back into heat, in a cycle.\nI held my hand up to my mouth to keep myself from spitting it out. Some managed to spill out through the sides and ran in a streak along my chin, dripping onto the floor. Before my gag reflex could kick in, I swallowed it all.\nI felt dizzy.\n\u0026ldquo;Fufu. Gross, right?\u0026rdquo; She was looking at me, seemingly rapt with attention, her head rested on both her hands. \u0026ldquo;Have some candy. It\u0026rsquo;ll wash it off.\u0026rdquo;\nI wiped my mouth with my sleeve.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Actually, I think I might\u0026hellip; like it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; It felt weird to say, like I was admitting to a crime, or a cardinal sin. Which\u0026hellip; I guess I was.\n\u0026ldquo;Really?,\u0026rdquo; she smiled and furrowed her brow, and the weight of her gaze somehow doubled in my mind. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re something else.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um, t-thank you\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo; I said, staring down at the can in my hand, still heavy with liquid.\nThe fire in my mouth faded and gave way to a strange aftertaste like burnt toast or oversteeped barley tea. Something about the way it lingered on my tongue made me feel depressed, so I quickly took a matcha candy from the bag and started chewing on it.\nIt was incredibly sweet, but it didn\u0026rsquo;t wash the taste away; it blended with it, and became something new, something with a life of its own. It tasted like eating blades of grass that had been burnt to a crisp by a passing wildfire and then covered in fresh morning dew once the sun set and rose.\nIt was\u0026hellip; kind of addicting, and I kept on chewing as if in a trance, until the candy had completely dissolved in my mouth. I remembered a waiter at a nice restaurant we all went to once telling my mom about ideal wine pairings, and wondered if this sensation is what he was talking about.\n\u0026ldquo;My turn.\u0026rdquo; She reached over and took the can from me.\nWe kept going, passing it back and forth and eating matcha candy as a palette cleanser. I gradually got used to the sting of the alcohol, and it became easier and easier to keep down.\nSome time passed. I think. No, it must have. I just don\u0026rsquo;t remember how. At some point, she had laid her head on my lap, nestling it between my legs, and she was looking up at me and smiling with her eyes half closed, and she looked seriously, unbelievably cute so I started running my hand along her hair like doing so was the most obvious thing in the universe. She was purring, I could feel it in my palm. My head was spinning and I couldn\u0026rsquo;t think straight but her fur, I mean hair was ridiculously soft and her weight on my legs kept me grounded, which was a relief because I\u0026rsquo;m pretty sure otherwise I would have floated away and into the clouds above and been blown by the treacherous autumn winds into a faraway continent, undiscovered by civilization, never to be seen again, and that thought made me really, really sad. But she was there holding me down so it was okay. I could relax. Everything my five senses could sense, her hair and the skin of her cheek and the outline of my own body from my clothes and the air around me, the way the air smelled and the muffled sounds of people and cars outside, it was all blurred and smeared, like every thing was bleeding into everything else the way the colors on my favorite shirt bled into the rest of my clothes in the washer when I was little, and I found it strangely comforting.\nI closed my eyes and waited and opened them and I blinked but I could barely tell the difference.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s about school.\u0026rdquo;\nHer voice reached my ears slowly and sounded muffled as if we were sitting at the bottom of a pool of blue water, and I could almost smell the chlorine.\nShe had opened her eyes. My hand stopped and rested on her cheek as the information from my senses filtered slowly, heavily, like mud, into my conscious mind.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;School?\u0026rdquo; I pieced together a response.\n\u0026ldquo;High school. Entrance exams.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026hellip;That\u0026rsquo;s right. She was in her third year of middle school, and it was drawing to a close. Even though she\u0026rsquo;d just be transferring to another division, she\u0026rsquo;d still need to take the entrance exams like anyone else.\nShe grabbed my hand and pushed it into the side of her face as if to tell me to keep going, so I did. She really was unnaturally soft. I thought that I could keep doing this forever if she\u0026rsquo;d let me.\nWe kept talking, but her voice faded into something low and whispered and gravelly, and she hesitated as she spoke.\n\u0026ldquo;Mom keeps\u0026hellip; telling me to study more. She says\u0026hellip; my grades have been getting worse and I need to \u0026lsquo;grow up\u0026rsquo;. And I don\u0026rsquo;t even\u0026hellip; know what that means. And when I ask her she just says more\u0026hellip; stupid-sounding stuff.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;She won\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; shut up about it. And everyone in class keeps talking about it too. The kids and the teachers. I hate it. I even looked it up on my phone and it says high school isn\u0026rsquo;t com\u0026hellip; compul\u0026hellip; computer\u0026hellip; it says I don\u0026rsquo;t have to go if I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Compulsory?\u0026rdquo; It took me a second, but I found the word somewhere in my memory.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. And I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna. But she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t listen. And Dad took her side too. And so\u0026hellip; And so I went and\u0026hellip; told Grandma and, I thought she\u0026rsquo;d tell them off, but\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nHer eyes drifted away from me and suddenly she was looking past me and off into somewhere really, really far away. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn\u0026rsquo;t have the strength to force it out.\nAnd then, all of a sudden, the corner of her eye started to twinkle with light and a tear gently rolled off of it and slid down her temple and into my hand.\nI had never seen her cry before, not even once, not even a little.\nI looked at the shiny little wet spot that had formed in my palm. It felt like I was holding something incredibly precious.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Did she\u0026hellip; not take your side?\u0026rdquo; I asked, trying to help her along.\nShe closed her eyes and shook her head, shifting its weight across my lap, and she tried to pull my hand into her face once again. I resisted. I didn\u0026rsquo;t want to lose the treasure cradled in my palm. She insisted, though, and I gave in, and ran it along her cheek, painting her face with it.\n\u0026ldquo;She\u0026hellip; she said all the same stuff. She said I needed to grow up. I tried to explain but she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t listen.\u0026rdquo;\nAs she said this, her voice cracked in ways I didn\u0026rsquo;t even think voices could crack in, and she sounded like a completely different person. Her words were painted black with melancholy and helplessness.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I thought she understood.\u0026rdquo;\nFor a moment I saw something well up in her eyes again, but she took a deep breath, and she held it back.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m done with school. And with all of them. I don\u0026rsquo;t need them anymore.\u0026rdquo;\nHer voice had returned to its usual, relaxed tone.\nShe ran the ticklish calloused tips of her fingers along the back of my hand and then opened her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;I have my guitar. And the band. And I have you. That\u0026rsquo;s all I need.\u0026rdquo;\nHer words washed over me and slowly sunk in, and an indescribable feeling welled up in my chest, then lodged itself in my throat. My head felt warm and fuzzy, like it was filling up with white noise.\nI tried to place the feeling. Was I\u0026hellip; happy? Was I scared?\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s all I need.\u0026rdquo; So she said. My hands trembled faster and faster the more I thought about it.\nI\u0026rsquo;d never considered straying from the path my parents laid out for me. Going to school was\u0026hellip; a steady, comfortable routine I could steady myself on, and the alternative seemed such an dark, uncertain path that I hadn\u0026rsquo;t even given it a second of thought. I was even scared of graduating.\nSo I didn\u0026rsquo;t know what to tell her. I didn\u0026rsquo;t know\u0026hellip; what the right answer was.\nBut I could feel the way it suffocated her. It resonated in my chest.\nThis girl, who seemed so distant, so very far away, so very comfortable in that distance, was suddenly\u0026hellip; clinging onto me for dear life. I could feel the desperation, the breathless rasp in her voice as she spoke. Like fingers digging into dirt and grass and pulling through it.\nWas I happy? Was I scared?\nI started to think that maybe it was\u0026hellip; neither.\nMaybe feeling needed was something entirely new.\nI thought I might even\u0026hellip; like it.\nI reached for her free hand with mine and took it, and let my fingers slide in between hers, and squeezed as hard as I could.\nThe cold of her palm faded away into me, as this enrapturing new sensation welled up in my chest.\n","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/chapter-05/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThe pain blossomed outwards from the nape of my neck as her teeth sank into my skin. I closed my eyes and caught a breath of the dusty, stale air, letting the fresh oxygen blunt its edge. Its bitter sting turned into a sugary-sweet and comforting blanket that laid itself in gentle, stuttering steps over my nerves, forcing desperate whispered whimpers out of me as it went.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI reached around and under her clothes and pulled her towards me, begging her with my hands to keep going. My fingernails dug into her back and immediately I felt her listen and respond and shift her weight forwards, pushing me into the wall behind me. The rough texture of the granite dug into my back and caught itself in the fabric of my hoodie. And then she kissed me with her teeth again, and again, and somehow, she knew how to make it hurt just as much every time, like she knew my body better than she knew her own.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 5 - teardrop","work":"in a world of her own"},{"content":"She doesn\u0026rsquo;t know what a \u0026ldquo;dominant chord\u0026rdquo; is. Let alone a \u0026ldquo;diminished\u0026rdquo; one.\nMajor and minor, she\u0026rsquo;s a little more familiar with. She\u0026rsquo;s heard them often enough. But she still couldn\u0026rsquo;t describe them if you asked.\nThe most she could say, if she thought really really hard, is that major chords make her heart flutter, and minor ones make it shiver.\nShe doesn\u0026rsquo;t even really know the names of all the notes. Certainly, A, B and C are some of them\u0026hellip; but where does it stop? And why are some of them \u0026ldquo;sharp\u0026rdquo; or \u0026ldquo;flat\u0026rdquo;? What could that mean?\nIs there such a thing as an I sharp?\nShe thinks, if that note did exist, it would probably sound kind of scary.\nBut an N flat might be really calming, on the other hand.\nIf you asked her, she would tell you she lacks the diligence, the grace, the prodigious talent, and the human touch of her bandmates. Her grip on it is so unsteady, it feels like one wrong step might send her tumbling into the abyss.\n\u0026hellip;She thinks music is a lot like the ocean.\nA vast expanse, too wide and too deep for her to ever comprehend. A maelstrom which thrashes her around in its violent currents, drags her down to dark and unfathomable places.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s terrifying.\nAnd she loves it.\nShe might not know what the notes are called, but somehow, she can sing them. She can match the rhythm of the drums, follow the movement of the chords, the lilt of the melodies. It\u0026rsquo;s like it\u0026rsquo;s seared into her very being, programmed into her biology.\nIt lets her say what she could otherwise never say. It\u0026rsquo;s the only way she knows to rend open the walls of her heart, to show the world what lies inside it.\nBefore humans were human, they lived in the sea.\nMaybe, she wonders, music has been inside us for just as long.\nShe doesn\u0026rsquo;t know what a dominant chord is, either. But she doesn\u0026rsquo;t need to.\nAfter all, her guitar will conjure up any sound she might possibly imagine without so much as a conscious thought. Giving it a name would only slow her down.\nShe knows every note by heart, just as closely as you might know your closest family. Every fret on her fretboard has its own personality, its own color, texture, taste. Every chord she plays sends her to its own little world.\nThey\u0026rsquo;ve all been with her for as long as she can remember.\nShe knows people try to give them names, to force it all into some kind of system. She can intuit it well enough when she sees it, but she finds it all very silly.\nShe cares very little for neat little boxes, for rigorous systems, for explanations.\nTo her, music is freedom itself.\nThe pulse of the kick drum, the twin wailing of electric guitars; only in the midst of it all does she ever truly feel like herself.\nIt is the very air she breathes. The blood in her veins.\nIt is what gives her soul its shape.\nNeither of them know the rules, or how to follow them.\nOne feels like she can\u0026rsquo;t. The other simply won\u0026rsquo;t.\nOne finds them overwhelming. The other finds them suffocating.\nOne feels lost in its waters; the other could not imagine ever being anywhere else.\nPut that way, they couldn\u0026rsquo;t seem more different.\nAnd yet, when they plug in; when the drums kick in, beating on their syncopated patterns, when the bass growls awake; and when they look each other in the eyes and begin to harmonize, when her voice follows in the wake of her guitar; they feel like one and the same person.\nIn the cold light of day, they both speak the same language.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-06/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eShe doesn\u0026rsquo;t know what a \u0026ldquo;dominant chord\u0026rdquo; is. Let alone a \u0026ldquo;diminished\u0026rdquo; one.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMajor and minor, she\u0026rsquo;s a little more familiar with. She\u0026rsquo;s heard them often enough. But she still couldn\u0026rsquo;t describe them if you asked.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe most she could say, if she thought really really hard, is that major chords make her heart flutter, and minor ones make it shiver.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe doesn\u0026rsquo;t even really know the names of all the notes. Certainly, A, B and C are some of them\u0026hellip; but where does it stop? And why are some of them \u0026ldquo;sharp\u0026rdquo; or \u0026ldquo;flat\u0026rdquo;? What could that mean?\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 6 - Jam","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"One afternoon, as the band filtered out of the studio at the close of an early practice session, Raana took Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hand and led her, surreptitiously, away from the group.\n\u0026ldquo;Something I wanna show you,\u0026rdquo; she told her.\nTomori didn\u0026rsquo;t even think to resist. Raana had shown her so many lovely things already, after all.\nRaana led her through the bustling surroundings of Ikebukuro station, dodging past herds of balding salarymen and throngs of absent-minded shoppers, and finally cutting through an avenue into the quieter, older commercial-residential area of the first chōme.\nThere, only a scant few people ambled the sidewalks. Tomori breathed a sigh of relief.\nShe followed gingerly behind as Raana paced along the side streets and alleyways. She held a pensive look on her face, and had a finger placed thoughtfully to her chin. Her eyes were dutifully scanning the tops of the buildings, looking for something. Whatever that was, she was being extremely discerning.\nTomori even started to feel a little\u0026hellip; curious.\n\u0026ldquo;Here,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, turning around and pointing to the worn-down back of a tall apartment building.\n\u0026ldquo;Let\u0026rsquo;s go up.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-up\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana answered by wordlessly ducking into the alley beside the building, finding the maintenance access door, and deftly disarming its lock with a hairpin.\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s heartbeat quickened. Cold, burning sweat formed on the palms of her hands.\n\u0026ldquo;C\u0026rsquo;mon. Make sure no one sees you,\u0026rdquo; Raana whispered, impishly.\nTomori hesitated—the throes of anxiety dug deep into her back, pulling her away.\nBut soon they gave way to a far stronger push.\nIt was that feeling again. Curiosity.\nJust what would Raana show her this time?\nAnd wasn\u0026rsquo;t she so lucky to be here, now, of all places and times? To be alive and present for this fleeting, hidden moment?\nSuddenly, going along seemed like the only reasonable option.\nUp on the rooftop, the wind howled. Antennas and vents creaked against the concrete. The sun above was muted by a layer of clouds, leaving no shadows on the ground.\nRaana walked up to the edge of the building. A meter or two across from her was another apartment complex, standing just a little lower than this one.\nShe shot a look back at Tomori, which practically had \u0026ldquo;check this out\u0026rdquo; written on it.\nThen she took a running start, leapt, and soared through the air, effortlessly clearing the gap between the buildings. She landed with an adroit forwards roll, breaking her fall.\nIt was beautiful. Tomori couldn\u0026rsquo;t look away.\nAfter dusting herself off, Raana stood up and gave Tomori a toothy, ear-to-ear grin. \u0026ldquo;Cool, right?,\u0026rdquo; she shouted.\nThe best Tomori could manage was one slow nod.\n\u0026ldquo;Now you do it,\u0026rdquo; Raana added, with a beckoning motion.\nTomori braced for fear to come clawing at her again.\nShe was certain that her whole body would seize up, and that she would blurt out something silly like \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know, t-that\u0026rsquo;s scary,\u0026rdquo; and slowly back away.\nBut that moment never came. Instead, her legs began to move on their own.\nBefore she knew it, she was flying.\nIt was incredible. The weightlessness of it, the wind at her back. Knowing there was no ground below to catch her. It was, in its own, strange way, comforting. She caught herself wishing she could feel like this all the time.\nAnd then she crashed into the rooftop below without a shred of grace or dignity.\nShe tumbled over herself three times, slamming her shoulders and sides before sliding hard on the ground for another few feet. The granite scraped and bruised her knee and peeled back the skin on her palms until it was raw and bleeding in spots.\nIt would have burned, if she\u0026rsquo;d been thinking clearly enough to feel it.\n\u0026ldquo;You okay?,\u0026rdquo; said Raana, standing over her. She offered a hand.\nTomori took it—and pulled Raana down to the floor with her, grabbed her hair, and kissed her on the lips.\nIn the quagmire of shock and adrenaline, it seemed like the only reasonable option.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-07/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eOne afternoon, as the band filtered out of the studio at the close of an early practice session, Raana took Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hand and led her, surreptitiously, away from the group.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Something I wanna show you,\u0026rdquo; she told her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori didn\u0026rsquo;t even think to resist. Raana had shown her so many lovely things already, after all.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana led her through the bustling surroundings of Ikebukuro station, dodging past herds of balding salarymen and throngs of absent-minded shoppers, and finally cutting through an avenue into the quieter, older commercial-residential area of the first \u003cem\u003echōme\u003c/em\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 7 - Fly","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"Takamatsu Tomori has her coping mechanisms.\nShe is perfectly aware of \u0026ldquo;the way that she is\u0026rdquo;. To the untrained eye, she may come off as guileless, even completely oblivious. But she really does know, in her own way.\nAnd it is precisely because she knows that she has stitched her life together with these band-aids, sutures and patches, with an arsenal of little habits and tricks. She uses them like so much putty and glue, to fit herself into all the little gaps and crevices of the world which she was born too strange and crooked for.\nShe could not tell you how many of them there are. She lost count years ago.\nShe knows that some of them are what you call \u0026lsquo;healthy\u0026rsquo;, and some of them tend to make people pretty upset with her. She still remembers the stern, yet kind voice her mother took on when she found out Tomori had chewed clean through the sleeves of her brand-new purple cardigan.\nThat was eight years ago, now. She still can\u0026rsquo;t help herself, every now and again, but she at least tries to put her teeth somewhere less conspicuous.\nBut regardless of how healthy they are, of how often she relies on them, or of how small or grand they may be, they are all like dear old friends to her; a safe place she can always run to.\nAnd this is one of her favorites.\nShe uses it every time she starts losing her grasp, whenever that familiar, dreadful tingling comes on at the tips of her fingers; when she starts to feel convinced that the universe itself is going to break open the paper-thin layer that is her self and finally swallow her whole.\nNo matter how bad it gets, it always helps her clear her mind.\nShe learned it when she was ten years old.\nActually, it\u0026rsquo;s one of the few she didn\u0026rsquo;t pick up by pure trial and error. It was taught to her, by this older lady with dyed-blonde hair they called a \u0026lsquo;counselor\u0026rsquo;, whom she and her parents would meet at a house in a quiet street in Itabashi every two weeks.\n(She doesn\u0026rsquo;t remember when she stopped seeing her, or why. It makes her kind of sad to think about.)\nBut to the point, it goes like this:\nTake a deep breath. Then look around. One by one, without rushing through it, name five different things that you can see. Anything goes.\nOnce you have, close your eyes. They\u0026rsquo;ve done their job. Now name four things you can feel.\nThe fabric on your shirt grazing your skin. The gentle touch of the wind as it blows. The little bumps on a concrete wall against your fingertips.\nThen name three things you can hear. A car driving by, maybe. A birdsong. The rustling of leaves.\nNow take another breath, through your nose, and name two things you can smell. Strong or subtle, fragrant or noisome; as long as you can name them.\nFinally, name one thing you can taste. It could be the lunch you had an hour ago, still lingering on your tongue, or a breath mint you\u0026rsquo;ve just popped into your mouth.\nAnd voilá. It never fails.\nAs she recalls, the counselor called it something like a \u0026ldquo;grounding technique.\u0026rdquo; But Tomori doesn\u0026rsquo;t need a name for it. It\u0026rsquo;s plenty familiar already.\nIt happened on a quiet Tuesday evening in the RiNG café. Anon and Soyo were off in a table by themselves. Taki was behind the counter, washing up and getting ready for the end of her shift; Tomori was sitting across from her.\nRaana suddenly stepped in from the hallway, a vacant expression on her face. But not the usual kind of vacant. Something was\u0026hellip; off.\n\u0026ldquo;My guitar,\u0026rdquo; she said, plainly. Taki perked up, followed by Tomori and the others. \u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t find it.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki answered first, hardly even thinking through her words. \u0026ldquo;You sure you even brought it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I did. Left it in the studio and went to the bathroom. Now it\u0026rsquo;s gone.\u0026rdquo;\nThe room fell silent.\nTears began to well up at the corners of Raana\u0026rsquo;s eyes.\nHer face scrunched up into something nearly unrecognizable, and she clutched the hem of her shirt hard enough to tear it apart even further.\n\u0026ldquo;Hey. Uh, Raana,\u0026rdquo; Taki said, thoughtfully avoiding the usual epithet. She rounded the counter and tried to give Raana some kind of one-handed half-hug. \u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t need to get like that. We\u0026rsquo;ll talk to Ririko. There\u0026rsquo;s no way someone would have—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Shut up.\u0026rdquo; Raana nearly shouted, and shoved Taki away with her elbow.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sorry.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana dropped to the floor, and slid herself below the counter\u0026rsquo;s overhang. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hid her face, and began to sob quietly.\nShe was shivering. The unshakable stray cat had all at once fallen to pieces.\nTaki scratched the back of her head. \u0026ldquo;Crap\u0026hellip; okay, we can\u0026rsquo;t just leave her like this.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Maybe you can make her a matcha parfait?\u0026rdquo; Anon stood up and walked over. She clearly had not fully processed the gravity of the situation. The second she heard this, Raana shot her a look of genuine contempt, tears still streaming dutifully down her face.\n\u0026ldquo;Um. Yikes. My bad.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Anon-chan. Please just shut up,\u0026rdquo; Soyo said, still sipping tea at her table.\nThe silence grew louder. It was punctuated every few seconds by a sob here, a sniffle there, and by one bizarre but very concerning whining noise.\nUnable to bear it any longer, Tomori slid off her stool and crouched down next to Raana. She whispered to her as quietly as she could manage.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked at her, suspiciously, with one eye.\n\u0026ldquo;C-can you do something for me?\u0026rdquo;\nAnd so it went: name five things you can see, Tomori told her. Raana stayed quiet for a moment, but finally, she complied. Rikki, she said. A houseplant. A red car parked outside. A speaker mounted on the wall. Tomori.\nFour things you can feel. Wet tears. The rough skin on her knees. Wood paneling against her back. The texture of Taki\u0026rsquo;s denim work pants. (Taki decided not to complain.)\nThree you can hear. People talking outside the entrance; the rumbling of a dishwasher; the faint sound of a kick drum, cutting through the studio\u0026rsquo;s soundproofing.\nTwo you can smell. Tea, and Anon\u0026rsquo;s loud perfume.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;O-okay. Now\u0026hellip; tell me one thing you can taste, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana fell silent.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh. I have some matcha candy.\u0026rdquo; Taki reached over the counter, grabbed a wrapper, and offered it to Raana; Raana eyed it for a moment, but then disregarded it completely.\nInstead she grabbed Tomori\u0026rsquo;s wrist and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, gently bit down on her index finger.\nTomori was surprised. But not unpleasantly so. She thought it felt kind of nice in there, actually.\nAnon and Soyo decided it would be best to pretend not to see.\nTaki looked like she was having two different aneurysms at once.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Salty.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana let go of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s finger. She looked noticeably calmer. Her hands were still shaky, but her tears had finally dried.\n\u0026hellip;Of course, the guitar was fine. The girl working cleanup had gotten the shifts wrong and put it away thinking it was a rental.\nBut that\u0026rsquo;s tangential.\nTomori was just happy she got to introduce her to one of her closest friends.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-08/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eTakamatsu Tomori has her coping mechanisms.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe is perfectly aware of \u0026ldquo;the way that she is\u0026rdquo;. To the untrained eye, she may come off as guileless, even completely oblivious. But she really does know, in her own way.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAnd it is precisely because she knows that she has stitched her life together with these band-aids, sutures and patches, with an arsenal of little habits and tricks. She uses them like so much putty and glue, to fit herself into all the little gaps and crevices of the world which she was born too strange and crooked for.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 8 - Clear","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"At the edge of a creek, under a bridge in a park in southern Ikebukuro, sat four oddly-shaped, translucent rocks.\nThey were tinted a subtle violet, and were surprisingly pure. You could almost see clean through them.\nTomori was utterly taken by their sight. They glistened so beautifully in the sun, reflecting the clear winter sky, the flowing water of the little rivulet beside it. She crouched by them and simply looked, looked in abject fascination as she could at all the crystalline patterns, at all the odd jutting shapes and crevices.\nShe was about to become completely lost in the patterns when it hit her.\nThe date was February 23rd. Yesterday had been Raana\u0026rsquo;s birthday. And she hadn\u0026rsquo;t managed to come up with a single good gift for her.\nOf course, Tomori had made sure to apologize. She\u0026rsquo;d caught her as she was leaving the small party MyGO threw her café and made her regrets clear.\nBut all Raana did was say \u0026ldquo;it\u0026rsquo;s fine\u0026rdquo; and walk away. Tomori had no idea how she could possibly interpret this.\nIt had been bothering her ever since. It was even bad enough to break her unshakable rock-staring concentration.\nBut as she gave them another look, she realized this was the perfect opportunity.\nTomori inched closer and began to carefully, lovingly stash every rock in her pockets.\nThe walk to the SPACE parking lot was long and arduous. The wind chill dug into Tomori\u0026rsquo;s skin through her winter coat as she crossed street after street. But she was determined. Resolute.\nShe arrived as the sun began to set. And there Raana was, just as Tomori had expected; sitting on the curb, strumming on her unplugged guitar, and surrounded by cats.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana opened her blue eye and looked Tomori over. She said nothing back.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; I\u0026hellip; Ah, er, hi. Sorry.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana closed her eye. She strummed a minor chord.\nTomori began to rifle through her pocket. She searched for the perfect rock to give her, finding its shape with her hands.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I brought you\u0026hellip; a present. A belated\u0026hellip; birthday present.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana opened her eye once again.\n\u0026ldquo;H-here. Look.\u0026rdquo; Tomori held the rock out in the palm of her hands. It was relatively large, and unusually symmetrical. \u0026ldquo;I picked it because\u0026hellip; I thought it kind of looked like a cat.\u0026rdquo;\nIt sort of did, if you squinted.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Don\u0026rsquo;t need it.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana turned away and began playing a crescendo in her guitar.\nShock and dejection washed over Tomori. It was painted on her face as clearly as the sky above.\nBut she fought through it, determined to make something work. She went back to her pockets and felt around for her next best option.\n\u0026ldquo;Here! Um, this one\u0026hellip; looks a little bit like a guitar, doesn\u0026rsquo;t it\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana reached the apex of her crescendo and paused.\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno. Don\u0026rsquo;t need it.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori visibly recoiled. She felt herself losing her grasp. The icy wind grew colder and harsher, almost as if it were trying to wear through to her bones. A terrible chill ran down her spine.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; W-well, what about\u0026hellip; this one?\u0026rdquo;\nIt had an unusual hue to it. Some manner of impurity or inclusion in its crystal structure had tinted part of it green.\nRaana gave it a good, long look.\n\u0026ldquo;Matcha?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes! Exactly! It\u0026rsquo;s—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t need it,\u0026rdquo; she said once again, and went back to playing.\nTomori was on her last legs. It was as if the world itself was coming down around her. She was fraying, coming apart at the seams.\nSlowly, with the last of her strength, she groped around for her final hope. She pulled it from her pocket and, meekly, gingerly, offered it to Raana.\nThere was nothing particularly unique about this rock. It was ordinary. It was about as average as a mineral aggregate could possibly be.\nRaana eyed it up and down.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;So?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Why this one?,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\nTomori blinked. She scratched the back of her head.\n\u0026ldquo;Um. W-well\u0026hellip; I kind of just\u0026hellip; like it.\u0026rdquo;\nThe wind suddenly went still. Raana stopped her playing, reached over, and swiped the rock from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hand.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll take it,\u0026rdquo; she said with a smile. \u0026ldquo;Thanks.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-09/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eAt the edge of a creek, under a bridge in a park in southern Ikebukuro, sat four oddly-shaped, translucent rocks.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey were tinted a subtle violet, and were surprisingly pure. You could almost see clean through them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori was utterly taken by their sight. They glistened so beautifully in the sun, reflecting the clear winter sky, the flowing water of the little rivulet beside it. She crouched by them and simply looked, looked in abject fascination as she could at all the crystalline patterns, at all the odd jutting shapes and crevices.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 9 - Sparkle","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"It took a week\u0026rsquo;s worth of travel to the east to reach neutral territory. They cut through dark forests and tenebrous bogs, avoiding any settlement that fell under the Kaname family\u0026rsquo;s demesne. Only when they reached the coastal headlands, where the grass turned a vibrant green and the wind took on a different smell, did they finally dare to step foot into a village.\nAs the sun rose over the ocean, the two of them sat themselves down near a pier in the local port. The place reeked of salted cod; the din from the stalls around them was incessant. Still, Tomori felt a great relief, being around people again. She took a deep breath of the briny sea air.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; have to say, I-I am impressed by\u0026hellip; how well you\u0026rsquo;ve handled the journey, my lady,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nRaana frowned. \u0026ldquo;Quit calling me that. Just Raana.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026hellip; is not how I was raised to speak,\u0026rdquo; Tomori answered, turning to look at the sunrise. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; for you, I will\u0026hellip; try.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Hehe. You\u0026rsquo;re funny.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori chose not to respond. She was still unsure of what this girl saw in her; of why she regarded a lowly knight-errant with such curiosity and compassion.\nEver since that day, she had not managed to look into her striking, odd-colored eyes. Her gaze filled her with shame, with a sense of unworthiness.\n\u0026ldquo;It would\u0026hellip; be best if we could finally sleep in a bed tonight,\u0026rdquo; she finally said. \u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;ll find us some work.\u0026rdquo;\nIt was supposed to be an easy job. Escort this foreign dignitary to his ship. Over and done with in twenty minutes, if that.\n\u0026hellip;Tomori thought it was odd how quickly a life could end.\nJust a minute ago, the two guards in front of her seemed so carefree, so unconcerned.\nThey seemed to know each other well. When she took the job—it was rather easy to land, considering how rare a sight full-plate armor is in these parts—they had been casually conversing with each other. They spoke of their childhood, of the town they grew up in. Tomori could barely keep up with the chatter, but hearing it made her feel warm.\nNow they were dead, and she was next. A knife\u0026rsquo;s point tugged at the skin on her neck.\nShe was a little curious. She did wonder what it might feel like to die. Would it all turn black? Would it be gradual, ambiguous? Would she ever really know it happened?\nBut she couldn\u0026rsquo;t entertain the thought. Not while Raana still lived. She\u0026rsquo;d been walking by her side just a second ago, after all.\nBut where had she gone?\nWithout moving a muscle, she looked left, and right. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t find her.\nShe looked the unknown assailant in the eye and moved to draw her sword.\nThe guest room in the inn was lit only by a harsh, orange oil lamp.\n\u0026ldquo;M-my lady. I did not know—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I did not know you were\u0026hellip; trained to use a dagger in\u0026hellip; s-such a fashion.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Wasn\u0026rsquo;t trained. I just did what felt right.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori sat at the edge of the bed, with half her armor disassembled on the floor before her. Though she had insisted on taking it off by herself - she was trained to - Raana would not accept it. She sat behind her, lazily undoing latches on her plates.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I believe I would find you somewhat terrifying, had I not already pledged my life to you.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana smiled.\n\u0026ldquo;We must leave before dawn,\u0026rdquo; Tomori continued. \u0026ldquo;News of this will\u0026hellip; spread. Soon your father will know we were neither slain, nor kidnapped.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sure. I was already getting bored of this place,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered.\nShe skipped past Tomori after untying one final strap at her ankles.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;re these?,\u0026rdquo; she asked. She\u0026rsquo;d picked up a sheaf of papyrus from the table at the corner of the room. \u0026ldquo;Some kinda song?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori shrank into herself. Stripped of her steel carapace, she felt especially vulnerable.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Nothing more than\u0026hellip; idle scribbles.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mmm. I like them.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori threw herself onto the mattress. She stayed silent.\n\u0026ldquo;If we can get a lute, I\u0026rsquo;ll sing them,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, as she climbed into the opposite bed.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-they really aren\u0026rsquo;t—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Night night, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; she whispered.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Good night. Raana.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-10/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eIt took a week\u0026rsquo;s worth of travel to the east to reach neutral territory. They cut through dark forests and tenebrous bogs, avoiding any settlement that fell under the Kaname family\u0026rsquo;s demesne. Only when they reached the coastal headlands, where the grass turned a vibrant green and the wind took on a different smell, did they finally dare to step foot into a village.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs the sun rose over the ocean, the two of them sat themselves down near a pier in the local port. The place reeked of salted cod; the din from the stalls around them was incessant. Still, Tomori felt a great relief, being around people again. She took a deep breath of the briny sea air.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 10 - Renegade","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; Okay. H-here goes.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori turned over a page on the magazine. She stared fixedly, nervously at the words printed on the glossy paper, enough to burn a hole straight through it; as if the letters would slide right off if she did not keep them pinned right there with her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;First\u0026hellip; first question.\u0026rdquo;\nThis had all been Anon\u0026rsquo;s fault.\nAfter foisting the latest personality test from one of her teeny-bopper publications on Soyo (unsuccessfully), and then on Taki, she\u0026rsquo;d finally set her sights on Tomori. Tomori, for her part, found the concept of a quarterly magazine peering into one\u0026rsquo;s soul and divining fate itself a little scary, but could not find it in herself to turn Anon down. She ended up finding it strangely entertaining.\nAnd then the idea hit her like a bolt of lightning.\nSomeone had been on her mind lately. A certain bandmate of hers, whom she still, even after all this time, could not say she truly knew.\nIn a way, the two of them were very close. Tomori felt a certain wavelength resonate in her chest whenever she was around her; the usual low-level anxiety she felt around most people, even people she loved dearly, simply melted away. They hardly exchanged any words, and yet her presence was indescribably comfortable. In that sense, she really couldn\u0026rsquo;t complain.\nAnd yet, when she wasn\u0026rsquo;t around, and Tomori caught herself thinking about just how preciously few things she really knew about her, it made her feel incredibly\u0026hellip; sad. She was so close, yet so far. They were like twin stars orbiting each other, never quite managing to touch.\nOf course, if she wanted to get to know her better, she could simply ask. But ask\u0026hellip; what? Where to even begin? There were so many pieces making up the whole of a person. So many piled-up little memories and scars and feelings. The very thought of it completely overwhelmed Tomori.\nBut there it was: the perfect solution. Just what would she find out? Tomori could barely sit still. She asked Anon to borrow the issue they\u0026rsquo;d gone through together, but when Anon couldn\u0026rsquo;t find it, she handed Tomori the one she\u0026rsquo;d been reading lately, without much thought. It did have a personality quiz, after all. What could go wrong?\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s your\u0026hellip; star sign, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori asked.\nRaana leaned back in her chair, savoring a bite of matcha parfait. (This is how Tomori had convinced her to sit still and answer.)\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno. I forgot.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; I think it\u0026rsquo;s Pisces. I\u0026rsquo;ll put that in.\u0026rdquo; Tomori continued scanning the page. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What color lipstick do you wear?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana paused her chewing and eyed Tomori suspiciously. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I guess that would be \u0026rsquo;nude\u0026rsquo;? Next question\u0026hellip; If you got ten million yen right now, w-what would you spend it on\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nFinally, Raana gave her answer some thought. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Pedals. Like from Analogman. Or a vintage Moogerfooger.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Er\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori squinted at the page. \u0026ldquo;S-sorry. The only options are\u0026hellip; um, jewelry, clothes, a\u0026hellip; Birkin bag\u0026hellip;?, and, a trip to Paris.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana thought again, this time for longer. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Clothes.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Okay.\u0026rdquo; Tomori flipped the page again. \u0026ldquo;Um.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head.\nTomori hesitated, but after gathering her strength, she carefully read off the page. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Have you ever\u0026hellip; had a boyfriend?\u0026rdquo;\nUpon hearing this, Raana\u0026rsquo;s face suddenly puckered up, as if someone had spiked her parfait with a mix of lemon juice and pure capsaicin.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;yes,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered, her face turned away in shame.\n\u0026ldquo;W—R-really?!\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s mind began to race. A murky soup of conflicting emotions flooded her mind; she spoke faster than she could think. \u0026ldquo;When? W-Who was it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Not telling you. That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; [dark history]{黒歴史}.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; B-but, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori leaned in closer. The sheer pull of curiosity had made her lose her usual restraints. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I really do want to know more about you, you know\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nPerhaps it was the look in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes cutting through to her soul, or perhaps it was simply a failure of her fight-or-flight response. But after some more dodging, Raana spilled the beans.\nIt had happened in her second year of middle school, shortly after she\u0026rsquo;d quit the guitar, after SPACE closed down.\nRaana was at rock bottom. She had lost the only meaning in life she had ever known. Such was the pit of desperation she found herself in when a snot-nosed boy from her neighborhood propositioned her. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re pretty, and kinda weird,\u0026rdquo; he told her. \u0026ldquo;I like that.\u0026rdquo; His name was Tsutsujimori. Tsutsujimori Yuutarou.\nRaana figured anything was worth a try, at that point.\nIt was the worst mistake she ever made.\nThey had absolutely nothing in common. Every time he would pester her and take her out on a date he would go on and on about the most boring things imaginable. Whatever those things were, they were so boring they had completely fallen out of her head by now. It might have been something about cars. Or\u0026hellip; baseball. Raana had to fight for her life not to fall asleep. And he wouldn\u0026rsquo;t even pay for her food half the time, always claiming he hadn\u0026rsquo;t gotten his allowance for the month yet.\nBut worst of all, he was\u0026hellip; handsy.\nThey never officially broke up, but considering their last encounter ended with Raana clawing the boy across the face until he bled, it was as good as over. They never spoke again.\nTomori listened intently; but as she did, something strange began to well up inside her. Something fiery and bright and unknowable. Something she had not felt since kindergarten, when the only mean kid she\u0026rsquo;d ever met swiped her favorite rock out of her hands and threw it into a pond.\nShe was overcome with a sudden, intractable urge to grab Raana\u0026rsquo;s hands and never let go of her again.\nAnd she was not sure what that really meant.\n\u0026ldquo;So. That\u0026rsquo;s the story,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, her voice now laced with venom. \u0026ldquo;Next question.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-Um. That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; actually the last one.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yeah.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;So?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;The result. It\u0026rsquo;s a test, right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh. Right.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori took out her notebook and pencil and dutifully tallied up the scores. She turned the page one last time.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026hellip; It says\u0026hellip; your BTS soulmate is Jungkook.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno what that means.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. Me either,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, with a gentle smile.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-11/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; Okay. H-here goes.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori turned over a page on the magazine. She stared fixedly, nervously at the words printed on the glossy paper, enough to burn a hole straight through it; as if the letters would slide right off if she did not keep them pinned right there with her eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;First\u0026hellip; first question.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis had all been Anon\u0026rsquo;s fault.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAfter foisting the latest personality test from one of her teeny-bopper publications on Soyo (unsuccessfully), and then on Taki, she\u0026rsquo;d finally set her sights on Tomori. Tomori, for her part, found the concept of a quarterly magazine peering into one\u0026rsquo;s soul and divining fate itself a little scary, but could not find it in herself to turn Anon down. She ended up finding it strangely entertaining.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 11 - Revelation","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"My name is Yamigahara Sachiho.\nI am fourteen years old. My birthday is on the 23rd of October and my blood type is O negative. I attend Kamikichou Municipal Junior High in the third grade, class 3-C. My grades are slightly above average. I live in a small detached house on a hill fifteen minutes\u0026rsquo; walk away from school with my mother; my father is dead. I\u0026rsquo;m an only child. My hair is a muddy, desaturated brown and my eyes are a dull hazel. I\u0026rsquo;m nearsighted and have to wear glasses. I enjoy reading books both fiction and nonfiction and watching birds and taking walks in the forest and my favorite food is mild curry rice with softboiled eggs.\nAnd I am haunted.\nTo be clear, I don\u0026rsquo;t mean this in a metaphorical sense. I am saying that a malevolent spirit has taken up residence within me, and is exacting a cruel torment upon my mind and soul.\nThis has been true since I was born, but I only came to recognize it about a year ago. The signs have been there for as long as I can remember. The sudden fits of violent shivering and overwhelming terror, the fog clouding my thoughts, the unsettling disconnect between my mind and my body. In the past seven years my mother and I have seen so many doctors that I\u0026rsquo;ve started to lose count. I\u0026rsquo;ve been diagnosed with several conditions and disorders, both physical and mental. I take four different pills every morning before I step into the shower. But I\u0026rsquo;m not convinced any of them work. I\u0026rsquo;ve abandoned any hope that modern medicine might cure me of this ailment.\nIn a particularly terrible fit of desperation last summer, I took to the library to search for an answer. I spent six hours there, poring over every book that seemed even slightly relevant. By the end of it, spectral possession seemed to be the only satisfying explanation. I\u0026rsquo;ve only become more convinced of it in the time since.\nI do not resent the ghost inside me. If anything, I\u0026rsquo;ve grown attached to it. I know, through my research, that it is a mere accident of fate that I was chosen as its vessel. I know that it does not wish to stay here any more than I want it to, that it is bound to the mortal plane by some lingering attachment or unfulfilled promise. I have tried to communicate, to find out what it wants, but every attempt I\u0026rsquo;ve made so far has failed.\nBut that ends tonight. Tonight, I will make contact.\nI took Mom\u0026rsquo;s coat off the rack at the entryway, whispering an apology to her as I did. Autumn had not yet settled in, and the weather outside was mild, but I needed to hide my silhouette. The chances I ran into anyone were low, but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t risk getting caught. I doubted anyone would see a middle school girl sneaking around at three in the morning and decide it\u0026rsquo;s none of their business.\nAfter making sure I had my keys and my backpack, I carefully opened the front door and slipped out.\nI had recently been made aware of a site of heightened spectral activity: an abandoned house at the edge of our residential district, by the coast. A grisly murder had taken place there decades ago, and since then it sat empty, legally condemned but never demolished. I never thought that such a place might exist in my remote town. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t believe my luck.\nA jolt of adrenaline traveled up my spine as I walked down our hill. My pace quickened.\nAs I neared the house, I heard the cries of an eastern barn owl in the distance. A breeze unsettled the trees lining the street, and to the east, the sounds of the Hoyo strait grew louder and louder. It was a beautiful night.\nI arrived, and checked the address on the front wall against the notes I\u0026rsquo;d taken. The gate was unlocked, as I\u0026rsquo;d hoped. I steeled myself and walked past the overgrown front yard and through the entrance, where a door once stood.\nI froze solid.\nIn front of me, a girl sat on an empty windowframe, blowing a pink gum bubble. She turned to look at me; it took all my strength to stop myself from screaming.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Hey.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-12/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eMy name is Yamigahara Sachiho.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI am fourteen years old. My birthday is on the 23rd of October and my blood type is O negative. I attend Kamikichou Municipal Junior High in the third grade, class 3-C. My grades are slightly above average. I live in a small detached house on a hill fifteen minutes\u0026rsquo; walk away from school with my mother; my father is dead. I\u0026rsquo;m an only child. My hair is a muddy, desaturated brown and my eyes are a dull hazel. I\u0026rsquo;m nearsighted and have to wear glasses. I enjoy reading books both fiction and nonfiction and watching birds and taking walks in the forest and my favorite food is mild curry rice with softboiled eggs.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 12 - Thriller","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. This\u0026hellip; This is really bad.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori clutched her notebook in her hands. She was leaning towards Raana and speaking in hushed whispers, her voice laced with worry. \u0026ldquo;I-it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked past Tomori and behind the cafe counter on the other side of the room. And there Taki was, washing a cup plate while the Gaggia machine beside her dutifully churned out a double shot of espresso.\n\u0026ldquo;Seems fine,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, having finished her assessment.\n\u0026ldquo;She\u0026rsquo;s not, Raana-chan. She really isn\u0026rsquo;t. I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s expression grew even more dour. Fearful, almost. Her tone swelled with urgency.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I haven\u0026rsquo;t seen her smile in a week.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana raised her eyebrows.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-You know what I\u0026rsquo;m talking about, right\u0026hellip;? I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; really know why, but she\u0026rsquo;s nearly always smiling when I see her here,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said. \u0026ldquo;Though\u0026hellip; for some reason she always tries to hide it when I look over. I wonder if\u0026hellip; she\u0026rsquo;s embarrassed about how she looks\u0026hellip; I think it\u0026rsquo;s a really pretty smile,\u0026rdquo; she added.\n\u0026ldquo;Now that you mention it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Raana peeked over at Taki again, scratching her chin all the while. \u0026ldquo;Rikki\u0026rsquo;s been acting kinda funny.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-Right?! I\u0026hellip; I keep peeking out of the corner of my eye to get a look at it, but she\u0026rsquo;s always got this\u0026hellip; empty, sad look on her face\u0026hellip; I can\u0026rsquo;t stand seeing it, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmm,\u0026rdquo; Raana hummed. \u0026ldquo;So?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know what\u0026rsquo;s gotten into her, but\u0026hellip; W-we have to cheer her up. We have to\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo; Tomori held out the notebook in her hands and opened it. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; have a list of ideas I wrote earlier. And\u0026hellip; I think you know Taki-chan better than I do, so\u0026hellip; Will\u0026hellip; you help me?\u0026rdquo;\nFor ten long seconds, Raana was silent. Contemplative. Tomori looked at her, expectantly, anxiously; a bead of sweat ran down her left temple.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Kay,\u0026rdquo; she finally replied.\n\u0026ldquo;R-really?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sure. Could be interesting.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan,\u0026rdquo; Tomori spoke into the microphone. She stood atop the small stage at the corner of the cafe, clutching a piece of scrap paper in her other hand. \u0026ldquo;We\u0026rsquo;re going to\u0026hellip; play you a song.\u0026rdquo;\nBeside her, Raana strummed a quiet chord in agreement.\nTaki looked over at the stage in shock. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-Tomori?! What are you—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; know what lies within your heart,\u0026rdquo; Tomori began to sing. She alternated deftly between melody and spoken-word as she read off her notes. \u0026ldquo;I want to reach in, and feel what\u0026rsquo;s inside, but my hands won\u0026rsquo;t move\u0026hellip; Frozen, desperate, afraid\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAccompanying Tomori\u0026rsquo;s lyrics, Raana began with a two-chord vamp, then transitioned into a series of haunting, reverb-laden arpeggios, matching Tomori\u0026rsquo;s rhythm perfectly.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;But\u0026hellip; even if it takes all my strength\u0026hellip; I hold on tight, hoping my warmth\u0026hellip; will one day touch you.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana capped the performance off with a strum of the tonic.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I hope\u0026hellip; you liked it. Thank you.\u0026rdquo; Tomori bowed; Raana copied her shortly after.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Taki looked on, looking utterly dumbfounded. She shook her head, seemingly trying to regain her composure. \u0026ldquo;I-It was really good, Tomori. Thanks,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nBut she didn\u0026rsquo;t smile.\n\u0026ldquo;Mission failed,\u0026rdquo; Raana said later, as they cleaned up their equipment.\n\u0026ldquo;I-It\u0026rsquo;s okay. If we can\u0026rsquo;t lift her heart with a song, then\u0026hellip; maybe we can make her laugh.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. P-Please enjoy our manzai routine.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori and Raana stood side by side in front of the counter.\n\u0026ldquo;The other day, I went to Yoshinoya,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, in a perfect monotone, while reading off a new piece of scrap paper.\n\u0026ldquo;And\u0026hellip; what happened?,\u0026rdquo; asked Tomori, robotically.\n\u0026ldquo;I ordered extra green onion,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered, without an ounce of emotion. \u0026ldquo;But they said they didn\u0026rsquo;t have enough. So, I told them: Onion\u0026rsquo;t you being a little stingy?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-What are you even saying?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori retorted in painfully strained faux-surprise, and chopped Raana over the head with the lightest touch imaginable.\nShe then slowly turned her eyes towards Taki, gauging her reaction.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Stray,\u0026rdquo; Taki said, in an utterly unamused tone. \u0026ldquo;What on earth are you putting Tomori up to?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Failed again.\u0026rdquo; Raana almost looked genuinely dejected. Almost.\n\u0026ldquo;I-if it\u0026rsquo;s come to this\u0026hellip; we only have one final resort,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, her voice now filled with conviction.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s that?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; do you know what moe is?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nya.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-Nya.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori and Raana posed side by side, clad in maid outfits newly purchased from the cosplay store down the street, their heads adorned with fake cat ears.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki-chan\u0026hellip; c-cheer up, nya.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nya.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki\u0026rsquo;s expression darkened. She started staring daggers at Raana. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Stray. You can get up to whatever nonsense you want, but if you don\u0026rsquo;t stop dragging Tomori into it, I\u0026rsquo;m really going to get mad.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m just following orders, nya.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-that\u0026rsquo;s right, Taki-chan. I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; doing this of my own free will,\u0026rdquo; Tomori pleaded. \u0026ldquo;N-Nya.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You are? Why?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Isn\u0026rsquo;t it\u0026hellip; moe?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Well.\u0026rdquo; Taki cleared her throat. \u0026ldquo;It is. It is very cute, Tomori.\u0026rdquo; Her cheeks seemed a little flushed.\nBut she still didn\u0026rsquo;t smile.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori suddenly darted forward and clasped Taki\u0026rsquo;s hands in hers. \u0026ldquo;P-Please\u0026hellip; Please, you have to tell me what\u0026rsquo;s wrong,\u0026rdquo; Tomori cried. \u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t bear to look at you\u0026hellip; in so much pain.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Crap,\u0026rdquo; Taki said. \u0026ldquo;You noticed?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori nodded intently.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah\u0026hellip; well.\u0026rdquo; Taki scratched the back of her head. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; pretty embarrassing, but\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes gleamed with curiosity.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s about\u0026hellip; my sister. Maki. She\u0026hellip; uh, how do I put this.\u0026rdquo; She averted her eyes. \u0026ldquo;She texted me the other day, saying she\u0026hellip; got a girlfriend.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori tilted her head. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; isn\u0026rsquo;t that\u0026hellip; a good thing? I-I mean, I could be wrong\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t really—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I know, right?\u0026rdquo; Taki chuckled. \u0026ldquo;Obviously, I should be happy for her. Obviously. And it\u0026rsquo;s not like I have a problem with it being another girl. It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026hellip; been digging at me for some reason. I can\u0026rsquo;t really explain it, but I keep thinking about it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh!\u0026rdquo; Tomori hit her palm with a fist. \u0026ldquo;I-I think\u0026hellip; I understand!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip; you do?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan\u0026hellip; you\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; you\u0026rsquo;re a siscon, aren\u0026rsquo;t you?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki suddenly looked like an anvil had slammed directly onto her head.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;ve read about this. You\u0026rsquo;re sad about\u0026hellip; losing your sister, to this other person. Like she\u0026rsquo;s not\u0026hellip; yours anymore. Am I right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori, I don\u0026rsquo;t—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s okay, Taki-chan\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo; Tomori inched closer and closer to Taki\u0026rsquo;s face. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan and I can be your new sisters!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Isn\u0026rsquo;t that right, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; she added, turning back to look at her.\n\u0026ldquo;Sure, nya.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-if we do that\u0026hellip; then, you\u0026rsquo;ll be able to smile again, right, Taki-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki was silent. Her expression was unreadable. She looked like her brain had been thrown into a blender.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah. That\u0026rsquo;s not right.\u0026rdquo; Tomori pulled back. She put a finger to her chin and looked up at Taki. Her eyes began to twinkle.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki\u0026hellip;onee-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki tried to resist it. She really, truly did. But no amount of willpower could hold back the smile that crept up her face.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-13/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. This\u0026hellip; This is really bad.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori clutched her notebook in her hands. She was leaning towards Raana and speaking in hushed whispers, her voice laced with worry. \u0026ldquo;I-it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana looked past Tomori and behind the cafe counter on the other side of the room. And there Taki was, washing a cup plate while the Gaggia machine beside her dutifully churned out a double shot of espresso.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Seems fine,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, having finished her assessment.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 13 - Smile","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"The prep room backstage was cold, dusty, and dark; the lights overhead and around the mirrors were all switched off. No more acts were booked for the night, and without the usual din bleeding in from the stage out front, it was so completely silent you could hear the two of them breathe.\nTomori sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back into Raana. Raana herself was propped up against the south wall, her arms casually wrapped around Tomori\u0026rsquo;s waist.\n\u0026ldquo;T-thanks, Raana-chan,\u0026rdquo; Tomori whispered.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um, f-for playing with me on stage again, and\u0026hellip; for this, too.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Mhm.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I needed\u0026hellip; to calm myself down somehow. A-after being out there.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana shifted slightly. \u0026ldquo;Mm,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nTomori closed her eyes. Her nerves were frayed; she could barely think straight. She was trying, as hard as she could, to control the rhythm of her breathing. In her head, she counted to three after every inhale, and after every exhale.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; surprisingly\u0026hellip; um, soft, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Thanks.\u0026rdquo;\nMurmurs from the cleanup staff echoed past the hallway.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I know I\u0026rsquo;m broken,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, her eyes still shut. Her voice quivered. \u0026ldquo;I know. I know I\u0026rsquo;ll never\u0026hellip; really understand how they feel. But I still\u0026hellip; I still want to try. I want to\u0026hellip; be in a band with them. I want to spend the rest of my life with them.\u0026rdquo;\nA tear welled up at the corner of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eye. Before it could roll down her cheek, though, it sank back inside her.\n\u0026ldquo;Is that\u0026hellip; is that wrong, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana said nothing; but her arms pressed down just a little harder into Tomori.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s it matter?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh? What do you\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;If it\u0026rsquo;s right or wrong. What\u0026rsquo;s it matter?\u0026rdquo;\nOutside, the sound of footsteps crept closer to the door. The two of them tensed up, then relaxed once they faded into the distance.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t know. I just\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTomori finally opened her eyes. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t feel like I deserve it. Any of it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;B-but I still can\u0026rsquo;t help\u0026hellip; wanting it.\u0026rdquo; She looked up at the ceiling. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I think I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; really selfish.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana smiled. \u0026ldquo;True.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I like it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip; you do?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah,\u0026rdquo; Raana said. She raised her left and and brushed a stray hair from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes. \u0026ldquo;People who only want what they\u0026rsquo;re allowed to have are\u0026hellip; boring.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-I wonder about that\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nMore footsteps rang out outside. A door across the hallway creaked open and shut, and the murmuring resumed.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s next?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I want to bring Taki-chan back, before anything else,\u0026rdquo; Tomori answered. \u0026ldquo;When\u0026hellip; I got here tonight, as I was making my way to the stage\u0026hellip; our eyes met. I\u0026hellip; I was trying to avoid it, but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo; She took a deep breath.\n\u0026ldquo;It hurt to see her. And\u0026hellip; somehow, I could tell s-she was hurting, too. I\u0026hellip; I miss her.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I can do that,\u0026rdquo; Raana said.\n\u0026ldquo;R-really?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. Easy.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; I\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t know what\u0026hellip; to say.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;That\u0026rsquo;s okay,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered. \u0026ldquo;Just repaying the favor.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;F-favor? What favor\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana closed her eyes and smiled.\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t worry about it.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-14/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThe prep room backstage was cold, dusty, and dark; the lights overhead and around the mirrors were all switched off. No more acts were booked for the night, and without the usual din bleeding in from the stage out front, it was so completely silent you could hear the two of them breathe.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back into Raana. Raana herself was propped up against the south wall, her arms casually wrapped around Tomori\u0026rsquo;s waist.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 14 - Reunion","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Heads up. Camp-out time at eight hours, five minutes and thirteen seconds. Supplementary prebreathing complete. \u0026hellip;Vitals confirmed, nitrogen blood content sitting at 1mL/L. Propulsion unit functional. Dr. Takamatsu, you are cleared for extravehicular activity. Check your suit and prepare the tether. Over.\u0026rdquo;\nI opened my eyes.\nI was floating inside a narrow cylindrical room made of plastic and metal. In my right hand, at the end of a long, winding tube, was a mask, which I was holding firmly against my nose and mouth. For the past five minutes it had been feeding pure oxygen into my lungs, to acclimate my body to the low pressure outside.\nThis was the primary airlock for Rumina, the joint ESA/JAXA Jovian space station, where I had been living there for the past six months, alone. I had been working routine maintenance and making preparations for the second round of personnel to arrive, whereupon the research and exploration proper could begin.\n\u0026hellip;Back then, I don\u0026rsquo;t think I could have withstood this much solitude. But now it felt like the only place I could stay sane.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Copy.\u0026rdquo; I spoke into my radio, let go of the oxygen mask, and began sealing my suit. I took the coiled-up tether rope, latched one end of it to myself, and moved towards the outer door.\n\u0026ldquo;I-In position, over.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Copy. Unsealing outer airlock door.\u0026rdquo;\nA violent hissing flooded the compartment, making me wince. The air around me steadily drained away through the gaps in the structure, stolen away by the infinite vacuum, until finally I was enveloped in a perfect silence.\nThe door slid open without a sound.\nWith a kick off the wall, I pushed myself outside. As I floated past the threshold I latched the other end of the tether to a fixture by the airlock.\n\u0026ldquo;This is Takamatsu. Egress complete, over.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Loud and clear. Winch is deployed. Travel three hundred meters aft-starboard to intercept and retrieve orbiter Juno.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Copy. \u0026hellip;Beginning cruise.\u0026rdquo;\nI took the end of the winch cable and clamped it to my suit. After finding my heading, I switched on my AMU thrusters. I cut them off after a few seconds, letting the inertia carry me forward.\nTo my left, covering most of my view, was Jupiter.\nIt was so much more beautiful than in any pictures I had seen back on Earth. The sea of ammonia, sulfur and phosphorus gas mixed together into endless fractal swirls. The storms so massive they dwarfed the very planet I was born in. The colossal streaks of green lightning flaring up every few minutes. It was hypnotizing to look at.\nI never got tired of it. I think I might have fallen in love with it.\n\u0026hellip;In high school, I was in a band.\nIt was the best two years of my life. The happiest I\u0026rsquo;d ever been before, or since. I was certain it would last for the rest of our lives.\nBut then she vanished.\nOur lead guitarist. Forgive me if I don\u0026rsquo;t say her name; it still hurts even to let myself think it. She had\u0026hellip; a mysterious air about her, beautiful, silver hair, and striking, odd-colored eyes.\nShe disappeared without a trace one day. The investigation turned up nothing. Not even a single clue, not the faintest sign of life.\nWe didn\u0026rsquo;t survive it. We tried, but it didn\u0026rsquo;t last.\nI\u0026rsquo;d never\u0026hellip; managed to really get to know her. To this day I wonder if it was somehow my fault. If things might have gone differently if I\u0026rsquo;d tried harder to\u0026hellip; understand her. In hindsight, I think she was\u0026hellip; trying to tell me something.\nAfter the band broke up I poured myself into studying. It was the only thing I could think to do. I majored in astrophysics at Tokyo University and stayed there until I got a doctoral degree. I was hired by JAXA right out of school. There I insisted on joining the astronaut corps, despite my lacking qualifications. After a few years of training, I finally made it in.\nAnd now there I was, drifting in the silent void.\nI think this is\u0026hellip; the only place I could possibly feel at peace.\n\u0026ldquo;Dr. Takamatsu. Confirm you have visual on the target.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Affirm. I\u0026hellip; I have visual.\u0026rdquo;\nI was about twenty meters away from it. Juno, the old NASA orbiter. It had long been asleep; its three solar arrays were completely caked with dust.\n\u0026ldquo;Copy. Proceed with retrie–\u0026rdquo;\nThe voice coming through my radio receiver cut off, swallowed by a sudden rush of garbled static.\n\u0026ldquo;Tsukuba?\u0026rdquo; I adjusted the receiver. \u0026ldquo;I-I can\u0026rsquo;t read you. Repeat last. \u0026hellip;Tsukuba?\u0026rdquo;\n▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄\nThe static shifted into a pattern of pauses and rhythmic shrieks of noise.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;E-excuse me?,\u0026rdquo; I spoke into the radio.\n▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄\nThe second time around, I picked up on it.\n\u0026ldquo;How\u0026hellip; how do you know my name?\u0026rdquo;\n▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄\nI looked over at the probe; the inertia was still hurtling me towards it. The closer I got to it, the louder the static became.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nIt felt as if the noise was about to tear my ears off.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana\u0026hellip;? R-Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄▄▄　▄　▄　▄　▄　▄　▄▄▄　▄\nI reached the probe; I grabbed onto it with one hand. With the other, I took the hook end of the winch.\nI looked back at the space station; at the tether-line binding me to it.\nI let go of the winch, and I cut my tether.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-15/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u003cem\u003eHeads up. Camp-out time at eight hours, five minutes and thirteen seconds. Supplementary prebreathing complete. \u0026hellip;Vitals confirmed, nitrogen blood content sitting at 1mL/L. Propulsion unit functional. Dr. Takamatsu, you are cleared for extravehicular activity. Check your suit and prepare the tether. Over.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI opened my eyes.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI was floating inside a narrow cylindrical room made of plastic and metal. In my right hand, at the end of a long, winding tube, was a mask, which I was holding firmly against my nose and mouth. For the past five minutes it had been feeding pure oxygen into my lungs, to acclimate my body to the low pressure outside.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 15 - Orbit","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Oh my god, guys.\u0026rdquo; Anon briskly ran up to the café counter with a suspicious object in hand. \u0026ldquo;You have to see this.\u0026rdquo;\nUnfazed, Taki poured some Oolong into a cup and placed it on a saucer, then slid it forwards. \u0026ldquo;I sincerely doubt that.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Thanks, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; Soyo took her tea and glared at Anon. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m also not interested, in case you were getting any ideas.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No, listen! Ikebukuro Weekly printed a story on MyGO!\u0026rdquo; Anon waved the magazine in her hand around. Indeed, some very small text on the cover read \u0026lsquo;Exclusive! Local band MyGO\u0026rsquo;s Secrets Revealed!\u0026rsquo;.\n\u0026ldquo;Ikebukuro Weekly?,\u0026rdquo; Taki scoffed. \u0026ldquo;That small-time rag?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, come on, Rikki~! We barely even have 1,000 followers on Binsta, you know! Ever hear the expression \u0026lsquo;beggars can\u0026rsquo;t be choosers\u0026rsquo;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I bet they just asked ChatPTG to write some insipid profile to pad the pages. Those guys have scratch for editorial integrity.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sounds like you got a bone to pick, Rikki.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And what if I do?\u0026rdquo; Taki slammed down her hand. \u0026ldquo;The piece they ran on Afterglow last year was the worst drivel I\u0026rsquo;ve ever read, all rumors with zero evidence. And you could tell it hurt Mitake-senpai, too.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Uh\u0026hellip; yeah, sure.\u0026rdquo; Anon recoiled. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m just gonna read it, \u0026lsquo;kay?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Suit yourself. I won\u0026rsquo;t be listening.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nor will I,\u0026rdquo; Soyo added.\n\u0026ldquo;Oookay\u0026hellip; flip, flip\u0026hellip; here!\u0026rdquo; Anon began to read aloud. \u0026ldquo;MyGO is an indie band local to Ikebukuro. Their sound is an eclectic blend of mainstream Japanese rock with post-hardcore, screamo, and a touch of spoken-word poetry\u0026hellip; Uh, I don\u0026rsquo;t know what any of that means, but cool.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Heh. Yeah, you wouldn\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tch. Um, the band\u0026rsquo;s members are all in their teens, and though that does show through in their amateurish playing, it lends their music a certain char—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Amateurish?! They must be talking about you.\u0026rdquo;\nAnon gave Taki a look, then continued. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;A certain charm. Though little-known outside Toshima, their frequent shows at live house \u0026lsquo;RiNG\u0026rsquo; have earned them a small yet loyal following, who all swear their life was changed by the band\u0026rsquo;s music; particularly by their vocalist Takamatsu\u0026rsquo;s lyricism. Aw~! You hear that, Rikki?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, yeah. Anything I haven\u0026rsquo;t heard before?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Right here! But beneath their facade lies a quagmire of drama and salacious love affairs\u0026hellip; Eh?! No way!\u0026rdquo;\nSoyo peered from behind her cup.\n\u0026ldquo;First and most obvious is the relationship between rhythm guitarist Chihaya and bassist Nagasaki.\u0026rdquo; Anon gulped.\n\u0026ldquo;The\u0026hellip; two have been spotted on several dates. Most recently, our field reporter Tsutsujimori spotted them s-sharing\u0026hellip; a kiss\u0026hellip; near\u0026hellip; Mukohara station. Uh.\u0026rdquo;\nA hard clink rang out as Soyo slammed her cup down.\n\u0026ldquo;I thought we were alone! Soyorin, I\u0026rsquo;m sorryyy~!,\u0026rdquo; Anon pled.\nBut Soyo stayed silent.\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m in the doghouse\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Serves you right,\u0026rdquo; Taki said. \u0026ldquo;Now go on, keep reading.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But I thought you didn\u0026rsquo;t care~!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Just shut up and do it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Fine. The band\u0026rsquo;s second relationship is rather less obvious and traditional— rude! \u0026hellip;According to our insiders, guitarist Kaname and vocalist Takamatsu have been spotted in myriad hidden, quiet places, engaging in\u0026hellip; uh\u0026hellip; strange forms of\u0026hellip; intimate play.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Excuse me? The hell is that supposed to mean?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-it goes on\u0026hellip; cuddling in the grass at Otomeyama park, exchanging long hugs and tender glances, and Takamatsu even allowing Kaname to\u0026hellip; lick\u0026hellip; her cheeks and bare shoulders\u0026hellip; Uh. I\u0026hellip; I guess I have seen them do that. But\u0026hellip; is it really\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Who knows,\u0026rdquo; Soyo said. \u0026ldquo;Those two seem like they\u0026rsquo;re in their own little world, sometimes.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm~! You know, I never thought of them that way. I should ask Tomorin\u0026hellip; Whatcha think, Rikki? \u0026hellip;Rikki?\u0026rdquo;\nA vein was visibly bulging through Taki\u0026rsquo;s forehead.\n\u0026ldquo;I am going to kill these people.\u0026rdquo; She rounded the counter. \u0026ldquo;And then myself,\u0026rdquo; she added, and walked out of the café.\n\u0026ldquo;Uh\u0026hellip; yikes. That\u0026rsquo;s rough, eh, Soyorin?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t talk to me,\u0026rdquo; Soyo said, sweetly.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Crap,\u0026rdquo; Anon lamented. \u0026ldquo;I freaking hate the media!!!\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-16/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Oh my god, \u003cem\u003eguys\u003c/em\u003e.\u0026rdquo; Anon briskly ran up to the café counter with a suspicious object in hand. \u0026ldquo;You \u003cem\u003ehave\u003c/em\u003e to see this.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eUnfazed, Taki poured some Oolong into a cup and placed it on a saucer, then slid it forwards. \u0026ldquo;I sincerely doubt that.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Thanks, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; Soyo took her tea and glared at Anon. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m also not interested, in case you were getting any ideas.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;No, listen! Ikebukuro Weekly printed a story on MyGO!\u0026rdquo; Anon waved the magazine in her hand around. Indeed, some very small text on the cover read \u0026lsquo;\u003cem\u003eExclusive! Local band MyGO\u0026rsquo;s Secrets Revealed!\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rsquo;.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 16 - Tabloid","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"Tomori sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of RiNG\u0026rsquo;s Studio 1, peering down at her smartphone. As she read through the group chat logs, a wave of melancholy washed over her.\n\u0026ldquo;Sorry, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Taki had just written. \u0026ldquo;Think I caught something too.\u0026rdquo; Hours earlier, Anon and Soyo had mentioned running a fever.\nIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t just that they\u0026rsquo;d be missing practice, that she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t get to see Taki and Anon and Soyo, though that certainly did tug cruelly at her heart. It was more than that. Today was meant to be\u0026hellip; special.\nShe glanced at the only soul sharing the room with her.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; it\u0026hellip; it looks like Taki-chan\u0026rsquo;s sick, too,\u0026rdquo; she said.\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki is?\u0026rdquo; Raana looked back at Tomori from behind her byzantine array of vacuum-tube amplifiers.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. See, she just sent a text.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmmmm.\u0026rdquo; Raana carefully inspected the message log. \u0026ldquo;So, no band today?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um. Well\u0026hellip; we already paid for the studio time, so—\u0026rdquo;\nTomori was immediately interrupted by a loud, heavily-distorted chord, which flooded the room and nearly sent her flying onto her back from its sheer volume.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Out of tune.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah. So\u0026hellip; I guess we should use it, b-but\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo; Raana gently set her guitar aside and scampered over. \u0026ldquo;Whatcha sad about?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sad? H-how could you tell\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana leaned down towards Tomori, swiveled her head left and right, and then sniffed at the air in front of her, making a strange chill run down Tomori\u0026rsquo;s spine.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s in your voice.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh. Well\u0026hellip; there was\u0026hellip; something I wanted to show everyone today.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head.\nReaching into her school bag, Tomori produced an old, worn-out recorder; the cheap bakelite-molded sort parents buy for their kids in elementary school. Its black paint was heavily flaked off, and it was covered in dents and gashes.\nFeeling her heart pound, she presented it to Raana, who turned it over, surveying it from several different angles.\n\u0026ldquo;Um! I\u0026hellip; I thought that, s-since I learned to play it in grade school, we could\u0026hellip; w-work this into one of our songs! L\u0026hellip;like, as an introduction or an interlude o-or something, representing\u0026hellip; t-the fleeting nature of youth! Or\u0026hellip; or the beauty found in imperfection, you know, like\u0026hellip; like wabi-sabi!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana put a finger to her chin. \u0026ldquo;Wabi-sabi?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori began to fidget. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m not sure how to explain it well\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I wanna hear it.\u0026rdquo; Raana fell backwards and sat down on the floor. She watched Tomori intently.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh.\u0026rdquo; Tomori blinked. \u0026ldquo;O-okay.\u0026rdquo;\nShe took the recorder, put her mouth to it, and began stumbling through a childishly amateurish rendition of Sakura, Sakura. By the time she was done, she was completely out of breath.\n\u0026ldquo;T\u0026hellip;That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; about all I can play.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Gimme.\u0026rdquo; Raana held her hand out for the recorder. A strange tingling came over Tomori\u0026rsquo;s chest as she watched her put it to her lips.\nSomehow, Raana seemed to know the instrument intimately. She played back the same melody with the sleight of hand of a trained musician, mixing in graceful flourishes and improvised variations. The recorder began to sound less like a children\u0026rsquo;s toy than a tool worthy of a proper orchestra.\n\u0026ldquo;R\u0026hellip; Raana-chan,\u0026rdquo; Tomori breathed. Her eyes were wide. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026hellip; that was amazing! I\u0026hellip; I know–we should have you play it instead!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;No.\u0026rdquo; Raana shook her head solemnly and handed the recorder back. \u0026ldquo;Not enough wabi-sabi. You do it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah. Really\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. But let me show you.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana gracefully slid behind Tomori and wrapped her hands around her. Her calloused fingertips left goosebumps on Tomori\u0026rsquo;s skin as she guided her hands into position. \u0026ldquo;Like this,\u0026rdquo; she whispered.\nTomori followed along; carefully, she blew into the mouthpiece, moving her fingers as Raana directed.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; you\u0026rsquo;re right, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori smiled, once they were done. \u0026ldquo;It sounds so much\u0026hellip; warmer.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm.\u0026rdquo; Raana peeled away and picked her guitar back up. She hit her distortion pedal\u0026rsquo;s foot switch and strummed a clean B minor. \u0026ldquo;Let\u0026rsquo;s play.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-17/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eTomori sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of RiNG\u0026rsquo;s Studio 1, peering down at her smartphone. As she read through the group chat logs, a wave of melancholy washed over her.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Sorry, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Taki had just written. \u0026ldquo;Think I caught something too.\u0026rdquo; Hours earlier, Anon and Soyo had mentioned running a fever.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t just that they\u0026rsquo;d be missing practice, that she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t get to see Taki and Anon and Soyo, though that certainly did tug cruelly at her heart. It was more than that. Today was meant to be\u0026hellip; special.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 17 - Woodwind","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"Human beings\u0026hellip; are a little bit like mirrors.\nWhen two of them come face to face–when they look into each others\u0026rsquo; eyes, trade words, gestures and expressions–they begin to reflect one another, to adapt and adjust in tiny, imperceptible steps until finally their rhythms match. Give it enough time and one\u0026rsquo;s colors start to bleed into the other\u0026rsquo;s; a certain harmony develops, a recursive loop of reflections upon reflections. You could stare into it for eternity and never find an origin point; just an endless tunnel where light itself goes to die.\nIt happens so naturally, so quickly, that it could only be the product of millions of years of evolution, encoded into their very genes. They must not even realize it, just the same as they breathe without any conscience of it.\nI am a broken mirror.\nThey look at me expecting to see themselves reflected back. But all I can give them is an ugly, distorted picture, a mockery of their own image, so misshapen it\u0026rsquo;s barely recognizable.\nI can tell–I\u0026rsquo;ve learned to tell–when they realize it, the moment it dawns on them what it is they are facing. The look in their eyes changes in an instant.\nOf course they try to look past it, to hide their discomfort and to find some common ground. People are kind, after all, and they are patient. And yet it only makes me feel even more distant.\nI wish that I could give them what they want. I really do, so badly that it hurts, like a jagged knife being driven straight into my gut. But you can\u0026rsquo;t fix a broken mirror, can you? The pieces won\u0026rsquo;t ever fit each other quite like they were meant to.\nI\u0026rsquo;ll never forget the first time I saw her that day. In an instant she was there, like some ghost flickering in from another plane of existence, with her gaze set on me.\nI was afraid. The way she looked at me was\u0026hellip; different. Her eyes betrayed none of that usual expectation, but they glowed like smoldering fire searching for fuel to burn through.\nThey pressed in on me like a vise, prodding and probing. Part of me wanted to run away right then and there. But I didn\u0026rsquo;t.\nI must have figured burning alive would hurt less than dying, alone, in the cold.\nEven after everything that happened, after all that we went through together, I couldn\u0026rsquo;t tell what she saw in me; why she would keep coming back, again and again, no matter how much I stumbled and faltered. I didn\u0026rsquo;t have the courage, or the words, to ask.\nUntil today I would have called her an unsolved mystery. No–an unexplained phenomenon. A force of nature I could only helplessly witness.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nOutside, the last few straggling sparrows are still singing away, as summer draws its last breath under autumn\u0026rsquo;s suffocating embrace.\nShe is in my room, and I am splayed out with my back to the hardwood floor. Her hands are pinning down my wrists, and for the first time I am looking her straight in the eyes.\nOne blue, one amber. In them, I see my own reflection.\nShe is a broken mirror, too, I realize. I can finally see the cracks running over her.\nThey are different from mine; denser in parts and sparser in others, all cutting through the polished-glass surface of her being in a distinct, irreplicable pattern.\nAnd past them I see my own, and the way they mix together is so beautiful it makes a terrible chill run down my spine.\nShe draws nearer. I breathe in and close my eyes.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-18/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eHuman beings\u0026hellip; are a little bit like mirrors.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhen two of them come face to face–when they look into each others\u0026rsquo; eyes, trade words, gestures and expressions–they begin to reflect one another, to adapt and adjust in tiny, imperceptible steps until finally their rhythms match. Give it enough time and one\u0026rsquo;s colors start to bleed into the other\u0026rsquo;s; a certain harmony develops, a recursive loop of reflections upon reflections. You could stare into it for eternity and never find an origin point; just an endless tunnel where light itself goes to die.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 18 - Mirror","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;R\u0026hellip;Raana-chan, I don\u0026rsquo;t know about this\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;ll be fine. C\u0026rsquo;mere.\u0026rdquo;\nShe reached out towards me, a picture-perfect smile on her face.\nAt her feet, a pebble tumbled down and landed on the floor several meters below.\nJust this morning Raana had shown up unannounced at my house and asked me to come with her, saying there was something she wanted to show me. It was a Sunday and I hadn\u0026rsquo;t made any plans, so after mulling it over and asking Dad for permission, I agreed.\nWe took a short walk to the subway station nearby, then rode southwest until we were just past the Tama, at the edge of Kanagawa. There on the riverbank, surrounded by a tiny forest of pampas grass and shrubs, was a huge, three-story brick building. It was clearly abandoned, and the signage facing the levee road was faded by the years and weather, but I could just make out some text naming it a storage facility.\n\u0026ldquo;W-what is this place?,\u0026rdquo; I asked, following Raana past the broken window by the entrance.\n\u0026ldquo;Used to come here when I was younger. Grandma had friends nearby, and she\u0026rsquo;d bring me.\u0026rdquo;\nI straddled the windowsill, watching for shards of glass. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;S-She brought you\u0026hellip; to an abandoned warehouse\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No, to their house over that way.\u0026rdquo; Raana pointed back with her thumb. \u0026ldquo;But I snuck out and came here.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O\u0026hellip;oh.\u0026rdquo;\nOn the uppermost story, past three long flights of stairs, the afternoon sun streamed in through holes in the sheet-metal roof. Dust danced in the air, stirring in our wake. It irritated my nostrils as I caught my breath; I was distracted enough trying not to sneeze that I didn\u0026rsquo;t realize Raana had stopped in her tracks, and nearly bumped into her.\n\u0026ldquo;Weird. Wasn\u0026rsquo;t like this before.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s a hole.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A\u0026hellip; h-hole?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. A big hole.\u0026rdquo;\nShe was right. In front of her, a huge chunk was carved out of the wooden floor, both in this story and the one below. A heap of rotted planks sat at the bottom of the pit, and above it a gap was torn in the roof in roughly the same shape.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; think the rain\u0026hellip; ate it,\u0026rdquo; I ventured.\n\u0026ldquo;Makes sense. You\u0026rsquo;re pretty smart, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um. Thanks. \u0026hellip;R-Raana chan, what are you doing?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Crossing.\u0026rdquo;\nBefore I could say another word, Raana slid into the narrow strip of floor still left standing, and skillfully side-stepped her way past the hole.\nAnd there she beckoned to me from across the chasm.\nThe building had unusually high ceilings, so the drop was steeper than you\u0026rsquo;d expect from just two stories. It must have been ten meters, at least. I peered into it again and gulped.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m w-way too clumsy. I\u0026rsquo;ll definitely fall,\u0026rdquo; I whimpered.\nRaana shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Just do what I did.\u0026rdquo;\nI was shivering just thinking about it, but\u0026hellip; something about the look in her eyes drew me in.\nI sidled onto the outcropping and began shimmying past it. Slowly, slowly, making sure not to look down. I timed my breaths with every step. One, two, three.\nAfter ten or so, it seemed I\u0026rsquo;d made it through.\n\u0026ldquo;See?,\u0026rdquo; Raana said. \u0026ldquo;Easy.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip; y-you\u0026rsquo;re right! I did i—\u0026rdquo;\nIn an instant, the ground below me gave way.\nI must have taken a wrong step.\nMy heart stopped, and in a thousand short images my life flashed before my eyes. I saw faces; Taki-chan, Ano-chan, Soyo-chan.\n\u0026hellip;At least I got to spend the rest of my life with them, I thought.\n\u0026ldquo;R\u0026hellip;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; surprisingly strong.\u0026rdquo;\nMy arm was sore from how tightly she\u0026rsquo;d gripped it.\n\u0026ldquo;Thanks.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah, your knee! It\u0026rsquo;s bleeding! I-I brought bandages and disinfectant, s-so just let me–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Not yet.\u0026rdquo; Raana held a hand up. \u0026ldquo;Follow me.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-um\u0026hellip; okay\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;In here,\u0026rdquo; she said, and stepped into a small room at the corner of the building.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Meow.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Meow. \u0026hellip;That means \u0026rsquo;long time no see,\u0026rsquo; Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh.\u0026rdquo;\nOn Raana\u0026rsquo;s lap sat an old, thick-coated orange tabby. It looked at me and mewled once again.\n\u0026ldquo;D\u0026hellip;do you know this cat, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm,\u0026rdquo; she nodded. Her knee was still raw, mottled red with burst capillaries. And yet she was smiling so gently. \u0026ldquo;An old friend.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-19/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;R\u0026hellip;Raana-chan, I don\u0026rsquo;t know about this\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;ll be fine. C\u0026rsquo;mere.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe reached out towards me, a picture-perfect smile on her face.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt her feet, a pebble tumbled down and landed on the floor several meters below.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eJust this morning Raana had shown up unannounced at my house and asked me to come with her, saying there was something she wanted to show me. It was a Sunday and I hadn\u0026rsquo;t made any plans, so after mulling it over and asking Dad for permission, I agreed.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 19 - Dangerous","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"Tomori sat alone in the RiNG prep room. One hour from now, she would be on stage. But at this moment her mind was occupied with something else entirely.\nBetween her fingers she held a small, cylindrical object, and she was staring at it like a woman possessed. She squinted and turned it over, utterly fascinated. She looked at it from afar, from up close, and\u0026ndash;\n\u0026ldquo;Whatcha doing?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh! Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori turned to the girl looking over her shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;Um, well. The other day, m-my aunt who lives in Kagoshima came to visit a-and gave me this gift, and\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;ve been trying to\u0026hellip; figure out what it\u0026rsquo;s for.\u0026rdquo;\nShe presented this gift to Raana. From one end of it, out poked a glossy, cherry-red tip.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? It\u0026rsquo;s lipstick. You put it on your lips.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-I know. That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; not what I mean, though\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m wondering\u0026hellip; w-what the point is.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;The point?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-Yeah.\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s voiced turned somber and contemplative. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; know people use it a lot, but\u0026hellip; why? What does it signify? Is it\u0026hellip; really just for looks, or is there something more to it? I\u0026hellip; I want to understand.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana took it and looked it over. \u0026ldquo;Hmmmm.*\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh! I\u0026hellip; should ask Ano-chan. I bet she\u0026rsquo;d have an answer\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I know.\u0026rdquo; Raana\u0026rsquo;s eyes lit up. \u0026ldquo;I just remembered.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-remembered\u0026hellip; what\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;When I was younger and SPACE was still open\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;d walk around in the backstage hallways a lot. And some of the women from the bands would be covered in lipstick marks.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes went wide. \u0026ldquo;E-eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Once I even looked into a room and I saw one of them putting those marks on the other.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh! Really\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. So I think that\u0026rsquo;s what it\u0026rsquo;s for.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I see,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, hesitantly. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; why do that?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm\u0026hellip; Because it\u0026rsquo;s rock \u0026rsquo;n\u0026rsquo; roll.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh! T\u0026hellip;that makes sense!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Wanna try it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;S-Sure.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana twisted the tube to reveal its contents and clumsily smeared them over her lips. She tossed the thing aside, dived towards Tomori and kissed her exposed shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah. T-that tickles, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori fidgeted and squirmed as Raana worked her way around, up her neck and onto her cheeks. The marks grew fainter and fainter as she went. By the time she reached Tomori\u0026rsquo;s lips she had, by pure instinct, pushed her down onto the floor.\nRaana drew back and wiped her mouth. \u0026ldquo;That felt pretty punk rock.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah.\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s smile was painted cherry red. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-I think so too.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Stray cat. What\u0026hellip; the hell\u0026hellip; are you doing to Tomori?!\u0026rdquo;\nFrom the doorway at the opposite end of the room, Taki glared at Raana with bloody murder in her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki-chan! Um, we\u0026rsquo;re actually practicing our\u0026hellip; rock \u0026rsquo;n\u0026rsquo; roll vibes,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said as Raana nodded along. \u0026ldquo;Do you\u0026hellip; w-want to join us?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-Wh-H-Ha?!\u0026rdquo; Taki recoiled. Her eyes darted around the room. Even with an open door behind her, she froze up like a cornered animal.\nRaana stood up and picked up the lipstick. As she dragged it over her mouth, she walked ominously towards Taki.\n\u0026ldquo;C\u0026rsquo;mere, Rikki.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-20/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eTomori sat alone in the RiNG prep room. One hour from now, she would be on stage. But at this moment her mind was occupied with something else entirely.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBetween her fingers she held a small, cylindrical object, and she was staring at it like a woman possessed. She squinted and turned it over, utterly fascinated. She looked at it from afar, from up close, and\u0026ndash;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Whatcha doing?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;O-oh! Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori turned to the girl looking over her shoulder.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 20 - Cherry","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomori-chan, is it?\u0026rdquo; Shifune sat back on her lounge chair. \u0026ldquo;Nice to finally see you up close. Have fun up there. But don\u0026rsquo;t let Raana lead you around too much.\u0026rdquo;\nEven in her old age, as she sank into the leather, the legendary Shisen of MiraculouScarlet exuded a dazzlingly radiant aura. Tomori wondered, for a moment, if this is what people meant when they talked about \u0026ldquo;star power.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori gave a frantic little bow. \u0026ldquo;U-um! Thank you very much! I\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; be in your care.\u0026rdquo;\nJust beside her grandmother, Raana bounced impatiently on her feet; and once the pleasantries seemed to be over with, she darted past Tomori and ran up the staircase. She looked back as she went, beckoning Tomori with her eyes.\nUpstairs, Raana took her guitar out of its bag and hopped onto the couch. \u0026ldquo;Here,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nThe upper floor of Tsuzuki Shifune\u0026rsquo;s Waseda duplex was split into two halves. One was a top-of-the-line private recording studio, lined from top to bottom with high-grade acoustic foam, and thousands of dollars\u0026rsquo; worth of guitars and audio equipment.\nThe other was a listening room.\nIts walls were blotted out by shelves upon shelves of perfectly-kept vinyl records. At the sides of the couch in the middle there were even two towering carousels all filled with record sleeves. And in front of it, the centerpiece: a beautiful vintage Yamaha hi-fi, a turntable hooked up to a full surround-sound system.\nAs she\u0026rsquo;d made her way up the stairs, Tomori\u0026rsquo;s heart begin to race.\nWhat would Raana show her? What would she finally get to learn about her?\n\u0026ldquo;W\u0026hellip;what is all this, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; she asked as she sat down.\nRaana was reaching over the back of the sofa and rifling through the contents of the carousel to her right. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s music.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-records, right? I\u0026hellip; don\u0026rsquo;t think I\u0026rsquo;ve ever seen any in real life. Not\u0026hellip; not this many.\u0026rdquo;\nFinally, Raana found her mark and swiped it off the shelf. \u0026ldquo;CDs and stuff are\u0026hellip; cold. Empty. This is better,\u0026rdquo; she said, authoritatively.\n\u0026ldquo;R-really\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. I keep telling Rikki we should sell vinyls.\u0026rdquo; Raana pulled the inner sleeve from within the jacket, which she handed to Tomori. \u0026ldquo;But she always says no. Too expensive. Boring.\u0026rdquo;\nShe stepped towards the turntable, opened its cover, and delicately slid the twelve-inch disc around the spindle, taking care not to touch a single groove on the wax. Tomori watched her with some fascination. Her agility was transfixing, to be sure, but more than that it was the care, the warmth she felt from Raana\u0026rsquo;s every move.\nIt felt every bit like\u0026hellip; love.\nShe looked down at the empty jacket in her hands, searching for the name of the album or its artist. But she found nothing. \u0026ldquo;W-what is this, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Led Zeppelin.\u0026rdquo; A muted crackle echoed through the room as Raana let the needle drop. \u0026ldquo;Fourth album.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-wow.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana leaned back, smiling from ear to ear. \u0026ldquo;Masterpiece, right?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori nodded. \u0026ldquo;I-it was\u0026hellip; very impressive.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Listen, Tomori.\u0026rdquo; Raana looked Tomori dead in the eyes. \u0026ldquo;Jimmy Page is a genius. Don\u0026rsquo;t forget.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay. I won\u0026rsquo;t. Um–so\u0026hellip; is this how you\u0026hellip; learned to speak English?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sure,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, her accent mostly Tokyo but with a hint of the West Midlands mixed in. \u0026ldquo;If that\u0026rsquo;s what you wanna call it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You really listened to this so much you\u0026hellip; started to understand it\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. For years. But not just this,\u0026rdquo; Raana began. \u0026ldquo;The Doors, Zappa\u0026hellip; Oh, I know.\u0026rdquo; Her eyes glimmered, and she went searching for another record.\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026hellip; is this song about, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Leaves,\u0026rdquo; Raana explained. \u0026ldquo;And how they\u0026rsquo;re sweet.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;R-really?\u0026rdquo; Tomori stared fixedly at the spinning turntable. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve actually\u0026hellip; never tried eating a leaf.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I did. Not sweet at all.\u0026rdquo; Raana mimicked spitting something out. \u0026ldquo;But maybe they\u0026rsquo;re sweet in England.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh!\u0026rdquo; Tomori sat up straight. \u0026ldquo;I bet Ano-chan knows.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana nodded. \u0026ldquo;Mm. Let\u0026rsquo;s ask her.\u0026rdquo;\nThey went on, playing record after record. Until day turned to night, Tomori learned of the classics, and of Raana\u0026rsquo;s dearest treasures.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-21/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomori-chan, is it?\u0026rdquo; Shifune sat back on her lounge chair. \u0026ldquo;Nice to finally see you up close. Have fun up there. But don\u0026rsquo;t let Raana lead you around too much.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEven in her old age, as she sank into the leather, the legendary Shisen of \u003cem\u003eMiraculouScarlet\u003c/em\u003e exuded a dazzlingly radiant aura. Tomori wondered, for a moment, if this is what people meant when they talked about \u0026ldquo;star power.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori gave a frantic little bow. \u0026ldquo;U-um! Thank you very much! I\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; be in your care.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 21 - Carousel","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"They stumbled through the night, arm in arm, reeking of food and ale. Tomori could hardly see straight.\n\u0026ldquo;M-my lady–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;–Raana.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I believe I\u0026rsquo;ve had too much to drink.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hehe.\u0026rdquo; Raana hiccuped. \u0026ldquo;Me too.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You made q-quite a stir. I was\u0026hellip; not prepared to be bought so many rounds.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Twas fun,\u0026rdquo; Raana whispered. In her free hand, she held the lute they\u0026rsquo;d bought just this morning.\n\u0026ldquo;When\u0026hellip; pray tell, did you learn to play with such\u0026hellip; dexterity?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Grandma taught me. Hic. \u0026hellip;She\u0026rsquo;s dead now, though.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I am\u0026hellip; terribly sorry to hear that.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Whatever. We\u0026rsquo;ll go again tomorrow. But this time, you sing.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sing? I\u0026hellip; no, I couldn\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Why not?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s your words.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know how. And besides, I would not\u0026hellip; dare stand beside you as your equal.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana stopped in her tracks. She looked Tomori in the eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;But you are.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; am not, my lady.\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s voice grew cold. \u0026ldquo;I was born and raised to serve. I have no purpose save to die so you may live.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana pouted and elbowed Tomori.\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s dumb.\u0026rdquo; She looked away from her, off into the distance. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t want you to die.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-it is the only truth I have ever known.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Then I\u0026rsquo;ll teach you a new one,\u0026rdquo; Raana said.\nThe taste of ale turned bitter in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s mouth. She felt, more acutely than ever before, the sheer gulf between them.\n\u0026ldquo;U-um. My lady.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana,\u0026rdquo; she insisted.\n\u0026ldquo;Do\u0026hellip; you know where we are?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm.\u0026rdquo; Raana looked around. They were in the middle of a dark, indistinct alleyway. \u0026ldquo;Nope.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;We have\u0026hellip; taken a wrong turn, have we not?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Guess so.\u0026rdquo;\nAs they stood there dumbfounded, the rasp of a blade unsheathing filled the air around them.\n\u0026ldquo;Ser Tomori, you fiend,\u0026rdquo; a low, familiar voice boomed. \u0026ldquo;For the treacherous abduction of Princess Raana you are sentenced to death. I have come to carry out your execution.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ser Roderic.\u0026rdquo; Tomori breathed in and reached for the hilt of her sword.\n\u0026ldquo;I have no words to give you. Come and take her, if you will.\u0026rdquo;\nTheir blades clashed. Even with dulled reflexes, Tomori was more than a match for the man. She had spent her childhood being meticulously forged into the finest soldier of the Togawa dynasty. The movements were seared into her nerves, practiced until they were automatic.\nSoon he was disarmed, and her sword was at his neck.\n\u0026ldquo;Do not make me do this, Roderic,\u0026rdquo; Tomori seethed. \u0026ldquo;I like you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Heh.\u0026rdquo; Roderic spat at her feet. \u0026ldquo;And that\u0026rsquo;s why all that gear and training\u0026rsquo;s wasted on you, ser. That fragile little heart of yours.\u0026rdquo;\nHe looked her in the eyes right as an arrow found the small of her back, through a gap in her armor.\nIt was laced with poison; Tomori could tell right away. She fell to the ground and doubled over in pain.\nRoderic stood up and put his boot to her neck. \u0026ldquo;You seriously believed I\u0026rsquo;d come alone? Think I\u0026rsquo;m stupid, do you?\u0026rdquo;\nFrom the other end of the alley, five men filtered in.\n\u0026ldquo;Princess Raana. We\u0026rsquo;re here to take you home,\u0026rdquo; one of them said.\nRaana backed away from them. In her eyes Tomori saw pure terror.\n\u0026ldquo;I do not know what you intend, milady,\u0026rdquo; hissed Roderic, \u0026ldquo;but I am under orders to return you by force, if necessary.\u0026rdquo;\nThe men approached her, but Roderic motioned them to stop. \u0026ldquo;Easy. Perhaps seeing me cleave this cur\u0026rsquo;s head off\u0026rsquo;ll take the fight out of her.\u0026rdquo;\nAnd so he raised his sword and brought it down.\nBut as he did a blood-curdling shriek rang out, and a blinding white light blotted out the night.\nA bloody view greeted Tomori as she regained her vision.\nWhite petals rained down around her. Roderic and his men were dead, run through by dozens of twisted, thorny wooden appendages, from whose bark bloomed hundreds of mountain lilies.\nTomori recognized the flower.\nIt was the symbol of Asyre: goddess of Freedom, Chaos, and Humanity.\nShe turned her head and noticed Raana straddling her, looking down at her with a vacant expression.\nShe was covered in blood, and her odd-colored eyes were faintly glowing.\n\u0026ldquo;M-my lady,\u0026rdquo; Tomori breathed. \u0026ldquo;What\u0026hellip; are you?\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-22/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThey stumbled through the night, arm in arm, reeking of food and ale. Tomori could hardly see straight.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;M-my lady–\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;–\u003cem\u003eRaana.\u003c/em\u003e\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I believe I\u0026rsquo;ve had too much to drink.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Hehe.\u0026rdquo; Raana hiccuped. \u0026ldquo;Me too.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;You made q-quite a stir. I was\u0026hellip; not prepared to be bought so many rounds.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Twas fun,\u0026rdquo; Raana whispered. In her free hand, she held the lute they\u0026rsquo;d bought just this morning.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;When\u0026hellip; pray tell, did you learn to play with such\u0026hellip; dexterity?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 22 - Goddess","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"Around them, wood creaked and bowed, and outside the ocean water sloshed.\nThey were in a cramped cabin inside a sailboat, bound westward.\n\u0026ldquo;Did we really hafta leave?\u0026rdquo; Raana laid on a bed, kicking her legs as she flipped a gold coin in her hands. \u0026ldquo;I liked that town. Innkeep was nice.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori sat opposite her, arms crossed, and a somber look on her face. Her armor and sword were neatly laid out at the foot of her bed.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; afraid so.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t like boats. My stomach\u0026rsquo;s queasy already.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Crossing the strait was our only option. Your family finding you would have been reason enough to leave, b-but\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But?\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;W-well, you did also perform the Forbidden Incantation of a proscribed god. I would expect the Inquisition to be here within a day. And they would certainly track us down anywhere on the Continent.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Saved you, though.\u0026rdquo; She smirked.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You did, that is true. To think that you can even neutralize such a potent venom\u0026hellip; I owe you m-more than could be repaid with a thousand deaths, my lady.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana shot Tomori a displeased look. Her eyes wandered downwards.\n\u0026ldquo;Does it hurt?,\u0026rdquo; she asked, pointing at Tomori\u0026rsquo;s back.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes. It hurts a great deal, still,\u0026rdquo; Tomori answered, groaning as she shifted in her seat. \u0026ldquo;But it is nothing I cannot bear, truly.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm.\u0026rdquo; Raana leaned forwards, eyeing her.\n\u0026ldquo;You do remind me, I must\u0026hellip; change these bandages before the wound festers.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana perked up. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll help.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-that is, um.\u0026rdquo; Tomori began to fidget. \u0026ldquo;Not necessary.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What if I wanna?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Then I cannot refuse you,\u0026rdquo; she sighed.\n\u0026ldquo;Hehe.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana climbed onto Tomori\u0026rsquo;s bed and sat behind her. She pulled up her tunic and deftly unwound the dirty bandages wrapped around her waist.\nHer eyes widened as she saw the bloody gaping hole the arrow had left behind.\n\u0026ldquo;Ouch.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It is\u0026hellip; q-quite bad, yes.\u0026rdquo; The weight of Raana\u0026rsquo;s gaze once again pressed in on her. \u0026ldquo;Vasil was always an excellent shot, w-was he not?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno. Never liked him.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I see.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana fetched a roll of bandages from their bag, then returned to Tomori; but as she did something seemed to catch her eye.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana crouched down before her. \u0026ldquo;Nice muscles.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; s-sorry?\u0026rdquo;\nShe began poking at Tomori\u0026rsquo;s chiseled core with her index finger, testing its give.\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. Yeah. Nice muscles.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T\u0026hellip;thanks.\u0026rdquo;\nFinally, Raana skipped past her and began wrapping the fresh bandages.\n\u0026ldquo;I never liked anyone in that castle. Except Grandma,\u0026rdquo; she mused. \u0026ldquo;And you,\u0026rdquo; she added, with a smile.\n\u0026ldquo;M-may I ask\u0026hellip; why that is?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Cos they\u0026rsquo;re all boring. Always going on about my birthright. About people\u0026rsquo;s place in society. All this stupid stuff.\u0026rdquo;\nHer wrapping motions grew more frantic and disordered.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah. T-that tickles,\u0026rdquo; Tomori whispered.\n\u0026ldquo;One time I went into the farmlands with my dad. Tax collecting. Said a lord should show his face to his subjects, so they know who they\u0026rsquo;re serving.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-that seems\u0026hellip; sound.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;One farmer didn\u0026rsquo;t have enough grain to give. Vasil beat him \u0026rsquo;til he was on his knees. Spitting out broken teeth. And all the guy said back was I\u0026rsquo;m sorry.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori said nothing.\n\u0026ldquo;Even he didn\u0026rsquo;t realize how unfair it was. Everyone\u0026rsquo;s so stupid.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;All of us, we only know\u0026hellip; how to play the part w-we were given, my lady,\u0026rdquo; Tomori protested, meekly.\n\u0026ldquo;If that guy was born somewhere else he could be playing music. Or doing whatever he wants. I don\u0026rsquo;t care,\u0026rdquo; Raana hissed. \u0026ldquo;Point is, he didn\u0026rsquo;t get to pick. And now he gets beat up after every harvest so my dad can buy more jewels for his throne?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori blinked. Something stirred inside her, briefly.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s stupid. This whole world is stupid.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And you would\u0026hellip; do something about this?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. I\u0026rsquo;m gonna.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana finished wrapping and stood up. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m gonna change things, one day.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori slid her tunic back on. She took a deep breath.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;If that is your will, t-then\u0026hellip; I will follow you,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Wherever you would take me.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-23/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eAround them, wood creaked and bowed, and outside the ocean water sloshed.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThey were in a cramped cabin inside a sailboat, bound westward.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Did we really hafta leave?\u0026rdquo; Raana laid on a bed, kicking her legs as she flipped a gold coin in her hands. \u0026ldquo;I liked that town. Innkeep was nice.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori sat opposite her, arms crossed, and a somber look on her face. Her armor and sword were neatly laid out at the foot of her bed.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 23 - Voyage","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"The Tsukinomori Girls\u0026rsquo; Academy tea room sat in a quiet nook behind the main school building, concealed by cherry trees at the end of a meandering stone path. Inside, the four-and-a-half tatami room was exquisitely designed in the chashitsu style. In an alcove set into the wall, a hanging scroll read [One Seed, Bountiful Harvest]{一粒万倍} in a flowing cursive.\nPast the window, petals danced in the air. It was spring.\n\u0026ldquo;I really don\u0026rsquo;t know why I agreed to this,\u0026rdquo; Soyo sighed.\nAcross from her, Tomori and Raana sat in seiza; Raana rocking impatiently from side to side, and Tomori fidgeting nervously. They both wore their respective schools\u0026rsquo; uniforms, but had a visitor pass lanyard hanging from their necks.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I don\u0026rsquo;t even like matcha that much,\u0026rdquo; Soyo muttered under her breath. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. Remind me why you\u0026rsquo;re so enthusiastic about this?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s cool. Elegant. Refined. And it\u0026rsquo;s matcha.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And you had to do it here because\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;The tea club at my school\u0026rsquo;s always too busy to let me in,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;And Tsukinomori\u0026rsquo;s fancier.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-um!\u0026rdquo; Tomori spoke up. \u0026ldquo;Thank you for having us, Soyo-chan\u0026hellip; I-it must have been really difficult, getting permission and all\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;It wasn\u0026rsquo;t a big deal.\u0026rdquo; She did want to go on a rant about the five-page long form she had to fill out, but the look in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes turned the words to ash in her mouth, and she swallowed them down.\n\u0026ldquo;But how come you\u0026rsquo;re here, Tomori-chan? You know you don\u0026rsquo;t have to let Raana-chan drag you wherever she likes.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;She does,\u0026rdquo; Raana interjected.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I was curious! I was surprised by how\u0026hellip; excited Raana-chan was about it. It felt like\u0026hellip; a side of her I hadn\u0026rsquo;t seen before.\u0026rdquo; Tomori smiled. \u0026ldquo;A-and I thought it might show me another side of you, too, Soyo-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nSoyo rubbed her forehead. She had clearly bitten off more than she could chew.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;All right,\u0026rdquo; she said. Steam rose from the kettle in front of her. \u0026ldquo;Water\u0026rsquo;s ready. Let\u0026rsquo;s get started.\u0026rdquo;\nShe presented her guests with two pieces of wagashi.\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh.\u0026rdquo; Tomori eyed the sweet; it looked like tamagoyaki, but with a deeper, amber color. \u0026ldquo;What\u0026hellip; is this?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana raised a hand. \u0026ldquo;Kankoro.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;That\u0026rsquo;s right. Sweet potatoes and rice, pounded together like mochi,\u0026rdquo; said Soyo. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a delicacy from Nagasaki prefecture. \u0026hellip;You know the strangest things, you know that, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana answered with a smug grin.\nAs the guests ate, Soyo dutifully carried out the chanoyu. After pouring matcha powder into each porcelain cup, she stirred in a small amount of water; once it formed into a thick slurry, she filled the cups the rest of the way.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori-chan. Here.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-thank you.\u0026rdquo; Tomori bowed.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana reached for the cup without an ounce of grace.\n\u0026ldquo;Say the magic words, Raana-chan. And a bow, if you would.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Thanks,\u0026rdquo; she said, and gave a polite, if forced, bow of her own.\nTomori turned to look at her. \u0026ldquo;H-have you really not had matcha on its own before, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nope.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; glad I\u0026rsquo;m here for your first time, then.\u0026rdquo;\nFinally, the two of them lifted the cups to their mouths, and took one small sip each.\nImmediately, Raana spat the matcha out.\n\u0026ldquo;Soyo,\u0026rdquo; she hissed. \u0026ldquo;You made it wrong.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I can assure you I did not.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But it\u0026rsquo;s gross. It\u0026rsquo;s bitter.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo; Soyo forced a smile. \u0026ldquo;You do know that matcha candy contains sugar, right?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked into her cup and pouted.\n\u0026ldquo;U-um.\u0026rdquo; Having swallowed her tea, Tomori began rifling through her bag. \u0026ldquo;Excuse me,\u0026rdquo; she said, and pulled out her notebook andpencil.\nShe hurriedly jotted something down on a fresh page, looked it over, cleared her throat, and read it aloud.\n\u0026ldquo;A bitter flavour.\nUnsweetened, astringent, yet\nWarm and inviting.\u0026rdquo;\nSoyo blinked in disbelief.\n\u0026ldquo;Is that a haiku?,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\nTomori nodded.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I have to go,\u0026rdquo; Soyo said, standing up in a hurry. \u0026ldquo;Club practice is starting.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-are you okay, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori asked, once they were both alone.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo; Raana swirled the matcha around in her cup. \u0026ldquo;Maybe I can get used to it.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-24/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThe Tsukinomori Girls\u0026rsquo; Academy tea room sat in a quiet nook behind the main school building, concealed by cherry trees at the end of a meandering stone path. Inside, the four-and-a-half tatami room was exquisitely designed in the \u003cem\u003echashitsu\u003c/em\u003e style. In an alcove set into the wall, a hanging scroll read [\u003cem\u003eOne Seed, Bountiful Harvest\u003c/em\u003e]{一粒万倍} in a flowing cursive.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePast the window, petals danced in the air. It was spring.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 24 - Porcelain","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"One by one, the auxiliary lights dimmed, and the planetarium drowned in pitch black.\nThe screen above them came to life, with millions of stars filling it from the outside in; and behind them, the glow of the nebula.\nNormally the gentle darkness of the planetarium, and the warm resonance of its sound system, were enough to quell any anxiety stirring within Tomori. But this time they were not enough. Her heart was pounding.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan,\u0026rdquo; she whispered. \u0026ldquo;I-It\u0026rsquo;s starting.\u0026rdquo;\nBeside her, Raana sank back into her seat, watching the display stir awake with some curiosity.\nTomori had tried to get Raana to come with her to the planetarium countless times before, and every time she had been soundly rejected–usually with some variation of \u0026ldquo;don\u0026rsquo;t wanna\u0026rdquo; or \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;d rather go see the cats\u0026rdquo; or, the one Tomori dreaded most–\u0026quot;sounds boring.\u0026quot; She had all but given up hope when she saw the announcement on the planetarium\u0026rsquo;s Bwitter account that jolted her with a second wind of motivation: an entire show focused on the Cat\u0026rsquo;s Eye Nebula and the stars surrounding it.\nShe simply had to see it, she decided; and it had to be with Raana.\nAnd out of nowhere, for no reason Tomori could fathom, Raana casually said yes the instant she brought it up.\nLoathe as she was to admit it, Tomori had a selfish motive for inviting her.\nShe had realized at a young age that, when people look up at the stars on a clear night, a certain ineffable something shone in their eyes, which told her more about them than any number of words ever could. Ever since then, she\u0026rsquo;d made a point of collecting these looks from every person she loved, neatly stashing them in her memories like she might store away pretty rocks of collectible bandages. She had gotten her parents\u0026rsquo;, of course. Sakiko and Soyo\u0026rsquo;s, around when they first met; Anon\u0026rsquo;s, right after MyGO got back together. Taki had taken her the longest–she could never seem to catch her at a good time–but in time, she got hers, too.\nOnly Raana was left. Only she had not shown Tomori how her eyes reflected the stars. It was a gap in her collection, one so deep and dark and conspicuous it made Tomori shudder to even think about.\nNow that they were here, she couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but steal furtive glances at Raana every few seconds. Her heartrate quickened as the show began.\nIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t there yet. But that was normal. It always took a bit to sink in, to really draw it out of them. Tomori held her breath and waited.\nThe show drew further along. She kept on peeking to her right, waiting for the moment to come. But it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t; she looked just the same as ever.\nAnd then–with a dazzling flash of light–the Cat\u0026rsquo;s Eye Nebula filled the screen overhead. It was bright enough, and beautiful enough, to stun Tomori out of her anxious fidgeting. For a few long seconds it was all that she saw, and all that she could think about.\nWhen her eyes finally adjusted and her mind left its reverie, she once again turned Raana. But she was no longer there.\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s heart sank; until she felt a strange weight, and looked down, and saw the girl sleeping soundly on her lap.\nShe knew, right away, that she had gotten what she\u0026rsquo;d come here for.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-25/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eOne by one, the auxiliary lights dimmed, and the planetarium drowned in pitch black.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe screen above them came to life, with millions of stars filling it from the outside in; and behind them, the glow of the nebula.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNormally the gentle darkness of the planetarium, and the warm resonance of its sound system, were enough to quell any anxiety stirring within Tomori. But this time they were not enough. Her heart was pounding.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 25 - Dark","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"A high-pitched trill from my alarm clock pulls me into consciousness. Five thirty in the morning, it says.\nThe other side of the bed is empty, but it\u0026rsquo;s still warm. It\u0026rsquo;s still rich with Raana\u0026rsquo;s scent. She must have left in the middle of the night.\nShe never leaves any notes, but I don\u0026rsquo;t mind it anymore.\nI climb out of bed and stand under the water from our cramped shower, and I wait for my body to feel like my own again. I switch the tap to cold to hurry it along.\nThe color of my third-year tie still looks so frighteningly unfamiliar.\nI clip it to my shirt, slip on my blazer, and leave with my school bag slung over my shoulder.\nThe 1DK apartment we live in is on the third floor of an old four-story complex, built in the 1970s.\nThe place really isn\u0026rsquo;t much; the paint is peeling off in places, and the fluorescent lights on the exterior stairwell are always flickering and threatening to burn out. But I like it here. Its hallways have a unique chemical-ish smell to them which I\u0026rsquo;ve grown really fond of; our landlady is a kind, older woman who sometimes drops by and gives us homemade macarons; and rent is cheap enough to split between what Raana makes and what I get from my parents.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s winter. December. Our street is deathly silent; the sun is still hiding beyond the horizon, waiting for its moment.\nAs I round the corner onto the main avenue, its light finally pierces through a gap in the clouds and shines off the water running under the Omokage bridge. The sight fills me with an indescribable sadness.\nI walk past it, and cross the river through the Akebono bridge upstream, instead.\nThe school day flies by, all prep for entrance exams. An early start and a late finish, with just a short break for homeroom class in the middle. By the end of it, the sun has already began to set. My eyes are bleary, and my head is pounding.\nAs I step past the school gates on the way home, I\u0026rsquo;m so disoriented I don\u0026rsquo;t notice the person in front of me.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah. I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry,\u0026rdquo; I blurt out. I look up, and my eyes grow wide.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Oh. Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan,\u0026rdquo; I whisper. She\u0026rsquo;s wearing a new jacket over her school uniform; and she looks tired, as always. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s been a while, hasn\u0026rsquo;t it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah. Sorry I\u0026rsquo;ve been scarce. Cram school\u0026rsquo;s got my whole evening these days,\u0026rdquo; she says.\nShe gazes out at the distance.\n\u0026ldquo;R-right. \u0026hellip;It\u0026rsquo;s okay.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Let\u0026rsquo;s head home together, yeah? Up to the bridge, at least.\u0026rdquo;\nI nod. We walk in silence for a few minutes, past the post office. Once we break off from the prefectural road and onto the riverside path, the roar of traffic fades away, and an eerie silence washes over us.\n\u0026ldquo;I miss\u0026hellip; the band, Taki-chan,\u0026rdquo; I say as we walk past the Akebono bridge. \u0026ldquo;A-and Raana-chan does, too, you know.\u0026rdquo;\nThe sky fades from orange into a deep crimson. An old lady walks past us with her dog. In the distance, a murder of crows scatters from a tree.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;It\u0026rsquo;s just the entrance exams, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Taki finally says. \u0026ldquo;Everyone\u0026rsquo;s busy. We\u0026rsquo;ll have plenty of time next year. Promise.\u0026rdquo;\nHer words calm the awful churning in my stomach, if only slightly.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; I turn to her and lightly take her hand. \u0026ldquo;W-won\u0026rsquo;t you come over to our place? We can have\u0026hellip; hot pot. Or curry. Like we used to.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki takes a deep breath. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sure,\u0026rdquo; she says. \u0026ldquo;I did swear I\u0026rsquo;d make sure you two were eating right.\u0026rdquo;\nLoaded down with grocery bags, we burst through the front door. I say we\u0026rsquo;re home and peek into our bedroom.\nRaana is there, wearing headphones and strumming away at her guitar. She shifts an earcup off and looks past her laptop and at me.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. L-Look who I brought.\u0026rdquo; I step away.\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki!\u0026rdquo; Raana\u0026rsquo;s eyes light up. She ditches her gear and gives Taki a diving tackle-hug.\nTaki only barely stops her without falling backwards. \u0026ldquo;Yeah, yeah,\u0026rdquo; she murmurs, with a smile. \u0026ldquo;Missed you too, stray.\u0026rdquo;\nStill clinging to her, Raana peeks into the plastic bags set on the floor. \u0026ldquo;Get me anything?,\u0026rdquo; she asks.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, you little\u0026hellip; yes, there\u0026rsquo;s a couple matcha coronets somewhere in there.\u0026rdquo;\nWith a giggle, Raana skips past her and starts rifling through our groceries, while Taki grumbles something about spoiling her appetite.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s been so long since I saw the two of them like this. I can\u0026rsquo;t help but smile.\nThe pot boils away atop the kotatsu, stuffed full of beef and vegetables and soba noodles. From it, a gentle warmth emanates and spreads through the room.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I think it\u0026rsquo;s almost ready.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looms menacingly over its contents.\n\u0026ldquo;Just about,\u0026rdquo; Taki says. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll ladle it out.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. How\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; the studying been?\u0026rdquo;\nShe pours some of the stew into a bowl and hands it to Raana, who digs into it without a word.\n\u0026ldquo;Fine. I\u0026rsquo;m not too worried.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;B-but\u0026hellip; you must be really lonely. Staying alone in that house\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe sets out another bowl in front of me. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; mind the quiet.\u0026rdquo;\nI stare at the little specks of oil dancing atop the broth.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I really do think you should move in with us, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nHer expression changes right away, but I can\u0026rsquo;t read it at all.\n\u0026ldquo;I couldn\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo; Finally, she serves herself. \u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s barely enough room here for the two of you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-that\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; not true,\u0026rdquo; I whimper. \u0026ldquo;We could\u0026hellip; make it work. Or\u0026hellip; or get a bigger place.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomori, I\u0026rsquo;m fine on my own. You worry too much.\u0026rdquo; She takes a sip of the broth. \u0026ldquo;Besides, you can\u0026rsquo;t really afford a bigger place, can you?\u0026rdquo;\nI shrink into myself. I can\u0026rsquo;t find an answer.\n\u0026ldquo;Stray. Are you even actually making any money busking? You\u0026rsquo;re not putting it all on Tomori, are you?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Shure I am,\u0026rdquo; Raana answers, before gulping down her food. \u0026ldquo;Not just busking. I got a ChouYube channel, too. Ad revenue.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki sighs. \u0026ldquo;I really can\u0026rsquo;t picture that.\u0026rdquo;\nThe evening wears on. We talk about a hundred little things, about the band, about college, the future. By the time I remember to look at the clock, it\u0026rsquo;s already half past ten.\n\u0026ldquo;Crap. I really ought to go.\u0026rdquo; Taki slides out from under the kotatsu. \u0026ldquo;Gotta catch up on some assignments.\u0026rdquo;\nIt wells up inside me again. That indescribable, immeasurable sadness.\nWithout thinking, I catch her by her sleeve.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. W-wait.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori? What\u0026rsquo;s up?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;At least\u0026hellip; stay with us tonight.\u0026rdquo;\nOur rickety, twin-size bed barely fits Raana and myself to begin with, but we find a way to make it work. I shift all the way to the edge, letting Taki take the center. Raana jumps in after her, wraps her arms around her waist, and buries her face in the small of her back.\nThe sheets beneath me shift and tug as they both settle in. The air smells of my shampoo, lingering on Taki\u0026rsquo;s hair. Outside, a gust of cold wind blows through, and creeps in through the gaps in our window.\n\u0026ldquo;H-how is it?,\u0026rdquo; I ask.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; pretty tight,\u0026rdquo; Taki whispers. Behind her, Raana is already asleep.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo; I draw the blanket over the three of us. \u0026ldquo;Too tight?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no.\u0026rdquo; Her voice takes on a different color. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s good.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Are you\u0026hellip; sure, Taki-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. Don\u0026rsquo;t worry, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry. I mean, are you sure about\u0026hellip; moving?\u0026rdquo;\nBehind me, the alarm clock ticks away.\n\u0026ldquo;I really do think we could\u0026hellip; figure something out,\u0026rdquo; I add.\nTaki takes a deep breath. She turns to look at the ceiling.\n\u0026ldquo;I just don\u0026rsquo;t want to intrude. It wouldn\u0026rsquo;t feel right.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nThe pit in my stomach grows. I search for the right words to say, but I can\u0026rsquo;t find a single one.\nAll I can think to do is cling to her arm.\nShe reaches over, and turns off Raana\u0026rsquo;s night light.\n\u0026ldquo;Good night, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; she says.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Good night, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nMorning comes, but my alarm clock stays silent. It\u0026rsquo;s Saturday. We sleep in until ten or so.\nWhen I wake up for the third or fourth time, Taki\u0026rsquo;s sitting at the foot of the bed, getting changed.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; My voice is hoarse and sluggish. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t you\u0026hellip; want to stay for breakfast?\u0026rdquo;\nShe says she\u0026rsquo;s sorry, that she does want to stay, but she has her studies. She doesn\u0026rsquo;t want to fall behind.\nI wake Raana up, and we get dressed to follow her down the stairs and see her off.\nEven now, I can\u0026rsquo;t find the words. All I can do is give her a wave and a smile, and watch as she crosses the Omokage bridge and disappears into the streets beyond.\nThe Kanda river isn\u0026rsquo;t even twenty meters wide.\nBut from here, it looks as insurmountably wide as the ocean.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-26/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eA high-pitched trill from my alarm clock pulls me into consciousness. Five thirty in the morning, it says.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe other side of the bed is empty, but it\u0026rsquo;s still warm. It\u0026rsquo;s still rich with Raana\u0026rsquo;s scent. She must have left in the middle of the night.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eShe never leaves any notes, but I don\u0026rsquo;t mind it anymore.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI climb out of bed and stand under the water from our cramped shower, and I wait for my body to feel like my own again. I switch the tap to cold to hurry it along.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 26 - Omokage","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"At four in the morning, she rouses and slips out of bed, making sure not to wake the girl sleeping beside her. She slips her clothes on: ripped tights under a pair of short shorts, an oversized sweater that hangs down nearly to her knees, and a long military-style hooded jacket that she picked up at a thrift store in Kabukicho. Finally she throws on her gig bag and picks up a duffel bag stuffed with her mirrorless camera and portable amplifier.\nQuietly, she shuts the front door and scampers down the stairs, and she begins her long walk into the heart of Shinjuku.\nShe could have slept for another hour and taken the train. Usually, she does. There\u0026rsquo;s nothing she likes more in the world than sleeping in, after all. But that night, she\u0026rsquo;s in a mood to take in the air.\nThis late, the residential and school areas along the Kanda at the north of the ward are still and quiet, like a scene frozen in time; but as she heads further south, the city comes alive. Once she reaches its center she cuts through to the 2nd chōme. The lights grow more colorful and vibrant; more and more bars dot the streets, spilling over with lonely salarymen who\u0026rsquo;ve missed the last train, and with all manner of people advertising stranger and stranger establishments: maids, boys(?) wearing schoolgirl uniforms, muscular men wearing a butler\u0026rsquo;s uniform sans the shirt and jacket. The buildings climb up into the sky until they graze the clouds. The air fills with the din of conversation.\nShe stops by her usual haunt and asks the bartender for a shot of yuzu sour, without the whiskey. She downs it in a single swig and leaves a tip.\nAfter that she finds a good spot to sit at: somewhere with decent foot traffic, but not too conspicuous and in the way; somewhere with a little bit of\u0026hellip; street cred.\nShe sets up her camera on its tripod where it won\u0026rsquo;t be seen, then sits down, plugs in, and starts strumming away, with her hard shell case laying open by her side. It\u0026rsquo;s five now; the trains have started running. Soon, the morning rush will flood into the city, bringing with it men and women with aching hearts and bulging wallets. Just often enough, one of them will be particularly moved by her virtuosic playing and decide to part with an entire day\u0026rsquo;s salary just to feel something again. She knows. She\u0026rsquo;s counting on it.\nLater that same day, she\u0026rsquo;ll eat the best dinner she\u0026rsquo;s had in months. She\u0026rsquo;ll spend the night with her two favorite people for the first time in god knows how long. She\u0026rsquo;ll lay in bed with her eyes closed, pretend to be asleep, and wonder just what she needs to do so she never ever has to wait that long again.\nBut right now, she\u0026rsquo;s on her own. She\u0026rsquo;s breathing in the din and whir of the city as it stirs awake. And she loves it.\nShe is more free and more unfettered than she ever thought was possible. She\u0026rsquo;s sixteen years old and earning a living doing exactly what she wants to do; she owes nothing and has no ties to anyone but to herself, and to the few people she\u0026rsquo;s chosen.\nShe is more grateful than she could ever put into words.\nAnd so she doesn\u0026rsquo;t.\nShe knows Tomori can tell.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-27/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eAt four in the morning, she rouses and slips out of bed, making sure not to wake the girl sleeping beside her. She slips her clothes on: ripped tights under a pair of short shorts, an oversized sweater that hangs down nearly to her knees, and a long military-style hooded jacket that she picked up at a thrift store in Kabukicho. Finally she throws on her gig bag and picks up a duffel bag stuffed with her mirrorless camera and portable amplifier.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 27 - City","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"The cauldron violently bubbled and churned, its dubious contents melting into a purple steam and floating away.\nOutside, in the deep woods, the crows cawed away.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Raana whispered. \u0026ldquo;Eye of newt.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s newly-minted assistant stood at attention, a leather-bound book clutched tightly in her arms. \u0026ldquo;O-okay,\u0026rdquo; she said, and scurried over to the shelves by the entrance, where a dozen jars of various shapes, sizes, and colors were arrayed side-by-side in no particular order.\nShe scanned the collection, searching for her target. As she did, she saw her reflection on the glass, and for the first time in ages stopped to examine her own face.\nHow long had it been? A month, at least; but time was hard to keep track of, here, in the depths of the dark forest where the sun hardly ever shone.\nShe remembers that day as if it were yesterday. Sent on an errand by her parents, she had lost her way among the trees as she headed back from the market village; and in the depths of despair and helplessness, she came across the witch Raana.\nShe wore a towering pointed hat, and her body was hidden by a flowing black cloak that covered her chin and ran all the way down to the floor, and dragged along it as she walked; and on her shoulders sat two cats, one black and one white, sleeping peacefully, their tails curling.\nShe seemed young; supernaturally so. Tomori was well-read enough to know that witches had cheated the rules of life and death; despite her looks, she could have been hundreds of years old. Her hair was a deathly pale white, and her eyes shone in two colors, one blue like ice, the other amber like the harvest moon. Her gaze bore down on Tomori as if it was trying to eat her alive.\n\u0026ldquo;What an interesting girl,\u0026rdquo; the witch said. Tomori trembled, her eyes darted from side to side; but there was nowhere to run, nothing but gnarled roots and darkness on either side of her.\nThe witch traced a finger along Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hair. \u0026ldquo;Would you like to live deliciously?,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\nTomori was paralyzed. But deep down, she felt a certain magnetism pulling her forward.\nWould she not, after all? How bad could it be?\nShe never did feel at home in her village. Everyone was nice, yes–but something had always been off, as if everyone around her were speaking another language; as if she had been plucked at birth from another land.\nThe more she thought about it, the less scared she became.\nSlowly, she gave the witch a nod. A wave of relief washed over her as she did.\n\u0026ldquo;Good,\u0026rdquo; the witch Raana smiled, and with a touch of her finger to Tomori\u0026rsquo;s forehead, she plucked the girl from consciousness.\n\u0026ldquo;M-master.\u0026rdquo; Tomori ran up to the cauldron, jar in hand. \u0026ldquo;How many eyes?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Just one,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered, and outstretched her hand. Tomori took one of the slimy, preserved orbs and handed it over. It felt pleasantly round and soft in her fingers.\nThe witch dropped the eye in the cauldron and began to stir it. The liquid roiled, and violently changed hues until it landed on a sickly green.\nShe looked over to Tomori and gave her a cat-like smile. The cats on her shoulders stirred awake and joined her. \u0026ldquo;Tomori,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;One last thing.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026hellip; do you need, master?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana reached into her cloak and withdrew a long, sharp needle. \u0026ldquo;C\u0026rsquo;mere,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Hold out your finger.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori did so. Her hand grew warm in the cauldron\u0026rsquo;s steam. Slowly, Raana brought the needle to the tip of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s index finger.\nTomori closed her eyes. She felt a prick, a jolt running through her spine, and then, nothing. When she opened her eyes, her blood was spilling into the mixture, making it glow an iridescent, unknowable color.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s ready,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, and scooped some of the liquid into a flask. \u0026ldquo;Drink it,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nWithout a second thought, Tomori took the flask and downed it in one gulp. It tasted like cherries.\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026hellip; is this?,\u0026rdquo; she asked. She began to tremble. \u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s happening to me?\u0026rdquo;\nThe witch smiled.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re free now,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;Like me.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-28/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eThe cauldron violently bubbled and churned, its dubious contents melting into a purple steam and floating away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOutside, in the deep woods, the crows cawed away.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Raana whispered. \u0026ldquo;Eye of newt.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana\u0026rsquo;s newly-minted assistant stood at attention, a leather-bound book clutched tightly in her arms. \u0026ldquo;O-okay,\u0026rdquo; she said, and scurried over to the shelves by the entrance, where a dozen jars of various shapes, sizes, and colors were arrayed side-by-side in no particular order.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 28 - Witch","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Tomori. Look.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana tugged on the sleeve of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s yukata and pointed ahead, just past the row of orange paper lanterns framing the street.\nFor the past several minutes Tomori had been distracted by a particularly fascinating arrangement of rocks at the foot of a nearby tree; now, she was processing the shock of being so cruelly yanked back into reality. \u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; she asked, still disoriented.\n\u0026ldquo;They have ohagi.\u0026rdquo; Raana was now actively pulling Tomori along towards the tiny stall at the end of the street.\n\u0026ldquo;O-ohagi\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ohagi,\u0026rdquo; Raana repeated. \u0026ldquo;Mochi wrapped in red bean paste.\u0026rdquo; She finished pulling Tomori along, and pointed at the row of maroon adzuki pucks lined up at the front of the stall. The stall\u0026rsquo;s owner - a stout, older man with an impressive moustache - gave the two of them a smile.\n\u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori leaned in to examine the sweets. \u0026ldquo;I thought you called that botamochi.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Bzzt!\u0026rdquo; Raana made a cross with her fingers. \u0026ldquo;If you eat it in spring, it\u0026rsquo;s botamochi. But if you eat it on Obon it\u0026rsquo;s ohagi.\u0026rdquo;\nThe moustached man nodded sagely at Raana\u0026rsquo;s explanation.\n\u0026ldquo;W-wow.\u0026rdquo; Tomori looked over the botamochi–the ohagi with stars in her eyes, as if she had just learned a beautiful secret. \u0026ldquo;You really do know a lot about sweets, Raana-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana crossed her arms and gave her a satisfied grin. \u0026ldquo;Grandma taught me everything I know,\u0026rdquo; she explained; and as she did, her expression grew gentler and more fragile.\nShe snapped out of it, and from a pouch hanging from her waist she produced a crisp bill. \u0026ldquo;Gimme three, master.\u0026rdquo;\nThe alien chants of the bon-odori dancers in the distance echoed through the festival street, and the sweltering summer heat rose from the ground like steam from a boiling pot. Three pieces of ohagi in hand, Tomori and Raana turned the corner and continued down the procession of stalls.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan, l-look over there. That clearing.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I just remembered\u0026hellip; we were there. Two years ago,\u0026rdquo; she added, \u0026ldquo;um, in Tanabata.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmm.\u0026rdquo; Raana put a wrapped ohagi to her chin thoughtfully. \u0026ldquo;Yeah. I remember.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;m glad,\u0026rdquo; Tomori whispered.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m hungry. Let\u0026rsquo;s find Rikki and eat these.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; surprised you want to wait for her,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, with an uncharacteristically playful smile. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re not just gonna\u0026hellip; start eating now?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nope,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, with a playful grin.\nTaki sat on the cobblestone path, intently watching the bon-odori dancers as they swayed to and fro, when a \u0026ldquo;Taki-chan!\u0026rdquo; ringing out in the distance broke her concentration. She looked up and got to her feet as Tomori and Raana approached.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry to\u0026hellip; keep you waiting,\u0026rdquo; Tomori gasped, clearly winded from keeping up with Raana for so long. \u0026ldquo;We got\u0026hellip; ohagi.\u0026rdquo;\nThe sight brought a gentle smile to Taki\u0026rsquo;s face.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, it\u0026rsquo;s no problem at all,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;I wanted to watch the dance.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki.\u0026rdquo; Without a greeting, Raana pushed one of the ohagi into Taki\u0026rsquo;s hands. \u0026ldquo;Feed it to me.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, yeah. I\u0026rsquo;m never catching a break from you, am I?\u0026rdquo;\nBetween grumbles, she unwrapped the sweet and held it up to Raana\u0026rsquo;s mouth. In three violent bites, it was gone.\n\u0026ldquo;You know, this is on me, at this point. I have got to teach you some manners.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Yummy.\u0026rdquo; Raana swallowed down her food with a smile–and then took another ohagi and pushed it onto Taki again.\n\u0026ldquo;What now? You want seconds?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered. \u0026ldquo;Now feed Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori was clearly just as startled as Taki by the idea, but quickly, she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and said a~hn.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Fine.\u0026rdquo; Taki complied, and Tomori took a small, delicate bite from her hand.\nRaana chuckled, watching the show in rapt delight.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah. I-it\u0026hellip; tastes nice.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Okay,\u0026rdquo; Taki said, blushing as she finally took her own ohagi and bit down on it. \u0026ldquo;If you\u0026rsquo;ve had your fun, stray, we ought to head home. We have the okuribi to light.\u0026rdquo;\nThe instant she heard this Raana\u0026rsquo;s expression darkened. Her voice lowered, and she whispered, \u0026ldquo;don\u0026rsquo;t wanna.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ah, come on, stray.\u0026rdquo; Carefully, she put her arm around Raana and pulled her closer. \u0026ldquo;You know we have to.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;U-um.\u0026rdquo; Tomori perked up and lifted a finger. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026hellip; you said you\u0026rsquo;d make nikujaga tonight, didn\u0026rsquo;t you, Taki-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s right.\u0026rdquo; Taki pulled Raana closer and looked down at her. \u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t you want some, Raana?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;yeah,\u0026rdquo; Raana said. \u0026ldquo;I do.\u0026rdquo; Eventually, she worked up the courage to smile.\n\u0026ldquo;Then let\u0026rsquo;s go.\u0026rdquo;\nTogether, they walked south three abreast, until the chanting and the lantern lights faded into the darkness.\n","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/chapter-29/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Tomori. Look.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana tugged on the sleeve of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s yukata and pointed ahead, just past the row of orange paper lanterns framing the street.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor the past several minutes Tomori had been distracted by a particularly fascinating arrangement of rocks at the foot of a nearby tree; now, she was processing the shock of being so cruelly yanked back into reality. \u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up, Raana-chan?,\u0026rdquo; she asked, still disoriented.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;They have ohagi.\u0026rdquo; Raana was now actively pulling Tomori along towards the tiny stall at the end of the street.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Chapter 29 - Lantern","work":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"With AO3\u0026rsquo;s momentary demise, I\u0026rsquo;ve finally become motivated enough to host a blog/homepage of my own. It\u0026rsquo;s a little plain, but I plan on spicing it up at a later date. In any case, please enjoy.\n","permalink":"/posts/hello-world/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eWith AO3\u0026rsquo;s momentary demise, I\u0026rsquo;ve finally become motivated enough to host a blog/homepage of my own. It\u0026rsquo;s a little plain, but I plan on spicing it up at a later date. In any case, please enjoy.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Hello!"},{"content":"What was it, exactly?\nWas it the way the light outside shone through the frost on the windowpane, past the wisps of her gently-curving bangs, and danced upon her supple skin?\nOr the way the twilit sky\u0026rsquo;s dull blue glow mixed with the pink of her hair, tinting it that perfectly-purple hue?\nOr maybe—the way her cheek rested on her palm, curving around it just so?\nThe way she\u0026rsquo;d let out a bored sigh every so often,\nand its warmth would catch in the classroom\u0026rsquo;s cold air\nand show its outline for but a moment?\nWas it just that look in her eyes?\nTomori couldn\u0026rsquo;t find an answer. Every time she thought she had it—another popped into her head, making just as much sense as the last. And so she went on and on, thinking in circles until her head began to spin, like a paper pinwheel caught in the late-autumn wind.\nAll she could really say is that she couldn\u0026rsquo;t look away.\nIt was a familiar feeling, this captivation. She was practically on intimate terms with it. It would always start in her stomach—a warm, tugging sensation, which then traveled towards her back and turned brisk and chilly as it went up her spine. And at that point, it had fully taken over; her attention was entirely seized, and it was as if everything else in the world, even her very own self, had suddenly and completely ceased to exist, and all that remained and all that she could see was the object of her fascination. And she would stay that way for god knows how long until something would break her out of it.\nUsually, though, she could at least explain why she got that way. Perhaps because usually, it wasn\u0026rsquo;t a person causing it.\nAfter all, lovely though they may be, there are only so many ways one can describe a rock, a dried leaf, or a fallen branch. Even a wriggling pillbug, so full of life and motion, can only summon up a certain level of vocabulary. But people—people are so\u0026hellip; complicated. You could spend hours looking at them and not get any closer to understanding them.\nNormally this made Tomori quite nervous. It\u0026rsquo;s why she had such a hard time looking people in the eyes. The sheer, overwhelming, unexplainable humanity hidden behind them was simply too much to process; she was convinced that if she tried, that if she looked too closely and for too long, she would be swallowed up by it as if by some great tidal wave, and drown in its dizzying rapids.\n\u0026hellip;So what was it, then?\nWhat made it different this time, and today, of all days? What made it click, made it burrow its way into her mind, refusing to let go?\nWhat supernatural force compelled her to steal every glance she could find at the girl sitting behind her?\nAs the day\u0026rsquo;s final period drew to a lumbering close, Tomori found herself no closer to an answer. With class over and the teacher gone, she had shifted over in her seat so she could watch, uninterrupted, as Chihaya Anon packed away her school supplies.\nAnd as Tomori wasted time sorting through the murk of her thoughts, the moment finally came—the moment she had been dreading all day, in the back of her mind. One she knew would come, yet whose arrival she could hardly fathom.\nAnon zipped her bookbag closed and began to stand up.\nTo leave.\nThis was catastrophic. If Anon left; if she walked through those classroom doors and exited the school and took her train home; then Tomori couldn\u0026rsquo;t look at her anymore. She\u0026rsquo;d be gone for so, so many hours, somewhere far away, out of sight. The sheer anxiety would be unbearable. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t even picture it; it felt just as if the world would end the instant she stepped over that threshold.\nIn an attempt to stop her, she meekly raised her hand towards Anon. At the same time, a noise escaped her mouth, one strange, distorted and inhuman, and probably louder than she\u0026rsquo;d expected.\nActually, it was unclear if she was conscious of making it at all. Still, Anon heard it.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? Tomorin?\u0026rdquo; She turned to face Tomori. \u0026ldquo;Something up?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh? Yes. I-I mean, no? Ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTomori fumbled for a way to explain her predicament. But her words failed her. She simply stared dumbfoundedly at Anon.\nAnon tilted her head askance. \u0026ldquo;Well\u0026hellip; if it\u0026rsquo;s nothing, then\u0026hellip; there\u0026rsquo;s some shopping I wanna get done today, so, I\u0026rsquo;m gonna head out! See ya tomorrow, Tomorin!\u0026rdquo;\nAnon hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and started towards the exit. And as she walked past—as she grew farther and farther away—some manner of pure, primeval terror seized Tomori\u0026rsquo;s nerves. A sense of imminent, irreparable loss which her conscious mind could not suppress. And—\n\u0026ldquo;A-Ano-chan!!\u0026rdquo;\nBefore she could even realize it, her hand had grabbed onto Anon\u0026rsquo;s sleeve, stopping her in her tracks.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomorin? \u0026hellip;Hey, if something\u0026rsquo;s wrong, you gotta tell me, alright?\u0026rdquo; Anon\u0026rsquo;s usual smile had by now contorted into a look of concern, though not so much of surprise. Through the haze of her desperation, Tomori caught herself thinking she liked looking at this kind of face, too.\nBut this wasn\u0026rsquo;t the time to sit and watch, no. The gears in her mind began to turn once again. She had to figure out how to get Anon to stay. She simply had to.\nSo she searched through her memories.\nOne week earlier—\n\u0026ldquo;Aaah, man!\u0026rdquo; Anon threw herself backwards in her seat, smartphone in hand. Her voice was laced with ignoble defeat.\nTomori turned from her notebook to face her. \u0026ldquo;Ano-chan? I-is everything okay\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tch\u0026hellip; Um, yeah, it\u0026rsquo;s no big deal!\u0026rdquo; Anon looked up from her screen. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just, preorders finally went up for the limited-edition Nyamuchi x Sommes les Fillettes collab Eau de Parfum, y\u0026rsquo;see\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-Odepafu\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, and, I was kinda expecting it, but it\u0026rsquo;s waa~ay too expensive! It\u0026rsquo;d cost me my whole allowance for the month!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Is that like\u0026hellip; a parfait?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori asked, innocently.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? No, no, it\u0026rsquo;s a perfume! Like, y\u0026rsquo;know, spritz-spritz!\u0026rdquo;\nAnon mimed spraying something onto her wrist and neckline. Tomori looked on, still seemingly lost.\n\u0026ldquo;Man\u0026hellip; I was looking forward to it, too,\u0026rdquo; Anon continued—\u0026ldquo;maybe I should get a part time job? Nah, I\u0026rsquo;m a busy girl. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t stick to it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh? Eeeh?!\u0026rdquo;\nAnon\u0026rsquo;s head craned left and right, scanning the classroom. To her relief, everyone else had already left for the day.\nShe couldn\u0026rsquo;t imagine trying to explain the circumstances she found herself in: the girl in front of her—Takamatsu Tomori—handing her a 5,000 yen bill. Tomori herself seemed a little shy about the whole affair, but was nevertheless bravely pushing through, clearly trying her hardest to do\u0026hellip; whatever on earth she was doing.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomorin? Hey, wh-what\u0026rsquo;s the idea, here\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; paying you,\u0026rdquo; Tomori answered.\n\u0026ldquo;Paying me?! For what? That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; that\u0026rsquo;s kind of a lot of money, y\u0026rsquo;know!\u0026rdquo;\n(It was all of Tomori\u0026rsquo;s allowance for the month, as Anon would later find out. It was the first day of December, and she had gotten that bill from her father that very morning.)\n\u0026ldquo;I want you to stay,\u0026rdquo; she said. Her face grew sterner and filled with determination, as if she was talking herself into it in real-time.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Stay?\u0026rdquo; Anon was only growing more and more confused. Her eyes kept darting around the room; her heartrate grew faster. She knew at any moment, some kids on the way to their club might walk past and catch sight of this rather dubious situation. \u0026ldquo;But—but why—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;—Because. Because I want to look at you, Ano-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Eh? L-Look at me\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori gave her one firm, resolute nod in response.\nNow, this was far from the first time Tomori had come to Anon with fire in her eyes, making of her some objectively unreasonable request, giving her the sinking feeling that if she were to say no, she would immediately shrink into that dejected kicked-puppy look of hers that always and without fail made Anon feel like history\u0026rsquo;s greatest monster.\nBut\u0026hellip; it had never been quite so\u0026hellip; personal.\nFrankly, it made Anon just the slightest bit curious, the slightest bit tempted to play along. To find out what rabbit-hole this girl would lead her down this time. Just as she had felt so many times before.\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s odd nature; the way she never went in the direction you\u0026rsquo;d expect; it had\u0026hellip; a certain appeal. It was refreshing,. It was\u0026hellip; a change of pace.\nBut\u0026hellip; was this kind of thing really okay?\nJust as Anon began to feel a strange warmth building in her cheeks, Tomori pushed the bill even closer to her.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you said you wanted that\u0026hellip; perfume, right? So, I thought\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;d be a sort of, um\u0026hellip; quid pro quo\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She averted her gaze as she spoke.\nAnon did not know what quid pro quo meant.\nBut Tomori was right. She did really want that perfume.\nAnd this bill—this crisp, freshly-minted bill—would be just about enough to cover the cost.\nOf course. Her mind turned on a dime.\nAll she had to do was listen to her friend\u0026rsquo;s simple request, and she could have it all. She would be the talk of the school. Perhaps of the whole town. She would walk past a group of girls in the hallway, and they would all turn around and ask \u0026ldquo;oh, what is that fragrance, Chihaya-san?\u0026rdquo;, and she would tilt her head backwards and respond in perfect French with a perfect smile and they would all swoon and fawn about how cool and refined she is. All this and more could be hers.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ano-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s expression had turned to one of concern and confusion, though her eyes were still firmly fixed on Anon. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; drooling,\u0026rdquo; she said—\u0026ldquo;um, n-not that I\u0026hellip; mind.\u0026rdquo;\nAnon quickly dabbed the side of her mouth with her sleeve. And then she swiped the 5,000 yen bill from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hand. \u0026ldquo;Okay, Tomorin,\u0026rdquo; she said, with renewed confidence. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m down. Let\u0026rsquo;s do this squid pro cow thing of yours.\u0026rdquo;\nWatching Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes light up with glee, Anon sat back down at her desk. \u0026ldquo;So, you said you wanna\u0026hellip; look at me, right? How long for?\u0026rdquo;\nShe realized again how bizarre this situation was once she described it out loud. Still, she reassured herself—she knew by now Tomori couldn\u0026rsquo;t hurt a fly, after all. Whatever her intentions were, they could only be pure.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; I hadn\u0026rsquo;t thought about that.\u0026rdquo; Tomori raised a finger to her chin. \u0026ldquo;How about\u0026hellip; three hours? Oh, or four.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-three?! Four?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Is that\u0026hellip; too much\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; kind of a lot,\u0026rdquo; Anon hesitated. Though in her head, she was already doing the math. She was performing a cost-benefit analysis. Calculating a fair, equitable price for her time. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Can I like, be on my phone, or is this a Mona Lisa sort of situation\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh. N-no\u0026hellip; that\u0026rsquo;s fine.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Then\u0026hellip; how about\u0026hellip; two? Two hours.\u0026rdquo;\nAt this, Tomori seemed somewhat dejected. But, after a moment\u0026rsquo;s hesitation, she agreed to the terms.\nStill\u0026hellip; it really was pretty awkward, as she\u0026rsquo;d expected.\nTomori had turned her desk towards her, and for the past forty-five minutes, she really had done nothing but stare dutifully at Anon. Her gaze was broken only by the occasional blink. It was impressive, honestly. Anon silently chastised herself for underestimating her.\nFor her part, Anon whiled away the allotted time, checking her socials, texting a friend or two, even playing that weird game with the green and yellow cubes (which she lost) but, soon enough, she was well and truly bored. She was not the type of girl to sit still. Her leg grew restless, and naturally her eyes wandered towards Tomori.\n\u0026ldquo;Hey, so\u0026hellip; how come you\u0026rsquo;re doing this?,\u0026rdquo; she finally asked.\nTomori blinked like a deer in headlights, as if she had been snapped out of some deep trance. She tilted her head in response.\n\u0026ldquo;Like, looking at me. What\u0026rsquo;s the deal\u0026hellip;? Um, just curious.\u0026rdquo;\nBy now, Anon had a personal rule of sorts to not get too caught up prying into Tomori\u0026rsquo;s motivations. She was a unique girl, with unique wants and needs. Making her explain herself mostly seemed to stress her out as she struggled to find the words for it. Anon had long ago decided to accept her as she is. If she wanted to understand her better, well, she had plenty of lyrics to pore through.\n\u0026hellip;But she was really, really bored, though. So, for conversation\u0026rsquo;s sake, if nothing else, she cautiously broached the subject.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; not sure myself,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said. Her countenance darkened slightly in contemplation. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ve been trying to\u0026hellip; figure that out. But\u0026hellip; if I had to answer, it\u0026rsquo;s sort of like\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t want to look at anything else.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Eh?\u0026rdquo; Anon recoiled, then shook her head, wondering if she\u0026rsquo;d heard Tomori right.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; S-sorry if that\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; weird,\u0026rdquo; Tomori shrank.\n\u0026ldquo;N-no, it\u0026rsquo;s not weird, but\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s pretty bold, Tomorin.\u0026rdquo; Anon felt her temperature rising just a little. She tugged on her shirt collar.\n\u0026ldquo;Bold\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, y\u0026rsquo;know\u0026hellip; nevermind,\u0026rdquo; Anon said, now looking out the window at the yard outside.\nTomori had this habit of getting ridiculously, unbelievably honest at the weirdest of times; saying things out loud which would make Anon blush if she so much as thought them. It was kind of like a superpower, though she didn\u0026rsquo;t seem to have much control over it. Or any consciousness of it, or of how it felt to be on the receiving end of it.\nIt always threw Anon off, but she didn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; hate it.\nIt was\u0026hellip; a change of pace.\n\u0026ldquo;A-Ano-chan,\u0026rdquo; Tomori blurted out, after another long, awkward silence.\nAnon was still partway through recovering from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s sudden audaciousness. She turned and gave a half-hearted \u0026ldquo;yeah?\u0026rdquo; in response, her mind still elsewhere.\n\u0026ldquo;Can I\u0026hellip; get closer?\u0026rdquo;\nThe question hit Anon like a slap on the cheek, sending her thoughts into overdrive.\nA big part of her wanted to say no. She was already rather flustered—who wouldn\u0026rsquo;t be, after being silently stared at for nearly an hour, right?—and she wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure how much more her nerves could take. She might even faint, at this rate.\nBut, on the other hand, she was being paid for her time.\nAnd, well, who was she to deny Tomori the spectacle she had paid so dearly for? Their agreement stipulated no maximum distance. To refuse her would be a grave sin against the principles of free-market liberalism that had so miraculously rescued Japan from the post-war devastation. Yes, of course. She was contractually bound. She simply had no choice.\nSo she blurted out a clumsy \u0026ldquo;mhm\u0026rdquo;, and sat there as Tomori pulled her chair closer to her, and leaned in until their foreheads were very nearly touching.\n\u0026hellip;It really was too close, after all.\nNot that she could do anything about it, at this point. She knew that it would break Tomori\u0026rsquo;s heart. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t bring herself to be so cruel, so cold.\nStill\u0026hellip; was Tomori really okay with this distance? Anon could sense the faint warmth of her body radiating through the cold air, could feel and smell her breath (which wasn\u0026rsquo;t bad, mind you, but it was distressingly\u0026hellip; characteristic?), could hear every little idle noise she made with her mouth and her teeth and her nose. And her eyes - they were sharp like a pair of knives, and frighteningly unmoving. Where had the girl who could hardly keep eye contact with her run off to\u0026hellip;?\nAs she deftly moved her eyes to avoid Tomori\u0026rsquo;s piercing gaze, Anon felt her temperature rising once again. She was really hitting her limits, now.\n\u0026ldquo;A-Ano-chan,\u0026rdquo; Tomori spoke, now in a low whisper.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You have something on your\u0026hellip; cheek,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, and slowly raised one hand towards Anon\u0026rsquo;s face. Anon stiffened in response, as Tomori gently stroked the side of her face, still staring right into her eyes, peering at her with such clarity of purpose that Anon could not help but feel as if the room around them had melted away into nothingness, and nothing remained save for the two of them—\nAnd just as she found herself thinking she might not hate the feeling—the alarm she\u0026rsquo;d set on her phone started blaring.\nShe found that odd; she could have sworn the seconds were dragging on like molasses just a moment ago.\n\u0026ldquo;Okay, we\u0026rsquo;re up, Tomorin!,\u0026rdquo; Anon blurted out as she backed away, reeling in confusion, trying to regain her composure. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll be on my way now, \u0026lsquo;kay?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah. Yeah. \u0026hellip;Thanks, Ano-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori glanced at the piece of lint she had just taken from Anon\u0026rsquo;s cheek. She looked\u0026hellip; sullen, resigned. Unsatisfied? Anon couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but steal one final look back at her as she stepped out of the classroom. And Tomori was still looking in her direction. Caught off guard, Anon gave her a hurried wink-and-wave before leaving.\nThen she took a long, deep breath once she was out of sight. Man, just what got into her today?, she wondered. But she was surprised to find herself, once it was all said and done, feeling strangely\u0026hellip; forlorn.\nWhen was the last time she\u0026rsquo;d gotten this much attention? And for so little effort?\nAnon didn\u0026rsquo;t have an answer.\nShe shook her head and went on her way, starting down the stairs to the main hall. Best not to think about it too much, she told herself. It was bound to be a one-time thing; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s whims came and went like the wind, after all. She\u0026rsquo;d probably be over it once she woke up in the morning.\nPlus, she certainly wouldn\u0026rsquo;t have the funds to keep this up for more than a day.\n\u0026ldquo;Wait. Wait. YOU got a PART-TIME JOB?! \u0026hellip;In RETAIL?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori blinked innocently, another 5,000 yen bill clasped between her fingers, as Anon positively lost her mind in front of her. It was about a week later, after school on a Wednesday; Tomori had walked over to Anon\u0026rsquo;s seat the second the last period ended, timidly requesting another transaction.\n\u0026ldquo;Sorry, sorry. Saying it like that was pretty insensitive,\u0026rdquo; Anon continued, catching her breath. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026hellip; it really doesn\u0026rsquo;t seem like your style, y\u0026rsquo;know?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-well\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t like working the till, so I mostly just stock the shelves\u0026hellip; But, the owner says I\u0026rsquo;m really good at that,\u0026rdquo; Tomori explained. \u0026ldquo;S-she said their sales have gone up ever since I started. Something about\u0026hellip; the way I arrange the displays.\u0026rdquo;\nShe looked Anon in the eyes as she continued. \u0026ldquo;Besides\u0026hellip; I really wanted\u0026hellip; the money, and\u0026hellip; it was the only job I could find in time\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnon felt a tinge of almost maternal pride welling up inside as she listened. But her attention quickly returned to the matter at hand—to the service being asked of her.\n\u0026hellip;Truth be told, she\u0026rsquo;d been thinking about it all week.\nThose two hours they spent together in silence; the memory had lodged herself in her head. At least once a day since, Anon had caught herself reminiscing whenever her mind had time to wander. It had made her slip up more than once during that week\u0026rsquo;s practice, and she found herself unusually ill-prepared for Taki\u0026rsquo;s admonishment.\nThe way Tomori had looked at her, so earnestly and diligently; simply looked, without asking or expecting anything of her. And the things she\u0026rsquo;d said; every time she remembered them she reflexively shook her head and fanned herself with one hand.\nAnon wasn\u0026rsquo;t used to getting anything for free. Let alone for a profit.\nShe was used to waking up every morning bright and early, with a good hour to spare before breakfast was ready; spending fifteen minutes on her carefully-crafted skincare and makeup routines (always subtle enough to dodge disciplinary action, of course), then thirty minutes more styling her hair with a flat iron, making sure every curl on every lock looked just right; snapping a picture or two for the \u0026lsquo;gram before rushing through her food and heading to school. Used to greeting everyone in her class with bright eyes and a perfect grin. To taking painstakingly detailed and lovingly-highlit notes for every class to keep her grades from dropping. To heading home and spending all the remaining energy she could muster on studying for school and practicing her guitar (and she never felt happy with either, by the time it was over.)\nIt was the only way she knew how to live: giving it her all at every possible moment. It was like running on a treadmill. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t possibly stop.\nOn a good day, she\u0026rsquo;d tell you she liked it that way.\nBut sometimes, just sometimes, she would accidentally sleep in and have to rush through her routine; she would be too tired to want to smile and say hi~ to every person she saw, too fatigued to want to listen to the teacher\u0026rsquo;s incessant rambling; too done after class to want to think about school or her grades or about barre chords and arpeggios. And then the crushing weight of the expectations she had built up would begin pressing on her back. She would feel her balance fraying and her knees giving in. But she would never quite let herself fall.\nThat\u0026rsquo;s why she couldn\u0026rsquo;t get those two hours out of her head. It was embarrassing, yes. Excruciatingly, interminably embarrassing. Tomori\u0026rsquo;s gaze was inescapable, overwhelming; her eyes made Anon feel at times like a piece of meat and at others like some kind of freak show.\nBut\u0026hellip; there was also something\u0026hellip; liberating about the whole affair.\nOr something like that.\nAnon sighed to herself, admitting defeat. Once again, she was letting Tomori lead her around.\nShe figured she might as well try and enjoy it.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;D-did you buy it?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori was way too close, once again. She had only waited ten or so minutes from the start of the allotted two hours before pulling her chair over and venturing deep into Anon\u0026rsquo;s personal space, and Anon had been doing her best to bear with it for another twenty or so, when Tomori finally spoke up.\nThey had moved to the Astronomy clubroom. That had been Anon\u0026rsquo;s idea. If she was going to keep this up, she at least had to make sure she didn\u0026rsquo;t get walked in on by a teacher or a classmate. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t survive the reputational hit. Let alone the MyGO fan drama it would stir up on the socials.\n\u0026ldquo;Buy what?,\u0026rdquo; Anon said, in a meek, hesitant voice. She was tilting her body ever-so-slightly backwards, trying to claw back at least a half-inch of breathing room.\n\u0026ldquo;The\u0026hellip; the perfume.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh. Yeah, I did. Um, thanks. I guess?\u0026rdquo;\nUpon hearing this, Tomori leaned even further in. Anon felt her body heat beginning to envelop her. And then—she felt Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hands on her shoulders.\n\u0026ldquo;Um—Tomori—\u0026rdquo;\nAnon\u0026rsquo;s protests went unheard. All she could do is sit and find out whatever it is Tomori was doing. The girl had clearly switched on.\nHer grip on Anon\u0026rsquo;s shoulders tightened—just shy of squeezing too hard—and she leaned past her Anon\u0026rsquo;s head. A second passed, then two, and then before Anon could even process Tomori\u0026rsquo;s nose brushing against the hair by her right ear, she heard a sudden sniff, sniff that made every hair on her back stand on end.\nAnd then another.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;It, smells nice,\u0026rdquo; Tomori finally whispered, directly into Anon\u0026rsquo;s ear. Her voice, so well-tempered and trained, yet still somehow fragile and unsteady, cut through Anon\u0026rsquo;s thoughts and left her mind utterly blank.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026hellip;\u0026hellip;T-thanks,\u0026rdquo; Anon said, completely automatically.\n\u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; I-I like your real smell better, Ano-chan,\u0026rdquo; she added.\nAnon prayed to every god she\u0026rsquo;d ever learned of for the energy and the willpower to brush this outrageously bold act off like it was nothing, and to throw out a casual tsukkomi line like \u0026ldquo;Haha, you\u0026rsquo;re so silly, Tomorin~!,\u0026rdquo; but all she could muster in response was a pathetic, high-pitched whimper, which escaped her in fits and starts like the throes of a dying animal.\nTomori slowly backed off, then let go of Anon\u0026rsquo;s shoulders. But she kept on looking. Free from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s clutches, Anon gave a sharp exhale.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ano-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nAs she watched Anon clutch a hand to her chest and catch her breath, Tomori grew anxious.\n\u0026ldquo;W-was that\u0026hellip; too much?,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Too much?\u0026rdquo; Anon regained her composure and shot Tomori a look of affectionate disbelief. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re something else, you know that, Tomorin?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori could only respond with a hesitant nose and a look of confusion.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Hey.\u0026rdquo;\nAnon broke the long, awkward silence with a mumble.\nTomori still seemed puzzled. \u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up, Ano-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Can you\u0026hellip; um\u0026hellip; do more of that?\u0026rdquo;\nAnon was dodging Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes, looking out the window into the schoolyard below. She was forcing every word out with an uncharacteristic clumsiness.\nTomori pondered for a second. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Y-you mean\u0026hellip; smell you?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no!! Ugh!\u0026rdquo; Anon\u0026rsquo;s face immediately turned beet-red. \u0026ldquo;Compliment me, you dummy!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes slowly widened, as if Anon\u0026rsquo;s words had made her stumble into an unexpected realization, some kind of eureka moment.\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh. Oh! S-sure!\u0026rdquo;\nAnd there was that sparkle in her eyes again. Anon might have regretted asking if she\u0026rsquo;d had the time to before it began.\n\u0026ldquo;Then\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori began, pulling her chair forward again, \u0026ldquo;I like\u0026hellip; I like the way you blink.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;P-pardon?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;The rhythm. And the way your eyelashes flitter. It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s really nice to look at. And,\u0026rdquo; she lifted a finger and gently rested it on Anon\u0026rsquo;s cheekbone, \u0026ldquo;I like\u0026hellip; this part of your skin. This little\u0026hellip; mark, with the makeup pooling around it, it\u0026rsquo;s really pretty\u0026hellip; ah,\u0026quot;—her eyes flitted around—\u0026ldquo;T-the shape of your chin. And\u0026hellip; the way your chest moves as you breathe in and out. And, and, the way your shirt\u0026rsquo;s collar hugs your neck—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;T-Tomorin! Stop, stop!\u0026rdquo;\nAnon made a cross with her arms as she begged for mercy.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;S-sorry.\u0026rdquo; Tomori shrank into herself. \u0026ldquo;Did I\u0026hellip; compliment you wrong\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;No,\u0026rdquo; Anon said, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; you gotta pace yourself, okay? This type of thing has a rhythm to it! If you go full-auto on me like that, I\u0026rsquo;m gonna faint!!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori noded dutifully at Anon\u0026rsquo;s instructions. She even pulled out one of her notebooks and began to write something down on it.\nAnd then she began pacing herself.\nIt was so obvious, in hindsight.\nAs she finished stocking the instant ramen shelf at her convenience-store job, Tomori wondered why it had taken her so long to realize it.\nIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t any one thing; no specific part, not one single trait or tendency that captured her so.\nWhat it was was—expectation.\nSeeing what she would do next. The way her skin tingled and her chest tightened whenever she saw Anon move, or open her mouth as if to speak, or when she got to see a new angle on her face she\u0026rsquo;d never been before; when the light hit her in a way it never had.\nIt must be the same kind of feeling her classmates get when they watch a show they really like, Tomori figured. It was that sort of thing.\nSatisfied with this answer, she walked into the staff room, to collect her weekly pay. She smiled to herself, wondering what kind of spectacle she would get a front-row seat to tomorrow.\n","permalink":"/works/penny-for-your-thoughts/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eWhat was it, exactly?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWas it the way the light outside shone through the frost on the windowpane, past the wisps of her gently-curving bangs, and danced upon her supple skin?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOr the way the twilit sky\u0026rsquo;s dull blue glow mixed with the pink of her hair, tinting it that perfectly-purple hue?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOr maybe—the way her cheek rested on her palm, curving around it \u003cem\u003ejust so\u003c/em\u003e?\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe way she\u0026rsquo;d let out a bored sigh every so often,\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Penny For Your Thoughts"},{"content":"Every kid starts out the same way.\nBright and starry-eyed, their little hearts sing with unsullied curiosity. They roll around in the grass, they dive into puddles of mud. They pick up strange critters and let them crawl around on their skin. Each morning they wake up full of awe and wonder and this thrilling, addictive sort of fear, this feeling like every day is both their first and their last.\nAnd they stay that way for a while. For how long, it depends, but it always ends. Sooner or later, they\u0026rsquo;re all touched by the specter of resignation. Of jaded normality. For most, years pass before they even realize what they\u0026rsquo;ve lost.\nNot Kaname Raana. She knew. She could tell, right away, that something had changed.\nOne afternoon, just a few days after her ninth birthday, she wakes up from a nap, and she\u0026rsquo;s suddenly drowning.\nThe air she breathes, once so light and refreshing, now flows heavy and molasses-like into her lungs, reeking of stagnation, filling her with a terrible sense of premonition. Everything is wrong. The faces surrounding her in class now look morose, joyless. The words they speak no longer reach her. Everything is wrong, and it will never be right again.\nBut it\u0026rsquo;s not her fault.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s everyone else\u0026rsquo;s.\nThe signs were all there, in hindsight. She\u0026rsquo;d just been having too much fun to notice.\nThe kids she liked playing with the most had begun drifting slowly, slowly away, spending less time out in the parks, the jungle gyms, the sandpits. The way they spoke had changed bit by bit; they\u0026rsquo;d began copying each other\u0026rsquo;s words and mannerisms for reasons she couldn\u0026rsquo;t begin even to fathom, all regressing to an ugly, repetitive mean. Now they were sorting everyone they knew into arbitrary groups, labels, cruel little boxes that seemed to her to exist purely for the sake of existing. They called each other names, they raised their voices, they started fights just to start them. It was just as if their hearts had been torn out of their chests, stolen by some ancient, encroaching darkness that had crept into her world, intent on taking away everything she held dear.\nNot that she herself had so many words for it. It had all just become so incredibly, suffocatingly boring.\nDesperate to breathe, she starts skipping classes. She wanders the neighborhood like a hungry little ghost, looking for something, anything that might make her feel that thrill again, that zest for life she was once so full of. She cuts through forgotten alleyways and run-down shopping districts and old, overgrown parks until finally she comes across a quiet nook walled off by zelkova trees on the river bank. It feels right. It\u0026rsquo;s not home, but it\u0026rsquo;s comfortable. It\u0026rsquo;s somewhere to hide.\nOne day, as she\u0026rsquo;s laying there half-asleep on the grass, a cat wanders through the brushes and into the clearing. Its grey fur is terribly matted and stained with dried mud, and its front-left leg has a limp. It has no collar, no tag, no name. It circles her, regarding her with caution, with curiosity. She feeds it a piece of her strawberry-cream sandwich.\nAfter that her nook becomes a gathering-place for stray cats, lured in by rumors in the air of food and belly rubs. She finds that she doesn\u0026rsquo;t mind this at all. She spends most of her afternoons feeding them, getting to know them, memorizing their eyes, their scars, all the patterns on their coats. She starts talking to them. She\u0026rsquo;s certain they understand her, because she understands them. She knows they have so, so much more to teach her than the people she\u0026rsquo;s been hiding from.\nBut her behavior doesn\u0026rsquo;t go unnoticed. One morning as she\u0026rsquo;s sneaking out of school she finally gets caught. And so it begins. Hours and hours spent sitting with her mother in front of desks inside these awful, dusty, claustrophobic offices, both at school and at unfamiliar buildings a long miserable drive away from home. And always on the other side of each desk: a tall, imposing figure of Authority, of Correctness. Teacher. Principal. Truant officer. Child psychologist. Her mother tells them she\u0026rsquo;s so sorry and that she doesn\u0026rsquo;t know what the problem is and they talk and talk and talk, and Raana sits there and pretends to listen and pretends to care because otherwise it\u0026rsquo;ll just drag on even longer but of course she doesn\u0026rsquo;t. She knows what this really is; she\u0026rsquo;s already figured it out. It\u0026rsquo;s violence. It\u0026rsquo;s a punishment. A sad, desperate attempt to drag her back down into the prison they all live in.\nThis routine finally breaks her. She gives up hoping for change and simply shuts down. For three days straight she sits in silence on the rotted rain-soaked planks of the front deck of her house, taking breaks only to eat and to sleep; she wastes away, with her legs tucked into her arms, and her eyes lingering, deadened, on the past.\nOn that third day, though, her grandmother comes around to visit. She brings something out of their storeroom. A battered old guitar; one Raana\u0026rsquo;s seen her play before, long ago, when her mind hardly even knew of memories. Its worn maroon paint is all flaked off at the edges; it\u0026rsquo;s covered in scratches and gashes, in scars. Out on the deck, the red setting sun glints off one of the strings just right as it crawls behind the horizon. The shine brings the light back into Raana\u0026rsquo;s eyes, and Grandma notices. She asks Raana if she wants to try playing it. And Raana says yes.\nThe instant she plucks out a note, she falls in love for the first time in her life.\nShe spends the rest of the evening getting to know every part of it, every curve and crevice and every dented inch of wood. She hears its voice ring out under her fingers and she\u0026rsquo;s utterly enthralled. It\u0026rsquo;s so much prettier, so much clearer, so much more raw and so much more honest than any voice she\u0026rsquo;s ever heard before.\nWith its heavy wooden heft in her hands, she\u0026rsquo;s in control. With her fingers on its strings, she\u0026rsquo;s free. She can put her feelings into \u0026ldquo;words\u0026rdquo;.\nThis is it. This is what she\u0026rsquo;s been so desperately looking for.\nShe begs Grandma to let her keep it. She tugs at her sleeve, whines, and pleads. But Grandma tells her no; not until she\u0026rsquo;s older. Not until she graduates.\nSo she goes back to school. No one in class really talks to her anymore, though they certainly talk about her. They\u0026rsquo;re not cruel. Not intentionally. They gossip among each other, about all the lurid rumors, the stories about the weird girl who sneaks out of school and plays with stray cats all day, regarding her from a distance with idle curiosity, like an odd museum piece.\nBut nothing they say or do is worth listening to. They are not worth her time.\nNot anymore, now that she has something to live for.\nAfter class she walks straight to the live house Grandma owns. It\u0026rsquo;s an old building, worn by age and by use. It sprawls downwards from the top-floor lobby into a cavernous network of dim hallways, storerooms and stages, all well-traveled and littered with audio equipment, its ceilings covered in strange metal rafters and twisting cables. A never-ending maze that draws her inside with its comforting darkness and keeps her within with its novel sights and sounds. Strange people walk past her carrying instruments on their backs, some with their hair dyed, their ears pierced, looking completely unlike every other grown-up in her life. She sits cross-legged on the carpet and watches them, starry-eyed, watches how they dress, how they carry themselves. She sneaks into the crowds and listens to them play, listens to guitars, both electric with their deafening wails and acoustic with their solemn elegies; to drum rhythms sometimes intense and driving, sometimes reserved and complex. And she\u0026rsquo;s mesmerized.\nThese people, these impossibly distant figures, standing on the stage; they know how to live. They know who they are. They\u0026rsquo;re what she wants to be.\nShe finds a dark, comfortable corner near the PA system where she can hide and starts catching every single concert and rehearsal she can, sometimes even ditching class, if she thinks she can get away with it. Her ears become machines built for tuning into pitches; she borrows whatever guitar she can get her hands on and mimics everything she hears, and quickly the twelve tones on the fretboard in all their variations become part of her language, a language she can understand, one unburdened with the artifice of the one she was taught at home and at school. Three months in she can recognize every note and play it back without so much as thinking about it; though if those notes have names, she does not know them. She doesn\u0026rsquo;t need to.\nOn the days the live house closes she heads for Grandma\u0026rsquo;s house instead. She crawls up into the attic, a wooden tomb filled with dead air holding disused guitars and stacks of old vinyls from another time and another land. She puts on the first record she can find and she plays along with it for hours and hours until her body shuts down on its own, collapsing where she sits. She beats on the strings until the tips of her fingers grow blisters, until the blisters split open and coat the windings in clear serum, until the metal digs past her epidermis and cuts the blood free of her capillaries, rusting the nickel beneath it.\nShe does this every single day. In time the skin on those once-soft fingertips grows distorted, unrecognizable, an inhuman kaleidoscope of scar tissue and calluses. She skips proper meals whenever she can get away with it, feeding off pastries swiped from catering backstage, cups of instant soba noodles and packs of sweet snacks bought from corner stores with whatever small change she can scrounge up. Wrappers tear open and candy cracks apart beneath her teeth, filling her veins with sugar, hitting her with jolt after fleeting jolt of energy, keeping her awake, keeping her playing, keeping her away from reality and its stale, thin air.\nMonths turn into years. She becomes like a mascot for the live house, this strange, prodigious little girl beloved by staff and performers alike, who seems to practically live in the dark rooms behind the stage, haunting them like a zashiki-warashi. She leaves her first school behind, and finally she gets her very own guitar, that same battered old thing she fell for all those years ago. Her last missing piece. She plugs it into an amplifier and makes it scream out three years\u0026rsquo; worth of built-up energy and resentment and wanting and for the first time she can remember she feels truly like herself. Like she\u0026rsquo;s shed the heavy, languid shell she\u0026rsquo;s been carrying all along.\nShe\u0026rsquo;s found it. A place to belong.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s right here, with this guitar in her hands. It\u0026rsquo;s in the soothing overdriven noise of the amplifiers in the live house, in the pounding rhythm of the drums and the growling of the bass. Away from the stifling stench of humanity. It\u0026rsquo;s not just a place to hide. It\u0026rsquo;s home. Right here, and nowhere else.\nAnd then one day, she\u0026rsquo;s drowning again.\nIt hits her like a splash of cold water to the face, seizing up her nerves.\nWe\u0026rsquo;re closing up shop her grandmother says. She speaks the words so matter-of-factly it\u0026rsquo;s like she doesn\u0026rsquo;t know. She doesn\u0026rsquo;t know the life she\u0026rsquo;s snuffing out. How badly it hurts. She thought even if no one else understood how she felt at least Grandma did but clearly she doesn\u0026rsquo;t. It hurts. It\u0026rsquo;s not fair. It\u0026rsquo;s not fair, Raana thinks.\nBut her body is so paralyzed with despair that she can\u0026rsquo;t open her mouth to speak in protest. She can\u0026rsquo;t even move.\nShe locks herself in her bedroom that night, and she cries for the first time in her life. She hates it. The way it flows out of her unbidden, the way she can\u0026rsquo;t control it, can\u0026rsquo;t make it stop no matter how badly she wants to. After two long hours her well finally runs dry. She feels sick to her stomach.\nShe decides it\u0026rsquo;ll be the last time, too. The last time she lets anything have this awful sort of hold over her.\nClosing day comes. She goes with Grandma to see it off, sits through one last concert. She watches as the key to the front door turns to lock it one last time. She feels nothing now, save for a dull emptiness. Grandma pats her on the back and sternly tells her to keep her chin up, says that someday, someone will make a place for her, somewhere she truly belongs.\nIt rings painfully hollow.\nSomeone? Who? Who could possibly understand how she feels? She knows now that no one could ever reach her heart. That she was a fool to ever think otherwise.\nShe slides back into delinquency, into aimless loitering, growing her menagerie of stray cat friends. A ghost once again, purposeless and unmoored, trapped in the land of the living. She picks up her guitar and tries to play it but every note and every chord out of it sounds like a stake being driven straight through her heart, like that intractable grip finding its way around her again. She sets the thing aside, somewhere dark where she can\u0026rsquo;t see it. She sleeps through half her days, sometimes in her bed, sometimes on the grass and dirt somewhere quiet where the sun shines. Every so often she finds herself coming back to the abandoned live house, standing in the sad little coin-op parking lot some investment company\u0026rsquo;s converted it to. The cats seem to like it there; they crowd on the concrete like a funeral procession, like vultures circling a rotting carcass. She sits with them and watches as vines crawl day after day up the crumbling walls.\nTwo years pass.\nTwo unbearably long, yet frighteningly short years.\nThey flow past her like tepid river-water, barely dragging her body along for the ride, lifeless and bereft. Her guitar sits in a closet, buried in dust and old clothes and in regret. It\u0026rsquo;s all a blur, a terrible, ugly blur. By the time her third spring in middle school comes around all she has to show for those twenty-four months is a gaping black void where her memories ought to be, dotted here and there with faded reminisince, vague images of sitting in class, watching the seasons turn into one another, growing and dying, quietly, diligently.\nShe lays down on a patch of grass one morning, closes her eyes, and wishes that she would never have to open them again. That she could stay trapped forevermore inside her own mind, in this comfortable oblivion.\nBut when she wakes up, she\u0026rsquo;s still there. Still trapped.\nSo, call it an act of desperation, a cry for help. Whatever it was, that day she wanders somewhere new—a freshly-opened live house, one she\u0026rsquo;d heard her grandmother talk about off-hand. And behind the counter she finds a familiar face: a young woman, her grandma\u0026rsquo;s old stagehand. She\u0026rsquo;s known Raana since she started playing the guitar, and her eyes light up the moment she sees her walk in.\nShe practically begs Raana to start playing again. Raana hesitates; she backs away, turns her nose up; but once she sees her guitar, somehow whisked away from her closet and brought here without her knowledge, something comes over her. She can\u0026rsquo;t help but acquiesence.\nShe plugs in and starts playing.\nAnd\u0026hellip; it hurts. It still hurts, after all this time. The wound hasn\u0026rsquo;t closed. Time has only helped it grow more tender.\nShe doesn\u0026rsquo;t stop, though. She bites the bullet and lets the pain flow through her, like an icy winter chill on bare skin, then out of her, into song. She draws out a somber, slow piece from her guitar, a sort of music she\u0026rsquo;d never let herself play before. And she learns to like it. She feels in control again, as if she\u0026rsquo;s tamed the grief inside her like one would break in a wild beast.\nBy the time she finishes the woman in front of her is in tears. She tells Raana she has to keep playing, that she should come to the open mic. That if she does, her music is bound to reach someone, someone who truly understands.\nSomeone? Again, she scoffs at the idea. But it sticks in her head. And she does come back, this time when it\u0026rsquo;s busy. Her virtuosic playing quickly draws a crowd, first a couple people, then a dozen, then two. She finds that she doesn\u0026rsquo;t mind it, the way all the eyes on her feel.\nEvery week from then on she drags her grandma\u0026rsquo;s old vacuum-tube amplifier on a dolly to the live house and up onto the little stage at the corner of the cafe, shredding away until she\u0026rsquo;s satisfied. She becomes a fixture: the stray cat of RiNG, as people take to calling her. A girl just a little older than her starts working the bar; Raana takes a strange liking to her. She finds it fun to test her patience, at least. The crowds around her grow larger; she even picks up some dedicated fans. Soon enough someone walks up to her after one of her sessions and asks her to join their band. She figures she might as well try.\nBut she quickly regrets it. They sound so off, so lifeless that it physically hurts. Their music is as dreadfully boring as they are, as they all are. Listening to it makes her like she\u0026rsquo;s walked into a pit of thick, sludgey quicksand, an awfulness with a life all of its own, trying to drag her down into the pits of monotony.\nAfter one song she walks out of the studio without so much as a word, leaving them stunned and confused.\nShe keeps on playing the open mics. Another band or three try to recruit her, but they\u0026rsquo;re all the same, all tired clichés and paper-thin people. One day after ditching the fourth group to try and bring her in, she walks out of the building and slumps down onto the floor in the shadow of a dark alleyway, sighing to herself in defeat. A stray black cat climbs onto her lap.\nThe grip around her neck tightens; her vision grows dark.\nShe\u0026rsquo;s running out of oxygen.\nBut the following week, as she\u0026rsquo;s packing up her amps and getting ready to leave the live house, someone catches her eye. A girl. She\u0026rsquo;s sitting at one of the tables, across from the barista girl and two others, talking about something or other. It doesn\u0026rsquo;t matter what. She jumps out at her immediately through a sort of sixth sense. There\u0026rsquo;s just something special about her. Something incredibly\u0026hellip; interesting.\nThe girl\u0026rsquo;s shape sits askew in the world around it, as if it doesn\u0026rsquo;t quite fit. A sense of unresolved tension follows her every movement, like an imbalanced electrical field. She\u0026rsquo;s like a bright little splash of color—of motion—in a sea of gray stillness. Raana sits and stares at the girl for an hour, observing her from a distance until she leaves the live house, and then she follows her out and watches her disappear over the horizon.\nWho is she? Where did she come from? What makes her so different, so much brighter than everyone else? What lies beneath her skin, in the deepest recesses of her soul? And why can\u0026rsquo;t she stop thinking about her?\nIt\u0026rsquo;s the first time she\u0026rsquo;s felt this way about another person. Curious. So curious that it digs at the pit of her stomach like the dull claws of an intractable hunger. That night she tosses and turns for an hour, her thoughts consumed, before finally falling asleep.\nWhen the girl comes back with her friends a few days later, Raana listens. She learns her name. Tomori. She\u0026rsquo;s in a band with the other three, apparently. A band. Raana casually invites herself into their practice session. She hears Tomori sing for the first time, and the instant that voice touches Raana\u0026rsquo;s ears, she\u0026rsquo;s entranced.\nShe\u0026rsquo;s it. This girl\u0026rsquo;s off-key, desperate cries, so shrill and sharp, so unrestrained and unstable that they seem to set the very air around her alight. And the song she sings is so pretty, so forlorn and yet so full of light. Quickly she finds her way around it with her guitar. It\u0026rsquo;s a perfect fit. It gets stuck in her head. Her mind races. After all these years, she\u0026rsquo;s finally found something different, something new. She wants more, and she wants it fast.\nThey book a concert. Raana\u0026rsquo;s played gigs by now, subbing in for a band here and there, but it\u0026rsquo;s never felt right. Not the way the bands back in SPACE did. The pieces were all there, but it was always like a chemical reaction waiting to take place, missing its catalyst.\nOne song into this show, though, she knows. This is it. This is oxygen. Pure, flammable oxygen.\nShe didn\u0026rsquo;t even know she could breathe this freely. She\u0026rsquo;s like a raw flame, a live wire. The amplifier screams out her truth as she draws it out with her fingers. It\u0026rsquo;s the most alive Raana has ever felt.\n\u0026hellip;\nBut it can\u0026rsquo;t last.\nIt won\u0026rsquo;t last.\nIt was too good to be true. She had realized that fairly quickly, spending time around these four. It had crept up her spine until she could no longer ignore it.\nSomething\u0026rsquo;s not right with this band.\nAn ill omen hangs over them, a sense of impending doom. It\u0026rsquo;s this other girl, this Soyo. It seeps out of her, that darkness. Her words taste acrid and off, like they\u0026rsquo;re laced with something foul. They shouldn\u0026rsquo;t play that song she insists. It doesn\u0026rsquo;t belong to them she says.\nRaana can tell. Soyo\u0026rsquo;s not here for this. She wants something else. Something petty, something human.\nThey say cats can tell when you\u0026rsquo;re dying. Raana smelled the scent of death on this band.\nSo she does what she does best: the opposite of what she\u0026rsquo;s told. In the lingering silence following their first song, she brings down her pick and she plays \u0026lsquo;Haruhikage\u0026rsquo;. You could call it a trial, a test of their mettle. She wouldn\u0026rsquo;t. It just felt like the right thing to do.\nThe others follow her lead and join in. It\u0026rsquo;s beautiful. It\u0026rsquo;s intoxicating, addicting. She gets so caught up in it she starts to think it might just work out after all. But backstage once it\u0026rsquo;s all over, just as Raana thought, the darkness spills from the hole she\u0026rsquo;d punched open, an all-consuming black flame lit by the faintest spark. And in its wake it all crumbles.\nGood, she thinks. She\u0026rsquo;s ended it on her own terms. Better to burn it down than to let it fade away.\nA day later she spots them at the counter and tries to give Tomori one last chance. She, at least, deserves that much. But it\u0026rsquo;s just as she feared. She was too fragile to survive the blaze; she was dragged down into the murky pits with the others. Boring. Predictable. Not worth her time.\nThe air around her grows thick and heavy again. She\u0026rsquo;s certain now that that gap, that howling abyss between herself and the rest of the world will never close. That it was never even worth closing in the first place.\nBut in the back of her mind a nagging seed of doubt clings stubbornly. She can\u0026rsquo;t help but wonder what could have been. Can\u0026rsquo;t help thinking about her, about Tomori. She spent only a scant few days around her and yet her absence lingers in Raana\u0026rsquo;s chest like a fresh wound. There really was so much she wanted to know, so much she wanted to understand. But she\u0026rsquo;s not worth it, she tells herself, over and over again, like a mantra. She\u0026rsquo;s not worth the risk. She wasn\u0026rsquo;t willing to follow through.\nShe\u0026rsquo;s eating a parfait at the cafe counter, papering over that low, dull ache with sugar and cream, when she spots a sign. A sign on the wall with Tomori\u0026rsquo;s name on it, advertising a live performance. A solo, spoken word affair. Raana doesn\u0026rsquo;t think twice. She picks up her guitar and rushes over.\nAnd there Tomori stands, all alone on the stage, ensconced within a single lonely spotlight amid a sea of black shadow. She reads from the notebook in her hands, her voice trembling. Raana watches as she spills her guts, cries out for mercy, begs for a second chance. All things Raana would never do, could never do. This girl, this fascinating little creature, this ray of burning sunlight, she gets something that Raana doesn\u0026rsquo;t. She sees something Raana can\u0026rsquo;t. In that moment her sight sears itself, like a white-hot brand, into the back of Raana\u0026rsquo;s eyes. The clutches of her presence dig themselves into her mind.\nWithout a moment\u0026rsquo;s hesitation she climbs up on stage with her guitar in hand, and she lends Tomori her harmony and rhythm, a hand outstretched, a signal looking to resonate, raw emotion in the only way to show it Raana has ever known. Her own way of saying that she will follow her for the rest of her life.\nThe crowd grows. They play another show, and then another, whenever the schedule will allow it. Backstage after each one Raana comes to know Tomori, through precious few words, through glances and long dense silences, through her scent and her body language. She wants to become human, Tomori tells her one evening. But why? She\u0026rsquo;s perfect as she is, Raana thinks. So beautifully inhuman. She doesn\u0026rsquo;t need to be like them. Still, it fascinates her, the way this girl keeps surprising her, the way her mind races with endless possibilities whenever she\u0026rsquo;s with her. And the clutches dig deeper.\nIn time the whole band gets back together. Raana drags the barista girl into one of their shows, and soon after that the other two follow, the funny pink one - Anon - and Soyo. She even grows to like them, too. She comes to find something to like among all their flaws and imperfections. There\u0026rsquo;s something to this Rikki, in particular. It\u0026rsquo;s the way she looks at Tomori; it\u0026rsquo;s like she gets it, too. Like they\u0026rsquo;re both searching for the same thing. She grows comfortable around them, among this band. Without knowing it, she lets herself believe that it\u0026rsquo;s hers, too.\nAnd that festering wound in her heart begins to heal.\nOr so she thought.\nBut she had simply let her guard down.\nShe\u0026rsquo;d been having too much fun to notice the water creeping up her neck.\nJust an hour ago she was sitting in front of that stage as Tomori and Rikki and Soyo played a song or two with those two other girls from a band they used to be in. It felt like nothing, at first. Like nothing at all. They were sloppy; they couldn\u0026rsquo;t even keep time. They all started crying at one point; they were barely even playing by then. It was hard to watch, really. Anon had to bribe her with candy just to get her to sit still and observe.\nIt really did feel like nothing. Like a gentle, cold numbness, perhaps. Nothing more.\nBut now she\u0026rsquo;s standing in a dark hallway by the stage entrance and her nails are digging into the skin on her palms. Her hands are shaking, she\u0026rsquo;s sweating. Her breath is ragged and labored.\nShe\u0026rsquo;d tried to drown out that sinking feeling once she got her own turn on stage. She\u0026rsquo;d turned her amp up until it made her ears hurt, ignoring Rikki\u0026rsquo;s chiding, and struck the strings on her guitar as hard as she could as if to tamp it all down, as if to bury it in the darkest depths of her heart. Even now, her left pinky finger is bleeding. She hadn\u0026rsquo;t managed to cut through her calluses since she left grade school.\nAll that, but it didn\u0026rsquo;t work.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s still there. And it\u0026rsquo;s only getting worse.\nThis gnawing at the bottom of her stomach. This thing called loss of control.\nShe should know better. It was just a one-time thing, Rikki told her as much. They\u0026rsquo;re doing this for the rest of their lives. For the rest of their lives. Tomori says so, herself, practically every day they\u0026rsquo;re together. Of course she should know. Nothing\u0026rsquo;s going to change. Everything is fine.\nBut it\u0026rsquo;s not. No, it won\u0026rsquo;t go away. Her muscles tense up, her heartbeat quickens. Like a cornered animal, she searches desperately for an answer from her instincts, and finds that they have none left to give her. She tries to move her legs but she can\u0026rsquo;t. The room she\u0026rsquo;s in grows dark around the edges, starts to spin vortex-like, to draw itself away from her. She has nowhere to run—\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nAnd that\u0026rsquo;s when she sees her.\nTomori.\nThis girl.\nThe air she breathes, in the flesh.\nHer reason to live, and her undoing.\nFor better or for worse, her instincts come back to her all at once.\nBlood rushing with adrenaline, Raana spots the door to a janitor\u0026rsquo;s closet. As Tomori approaches her, looking hesitant and vaguely concerned, Raana grabs her by the collar of her shirt and shoves her inside. She\u0026rsquo;s older, and noticeably taller, but still she crumbles and falls away under Raana\u0026rsquo;s hands with only the slightest resistance, as if she were made of paper, so easily ripped apart.\nSteeping in the darkness of the cramped little room she can barely make out Tomori\u0026rsquo;s outline. She feels her tense up in her hands and tightens her grip in response, and pushes her up against a wall. She hears her saying what\u0026rsquo;s wrong, asking what she\u0026rsquo;s doing, and ignores her, instead moving one hand up to her mouth and using the other to pull back her clothing and reveal the skin of her right shoulder. And in one swift motion she bites down on it as hard as she can.\nShe feels a scream trying to escape her and turning into deadened muffled noise in her palm.\nAs much as she\u0026rsquo;d like to hear it, she presses down to keep its volume down. It would draw too much attention. And this—\n—this is for her, and her alone.\nShe digs her teeth in deeper—just w do you think you\u0026rsquo;re doing—until she feels something crush with a pop beneath them, then moves on—where do you think you\u0026rsquo;re going?—drawing closer to her neck, to the next patch of unsullied skin, of unmarked territory. Over and over again.\nYou think you can just leave? She forces the both of them lower towards the floor and slides a hand under Tomori\u0026rsquo;s shirt and starts digging her nails in—I\u0026rsquo;m not letting this happen. Not again.—and all the while feeling her muffled squeals and protests and labored breaths on her hand. Don\u0026rsquo;t go. You can\u0026rsquo;t. After a dozen more bites something wet and warm and cold at the same time starts trickling onto her fingers, too. Tears. She pulls back and looks at her, at the blood pooling inside the marks her teeth had left, at the tears streaming down Tomori\u0026rsquo;s face, the clear liquid running from her nose, as she whimpers and pants.\nFor a moment, she feels satisfied. But it all rushes back up her throat the second she catches her breath. She can\u0026rsquo;t escape it. Or maybe she can\u0026rsquo;t get enough of it. Of this feeling—is it control, or is it simple catharsis? She leaps back in and starts biting again, scratching again, this time more haphazardly, almost desperately. She doesn\u0026rsquo;t even bother covering Tomori\u0026rsquo;s mouth. But, somehow, no noises escape her.\nAnd then she feels something on her head. A hand.\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s hand.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s shaking, even as she slides it through Raana\u0026rsquo;s hair and gently runs it over her scalp.\nWith a quivering, raspy voice, she speaks—\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan. I-it\u0026rsquo;s okay. It\u0026rsquo;s okay,\u0026rdquo; she says. And just as Raana freezes up, an arm pulls her in. Tomori\u0026rsquo;s whole body is shivering, it turns out. But still, it\u0026rsquo;s so warm.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not\u0026hellip; going anywhere.\u0026rdquo; She sniffles. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not. We\u0026rsquo;re not. I promise.\u0026rdquo;\nThe weak, unsteady grip around Raana\u0026rsquo;s waist grows just a little stiffer. She stops resisting. She buries her face in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s chest, and closes her eyes.\nShe can still taste the blood she drew from her in her mouth. Still feel the texture of her flesh on her teeth. Her hand is still wet, stained with the tears she had so violently forced out of her mere moments ago.\nAnd yet there she sits, melting into her embrace, so quickly tamed, by nothing more than a touch and a whisper.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s really something else, Raana thinks.\nThe things this girl can do to her. She\u0026rsquo;s always so full of surprises.\n\u0026quot;\u0026hellip;For life?,\u0026quot; Raana finally asks.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. For our whole lives.\u0026rdquo;\n#writing/mygo\n","permalink":"/works/strandline/","summary":"An account of Kaname Raana\u0026rsquo;s past, present, and future; of her desperate search for belonging.","title":"Strandline"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Takamatsu-san! I like you! Please go out with me!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori stood amid the drifting cherry blossoms, utterly dumbstruck.\nOn that mid-March morning, she\u0026rsquo;d found a letter slipped into her shoe locker, asking her to please wait somewhere in the school yard after class, saying that it\u0026rsquo;s important. She didn\u0026rsquo;t doubt that for a second when she read it. To her, a letter like this was a muffled cry from the heart. It couldn\u0026rsquo;t possibly even occur to her to ignore it.\nIt wasn\u0026rsquo;t signed. She didn\u0026rsquo;t recognize the handwriting, either. So Tomori began to think.\nIt couldn\u0026rsquo;t have been Saki-chan. The prose lacked the poised, regal air she had about her. And the penmanship was rough and sloppy in parts. Not that there was anything wrong with that - Tomori thought it was really pretty, the way the letters crooked, the way their shapes and sizes varied. But Saki-chan had the most beautiful, refined, elegant handwriting Tomori had ever seen. This wasn\u0026rsquo;t hers.\nIt couldn\u0026rsquo;t have been Ano-chan, either. Her handwriting was messy, yes, but not in the same way. It was curvier, bouncier. There wasn\u0026rsquo;t a single heart anywhere on the page, either, and the stationery wasn\u0026rsquo;t even pink, it was a bluish off-white. But more than that, it didn\u0026rsquo;t sound like her. It didn\u0026rsquo;t feel like her, either. She\u0026rsquo;d never known Anon to communicate through written words when she could have simply walked up and spoken them. She was the best at speaking out of anyone Tomori knew. Language simply flowed out of her, steadily and gracefully like water through a little creek deep in the forest right after the first ice of the year had melted. To Tomori, whose words stuttered and broke apart just as soon as they left her, it was amazing. Mesmerizing, even. It was so incredibly human, just like everything else about her.\nTomori ran down her mental list of Haneoka acquaintances, but she couldn\u0026rsquo;t narrow it down at all. She didn\u0026rsquo;t know anyone else at school all that well, after all. Mitake-senpai and the others were kind to her, of course, but she\u0026rsquo;d never shared more than a few short pleasantries with any of them. She was at a loss.\nAnd so she waited, like the letter asked, in the small nook by the pond on the eastern side of the yard, where a small cherry tree grew and shed its petals onto the water.\nSoon enough, she turned up. A girl with a short, messy bob of brown hair, wearing a round pair of glasses and a first-year necktie. Tomori didn\u0026rsquo;t recognize her. After some fidgeting with her hands, the girl began to speak.\n\u0026ldquo;Takamatsu-\u0026hellip;san. You\u0026hellip; you probably don\u0026rsquo;t know me, but\u0026hellip; I know you.\u0026rdquo; Her eyes darted nervously around the yard. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; Mitsuzawa, from 1-C. Mitsuzawa Kaho.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Mitsuzawa-san. Um, I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s a pleasure to\u0026hellip; meet you.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori gave her a small, awkward bow. The girl didn\u0026rsquo;t respond. Tomori thought she seemed scared, though she didn\u0026rsquo;t know why that might be.\n\u0026ldquo;Um. I\u0026rsquo;ll keep it short. I\u0026hellip; I transferred in late in the year, you see. So you probably haven\u0026rsquo;t seen much of me. But we met once, a couple of months ago, because I tripped while I was carrying some papers to the staff office for day duty and you were there and you helped me pick them up. And. And\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nMitsuzawa stopped herself short. She fiddled with the collar of her shirt.\n\u0026ldquo;I-I-I\u0026hellip; I couldn\u0026rsquo;t take my eyes off of you, I wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure why, and I thought your voice was really nice. And I was thinking about you all day that day and I asked my friends and they told me you\u0026rsquo;re in a band, so I\u0026hellip; I went to listen to a couple of your songs and they were so, so good, I ended up buying both your albums and I\u0026rsquo;ve been to two of your concerts and, and the first time I saw you up on that stage, I knew, I really knew.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh. Um\u0026hellip; T-Thank you. That makes me really happy to hear,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, unsure if it was the correct answer. She really was happy to hear it, though.\nThe two stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. Mitsuzawa\u0026rsquo;s breathing was ragged and audible. The cherry blossoms swirled in the wind around them like a gentle pink tornado.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; what is it that you\u0026hellip; \u0026lsquo;knew\u0026rsquo;?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori finally asked.\nMitsuzawa recoiled, then looked away. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Do I really have to say it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026rsquo;m sorry, I just don\u0026rsquo;t know what you mean\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s my fault, I\u0026rsquo;m sure,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, her speech growing frantic.\n\u0026ldquo;N-No, no, no, I\u0026rsquo;m the one who called you here it\u0026rsquo;s fine just give me a second to prepare. Just one second.\u0026rdquo; Mitsuzawa took a deep, long breath, then exhaled, then inhaled again. And then she looked Tomori straight in the eyes for the first time.\nTakamatsu-san, \u0026ldquo;I like you,\u0026rdquo; she said. \u0026ldquo;I really, really like you,\u0026rdquo; she added, now that Tomori remembered. \u0026ldquo;Please go out with me,\u0026rdquo; she asked.\nTomori didn\u0026rsquo;t even know where to start.\nShould she say thank you? It seemed like she should, but\u0026hellip; no. That wasn\u0026rsquo;t right.\nIt\u0026rsquo;s not as if she was unaware of the gravity of this situation, to be clear. She could tell this girl was trying so, so, so hard to force something from the recesses of her very being and out through her mouth. She knew what that looked like, and she knew how it felt. Of course she did.\nBut something about it just couldn\u0026rsquo;t reach her. Like a foreign language, or a garbled radio signal.\nThat was Tomori\u0026rsquo;s own fault, of course. She knew that much.\nShe heard Mitsuzawa\u0026rsquo;s words echo in her head.\n\u0026ldquo;I like you.\u0026rdquo;\nShe thought she knew what that meant, definitionally speaking. It had taken her a long time to triangulate from all the ways people used it, but she\u0026rsquo;d managed it. To Tomori, it meant that stirring, tense-yet-soft feeling she got somewhere in her chest or in her stomach when she was around certain people, and she felt safe and warm and comfortable and infinitely thankful they were there but also terrified they might leave and never come back. That feeling, she was more than familiar with.\nBut\u0026hellip; no one had ever told her they \u0026ldquo;liked\u0026rdquo; her. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t even conceive of the idea, in fact. What was there to \u0026ldquo;like\u0026rdquo;? She wasn\u0026rsquo;t like everyone else, like the people she herself \u0026ldquo;liked.\u0026rdquo; She didn\u0026rsquo;t have their presence, their sheer unbridled humanity. When those people walked into a room, the air itself changed. Like reality bent itself around them. Not Tomori. She felt more like a ghost than a flesh and blood person, a formless ghost trapped on the other side of a thick glass screen, trying desperately to break through to the other side. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t imagine someone finding enough of a shape to her being to think of her in that way. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t even feel that shape herself.\nStill, she couldn\u0026rsquo;t deny the expression the girl in front of her wore, the way her lips trembled as she spoke. She was being offered something incredibly precious, something sacred, irreplaceable. What could she even say in response? What was that stock phrase—\u0026rsquo;thank you, but I\u0026rsquo;m not interested?\u0026rsquo; Just thinking about speaking those words tasted like gritty, bitter ash in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s mouth. Did she even have the right to deny this budding flower its water and sunlight? Her? This pitiful creature, who couldn\u0026rsquo;t even so much as pretend to be human?\nIt didn\u0026rsquo;t make sense.\nIt just didn\u0026rsquo;t make sense. She couldn\u0026rsquo;t find an answer. So she stalled for time.\nThe next day, in the 1-A classroom——\n\u0026ldquo;Wait. Wait, you got confessed to? Oh my gosh.\u0026rdquo; Anon leaned over Tomori\u0026rsquo;s desk as she sat backwards on her own chair. \u0026ldquo;Tell me more, tell me more! Is she cute?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori considered this question with the gravity it deserved.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I think so. I like her glasses. They\u0026rsquo;re really big.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmm. What about her personality, huh? Is she the shy type, or a little more like me? Hmm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;She seems\u0026hellip; nervous.\u0026rdquo; Tomori began to doodle something on her notebook, without looking down at it. \u0026ldquo;But I think she\u0026rsquo;s nice. I really don\u0026rsquo;t know her very well, though\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And? You tell her yes, or no? What\u0026rsquo;s the scoop?\u0026rdquo; Anon leaned even further forward, her eyes glittering.\n\u0026ldquo;I told her that\u0026hellip; that I needed time to think about it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Eh? You told her what?!\u0026rdquo; Anon slumped backwards in defeat. \u0026ldquo;Tomori~in! That\u0026rsquo;s no good! You can\u0026rsquo;t play with a girl\u0026rsquo;s heart like that!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori recoiled. \u0026ldquo;Play\u0026hellip;? I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; That\u0026rsquo;s not what I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; doing\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s the last thing anyone wants to hear when they confess, you know!\u0026rdquo; Anon pointed a stern, wagging finger at Tomori, who averted her eyes towards the window, guilt welling up in her stomach.\nAt this sight, Anon let her expression soften. Her voice glided down into a kinder, softer tone.\n\u0026ldquo;Well\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t not get how you feel. Kinda hard to just start dating someone if you just learned their name yesterday, right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know, Ano-chan\u0026hellip; I really am thinking about it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You are? Hmmm\u0026hellip; then what\u0026rsquo;s the hangup?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I just\u0026hellip; don\u0026rsquo;t know if I could give her what she wants. If that\u0026rsquo;s even something I can give anyone.\u0026rdquo; The doodles on Tomori\u0026rsquo;s notebook grew more haphazard, and more intense.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm? I think you totally could, though. With those lyrics you write\u0026hellip; Ooh, I bet you could write her some love poems! Romeo and Juliet-style! Yeah, yeah!\u0026rdquo; Anon\u0026rsquo;s eyes shone with youthful fantasy. \u0026ldquo;Ah, crap, now I\u0026rsquo;m jealous. Sure you don\u0026rsquo;t wanna date me instead? Sike. Haha.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nothing! Don\u0026rsquo;t worry about it!!!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay. But\u0026hellip; you think I should write her\u0026hellip; a poem?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just an idea,\u0026rdquo; Anon said, rocking backwards in her chair. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re good at that stuff, y\u0026rsquo;know?\u0026rdquo;\nSoyo sighed. \u0026ldquo;Yeah. This isn\u0026rsquo;t the first time I\u0026rsquo;ve heard this story.\u0026rdquo;\nOn the same day, in the early afternoon, Tomori sat across from Soyo in a small cafe near Tsukinomori. Soyo had a cup of Earl Grey tea; Tomori, a glass of water. Tomori had asked her here, looking for advice.\nSunlight streamed in through a threadbare set of curtains and landed on the table, glimmering. Soyo\u0026rsquo;s face was hidden in a gentle shadow,\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What do you think I should do, Soyo-chan?\u0026rdquo; Tomori gripped her glass, fidgeting with it, playing with the condensation.\n\u0026ldquo;What do I think?\u0026rdquo; Soyo took a sip of her tea, then set it down, the clinking of ceramic punctuating her words. \u0026ldquo;I think that you should turn her down, of course. And that you should do it as soon as possible.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;B-but—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re not seriously considering agreeing to this, are you?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I just can\u0026rsquo;t help but think\u0026hellip; If I went out with her, maybe\u0026hellip; maybe we could work something out. And then\u0026hellip; I wouldn\u0026rsquo;t have to hurt her.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Even though you don\u0026rsquo;t know her?,\u0026rdquo; Soyo asked.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026hellip; Maybe I could get to know her. It\u0026hellip; it can\u0026rsquo;t hurt to try.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, it certainly can.\u0026rdquo; Soyo caught a smirk in the corner of her mouth. \u0026ldquo;Is that something you\u0026rsquo;re prepared to do? It might take a lot of effort. It might even pull you away from the band.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no. No, I–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori-chan.\u0026rdquo; Soyo spoke her name in a stern, cold tone, freezing her in place.\n\u0026ldquo;Sooner or later you\u0026rsquo;re going to have to learn that you can\u0026rsquo;t have it all,\u0026rdquo; she added.\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s heart sank. She gripped her skirt in her hands and hung her head, with a pained, confused look on her face. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; know what that means,\u0026rdquo; she whimpered. And she didn\u0026rsquo;t, but still the words struck a dissonant chord. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s not\u0026hellip; like that.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Are you sure? Because I\u0026rsquo;ve noticed. You always try to find this happy middle to every situation you find yourself in. A solution where everyone gets what they want, no hard feelings, no lingering regrets.\u0026rdquo; She sounded like ice; she took another sip. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a nice thought. But you have to be realistic. You and I both know it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t work out.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I know. \u0026hellip;I know,\u0026rdquo; Tomori finally conceded. She felt nothing but dread at the responsibility it would entail, at the looming, dark cloud of unfamiliar rituals and expectations it would bring. \u0026ldquo;But it just\u0026hellip; It doesn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; feel right to just say no. Those feelings\u0026hellip; they deserve more than that. Mitsuzawa-san, she was\u0026hellip; crying out for something.\u0026rdquo;\nSoyo sighed, her breath heavy with defeat. \u0026ldquo;Sure. I get that. It\u0026rsquo;s not like I can\u0026rsquo;t imagine how she feels,\u0026rdquo; she mused, now sounding just a little gentler. \u0026ldquo;Listen, Tomori-chan. You might not be able to make this all just work out. But if anyone can make her feel understood, it\u0026rsquo;s you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Happens to me all the time,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, casually. She kept her eyes on the sky above and her hand on the tabby cat sleeping on her stomach.\n\u0026ldquo;Eh? W-wait, really?\u0026rdquo; Tomori sat herself up and looked over at Raana. Blades of wet grass clung to the back of her white shirt.\nAnother day had passed. It was a Saturday, in the twilight of the early evening. The two were laying side by side on a stretch of greenery by the river, watching the pink-stained clouds pass by, drifting like wood through a river.\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. Kouhais come up to me and say that sorta thing.\u0026rdquo; Raana raised her other hand and used it to mimic a mouth opening and closing. \u0026ldquo;Kaname-senpai, I like you. You\u0026rsquo;re so cool, with your guitar. Go out with me,\u0026rdquo; she quoted, in a perfect monotone.\n\u0026ldquo;A-and that happens a lot? How often?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori asked. Something unpleasant was welling up in her stomach, something knotted and ugly, though she wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure what it was.\nRaana held up two fingers in response.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Just twice?,\u0026rdquo; Tomori asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Per week.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh.\u0026rdquo; Her stomach churned a little more. \u0026ldquo;And\u0026hellip; how\u0026hellip; do you respond?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t wanna. But thanks.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori finally laid back down on the grass and looked up at the clouds.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Have you\u0026hellip; ever thought about saying yes to them?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Nope.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;How come?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm.\u0026rdquo; Raana rubbed her chin and closed her eyes for a few seconds before coming up with an answer. \u0026ldquo;Just doesn\u0026rsquo;t feel right. Suffocating.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; how can you just refuse? Isn\u0026rsquo;t it hard, when someone\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; offering you their heart? To just turn them down?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana giggled, turned her head, and gave Tomori a smile. Tomori stared back at her, blinking in bemusement.\n\u0026ldquo;If I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna, then I don\u0026rsquo;t.\u0026rdquo; Raana looked back up at the sky. \u0026ldquo;Can\u0026rsquo;t be helped.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori sighed weakly. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026hellip; seeing her in front of me, like that\u0026hellip; It made me think, who am I to say no?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I–No, that\u0026rsquo;s not what I–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;And Tomori is interesting. \u0026lsquo;Cos she does funny, interesting things. And she does them because she really wants to, and she always gives it her all.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Doing something just \u0026lsquo;cos someone asked you to\u0026hellip; that\u0026rsquo;d be pretty boring,\u0026rdquo; Raana said. \u0026ldquo;I bet that girl would say so too. If she really likes you.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; But, how do I know?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;If I really\u0026hellip; want to do it or not. I don\u0026rsquo;t even know what that\u0026rsquo;s supposed to feel like.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked up at the clouds. A second passed, then another.\n\u0026ldquo;Home,\u0026rdquo; she finally said.\n\u0026ldquo;Eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;It has to feel like home,\u0026rdquo; Raana said.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;And what\u0026hellip; does \u0026lsquo;home\u0026rsquo; feel like?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Like when we\u0026rsquo;re on the stage. With Rikki and the others. That\u0026rsquo;s home.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ah.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori, look.\u0026rdquo; Raana pointed at the sky. \u0026ldquo;That cloud looks like Rikki.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh! I-I can\u0026hellip; kinda see it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori stopped in her tracks halfway down the pedestrian bridge. She walked over to the railing and gripped her hands around its top.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? What\u0026rsquo;s up, Tomori?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s something I want to ask you about.\u0026rdquo; Tomori looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. \u0026ldquo;Y-you see\u0026hellip; there\u0026rsquo;s this girl, at school. She\u0026hellip; asked me to go out with her.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Oh.\u0026rdquo;\nEven cloaked in the shadows of night, anyone other than Takamatsu Tomori would have noticed the life draining from Taki\u0026rsquo;s eyes. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s. Yeah,\u0026rdquo; she added, eloquently. \u0026ldquo;Mhm.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori turned to look at her and began. \u0026ldquo;I—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, I think you should go for it.\u0026rdquo; Taki finally started to talk, and once she did, she didn\u0026rsquo;t stop. \u0026ldquo;You know, we\u0026rsquo;re young. It\u0026rsquo;s important to live our lives to their fullest, and all.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah! Ah, I\u0026rsquo;m really happy for you, Tomori,\u0026rdquo; Taki continued. \u0026ldquo;Oh, but if you\u0026rsquo;re worried about both of you being girls, I mean, that\u0026rsquo;s totally normal these days. It\u0026rsquo;s the Reiwa era, right?\u0026rdquo; Her voice began to fray, like it was coming apart at its seams.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; Tomori tried to interrupt, but her words didn\u0026rsquo;t reach her.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, it\u0026rsquo;s normal. Actually, there\u0026rsquo;s two girls in my class who are dating. No one bats an eye at it, really. So you should follow your heart, do what makes you happy, and—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan!\u0026rdquo;\nTomori finally raised her voice and pulled on Taki\u0026rsquo;s sleeve, as if to try and wake her from a dream.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not\u0026hellip; going to do it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Huh?\u0026rdquo; Taki looked back at her like a deer in headlights.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not going to\u0026hellip; go out with her, Taki-chan. I thought about it. But\u0026hellip; it wouldn\u0026rsquo;t feel right.\u0026rdquo;\nSomething that sounded quite a lot like a sigh of relief began to slip out of Taki\u0026rsquo;s mouth, but she caught it midway and started conspicuously clearing her throat. This promptly sent her into a catastrophic coughing fit.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Taki-chan? Are you okay?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes. I\u0026rsquo;m okay.\u0026rdquo; Taki held her knees in her hands as she caught her breath, then wiped her mouth. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m okay. But\u0026hellip; if you\u0026rsquo;re not, how come you\u0026rsquo;re bringing it up?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Because\u0026hellip; I don\u0026rsquo;t know what to do.\u0026rdquo; Tomori looked down at the cars passing underneath. \u0026ldquo;I don\u0026rsquo;t know how to turn her down. Without\u0026hellip; trampling over her feelings. But I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; understand them. I don\u0026rsquo;t even know\u0026hellip; why she would like me enough to ask.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t?,\u0026rdquo; Taki asked. She finally joined her side at the bridge railing. Tomori shook her head.\n\u0026ldquo;There\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; lots to like about you, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;E-eh?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Like your singing. And the lyrics you write. The\u0026hellip; the way you put those feelings into words. Your voice, the way it sounds.\u0026rdquo; She swallowed something down and averted her gaze. \u0026ldquo;The first time I heard you sing, I really felt like I\u0026rsquo;d been saved. I thought, ah, she gets it. She understands. And\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m sure I\u0026rsquo;m not the only one.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah.\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes widened.\n\u0026ldquo;B-but it\u0026rsquo;s not just that. I mean, you work so hard\u0026hellip; for the band. You tried so hard just to keep us together when we were starting out, and you\u0026rsquo;re always writing new songs. It\u0026hellip; makes me want to work hard, too. It really keeps me going.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori lifted her hand and held it against her own cheek. It was a little warm, and she wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure why. It was fairly chilly out that evening, after all.\n\u0026ldquo;And, plus,\u0026rdquo; Taki continued, though her words turned quieter, denser with hesitation. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; um, pretty cute. I think. I mean, you look good. Your face, it\u0026rsquo;s. Uh. Satisfactory.\u0026rdquo; She cleared her throat again, quite loudly this time.\nFinally, Tomori broke into a smile.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sorry. That was silly. It wasn\u0026rsquo;t much help, right?\u0026rdquo; Taki rubbed her temples. \u0026ldquo;You can\u0026hellip; Just forget about it.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Not at all. Thanks, Taki-chan. I think I know what to do.\u0026rdquo;\n(Once she got home that night, Shiina Taki collapsed onto her bed screamed into her pillow for an hour straight, until she finally fell asleep where she lay.)\nThe air in the schoolyard was dead still that Monday afternoon, right after class, as the last few members of the go-home club streamed out of the front gates.\nBy now, the pond by the cherry tree was covered in so many fallen petals, one could hardly see the water beneath. The sun had just ducked behind the main school building, casting a dark, despondent shadow over the nook. Only a group of sparrows\nTomori stood below the tree, holding a crumpled-up piece of paper in her hands, its left edge frayed with broken perforations. She waited, controlling her breath into even inhales and exhales. She had spent all of last night preparing for this, scribbling and erasing, practicing.\nBy the time Mitsuzawa Kaho found the note in her locker calling her over, sprinted back into the yard and around the school building, and rounded the corner and met her eyes, Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hair and shoulders were mottled with the tree\u0026rsquo;s shed blossoms.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-Takamatsu-san.\u0026rdquo; Mitsuzawa steeled herself and approached, stepping gingerly past the pond, her hands clutched tightly toward her chest. Her face mixed dread, excitement, fear, and limerence all into one contorted, indecipherable shape. \u0026ldquo;Um. Hi. I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m ready.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Kaho-chan.\u0026rdquo; Apparently, just the five days she spent occupying her thoughts was enough to turn her from \u0026lsquo;Mitsuzawa-san\u0026rsquo; to \u0026lsquo;Kaho-chan\u0026rsquo; in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s head. Hearing her own name, Kaho-chan made some strange kind of noise and recoiled as though an arrow had shot clean through her heart and out the other end.\n\u0026ldquo;Please listen,\u0026rdquo; Tomori continued. She lifted the paper up to her eyes and breathed in. And Kaho listened as Tomori\u0026rsquo;s voice shifted registers, down into the pitch and timbre she used on stage, and began to read aloud.\nIn a field of crimson flowers\nand of shards of broken glass\nPrecious spring burst from your soul\nAnd blossomed from your heart\nI stumbled on its roots and I was\nDazzled by its light, pure white\nOut of sight and snow blind\nFreezing cold and burning bright\nI held it in my hands\nSmall and fragile, kind and warm, and yet\nIt hurt to touch, my skin is much\nToo slight to see this sun\nThis blurry, distant outline\nCan\u0026rsquo;t hold your trembling hand\nCan\u0026rsquo;t calm your breath, can\u0026rsquo;t quench the thirst\nThat seizes up your nerves\nThe haze clouding its shape would only\nSmother you with doubt and leave you\nWanting and adrift amid an ocean\nOf regret\nBut after it saw the radiance\nOf that precious, budding spring\nThat outline felt itself turn clear\nBelow its gentle rays\nSo don\u0026rsquo;t let it turn to cinders\nLet the smoldering embers linger\nUntil it finds a place to bloom\nIn some distant elsewhere\nTomori caught her breath, then let go of the piece of paper and let it drift slowly down. She watched as tears streamed silently down the face of the girl in front of her, as her nose ran with a clear, sticky liquid. She\u0026rsquo;d kept herself quiet until now, her vocal chords stopped up by equal parts shock and reverence. But now she dropped to the ground, let her knees kiss the grass and her calves soak in the dirt, and started bawling. She covered her eyes and sobbed and sobbed, Tomori\u0026rsquo;s first name slipping out half-formed through her cries.\nTomori watched, wondering if this really was the right thing to do, wondering if she\u0026rsquo;d ever even know. Something in the back of her head told her, though, that she definitely needed to leave this girl to herself.\nShe walked past her, but stopped short, and gave her her parting words.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Goodbye, Kaho-chan. I\u0026hellip; I hope we can still\u0026hellip; be friends.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori looks sad.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked across the RiNG cafe hall at Tomori, who sat by herself at a table tucked away in a remote, sequestered cranny. She was staring down at her cup of tea and clutching her thighs, and was blanketed by pall of regret and dejection so dense one could swear there was a dark little person-sized raincloud hanging over her head.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah.\u0026rdquo; Taki set down a matcha parfait in front of Raana, her eyes also fixed on Tomori. \u0026ldquo;Must be because she turned that girl down.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm. I\u0026rsquo;ll cheer her up.\u0026rdquo; Raana took one bite of her parfait and started sitting up before Taki\u0026rsquo;s hand pushed her back into her chair.\n\u0026ldquo;Like hell you will, stray. I\u0026rsquo;ll handle it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. Raana-chan. Stay.\u0026rdquo; Soyo chided the two from behind her teacup of measured authority. \u0026ldquo;Let her process it. She\u0026rsquo;s writing something.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Guys, listennn!\u0026rdquo; Anon walked up to the group and hung her bookbag on a chair. \u0026ldquo;Tomorin, she\u0026hellip; She rejected her with a poem! She gave that girl a one-on-one spoken word show to turn her down!\u0026rdquo; Her voice, usually bright as sunshine, was weighed down with consternation and disbelief.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Well, that does sound like her.\u0026rdquo; Soyo held her head in one hand. Raana tilted hers.\n\u0026ldquo;So? That\u0026rsquo;s a sweet thing to do,\u0026rdquo; Taki said. \u0026ldquo;She ought to be grateful.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, come on, Rikki! Put yourself in the girl\u0026rsquo;s shoes here. It can\u0026rsquo;t be that hard for you, right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ha? What are you trying to get at, punk?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm, I wonder,\u0026rdquo; Soyo interjected, before taking another sip.\n\u0026ldquo;I mean, come on,\u0026rdquo; Anon resumed. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s just waa~ay too much for a pure-hearted maiden in the springtime of her youth to handle! They say she was crying like a newborn baby the whole way back home, and then the next day she started up again in the middle of class, and she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t stop so they had to send her home early. Apparently, she was clutching this little piece of paper the whole time\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana looked over at Tomori and giggled. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Funny girl,\u0026rdquo; she said.\nAnon finally sat down with the others. \u0026ldquo;Her reputation\u0026rsquo;s done a total 180. Everyone\u0026rsquo;s whispering about how Tomori\u0026rsquo;s this mysterious, cool ladykiller type,\u0026rdquo; she went on. \u0026ldquo;No one calls her Haneoka\u0026rsquo;s guileless girl anymore. Now she\u0026rsquo;s the school\u0026rsquo;s silver-tongued heartbreaker.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ha?\u0026rdquo; Taki slammed a hand on the table. \u0026ldquo;Who called her that? You know where they live?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No way. I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna get charged with aiding and abetting.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. People call me that at school too,\u0026rdquo; Raana said, with a mouth full of parfait.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, right. The only thing you\u0026rsquo;re breaking is my will to live, stray.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana gave Taki a knowing smirk.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomorin\u0026hellip; I wonder if she\u0026rsquo;ll be okay.\u0026rdquo; Anon looked over at her longingly.\n\u0026ldquo;She will,\u0026rdquo; Soyo said, with a defeated sigh. \u0026ldquo;Once the drama dies down, she will. She did what she thought she had to do, didn\u0026rsquo;t she?\u0026rdquo;\nMitsuzawa Kaho took a whole week to come back to school. If you believe the really out-there rumors, she was taken to the hospital after she started coughing up pink flower petals. But really, she just needed to spend a few days hugging her pillow in the dark.\nOnce she was back, she was her old self again, though she would always carry that faint trace of a scar on her heart. She would catch the occasional glimpse of Tomori and smile to herself. And that small, crumpled piece of paper would find a home on the corkboard above her bedroom desk.\n","permalink":"/works/precious-spring/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;Takamatsu-san! I like you! Please go out with me!\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTomori stood amid the drifting cherry blossoms, utterly dumbstruck.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn that mid-March morning, she\u0026rsquo;d found a letter slipped into her shoe locker, asking her to please wait somewhere in the school yard after class, saying that it\u0026rsquo;s important. She didn\u0026rsquo;t doubt that for a second when she read it. To her, a letter like this was a muffled cry from the heart. It couldn\u0026rsquo;t possibly even occur to her to ignore it.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Precious Spring"},{"content":"It was a Tuesday evening in the studio at RiNG. The first studio, the one on the hallway to the left from the reception desk. The one whose soundproof door always makes the same little noise when it shuts, a quiet ping that flies through the air before fading into the acoustic foam on the walls. The studio we practice in the most.\nThere\u0026rsquo;s other studios here, of course, and we\u0026rsquo;ve been in all of them at this point, but this one is my favorite. I never feel quite right in any of the others, never as calm and present as I do in this one. Every time I find out we have to practice elsewhere, a dull weight drops in my stomach, as if I\u0026rsquo;m saying goodbye to a friend before they leave on a long, winding journey.\nBut not today. Today, I didn\u0026rsquo;t have to say goodbye.\nWe\u0026rsquo;d just finished practicing, and though our music had long stopped ringing from the speakers in the room, it still reverbrated through me, inside me, its distant echoes still making me shiver. I kept my eyes closed and breathed in, then out, letting the air soothe the soreness in my throat that my screams had left behind.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Okay.\u0026rdquo; Taki-chan\u0026rsquo;s voice cut through the low rumble of my thoughts. I opened my eyes and watched as she started putting her things away; her drumsticks went into a zipper on the front of her bag, adorned by a glossy panda keychain; her tablet slid into its main compartment. She closed everything up, then looked back at us. \u0026ldquo;Good practice. I\u0026rsquo;ve got a shift to cover now, so I\u0026rsquo;ll be heading back to the café.\u0026rdquo;\nAno-chan joined in as she zipped her guitar into its bag, saying something about a lick she played during the chorus. Soyo-chan answered, and told her she was \u0026lsquo;showing off\u0026rsquo;, and the two of them walked out of the studio, exchanging words I couldn\u0026rsquo;t decipher.\nTaki-chan finished cleaning up after herself, and as she followed the other two heading for the exit, she turned around, and her eyes met mine.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, Tomori.\u0026rdquo; I perked up. \u0026ldquo;You can take your time cleaning up. There\u0026rsquo;s no one else lined up for tonight.\u0026rdquo; She sounded softer, now.\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh. Okay. Um\u0026hellip; see you, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nI remembered then that she wouldn\u0026rsquo;t be walking me home today, and a hint of melancholy ran down my spine. As it did, Taki-chan said, \u0026ldquo;yeah, see you,\u0026rdquo; then walked out of the studio. The door swung back after her, and its hinges whined and creaked in a lonely refrain that slowly faded away.\nBut once Taki-chan was gone, and the air stood still, I realized something.\nA rush of excitement hit me like a splash of cold, fresh water to my face. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my hands began to shake as if I\u0026rsquo;d caught a terrible fever. I walked briskly over to the door and, without thinking twice, closed it. Relief and comfort washed over me as that little ping rang out.\nI\u0026rsquo;d\u0026hellip; always thought I wanted to be here all by myself.\nThe studio\u0026rsquo;s familiar smell, its gentle temperature on my skin; they felt like home. The weight of the silence trapped within its walls calmed my nerves. It was a silence unlike any other I knew.\nThere are many kinds of silence, of course, like the silence in the classroom after everyone else has left for the day, or the silence in that one hallway in the aquarium no person ever seems to walk through. I can even block out most sound with those headphones Ano-chan bought me, and that\u0026rsquo;s a silence of its own; one that exists only for me. They\u0026rsquo;re all different silences, all with their own textures. But through all of them, I can still feel the churning of the air around me, the dizzying waves of the ocean pulling me along its current. Not here. Everything was perfectly still, like I was floating through the darkest reaches of outer space. The intractable quiet was like music to my ears.\nNormally, I only ever got to hear it for one fleeting moment at a time, for a scant minute before practice started, or right before we had to leave.\nI\u0026rsquo;d always wanted to lose myself in it, to while away the hours here. The thrill and anticipation overtook and overwhelmed any other thoughts or worries I might have had. I took my school bag, sat down in my favorite corner of the room, and pulled out my notebook. My head swam with ideas, flowing undisturbed by the tumults of anxiety and the interference of my scattered, random thoughts. I filled three whole pages with doodles, words, and lyrics, and was about to start on a fourth, when suddenly, suddenly I\u0026hellip; heard something.\n\u0026ldquo;Yaa~awn.\u0026rdquo;\nMy perfect silence shattered all at once into a million little pieces. It was like a punch driven straight into my gut. Reeling from the shock, I turned my head left and right until I found the source of the noise.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nShe was sitting behind the drum kit with her legs pulled towards her; her eyes peered towards me through a gap in the toms.\nI\u0026rsquo;d assumed she\u0026rsquo;d gone home by now. On some days, she leaves before anyone even says goodbye. She\u0026rsquo;s so small, nimble and quiet that I can never keep track of her, and every time I realize she\u0026rsquo;s gone without a word, something stirs up inside me, a vague yet overpowering sense of regret, and it takes me a while to calm back down.\n\u0026ldquo;Hi.\u0026rdquo; She poked out from behind the drums and gave me a little wave.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah. H-hi.\u0026rdquo; I answered; hearing my own voice was still jarring, and it came out in stutters, cracking slightly. \u0026ldquo;Um, what\u0026hellip; what were you\u0026hellip; doing here?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana crawled out of her hiding spot and towards me on all fours, clambering forwards. She closed the distance between us before I could blink, and I jumped and pulled backwards.\n\u0026ldquo;Watching you,\u0026rdquo; she answered.\n\u0026ldquo;W-Watching\u0026hellip;me?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah. You were acting funny, so I watched.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;F-funny\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nThe faint memory of the past few minutes played back in my head. I tried as hard as I could to discern what might have been funny about how I acted. I didn\u0026rsquo;t tell any jokes, so it must have been something else.\nI might have made a noise or two while I was taking in the room. I don\u0026rsquo;t really notice it, but Ano-chan tells me I do that sort of thing a lot. She calls them my \u0026ldquo;Tomorin squeaks.\u0026rdquo; Could that have been it? I pondered.\nAs I tried to think of an answer, Raana inched even closer to me, close enough to let me feel her breath on my skin. Her eyes met mine, and I froze up and shivered. Then, in a hoarse, whispery voice, she said, \u0026ldquo;I got sleepy, though.\u0026rdquo; She stretched out her arms, and placed her head on my lap. By the time I thought to say anything, she was already fast asleep.\nI never know what to do when Raana has her eyes on me. Her gaze always seems to pierce straight through me, as if she\u0026rsquo;s peering at something inside of me that I can\u0026rsquo;t see myself. Sometimes she stares for so long that my head feels funny, and my heart starts beating like a drum. It\u0026rsquo;s hard not to look away. But\u0026hellip; when she\u0026rsquo;s like this, she\u0026rsquo;s not nearly as scary.\nMy hand found its way through her hair, then onto the back of her head. She does this often enough that I\u0026rsquo;ve kind of gotten used to it. I\u0026rsquo;ve learned the spots on her scalp she likes touched, and the ones she doesn\u0026rsquo;t, and I\u0026rsquo;ve gotten familiar with the texture of her hair: rough, messy and tangled in spots, yet somehow unbelievably soft, swallowing up my hand like a fluffy, white cloud as it drapes down over my legs, tickling their skin.\nI sat there and lost track of time, feeling Raana shift slightly around in her sleep, feeling her weight change in a steady rhythm as she breathed. Every so often, she would let out a quiet, meek little groan, or mumble out something indistinguishable. She had a smile on her face. I slowly grew comfortable with her presence; it was like we were sitting together the eye of a hurricane, having found our own little island of peace.\nEventually, I\u0026rsquo;d settled down enough to start writing again, keeping one hand on her head and another on my pencil. I managed to fill out another two pages before, eventually, with another yawn, Raana woke up. She looked up at me, feeling out the shape of my face with her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, Raana-chan. G-good morning.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo; Her eyes lingered on me.\nI managed to look back at her for only a second before anxiously turning away and toward my notes, and running my pencil over the paper in a spiral pattern to try and slow down the beating of my heart. After a few more seconds of silence, Raana finally spoke up.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m bored. Tomori, do something.\u0026rdquo;\nThis only made me more nervous. Do\u0026hellip; something? Something to make her less\u0026hellip; bored. I didn\u0026rsquo;t want to disappoint her, of course, but I didn\u0026rsquo;t even know where to begin. I groped around in my mind desperately, until\u0026hellip;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah! Um\u0026hellip; A-Actually\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI turned around and rifled through my school bag until I found what I was looking for - a small, clear plastic case, with a set of oddly-shaped little metal rods lined up inside it. They were all the same color, a faint rose gold. One of them was tipped with a fluffy-looking brush head.\nRaana eyed the case up and down, then up and down again. Finally, she tilted her head and pointed at it.\n\u0026ldquo;This is\u0026hellip; um, it\u0026rsquo;s an ear cleaning set,\u0026rdquo; I explained.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo; Her head tilted again, towards her other side.\n\u0026ldquo;Ano-chan bought it for me\u0026hellip; for my birthday. Ah, and she got me this odd-looking microphone too\u0026hellip; She said that I should try recording some\u0026hellip; \u0026lsquo;ASMR\u0026rsquo;? Because I\u0026rsquo;d be good at it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;ASMR?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I didn\u0026rsquo;t know what it was either, but\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s, um, like a recording of someone\u0026hellip; whispering into your ear\u0026hellip; breathing into it, and touching it, or cleaning it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI started sifting through my memories.\nAbout two weeks ago, right after Ano-chan got me that gift, I tried listening to some of it. For reference, to understand what she meant. I found a channel on GooTube that had a lot of views, called\u0026hellip; \u0026ldquo;Yuutenji-san\u0026rsquo;s ASMR corner\u0026rdquo;. Thinking I\u0026rsquo;d just see what it\u0026rsquo;s like for one minute, I clicked on it.\nI ended up staying up until three in the morning going through all of her videos.\nIt was enrapturing. The way this girl\u0026rsquo;s voice softly, quietly touched my ears, brushing along their skin like a blanket made of pure velvet. It made me forget where I even was, like I\u0026rsquo;d been spirited away into an endless sea of perfectly lukewarm water, and I was drifting away in it, losing track of where my body started and where it ended. It was just like sitting at the planetarium or the aquarium and getting lost in their scent and their air, but distilled into its barest essence, and I just couldn\u0026rsquo;t get enough of it.\nI knew Yuutenji-san had no idea who I was, and that hundreds of other people listened to her just like I did. Even then, I couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but think\u0026hellip; I had a special connection with her. With the sound of her voice.\nWhen I ran out of videos on her channel, though, and noticed that the last one was uploaded nearly two years ago, I was overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness that weighed on me, like a blanket of stifling summer air, for the rest of the week.\nThat longing still still tugged at my stomach, even then. I\u0026rsquo;d started to think\u0026hellip; that I should try my hand at it myself, like Ano-chan said.\nThat if I could share this\u0026hellip; this feeling with others, it might ease the stinging at the pit my stomach.\nWhen I tried to use that microphone to record myself, though, the words got stuck in my throat, lodged between my chest and larynx, struggling to get out. I knew right away that something was missing.\nI couldn\u0026rsquo;t tell what, at the time. But now, sitting here, with Raana\u0026rsquo;s head nestled in my legs, I realized what I needed.\nI needed\u0026hellip; the warmth of the person listening.\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s eyes narrowed as she stared up at me. \u0026ldquo;Hmmmm,\u0026rdquo; she hummed, snapping me out of my daze.\n\u0026ldquo;Um, so\u0026hellip; maybe you could\u0026hellip; l-let me try it on you?\u0026rdquo;\nAs I spoke, her eyes closed even further, focusing their blue-and-yellow gaze into mine. I recoiled. My heart rattled with anxiety, and I backpedaled.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, I mean, um, o-only if you\u0026hellip; want me to, of course\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe stayed silent. I\u0026rsquo;ve been told I can\u0026rsquo;t read people\u0026rsquo;s expressions so well, but something about the way Raana looked at me made me think I\u0026rsquo;d done something wrong. A bead of sweat ran down my temple, and my heartbeat grew louder. In the dead silence of the studio, its thumping echoed loud enough to make the sides of my head hurt.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Okay.\u0026rdquo; Raana finally mumbled out an answer, her mouth curling into a slight smile. Her eyes returned to their usual shape. They looked\u0026hellip; inviting, like a pool of warm water.\nHer answer blindsided me. I was convinced that I\u0026rsquo;d crossed a line, and that I\u0026rsquo;d have to apologize, and walk home with a pall of shame and regret hanging over me. I sat there with my mouth agape, and whimpered in confusion. \u0026ldquo;E\u0026hellip;eh?\u0026rdquo;\nThen she shifted her head around in my lap and turned it sideways. A few locks of her white hair moved in concert and fell over her face, and they parted like blades of grass and revealed the pale skin of her right cheek, and the shape of her ear.\nI looked on, entranced. Her cheek looked so soft, tracing that gentle curve around her head, and her ear, which I\u0026rsquo;d never looked at this closely before, was small and cute and perfectly round. I was drawn inexorably towards it.\nThis was a part of her I\u0026rsquo;d never seen before, and that, for some reason, I felt I wasn\u0026rsquo;t supposed to. I raised my hand up to my eyes, and saw that it was trembling ever so slightly.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm?\u0026rdquo; Raana peeked up and towards me, stealing a glance without turning her head back around. \u0026ldquo;Something wrong?\u0026rdquo;\nHer voice sounded low and tired.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah! No, it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I gathered my thoughts, closing my eyes to keep them from the inexplicable allure they\u0026rsquo;d been taken by. \u0026ldquo;Are\u0026hellip; you sure you want me to, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm. I\u0026rsquo;m curious.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Even though I\u0026rsquo;ve\u0026hellip; never done this before?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah.\u0026rdquo; She let her gaze drop, turning it back towards the wall. \u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Cos it\u0026rsquo;s you, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nShe spoke those words in a quiet, sleepy whisper and sent them drifting away like a ship in a bottle. Still, they found their way to me. They broke through the haze that had built up between me and the world beyond my eyes. They rattled violently around in my head. A feeble gasp left my mouth.\nIt was as if a key had slid and turned inside me, unlocking something that had never before seen the light of day. I was certain, all of a sudden, that I had to do this. A strange numbness crept into my palms.\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay. Then\u0026hellip; here I go.\u0026rdquo;\nI leaned in and towards her, my eyes transfixed by the sight of her ear; its outline grew larger and larger in my field of vision, and eventually it seemed to spin like some kind of kaleidoscopic pattern. Almost hypnotized, I realized how close I\u0026rsquo;d gotten once Raana\u0026rsquo;s scent filled my nostrils. It was a familiar scent, but I\u0026rsquo;d never taken in so much of it at once before. She smelled like\u0026hellip; morning dew. Like freshly dried mud and cut grass in a little public park. Warm and disordered, like shed fur from countless stray cats, sickly-sweet like candy. It was absolutely lovely. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t resist; I stopped, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.\nImmediately, something on me moved and shifted. The soft shape of Raana\u0026rsquo;s body resting on mine grew stiff, and I could swear I heard a small, weak, high-pitched squeak.\nFor some reason, this reaction filled me with something like curiosity, but denser, hotter and brighter like a collapsing star. I called out to her, making sure to keep my voice down to a low whisper.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nThe instant I did, Raana jolted upwards, and a shrill pain rang out in my left thigh, radiating outwards. I covered my mouth before I could whimper and shut my eyes to hold back the tears and felt out the shape imprinting on my skin. Sharp, jagged nails, digging into me like roots. It hurt. It hurt like an infinite fractal pattern of pure white-hot feeling spreading across my nerves; I breathed it all in, and she dug in deeper. Something inside me, some part of me tried to ask if I should stop. I didn\u0026rsquo;t let it.\nI took the brush-tipped tool from the plastic case and began brushing Raana\u0026rsquo;s ear with it. The soft white bristles gave way as they touched its skin, then followed along its curvature. As the brush went along its path, I heard ragged, interrupted breaths, growing louder by the second. Her breaths. They sounded forced, raspy and indistinct, like sandpaper being dragged across a granite floor, but it was still, unmistakably, her voice. Its sound was intoxicating. It permeated my senses, seeping through me like black tar. I struggled against it, until I was drowning in it. My limbs began moving on their own. My mouth began speaking on its own. Her nails were still buried in my thigh, but the pain was now someone else\u0026rsquo;s pain, put neatly on display behind a glass pane for me to admire. Swept up in the current, I became a spectator to myself; to something frightening and unfamiliar, a creature of greed and want, unshackled from my usual fear and hesitation. I couldn\u0026rsquo;t stop it. Because I didn\u0026rsquo;t want to. Because I\u0026hellip; liked it.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Here. Does that feel good?\u0026rdquo; I kept going, now reciting lines from Yuutenji-san\u0026rsquo;s videos, playing them back like a tape recorder. As my whispers reached her, Raana\u0026rsquo;s breaths gradually morphed into strange, high pitched mewling noises, ones I\u0026rsquo;d never heard her make before. They were\u0026hellip; cute. Incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly cute. Each one fed into me like fuel being poured into a fire.\n\u0026hellip;At some point, I fully lost control. My memories went blank, like I\u0026rsquo;d fallen unconscious. And then I came to my senses. Raana was still there, her head still on my lap.\nI was overtaken by an acute, stinging sense of guilt.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-chan? Um, I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry! I think I\u0026hellip; I think I got a little\u0026hellip; carried away\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana turned her head, peeking at me with one eye. I jumped. \u0026ldquo;S-sorry, sorry, sorry\u0026hellip; You can, um, you can get up now\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe pushed herself off the floor with one arm, then slowly turned to face me.\nHer breathing was still ragged; her mouth was half open. Beads of sweat were pooled on her forehead, glistening in the light of the studio. And she was\u0026hellip; she was smiling. Grinning, from ear to ear. Her brow was furrowed.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;R-Raana-cha—ah!\u0026rdquo;\nBefore I could finish saying her name, I was splayed out on the floor. The cold, hard wood pressed against my back, Raana\u0026rsquo;s hands pushed into my shoulders, and her teeth sank into my left ear. I could only muster up a small, pathetic whimper in response. It felt like my just deserts. Give, and take.\nShe pulled back and looked me over, wiping her mouth. She still had that smile on her face, that unreadable expression.\nI turned away, unable to face her. \u0026ldquo;Raana-chan\u0026hellip; I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? For what?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;For, doing that to you\u0026hellip; I-I acted really weird, right? I shouldn\u0026rsquo;t have\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No way. It was fun. It was\u0026hellip; new.\u0026rdquo;\nI glanced at her. As she straddled me, her eyes shone with an indescribable light.\n\u0026ldquo;R-really?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Really.\u0026rdquo; Her grin softened into a smile, and she leaned forwards, burying her gaze into me like a dagger. \u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re amazing, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nSomething inside me writhed, tickled and squirmed. She leaned even further in.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m not\u0026hellip; E-eh?!\u0026rdquo;\nHer nose was practically touching mine, so close I could smell the sweetness on her breath, and something\u0026hellip; had caught itself between my legs. Her knee, shoved into me. Her whole self, every bit of her, was pushing towards me, threatening to swallow me whole. Her body radiated with a pleasant, unfamiliar heat.\nShe closed her eyes, pushed even closer, and touched her lips to mine. Lost in her warmth, I let it all happen. Her hand crept up my chest until it touched my collar. She slipped one finger into the knot of my uniform\u0026rsquo;s necktie, pulling it undone. And then, then\u0026hellip;\nRaana jerked backwards, straightening her back at attention. Her eyes darted left, towards the door.\nPulled without warning out of the warm, torpid fog, I could suddenly hear my heart. It was pounding. It was so loud and so fast I thought my head was about to explode.\n\u0026ldquo;C\u0026rsquo;mere.\u0026rdquo; She stood up and forcefully grabbed my hand. I scrambled onto my feet.\n\u0026ldquo;R-Raana-cha–?! W-wait—\u0026rdquo;\nMy words bounced off of her. An uneasy feeling overcame me. It was like I\u0026rsquo;d been just about to sneeze, but couldn\u0026rsquo;t. Like I\u0026rsquo;d been splashed with ice-cold water while sleeping soundly in my futon. It gnawed at my stomach, twinge after twinge.\nRaana dragged me towards the door and unlatched it. Before she could drag me out of the studio, I gathered my strength and pulled on her sleeve.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo; She turned to look at me.\n\u0026ldquo;Why\u0026rsquo;d\u0026hellip; you stop?,\u0026rdquo; I asked.\nShe smirked. \u0026ldquo;Just thought of something more fun.\u0026rdquo;\nWe left the studio, turned towards and through the hallway, went past the reception desk, and up the stairs to the café counter.\nTaki-chan stood behind it, cleaning a parfait glass.\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki.\u0026rdquo; Raana walked up to her, with one hand still holding onto my sleeve.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ha? Stray? \u0026hellip;Tomori?!\u0026rdquo; Taki looked us over. Her mouth was agape. \u0026ldquo;You two are still here?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Rikki.\u0026rdquo; Raana inched closer, tugging at Taki with her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;Ugh. What do you want?\u0026rdquo; She set the clean glass aside with a sigh. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m busy, you know. If you want a parfait, it\u0026rsquo;ll be a few minutes.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana glanced back at me, then back at Taki.\n\u0026ldquo;Come with. I wanna show you something.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/silent-whisper/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eIt was a Tuesday evening in the studio at RiNG. The first studio, the one on the hallway to the left from the reception desk. The one whose soundproof door always makes the same little noise when it shuts, a quiet \u003cem\u003eping\u003c/em\u003e that flies through the air before fading into the acoustic foam on the walls. The studio we practice in the most.\u003cbr\u003e\nThere\u0026rsquo;s other studios here, of course, and we\u0026rsquo;ve been in all of them at this point, but this one is my favorite. I never feel quite right in any of the others, never as calm and present as I do in this one. Every time I find out we have to practice elsewhere, a dull weight drops in my stomach, as if I\u0026rsquo;m saying goodbye to a friend before they leave on a long, winding journey.\u003cbr\u003e\nBut not today. Today, I didn\u0026rsquo;t have to say goodbye.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Silent Whisper"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;The Atlantic puffin spends most of its life, every year from fall until late spring, living out in the open ocean, alone. In late May, however, it finds its way back to the colony where it was born, reunites with its mate, and returns to their nesting site. There they build a burrow together. Though they share responsibilities, the male spends most of his time guarding the nest, while the female spends it incubating her eggs and feeding her hatchlings. They remain there until August, when they part ways, returning to their solitary life at sea.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomorin?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Hey. Tomorin?\u0026rdquo;\nAnon\u0026rsquo;s voice echoed through my mind and slowly crept into focus. I suddenly found myself standing in a quiet, dark room in the aquarium near RiNG.\nNo one was there except for me, and for her, and for our reflection on the reinforced glass, and for the puffins in the exhibit, waddling about beyond it.\nI whimpered as her hand touched my shoulder.\n\u0026ldquo;The presentation\u0026rsquo;s been over for a while now, y\u0026rsquo;know? C\u0026rsquo;mon, let\u0026rsquo;s go get those crepes!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah.\u0026rdquo; I turned to look at her, still shaking off the haze of restless thoughts blanketing me. She was wearing her thick-rimmed glasses\u0026hellip; I think she\u0026rsquo;d said at some point that she forgot to pick up her new contacts. The frame made her eyes appear unusually shiny and pretty.\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry.\u0026rdquo; I tried to draw my attention away from her eyes and began to explain myself. \u0026ldquo;I started\u0026hellip; thinking\u0026hellip; and all this time just, passed\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm?\u0026rdquo; She leaned forwards, and I flinched. Her sharp canine showed through her smile, and on it shone the dull, azure lighting in the room. \u0026ldquo;Something on your mind? Tell me, tell me!\u0026rdquo;\nHer probing made me shrink into myself.\nI tried to put my thoughts into words, but as I did I became more and more certain that anything I said would just sound strange and offputting. I thought better of it.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-it\u0026rsquo;s nothing. Don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; don\u0026rsquo;t worry about it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmm\u0026hellip; Well, if you say so!\u0026rdquo; She smiled, and relief washed over me like a high tide.\nAno-chan can be a little\u0026hellip; forceful, sometimes. But she\u0026rsquo;s kind, too.\n\u0026ldquo;C\u0026rsquo;mon, then!\u0026rdquo; She took my arm and pulled me along. I quickly gave in and followed her. \u0026ldquo;This place gets busy quick, okay?\u0026rdquo;\nA different day.\nIt was evening, an hour or so after school.\nWinter had started to set in, and so the sky was already dark, and dotted with stars, despite the time.\nI sat on the penumbra of a sterile white streetlight, at the edge of an empty coin-op parking lot. The vines on the walls behind it reflected a dull, alien mint green as they twisted around the faded sign of an abandoned live house.\nMy fingers were running slowly through soft mottled fur. The calico cat I was petting purred, shifted around on my lap, and opened one eye in my direction; and its shine cut through the moonless night, and sent a shiver down my spine.\nI turned my head. Raana was next to me.\nShe sat cross-legged, petting a black cat as it slept by her side. Her body leaned against mine. We\u0026rsquo;d been here, sitting in silence among cats and crickets, for so long that her weight had faded into the recesses of my mind, blending in like background noise.\nIn the quiet and the dark, my thoughts began wandering. Restlessly. They tugged at my chest, lightly at first but growing stronger and stronger, until I couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but speak them aloud.\n\u0026ldquo;S-say, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm?\u0026rdquo; She opened her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;We both\u0026hellip; go to all-girls\u0026rsquo; schools, right?\u0026rdquo; I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Mm.\u0026rdquo; She nodded.\n\u0026ldquo;Don\u0026rsquo;t you think that\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; strange? A\u0026hellip; school you can only go to if you\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; a girl\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I continued. I felt my own words choking me up a little.\n\u0026ldquo;School\u0026rsquo;s just weird,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered, without even stopping to think. \u0026ldquo;They have all these silly made-up rules. I just listen \u0026lsquo;cos I don\u0026rsquo;t wanna get scolded.\u0026rdquo; Her lips pouted, ever so slightly, as she said this.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I pondered her words. \u0026ldquo;But, I think those are\u0026hellip; for your own good\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I recalled Mom telling me the same thing, years ago.\nRaana clicked her tongue in response. \u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s dumb. I know what\u0026rsquo;s good for me.\u0026rdquo; Her tone felt darker than normal, and hearing it made me a little scared.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;But I like the uniform,\u0026rdquo; she resumed. She tugged playfully at her skirt.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you do\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;, I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s comfy.\u0026rdquo; She kicked her legs outwards. \u0026ldquo;Easy to move in.\u0026rdquo;\nI looked down at myself, and tugged at the collar of my blazer.\nI thought about those days, which came and went every so often, where its fabric felt unbelievably suffocating, so much so that I felt an urge to tear it off; or the ones where it felt like the skin exposed by my skirt itched like a thousand fire-ant bites when the air brushed up against it, and I wanted to run away from class and wrap my whole body in a blanket; or the ones where, somehow, I felt both ways at once.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; I think mine is a little\u0026hellip; uncomfortable, sometimes\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I muttered. Or maybe I only thought it. I wasn\u0026rsquo;t sure.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmm.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana leaned over and rested her chin on my shoulder.\nI tilted my head, wondering what she was thinking, and when I did, she poked my cheek with her index finger.\nI jumped. A noise came out of my mouth. She giggled.\n\u0026ldquo;Hehe.\u0026rdquo;\nThe weight of her gaze, lingering and pushing up against me, began to feel like too much for me to bear. I searched around for somewhere else to rest my eyes–and found them drawn downwards.\nToward her legs.\nThey looked\u0026hellip; so smooth, and so soft, bathing in the dim moonlight. The pleats lining her plaid skirt folded and creased between her thighs, forming pretty fractal patterns in the cloth; her beige top hugged the slight curves of her body, rising and falling alongside it; its little red ribbon floated gently over her chest, hanging below her collar fold; and framed by it I saw the lines of her collarbone, shaded by her pale skin, meeting in the middle, and then fading away.\nIt all seemed to fit her perfectly. She seemed at home, just as comfortable as she said she was, like she was meant to wear it, and I couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but wonder why.\nWhy she seemed that way.\nWhy I felt so off when I wore my own uniform and saw myself in the mirror.\nWas I\u0026hellip; doing something wrong?\nRaana ducked forward and locked eyes with me once again. Hers were half-closed into an unreadable squint; she was still smiling.\nI recoiled and averted my eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori. You\u0026rsquo;re different today,\u0026rdquo; she whispered.\nI gasped under my breath; I didn\u0026rsquo;t think I was letting it show. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; am?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. You\u0026rsquo;re always calm when you\u0026rsquo;re here. But today you\u0026rsquo;re restless. I can feel it.\u0026rdquo;\nI tensed up as she continued. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s kinda funny.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;F-funny\u0026hellip; how?\u0026rdquo; As usual, I couldn\u0026rsquo;t figure out what she meant.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm\u0026hellip; like you\u0026rsquo;re all on edge and it makes me wanna mess with you.\u0026rdquo; She smirked.\nThe hairs on my back stood on end. I mouthed a weak \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;please don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026rdquo; while staring at the ground below us.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s up?,\u0026rdquo; she asked, with her face still close to mine, still held in the same smile.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip; um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I tried to explain myself, but couldn\u0026rsquo;t untangle the knot in my stomach. \u0026ldquo;N-no, it\u0026rsquo;s nothing\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Liar. Tell me,\u0026rdquo; she cut in, tugging on that knot. It hurt.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, I\u0026hellip; there\u0026rsquo;s just\u0026hellip; something I\u0026rsquo;ve been thinking about\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-well\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnon and I sat inside the crepe shop by the aquarium.\nI was watching my reflection dance along the surface of a glass of orange juice; I twirled a straw around it and watched my face skew and muddle amid the ripples before slowly settling back into shape. Its sight was making my head feel strange; even more than it normally did; but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t get myself to turn away.\nAt some point, Anon had started talking about\u0026hellip; something. I don\u0026rsquo;t know what. I felt bad, but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t focus well enough to process a single word of it.\nI just kept staring, and staring, at myself staring back at me, until one thought wriggled through a murky sea of doubt and hesitation and found its way out of my mouth in an aimless whisper.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Am I\u0026hellip; a\u0026hellip; female?\u0026rdquo;\nI heard a strange, sudden, gulping sound. Anon seemed to be having trouble swallowing her iced tea.\nSome of it flew out of her mouth, and she coughed once or twice; then she wiped herself off with a white cloth napkin and stared at me for a while.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She put a finger up to her chin and let her eyes wander, humming along. Her pensive expression felt right at home under her glasses. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I guess you are? I\u0026hellip; think so?\u0026rdquo; Her voice carried an unsteady lilt. \u0026ldquo;But that\u0026rsquo;s, like\u0026hellip; up to you, though, isn\u0026rsquo;t it?\u0026rdquo;\nHer words shook me out of my stupor like a cold breeze.\n\u0026ldquo;U-Up\u0026hellip; to me?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah! Like, it\u0026rsquo;s your choice, y\u0026rsquo;know? We\u0026rsquo;re in the Reiwa era, after all! Be what you wanna be, and all that!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What I\u0026hellip; want to be\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nI looked into the orange juice again, and found that I seemed even more distorted than before,\nso I stirred the liquid with the straw until the image twisted away, into nothingness.\nI took the calico on my lap and lifted it up slightly, towards Raana. It mewled in response.\n\u0026ldquo;This cat is\u0026hellip; i-it\u0026rsquo;s a female, right?,\u0026rdquo; I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm?\u0026rdquo; She eyed it for a second, then looked back up at me and answered—\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s a cat.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A\u0026hellip; a female cat, right\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo; I tried gently to turn it over, just to make sure.\n\u0026ldquo;A cat,\u0026rdquo; she repeated, confidently.\nI turned her answer over in my head, trying to make sense of it.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s just a cat?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah.\u0026rdquo; She nodded.\n\u0026ldquo;B-but\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I looked down at it, and realized that it was staring back at me. It mewled one more time.\nMy stomach burned with anxiety as Raana simply waited on my next word, and I began to ramble. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026hellip; it has\u0026hellip; to\u0026hellip; breed and raise its kittens, and, and feed them, and—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana cut me off.\nI tried to speak and realized that her finger was touching my lips, holding them shut. I barely stopped myself from yelping in response.\nShe was staring right at me, and er eyes seemed all of a sudden to be burning with an intensity I\u0026rsquo;d only ever seen her show on stage. Her usual, unconcerned smile had faded away.\n\u0026ldquo;A cat does what it wants,\u0026rdquo; she said, in a low voice; stern, but\u0026hellip; somehow, reassuring.\nWhat it wants.\nWhat\u0026hellip; I want.\nThose words had been seared into my mind since yesterday. I felt their shape rear its head as Raana spoke them.\nI\u0026rsquo;d spent my whole life so far just living how I was told. Trying my best not to get in anyone\u0026rsquo;s way. I watched as everyone around me talked about their hopes, their dreams, their desires; but I could never feel the pull they all felt.\n\u0026hellip;Not until two years ago, that is.\nBeing in a band finally showed me the sheer weight of that pull. Of that overwhelming, inescapable want other people felt so readily.\nBut I\u0026rsquo;d never considered why.\nMaybe, I thought, it was because it let me escape.\nBecause it was a refuge.\nA refuge from the crushing, asphyxiating, sickening burden of having to\u0026hellip; be myself. Of having to stand on my own, to draw a line in the sand around my feet.\nIt was incredibly comforting, I realized, to simply be\u0026hellip; part of something greater.\nBut it made being pulled away and singled out hurt all the more.\nEventually, once my heartbeat settled, I leaned towards her and stammered out a question.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026hellip; um, what do you want? Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Me?\u0026rdquo; Her head tilted aside.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yeah. \u0026hellip;I wanna know.\u0026rdquo;\nShe replied right away. \u0026ldquo;I wanna play guitar. And I wanna\u0026hellip; eat sweets.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Something in my guts turned as I listened to her.\nHer answer didn\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; feel like what I wanted. I thought she might have misunderstood me. \u0026ldquo;I-I mean, besides that\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmmm\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She let her eyes drift off and up towards the night sky, and she scratched her chin, before turning back to me. \u0026ldquo;Nope, nothing.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; think about all the stuff people always talk about? Like\u0026hellip; getting\u0026hellip; married, or\u0026hellip; starting a family\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Boring. No.\u0026rdquo; Her voice turned sharp and drove straight through me, but I couldn\u0026rsquo;t hold myself back any longer. I kept talking.\n\u0026ldquo;B-but you\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; a female, right? Uh, I mean, um. A girl.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I am?\u0026rdquo; She sounded so much softer, all of a sudden.\n\u0026ldquo;A-aren\u0026rsquo;t you\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmmmmmmm.\u0026rdquo; Her face began to contort, and her gaze wandered elsewhere. \u0026ldquo;Hmmm.\u0026rdquo;\nShe paused.\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you don\u0026rsquo;t know\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo; I asked.\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno. Don\u0026rsquo;t care,\u0026rdquo; she continued.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-you don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; B-but what would you be, if not\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; I said, though I felt my own thoughts choking up in my throat.\nShe turned her hand over and extended her index finger, pointing it at herself.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana.\u0026rdquo;\nI sat and looked at her. Her expression was even harder to parse than usual. I hid my face behind my knees.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-I don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; know\u0026hellip; what I want,\u0026rdquo; I finally whispered, and felt my mouth quiver with every word.\nWhen I did, the knot in my stomach untangled itself; but as it did it unleashed something, an indescribable feeling, cold like sleet and tacky like freshly dampened mud, and it washed all at once over my body, making me tremble.\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s fine,\u0026rdquo; Raana answered. Her tone remained both forceful and gentle. \u0026ldquo;Just don\u0026rsquo;t let anyone else tell you.\u0026rdquo;\nThe shivers slowed down just a little.\nI sat in silence, catching my breath, gasp by gasp.\n\u0026hellip;Then, something took shape in my mind.\nI realized what it was that made Raana feel so distant, yet so hard to look away from. What it was that made my skin feel itchy and warm every time I saw her play her guitar, every time she turned towards me and wordlessly smiled.\nShe\u0026rsquo;s lost. We all are. But she\u0026rsquo;s free. She does what she wants; she knows what she wants.\nI pictured the shackles that have bound my limbs for my whole life, holding me back, gouging into the skin on my wrists and ankles every time I struggled hopelessly against them.\nAnd I wondered how it might feel to be like her.\nOn that night, I decided.\nThat I\u0026rsquo;d follow her, until I could learn how to want for myself.\n","permalink":"/works/who-you-are-what-you-want/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u0026ldquo;The Atlantic puffin spends most of its life, every year from fall until late spring, living out in the open ocean, alone. In late May, however, it finds its way back to the colony where it was born, reunites with its mate, and returns to their nesting site. There they build a burrow together. Though they share responsibilities, the male spends most of his time guarding the nest, while the female spends it incubating her eggs and feeding her hatchlings. They remain there until August, when they part ways, returning to their solitary life at sea.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Who You Are, What You Want"},{"content":"\u0026ldquo;Dad. Could you\u0026hellip; teach me how to cook?\u0026rdquo;\nThe instant that Takamatsu Tomori got home from band practice, she shut the front door behind her, walked in a brisk straight line from the apartment entryway, past a doorway, and into the kitchen, and posed her father a question, unadorned with greetings or pleasantries.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Welcome home, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\nSaid father, full name Takamatsu Yoshiji, stood over the sink, washing a small load of dishes. He wore a worn beige apron that was stained with splashes of soapy water, and seemed not one bit surprised nor concerned by his daughter\u0026rsquo;s behavior. He turned to her and greeted her with a knowing smile.\nShe kept silent, though. And she simply stood there, looking at him, the fire of unsullied resolve burning in her eyes. It seemed she wasn\u0026rsquo;t in the mood for social ritual. He was plenty used to her getting like this by now, though it had gotten a little rarer since she\u0026rsquo;d turned twelve or thirteen. She wasn\u0026rsquo;t going to stand down until she got an answer; he knew that much.\n\u0026ldquo;Yes, yes, of course I\u0026rsquo;ll teach you.\u0026rdquo; So he gave her her answer. At this that fire in her eyes turned into sparkles of delight, and she beamed and let out an unconscious, idiosyncratic little mouth-sound of both joy and relief while squeezing her hands into fists. A trademark tic among many others, and Yoshiji had gotten to know this one before she\u0026rsquo;d even said her first word, but still it never got old.\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s got you so interested, though? You\u0026rsquo;ve never been the type.\u0026rdquo; He mused. Though he loved his child no matter how difficult she was to raise, he did admit to himself, grudgingly, that he was relieved there was at least one life skill he didn\u0026rsquo;t have to somehow coerce her into learning. \u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You know, until you were ten you didn\u0026rsquo;t even want to come into the kitchen while I was cooking because it scared you so much.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nThe stars in Tomori\u0026rsquo;s eyes parted, and the strength in her fists faded away. She seemed to have all at once become lost in thought, like she was busy fighting something off in her head; a subtle groan of hesitation escaped her, then another. But just as quickly it all returned to her, and she spoke with renewed determination.\n\u0026ldquo;Um, so—\u0026rdquo;\nActually\u0026hellip; it still scared her.\nHer father\u0026rsquo;s recollection had drawn her eyes toward the cast-iron pan hanging from the wall behind the counter, toward the way the sunlight from the window painted a stark white stripe across its unknowable, pitch-black surface and emphasized the rough, irregular patterns of the metal. She remembered the sound it made when it was hot and covered in oil, the violent, squirming, liquid-y white noise that seared her eardrums and made her want to run and hide in her bed–and soon after that followed the smell, the waxy, slippery smell of grease that always managed to feel its way into her gut and give her bouts of nausea.\nIt all still scared her just as much as it did five years ago. She\u0026rsquo;d just learned to put up with it, because being a burden had at some point started to scare her more than anything.\nOf course, the thought of standing in front of the stove, inches away from that noise and that smell, made her stomach turn and turn and turn with anxiety. But things were different now. She had a mission.\nAnd though she would never put it this way herself, anyone who knew Tomori knew that when she had a mission, she let absolutely nothing get in her way.\nCup ramen.\nInstant curry.\nTuna mayo onigiri, and Morinaga jelly.\nAs Tomori recalled, she had walked into the RiNG studio that afternoon to find Taki and Anon (that is, Taki-chan and Ano-chan) chatting away and, not wanting to bother them, shrunk into a corner and listened. She found herself almost wishing she hadn\u0026rsquo;t.\nThe things she heard Taki-chan say as she elucidated her eating habits had torn a hole in her gentle fragile heart. She said that she \u0026ldquo;doesn\u0026rsquo;t care what she eats as long as it\u0026rsquo;s filling.\u0026rdquo; That on most nights she just makes cup ramen or instant curry, or sometimes she picks something up from a convenience store on the way home. And that when she\u0026rsquo;s really busy she\u0026rsquo;ll subsist purely on pouches of Morinaga energy jelly as she burned the midnight oil.\nOf course there was nothing wrong with cup ramen and instant curry. Tomori liked them just fine, and though sometimes she wished they would be a little gentler (because the way the salt and the MSG and the other seasonings flooded her tastebuds was way too much to handle if she wasn\u0026rsquo;t in the right mood), she couldn\u0026rsquo;t deny their convenience. And she liked convenience store food too, especially when they had limited-run themed items, though to her dismay she had been banned from outright collecting them for sanitary reasons. It was all fine. There was nothing wrong with any of it. But. But.\nPutting it all together, the picture it painted made her so, so\u0026hellip; unbelievably\u0026hellip; sad.\nScared of the stove and the roaring of the pan as Tomori was, she did respect them. She felt grateful to them, for helping Dad show her his love, for letting the two of them–the three of them, if she was lucky and Mom\u0026rsquo;s shifts were light–share those little moments around the kitchen table. Even when they felt a little awkward, or when the food didn\u0026rsquo;t agree with her palate (which was rare these days, as Yoshiji had over the years turned Tomori-cooking into a veritable art form), she treasured them all the same. There was just something\u0026hellip; special about it all.\nShe couldn\u0026rsquo;t quite put it into words. Maybe into lyrics, if she tried.\nBack in reality, once her two bandmates noticed her, they cut their conversation short, greeted her, and started getting their instruments ready. Tomori didn\u0026rsquo;t remember the rest of the practice session very well. Only that she definitely wasn\u0026rsquo;t at her best.\nLater, as Taki accompanied her on her way home, she thought and thought about how to broach the subject. She mulled it over during the walk to the station, and on the tram, and even as they climbed the stairs up the Chitose footbridge.\n\u0026ldquo;—Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; She stopped as they walked side by side over the highway.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Hm? What\u0026rsquo;s up, Tomori?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;When\u0026hellip; when was the last time you\u0026hellip; ate a home-cooked meal?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki took a second to gather her thoughts. She seemed taken aback by the directness of the question. Still, she answered.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ah. Honestly, I don\u0026rsquo;t remember. It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; been a while. How come?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori looked down at her feet, trying to hide the forlorn look those words had put on her face. She didn\u0026rsquo;t even remember.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I-It\u0026rsquo;s nothing. Don\u0026rsquo;t worry about it. Um, see you on Thursday!\u0026rdquo;\nRushing through her words, she bolted away and towards her home, leaving Taki standing on the bridge, bemused.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;And, so, that\u0026rsquo;s why.\u0026rdquo; Tomori finished explaining and stopped to catch her breath. She had at some point set her bookbag down on the kitchen table.\n\u0026ldquo;So you want to cook for her, huh? That\u0026rsquo;s sweet.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yeah. I really do.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Well, I was just planning on making some fried rice for dinner. I bet you could handle that with a little help.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori beamed again, visibly brimming with excitement.\n\u0026ldquo;But first, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026rsquo;s up, Dad?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You walked in here with your shoes on, you know.\u0026rdquo;\nHe pointed downwards, and she looked down at her feet. Just as he said, her school moccasins were still on them, dirtying the kitchen tiles. She jumped, stammered out something like \u0026ldquo;a-ah! Sorry sorry sorry!\u0026rdquo;, and sprinted back towards the entryway.\nYoshiji looked at her as she shrank away, and felt a strange kind of pride well up in his chest. He thought to himself—ah, Hikari, we\u0026rsquo;ve raised such an interesting girl.\nThey began to set the mise-en-place. Tomori held onto the kitchen knife with a shaky, anxious grip, and let her father guide her hands through the motions of dicing a yellow onion. They cut it first into two halves, then into concentric slices, then into little cubes. She shuddered as she first heard the crunching sound of cell walls breaking open, releasing their enzymes and their pungent smell, making her nose and eyes crawl with a tingling itch; but she kept going as she was told and shown, and she slowly settled into a comfortable rhythm.\nLeft to work on her own, she cut up a green bell pepper and two large carrots. Their grassy vegetal scent calmed her anxiety, reminding her of the sweet, gentle flavor they both took on once they cooked. She had long struggled with the bad habit of eating them all first, then moping and playing with her food as she had to finish the rest of the meal without them.\nThe dish called for four scrambled eggs, and so Yoshiji tried to show her how to crack the shell just so, so that it would break open and yield its white and its yolk without leaving any shards behind. Tomori shuddered and averted her eyes as the calcium-protein walls shattered against the gave with a pathetic thud, and the fragile barrier gave way to life itself, a golden sun shining in a sea of clear water. She tried to bear it and watch and learn, she really did, but in the end, she excused herself while her father cracked and cooked the eggs by himself.\nOnce they were mixed together, denatured by the heat of the pan into a solid yellow mass, she could bear to be in the kitchen again. She decided, at that moment, that she would not be serving Taki eggs of any sort.\nTomori wore a strained, pensive look on her face. She was visibly gripping the bookbag on her lap and staring down at the worn-down floor of the tram, painted amber by the setting sun. She didn\u0026rsquo;t seem to notice the occasional, furtive glances in her direction.\nTaki was very, very curious about what was on her mind, of course. She always was; she relished every time she spoke to her, gave her a glimpse into her world. But she knew that it was best to let her be. To let her sit alone with her thoughts, until, no, unless she decided she wanted to share them. It\u0026rsquo;s not like it was any of her business, either way. There\u0026rsquo;s no need to bother her. It\u0026rsquo;s better that way.\nThe tram rattled and slowed into the Kishibojin-mae stop, and Taki shook her head to clear her thoughts. She said, in a nearly whispered voice, \u0026ldquo;Tomori, we\u0026rsquo;re here,\u0026rdquo; hoping to coax her as gently as possible out of her own mind, and stood up from her seat. Or she tried to.\nShe felt a sudden pressure on her right thigh. Then, after an instant, the unmistakable warmth of a human hand.\nThe strength drained all at once from her legs, and she looked down, then slowly, cautiously followed the hand pressing down on her leg, along its gray blazer sleeve, until her eyes met Tomori\u0026rsquo;s.\nShe let out a little whimper, and immediately covered her mouth.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-Tomori? Wh-wha, what\u0026rsquo;s, what\u0026rsquo;s up?\u0026rdquo; She stammered, her gaze suddenly darting across every corner and seat in the tram car, trying its best not to linger in any one place. She could feel the heat flashing across her face, and hoped to God it didn\u0026rsquo;t show.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s face was painted with an intense, unreadable expression. And her voice rang sharp yet smooth, clean through Taki\u0026rsquo;s heart.\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yes?\u0026rdquo; Her head was starting to feel funny.\n\u0026ldquo;Let me go to your house.\u0026rdquo; She spoke without a hint of her usual hesitation.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;O-okay. Haha. Yeah. Why not? Sure.\u0026rdquo; Her mouth had gone fully into autopilot, as every neuron in her brain was firing on all cylinders trying to process her current situation. Tomori responded with a silent nod.\nAt some point, the hand had apparently left her thigh, and they had ridden two stops down to Omokagebashi station. Taki did not remember even a second of it.\n\u0026ldquo;Is\u0026hellip; Is there a grocery store around here?\u0026rdquo;\nTomori asked, scanning the neighborhood with her eyes as they both stepped out of the tram.\n\u0026ldquo;Huh? Oh,\u0026rdquo; Taki snapped out of her stupor, though she was still looking away and rubbing her hand over her thigh. \u0026ldquo;Yeah, it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; there\u0026rsquo;s one just down that street, over there.\u0026rdquo; She pointed south.\nAt this Tomori turned and immediately walked away, towards the street, and Taki stood there and watched, dumbfounded. But as she steadily grew smaller in the distance, a sense of worry overpowered her confusion, and she set off, if only to make sure Tomori didn\u0026rsquo;t run into any trouble.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m home.\u0026rdquo; Taki mouthed a formality to no one in particular as she unlocked her front door and stepped into the still darkness of her family home. She took off her shoes, let Tomori in and closed the door behind her. As Tomori walked in, she looked around, at the furniture and the decorations, with a twinge of fascination in her eyes.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;It\u0026rsquo;s dark.\u0026rdquo; She spoke, in a nearly inaudible whisper.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, um, I don\u0026rsquo;t normally have the lights on.\u0026rdquo; Almost never; she liked it better that way. It\u0026rsquo;d been so long since she had someone over, she hadn\u0026rsquo;t even considered how it might come off. \u0026ldquo;Is it too dark for you, Tomori? I can turn them on if you\u0026rsquo;d like\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No, it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; fine. It\u0026rsquo;s kind of\u0026hellip; peaceful.\u0026rdquo; Her eyes lingered on the moonlit shapes dotting the living room.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah. Okay.\u0026rdquo; Taki felt a weight come off her shoulders. She walked over and set two bags of groceries down on her coffee table. \u0026ldquo;So, um\u0026hellip; what are you planning on doing with these?\u0026rdquo; She looked over at Tomori, and carefully worded a question.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m making you dinner, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;H-ha?!\u0026rdquo; Though in hindsight there weren\u0026rsquo;t many other reasonable answers to that question, she hadn\u0026rsquo;t even considered this one. It caught her completely off guard.\nTomori recoiled at Taki\u0026rsquo;s reaction, a cloud of dejection visibly settling over her. \u0026ldquo;Do you not\u0026hellip; want me to?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No, no, no, it\u0026rsquo;s not that I don\u0026rsquo;t,\u0026rdquo; Taki panicked, then averted her eyes, and slowly, excruciatingly, a mass of guilt knotted up in her stomach. \u0026ldquo;I just\u0026hellip; you really don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; need to go out of your way for me like that, y\u0026rsquo;know\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnd then Tomori ran up to her. The sound of her shoes hitting the hardwood floor made Taki freeze up, and before she realized what was happening, her hand was clasped between Tomori\u0026rsquo;s palms.\n\u0026ldquo;But I\u0026rsquo;m not. I want to.\u0026rdquo;\nThe fire in her eyes set Taki\u0026rsquo;s thoughts alight. She started frantically working backwards through her memory, trying to figure out if she was dreaming, or somehow hallucinating. Maybe she\u0026rsquo;d gotten hit by one of those little white kei trucks while walking home, and this was nothing but the sensory artifice of the final few electrical impulses firing through her synapses.\nTomori let go of her hand and let her expression soften. She furrowed her brow, trying to find her words. \u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; Could you, show me to the kitchen?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki stood there wordless for entirely too long before finally processing the question. \u0026ldquo;Huhwha? \u0026hellip;Oh! Yeah, of course!\u0026rdquo;\nShe\u0026rsquo;d made up her mind while she was in there. This had to be a dream. And if it was, then maybe it was okay for her to enjoy it. Just a little.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\nTomori\u0026rsquo;s voice had softened. It seemed like whatever had taken over her on the tram had finally loosened its grip on her, and she sounded like normal again; her gentle whispered timbre, the cute little gasps, stutters and considered pauses dotting her every sentence.\nThis put Taki\u0026rsquo;s mind at ease. The familiarity. Not that she\u0026rsquo;d never seen Tomori act like that before, far from it. But she\u0026rsquo;d never felt its weight herself, and she didn\u0026rsquo;t know how to handle it.\nTomori always shone so brightly, from afar, from a safe distance. But up close, she burned.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What\u0026rsquo;s up, Tomori?\u0026rdquo; Taki swallowed her thoughts and responded, with a soft tenderness tracing through her words.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Do, do your parents both work late? I\u0026hellip; sort of\u0026hellip; expected them to be around. Or, or your, um, sister\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Ah.\u0026rdquo; Of course. It\u0026rsquo;s natural that this would come up. A high school girl spending this much time home alone would catch anyone\u0026rsquo;s attention. Taki turned away as she answered.\n\u0026ldquo;They\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; They\u0026rsquo;re away. Onee-chan, too. She\u0026rsquo;s been living in a dorm for a bit.\u0026rdquo; She tried to stay composed, but still a splash of vinegar found its way into her tone.\nOnce she looked back, Tomori was smiling. A beautiful, gentle smile. It captivated her, so suddenly that she almost forgot to be confused by her reaction.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Taki-chan, you call her \u0026lsquo;Onee-chan\u0026rsquo;\u0026hellip; That\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; That\u0026rsquo;s cute\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nA hot flash swept through Taki\u0026rsquo;s head.\n\u0026ldquo;H-hah? Really? Y-you think so? Isn\u0026rsquo;t it normal? It\u0026rsquo;s pretty normal to call your sister that, I think?\u0026rdquo; She started scratching the back of her head, and letting her eyes dance restlessly around the room.\n\u0026ldquo;Um\u0026hellip; I guess so\u0026hellip; It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; just not what I imagined, that\u0026rsquo;s all\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s smile faded slightly. Her fingers fidgeted off each other.\n\u0026ldquo;Aha, really? Well, um, uh, thanks.\u0026rdquo; Taki had completely failed to fight off the ridiculous-looking grin creeping around the corners of her mouth. She hoped Tomori wouldn\u0026rsquo;t notice.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Um, I\u0026rsquo;ll be\u0026hellip; heading to the kitchen now. Can I\u0026hellip; turn the light on in there?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Huh? Oh! Y-Yeah, of course. I\u0026rsquo;ll just\u0026hellip; be in my room working on a song. Tell me if you need anything, okay, Tomori?\u0026rdquo;\nShe nodded, turned and left, gingerly making her way into the kitchen. Taki watched her back, rubbing her cheek all the while, feeling its warmth.\nTaki ran into her bedroom, dove into her bed and grabbed a pillow, shoved her face into it and made a series of strange, inhuman sounds with her mouth. She kicked her feet up and down, playing the memory back in her head, over and over. Cute. She called her cute. Seriously.\nShe squeezed the pillow hard, then let out a long, tired sigh, letting her muscles relax.\nThe heat welling up in her head slowly gave way to bitter cold. A mysterious feeling tied itself into a knot in her stomach. She laid there, her vision still eclipsed by the darkness of her satin pillow case, trying to process it.\nSurely, she thought, she should be happy to be called \u0026lsquo;cute\u0026rsquo; by Tomori. Overjoyed, even. And part of her was. It really was. But another couldn\u0026rsquo;t help but feel like she\u0026rsquo;d somehow\u0026hellip; disappointed her. Like she\u0026rsquo;d failed to live up to the Taki in her mind. Childish. She\u0026rsquo;d let her guard down.\nShe let out another sigh, this one low, weak and creaky with despondence, and let her thoughts pile on and bury her into a suffocating slumber.\nA voice.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;T-Taki\u0026hellip;-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nIt cut through the haze, whispery and hesitant.\n\u0026ldquo;Mmrgh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nA hand. It touched her shoulder and prodded gently, timidly against it.\n\u0026ldquo;T-Taki-chan\u0026hellip; Um\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mmmgh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTaki rolled over, struggling against the weight of her own eyelids. She rubbed them with one hand, trying to wash off the weight of sleep.\nTomori was standing over her, a look of innocent worry on her face. Her sight woke Taki up like a ristretto shot.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I-I\u0026rsquo;m sorry for waking you up, but.. dinner\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; ready\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Oh. Jeez, how long was I out for\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Um, I think it\u0026rsquo;s been\u0026hellip; an hour\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\nTaki sat up and held her head in her hands.\n\u0026ldquo;You didn\u0026rsquo;t run into any trouble?,\u0026rdquo; she asked as they headed into the dining room.\nTomori shook her head. \u0026ldquo;Not at all\u0026hellip; I-I think it turned out really well, actually\u0026hellip;! Your kitchen\u0026rsquo;s really tidy, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah. Thanks.\u0026rdquo; Well, of course it was. It didn\u0026rsquo;t see much use, after all.\nThe two girls sat across from each other at the dining table. The plates in front of them held a colorful stir-fry of chicken and vegetables, still lightly steaming. Tomori\u0026rsquo;s gaze was fixed on Taki, and her arms were fixed on her lap as she eagerly awaited her judgment.\n\u0026ldquo;G-go ahead. Dig in, Taki-chan.\u0026rdquo; Her voice quivered with anticipation.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Y-yeah. Um, thanks for the food.\u0026rdquo; She clasped her hands together as she looked over her plate.\nIt was a stir fry, certainly. But there was something\u0026hellip; unusual about it. It lacked a certain balance Taki had grown used to from her mother\u0026rsquo;s cooking. Namely, the ratio of red bell peppers was completely off. They were definitely taking up a full two thirds of the meal, drowning the rest of the ingredients in a sea of fibery crimson. And it gave off an unusual smell - not bad, but uncharacteristically sweet.\nTaki looked at the lopsided dish with a smile on her face. So that\u0026rsquo;s how she likes it, she thought. A quiet sigh left her mouth as she picked up her chopsticks.\n\u0026ldquo;A-ah, wait!\u0026rdquo; Tomori suddenly piped up.\n\u0026ldquo;Eh\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Actually, t-there\u0026rsquo;s something I\u0026rsquo;ve always\u0026hellip; wanted to try\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nShe fished out a piece of chicken from her own plate and held it out towards Taki.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. S-say aah.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; At this, she became completely and utterly paralyzed in an instant. In that frozen single moment, Taki became certain that she must be the victim of some cosmic joke.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Taki-chan?\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s expression turned to worry.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;\u0026hellip;\u0026hellip;\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-sorry, sorry!\u0026rdquo; She began to panic. \u0026ldquo;Is, is this weird? Ano-chan\u0026hellip; does it with me all the time, so—\u0026rdquo;\nBefore she could finish explaining herself, Taki wordlessly lurched forward and took the food into her mouth, her eyes still clinging onto the middle distance.\n\u0026ldquo;O-oh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori sighed in a mix of relief and confusion.\nAnd the flavor of pan-fried chicken breast washed over Taki\u0026rsquo;s mouth, dimmed and tempered by the skewed sweet flavor of the seasoning blend. As it traveled along her tongue and alit on her taste buds, it painted a faint picture in her mind. A picture of home. A home she didn\u0026rsquo;t have, one that she\u0026rsquo;d forgotten she wanted. It all rushed back into view, all from one bite of this overseasoned yet undersalted piece of chicken.\nShe closed her eyes. They started to tickle.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Taki-chan? Ah\u0026hellip; I-is it\u0026hellip; that bad?\u0026rdquo; Tomori\u0026rsquo;s voice found its way past her thoughts.\n\u0026ldquo;E\u0026hellip;eh? N-no, no\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Taki opened her eyes and found her vision blurry. She rubbed them with one hand on instinct.\n\u0026ldquo;But,\u0026rdquo; Tomori said, leaning in, her brow furrowed with concern, \u0026ldquo;you\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; crying\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no, it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s nothing.\u0026rdquo; She took her chopsticks, and started stuffing food into her mouth, alternating between pieces of chicken and strips of pepper, trying to assuage Tomori, and to drown out the roiling wave of emotion welling up within her.\nBut it only fueled the fire. The pungent sweetness of the pepper seemed to send her tear ducts into overdrive. She kept chewing through it, so hard her jaw started to hurt, but to no avail. Soon enough a sob escaped her, then another, and another.\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori sat and watched her, her attention pulled fully away from her food.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Taki finally swallowed her food, with considerable difficulty. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m\u0026hellip; fffine\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Her voice tapered out into a pathetic little creak. She kept wiping her tears. But they wouldn\u0026rsquo;t stop.\nWith her eyes too wet to see, she heard the floorboards creak and footsteps pass her by. Ah, she thought, she\u0026rsquo;s finally had enough of me. Of course she has. Just look at me.\nShe closed her eyes and felt the tears squeeze out of them, and sat there wishing for oblivion.\nThen something enveloped her. Something gentle and soft.\nShe recognized its texture as it dragged over her shoulders. Her blanket, which she slept in and curled into every night. And in its confines she felt a warmth radiating towards her.\nShe opened her eyes and wiped away her tears.\n\u0026ldquo;T-T-T-T-Tomori?!?!?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Taki-chan. It\u0026rsquo;s okay.\u0026rdquo; She was bundled up inside the blanket with her, and her face was unbearably close, so close Taki could feel her breaths brushing against her skin.\n\u0026ldquo;H-ha?!?!\u0026rdquo; She was beet red, and she knew it.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s okay. The food\u0026hellip; scared you, right?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;W-what\u0026hellip;?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I used to get really scared when I tried new foods. A-and when that happened Mom would wrap me up in a blanket with her. Like this.\u0026rdquo; She tugged on the cloth, pulling Taki closer. \u0026ldquo;I-It always calmed me down right away.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki was, quite possibly, the exact opposite of calm in this moment. But she certainly didn\u0026rsquo;t hate it.\n\u0026ldquo;Take a deep breath, Taki-chan. In\u0026hellip; and, out.\u0026rdquo;\nTaki responded with a labored inhale whose sound befit only a dying dog.\n\u0026ldquo;T-there you go. Good\u0026hellip; good girl.\u0026rdquo; Taki immediately responded to this with another, yet more tortured breath, sucked in through her teeth, sounding more and more like the screams of the damned.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I\u0026hellip;I liked the food, though, you know\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Taki muttered.\n\u0026ldquo;Really?\u0026rdquo; Tomori smiled, then furrowed her brow. \u0026ldquo;But\u0026hellip; t-then, why were you crying?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;I just\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Taki sunk into the blanket, averting her eyes from Tomori\u0026rsquo;s. \u0026ldquo;I just don\u0026rsquo;t\u0026hellip; know why you\u0026rsquo;d go out of your way for\u0026hellip; someone like me\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nTomori followed her down into the depths of the blanket. Their body heat had built up within its confines, and it was a little uncomfortable. Taki didn\u0026rsquo;t mind, though.\nShe felt Tomori\u0026rsquo;s hands clasping around hers again, and froze up. Her breath tickled her neck.\n\u0026ldquo;But, Taki-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She felt her squeeze down. It kind of hurt.\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; really special\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no way\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You\u0026rsquo;re always\u0026hellip; working so hard, and worrying about the band, a-and looking after everyone, so\u0026hellip; this is\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; only fair\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Her voice quivered, just the same way it did on stage.\nOvercome by the warmth of her words, the warmth of her body, the weight of her self-doubt, and the lingering taste of mirin, Taki struggled to find her words. \u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s\u0026hellip; it\u0026rsquo;s noth–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;S-so you liked it?\u0026rdquo; Tomori cut her off, her mind having already drifted elsewhere.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah. It was really good, Tomori.\u0026rdquo; She wasn\u0026rsquo;t lying. It might not have been up to modern culinary standards. But it was just so much like her.\n\u0026ldquo;Then\u0026hellip; then I\u0026rsquo;ll make more. I-I\u0026rsquo;ll come back next week, okay? Every week. Um, if\u0026hellip; if you want.\u0026rdquo;\nAny trace of strength left in Shiina Taki\u0026rsquo;s body had long since evaporated. She slumped backwards into the cotton fabric of the blanket. Her will to resist had been well and truly worn away.\nWho was she to say no to her, anyways?\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Sure. I\u0026rsquo;ll be counting on you.\u0026rdquo;\n","permalink":"/works/morinaga-jelly/","summary":"\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;Dad. Could you\u0026hellip; teach me how to cook?\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe instant that Takamatsu Tomori got home from band practice, she shut the front door behind her, walked in a brisk straight line from the apartment entryway, past a doorway, and into the kitchen, and posed her father a question, unadorned with greetings or pleasantries.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Welcome home, Tomori.\u0026rdquo;\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSaid father, full name Takamatsu Yoshiji, stood over the sink, washing a small load of dishes. He wore a worn beige apron that was stained with splashes of soapy water, and seemed not one bit surprised nor concerned by his daughter\u0026rsquo;s behavior. He turned to her and greeted her with a knowing smile.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Morinaga Jelly"},{"content":"It was right after practice on a Wednesday evening. Taki had just called it good enough for the day, and since there were no administrative or logistical issues on the table that particular week, she immediately headed out of the studio to walk Tomori home. Soyo threw her gig bag around her shoulders and lagged behind them, waving everyone a perfunctory goodbye.\nRaana always wants to leave the soonest, but her teardown takes by far the longest. After unplugging herself and wrapping the cable (over and under so they don\u0026rsquo;t kink, like she was taught) she has to slip her guitar into a bulky hard case, and since she refuses to use the amps provided by RiNG (they don\u0026rsquo;t let it sing right, she says - of course - there\u0026rsquo;s a certain warmth the vacuum tubes give it that you just can\u0026rsquo;t replicate with modern technology, that\u0026rsquo;s what Grandma told her when she complained) she has to disconnect her amp head and cab and her pedals from the wall, put them in a case and lift them onto her dolly, and tie everything down. She learned that last part the hard way; that\u0026rsquo;s where that little scuff on the headstock came from.\nAll in all, it takes a good five, six minutes until she\u0026rsquo;s ready to leave.\nThis fit perfectly into the schemes of one Chihaya Anon.\n\u0026ldquo;Raana-chan~!\u0026rdquo;\nAs she wrapped the strap around her gear, this pink-haired girl skipped and hopped towards her, her arms curled around her back in a laughable portrayal of innocence. The words \u0026lsquo;ulterior motives\u0026rsquo; were practically written on her face.\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? What?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana didn\u0026rsquo;t bother reading people\u0026rsquo;s faces, though. It was too much work.\n\u0026ldquo;Will you teach me guitar?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hm? You can play already though.\u0026rdquo; Raana tilted her head.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Um, yeah, but I mean like, I wanna get better! There\u0026rsquo;s so many things I still can\u0026rsquo;t do!!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmm.\u0026rdquo; She wondered.\n\u0026ldquo;Listen, Raana-chan. I\u0026rsquo;ve been getting really into guitar circles on social media, y\u0026rsquo;know? Like, I got recommended this clip of someone playing a solo, and all their other videos were really cool so I followed them, and now my algorithm is NOTHING but guitar videos, it\u0026rsquo;s crazy! But like, I do like them, so I mean it\u0026rsquo;s fine.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Igloo rhythm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Anyways, I started thinking I should join in since it\u0026rsquo;s like really trendy these days, right? And like, I started looking deeper into it and it seems like the hot thing right now is posting \u0026lsquo;vibesy jangly mathy tappy emo riffs\u0026rsquo;! But I had no idea what those words meant!!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Jangly\u0026hellip;? Like keys?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I asked Tomorin if she knew what makes music \u0026lsquo;mathy\u0026rsquo;, but she said she didn\u0026rsquo;t, and then she got all depressed and started asking me if she needed to get better at algebra for the band\u0026rsquo;s sake, and she ran off to the school library, so I couldn\u0026rsquo;t ask her about the other ones\u0026hellip; Anyways, I looked it up and like, it seems like it\u0026rsquo;s all about this one technique. Tapping! Two-handed tapping!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Never heard of it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hah?! There\u0026rsquo;s no way you haven\u0026rsquo;t. I\u0026rsquo;ve seen you do it!! Like, when you grab your guitar by the neck with both hands\u0026rdquo;–she grabs hers off its stand, slings it over her shoulder, and starts miming–\u0026ldquo;and then you go crazy with your fingers like, doodeedoodadoodeedoo, you know?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, that.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, that!! I watched some tutorials and tried to do it but it\u0026rsquo;s sooo hard, and guitar teachers are soooooo expensive, right? So I was thinking you could teach me how to do cool stuff like that, so I can post myself doing it online, and like, maybe I can even start playing solos during our concerts\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo;\nStars gleamed in Anon\u0026rsquo;s eyes as she gazed past Raana and into her blindingly bright future. One could look closely and spot a hint of drool leaving the corner of her mouth.\n\u0026ldquo;That sounds hard, so no. Bye-bye.\u0026rdquo;\nDevastation. A lifetime of fame and adoration crumbled into pieces before her, then faded into nothingness, all while Raana turned around and headed for the door.\n\u0026hellip;No. Wait. This was fine. Expected, even. She had planned for this eventuality. Of course she had.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m not trying to get you to do it for free, y\u0026rsquo;know! Just what kinda girl do you take me for~?\u0026rdquo;\nThe sweetness in her voice switched on like it was hooked up to a dial. Raana stopped in her tracks. Just like she\u0026rsquo;d drawn it up.\nShe turned her head, just enough to peek back with her blue eye, which shone with a catlike curiosity.\n\u0026ldquo;See, I\u0026rsquo;ll buy you one parfait for every hour of your time. And, and, if you can teach me to do it well enough by then, I\u0026rsquo;ll take you to the MatchaFes pop-up they\u0026rsquo;re holding next month in Ginza! All expenses paid!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana slid her dolly aside and turned to Anon, a smirk on her face.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll do it.\u0026rdquo;\nThe pair sat side by side at the café counter. Anon was drinking some pink refreshment of dubious origin, while Raana had her paycheck, already half spent.\n\u0026ldquo;Okay, so to start, let me show you the videos I really like, so we can set some goals. Here, let me find one\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She tapped and swiped through her phone, then held its screen in front of Raana as she munched on a bite from her parfait.\nThe video showed a person, their head just out of frame, absolutely shredding on their axe. The sound of the guitar rang shrill from the tinny mobile speakers.\n\u0026ldquo;See~? Isn\u0026rsquo;t that just SO cool? How do I do that?!\u0026rdquo;\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s expression was set to its default option.\nShe was unfazed.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s fake,\u0026rdquo; she stated matter-of-factly.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What?! Fake?! What do you mean fake?!?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Guitars don\u0026rsquo;t sound like that. Something\u0026rsquo;s off. Jittery.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;N-no way\u0026hellip; But it looked so totally legit\u0026hellip; Okay then how about this one? This one has to be the real deal, right?\u0026rdquo; She swiped down and showed her another.\n\u0026ldquo;Fake. Fingers don\u0026rsquo;t match the sound.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;You\u0026rsquo;re\u0026hellip; you\u0026rsquo;re kidding me\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnon started to desperately thumb through her phone, beads of sweat pooling on her forehead.\n\u0026ldquo;Okay PLEASE tell me this one is real, Raana-chan. Come on, it\u0026rsquo;s goootta be\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana watched the video she was shown intently, scanning it for clues. Her eyes widened slightly, and the faintest smile painted the corner of her mouth.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmm\u0026hellip; this one\u0026rsquo;s real.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah!! I knew it!! I knew it had to be–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, no, this part\u0026rsquo;s fake.\u0026rdquo; Back to her default stare.\nAnon fell from her seat and collapsed onto the floor, barely holding herself up by her arms.\n\u0026ldquo;It\u0026rsquo;s so over\u0026hellip; What\u0026rsquo;s even the point anymore\u0026hellip; Sorry for wasting your time, Raana-chan\u0026hellip; You can go\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; She whined, through barely-contained sobs. The hope was gone from her voice.\n\u0026ldquo;The videos are fake, but I can do it.\u0026rdquo;\nThe light returned to Anon\u0026rsquo;s eyes. She looked up at Raana like she was a dying woman finally meeting God.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Really? Really for real? And you can teach me?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Dunno. Probably.\u0026rdquo;\nAnon lifted herself up and over the counter.\n\u0026ldquo;Excuse me!! Another matcha parfait, please!!!\u0026rdquo;\nAnon\u0026rsquo;s heart burned with righteous fury as she dragged Raana towards an abandoned storeroom in the live house, where they could start their first lesson.\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m fired up now! Yeah, I\u0026rsquo;m gonna show those posers!! I\u0026rsquo;m gonna learn to play that stuff for real and make them look like the amateurs they are!! And I\u0026rsquo;m gonna get like waa~aay more followers than them!!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Anon.\u0026rdquo; Raana said her name, but to her, it just blended into the cheers of the adoring fans in her head.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, that\u0026rsquo;ll teach them! ANON TOKYO GUITAR, 100,000 followers! And I\u0026rsquo;m gonna prove I\u0026rsquo;m for real too, I\u0026rsquo;m gonna do that thing where you have the live waveform of the recording on a screen in the background and-\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Anon.\u0026rdquo; Raana pulled back on the arm that was dragging her around.\n\u0026ldquo;and I-huh? What\u0026rsquo;s up, Raana-chan?\u0026rdquo;\nRaana stood in the dimly-lit hallway, wearing a look of unease on her face.\nThere was something on her mind.\n\u0026ldquo;Why do people fake their guitar? I don\u0026rsquo;t get it.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Oh! Well, because they want to get more followers and likes and go viral, right? But they don\u0026rsquo;t wanna put in the hard work to do it for real, so they do something easier and they edit it to make it look more impressive than it is. I mean, I don\u0026rsquo;t NOT get it\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Followers? Viral?\u0026rdquo; She leaned her head from side to side with every word.\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, yeah! That\u0026rsquo;s what it\u0026rsquo;s all about!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I like it when cats follow me. But getting sick isn\u0026rsquo;t fun.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;No, that\u0026rsquo;s not–\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;What\u0026rsquo;s the point if it\u0026rsquo;s fake? That\u0026rsquo;s cruel. To the guitar.\u0026rdquo; She looked back at hers, sitting in its case on the dolly, and gently stroked it.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, well\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; she started, scratching the back of her hair and averting her gaze. \u0026ldquo;For um, some people, the attention matters more than anything, y\u0026rsquo;know? Like it doesn\u0026rsquo;t matter HOW you get it, just that you do. It feels good to have people notice you! And say nice things about you and stuff! It makes your heart flutter~! I mean, if you\u0026rsquo;re one of those people!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m ideologically opposed.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Id–Hey, where\u0026rsquo;d you learn a big word like that?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;School.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, that\u0026rsquo;s right. You do go to school, don\u0026rsquo;t you.\n\u0026hellip;ANYWAY,\u0026quot;–she grabs her by the wrist and resumes pulling her along–\u0026quot;I\u0026rsquo;m not taking the easy way out! I\u0026rsquo;m gonna get good for real!! And it\u0026rsquo;s all thanks to you, Raana-sensei!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sensei\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nRaana stared off into space as they moved forward, letting that word swirl around in her head.\nIt did have a nice ring to it.\nStudent and teacher sat across from each other. Anon had borrowed a small amplifier, and Raana had set hers up. Much to Raana\u0026rsquo;s dismay, Anon said they had to set their volumes as low as possible, so they wouldn\u0026rsquo;t get kicked out of the live house for making a ruckus.\n\u0026ldquo;Alright, Raana-sensei. Let\u0026rsquo;s see it. Show me your two-handed tapping technique!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026lsquo;Kay.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana was happy to comply. She noodled her way into a minor key, climbed the frets up the neck, and started tapping away at a hauntingly \u0026ldquo;emo\u0026rdquo; riff. Her fingers danced past each other, as her right hand hammered on the low strings and her left hand on the high strings; it was mesmerizing to look at, let alone listen to. The smile on her face grew wider with every arpeggio. Anon watched her, enraptured.\nEventually, once she felt satisfied, she played her way into a resolution.\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s sooo awesome, Raana-chan~! You really are a pro, huh? So? How do I do that?\u0026rdquo; Her eyes begged for an answer.\n\u0026ldquo;What?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;What?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You just do it. Like that. It\u0026rsquo;s easy.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Um, well, okay\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;ll\u0026hellip; give it a shot\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAnon was skeptical. She already had tried \u0026lsquo;just doing it\u0026rsquo;, after all. But she trusted her teacher; maybe she was onto something. Maybe seeing it in the flesh instilled it in a way a video tutorial couldn\u0026rsquo;t.\n\u0026ldquo;Here goes\u0026hellip;!\u0026rdquo;\nIt was, of course, an unmitigated disaster.\nIt might have sounded okay at first, for about three seconds, but her playing soon devolved into a manifest cacophony. The hellish sounds of buzzing strings, fingers slipping and muting notes, and sympathetic vibrations producing a haunting harmonic backdrop, all to the rhythm of a broken stopwatch falling down a flight of stairs.\nAnon peeked up from her fretboard—which only made things worse—and saw a genuine look of exasperation on Raana\u0026rsquo;s face for the first time in her life.\n\u0026ldquo;Anon, stop. The guitar\u0026rsquo;s crying.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Ugh\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s not how you do it. Do it right.\u0026rdquo;\nShe had hit a nerve. You could hear it in how she clicked her tongue. Fire welled up from her chest.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Listen here, you little furball, I can\u0026rsquo;t \u0026lsquo;just do it right\u0026rsquo;. We can\u0026rsquo;t all be child prodigies like you, okay?! MOST people don\u0026rsquo;t have a guitar thrown into our cribs at two years old! I bet you don\u0026rsquo;t even know what it feels like to not have callouses on all ten fingers!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I do know.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, yeah?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah.\u0026rdquo; Raana lifted up her left hand and gave her a thumbs up, then wiggled it around. \u0026ldquo;This one\u0026rsquo;s soft.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh. My god. I can\u0026rsquo;t with you! You\u0026rsquo;re such a bad teacher! I want a refund, I wanna reach in there and pull those matcha parfaits out of your guts!!!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;ll die.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Do you really have no idea how hard what you\u0026rsquo;re doing is?! Didn\u0026rsquo;t like, your grandma teach you anything?! Seriously, I—\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Grandma\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\nAt this word, Raana lost herself in her own thoughts, as the pink girl continued to verbally assault her. Memories flooded back; ones she hadn\u0026rsquo;t seen in years and years.\n\u0026ldquo;Here, Raana. You can try playing my guitar.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;This here\u0026rsquo;s an E chord. Can you play it?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Raana. I\u0026rsquo;m gonna show you something called the minor pentatonic scale\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026quot;\u0026hellip;the CAGED system, it\u0026rsquo;ll let you\u0026hellip;\u0026quot;\n\u0026quot;\u0026hellip;and if you memorize these triad shapes\u0026hellip;\u0026quot;\n\u0026quot;\u0026hellip;mute the strings so you can\u0026hellip;\u0026quot;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;you smug little twerp!! You have any idea how hard it was for me to even play an F chord?! It took me weeks. Weeks!! Hey, are you even listening to me?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I remembered.\u0026rdquo; She stared right into Anon\u0026rsquo;s soul.\n\u0026ldquo;Hah?! Remembered what?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;How to play guitar.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana\u0026rsquo;s phone buzzed from an alarm, and its screen lit up the dark storeroom.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah.\u0026rdquo; She grabbed it and tapped on something to stop the noise. \u0026ldquo;Time\u0026rsquo;s up. Gimme a parfait or I\u0026rsquo;m going home.\u0026rdquo;\nTheir hour had passed them by.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;No, I\u0026rsquo;m good for today. My fingers are totally beat.\u0026rdquo; Anon shook her wrists to ease the soreness. \u0026ldquo;Thanks, Raana-chan.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Sensei.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Thank you, Raana-sensei. And um\u0026hellip; I\u0026rsquo;m sorry for um, saying all that stuff.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You know what, never mind.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Mm. Don\u0026rsquo;t forget to practice. You\u0026rsquo;re still clumsy.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Yeah, yeah.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;With a metronome.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;I know!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Bye-bye, then.\u0026rdquo; Raana finished tying up her gear and walked out.\n\u0026ldquo;Mhm! Bye-bye~\u0026rdquo;\nAnon waited until the door closed to pump her fist. Her master plan had worked, for once.\nAnd so the two would meet, after every practice session, and on some days off too. Raana would take her payment up front, then spend an hour relaying her boundless knowledge; knowledge which she had herself filed away in the dustbin of her memory.\nAnd a month passed by.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmmmm.\u0026rdquo;\nRaana held Anon\u0026rsquo;s hand in hers, turning it over, meticulously inspecting each finger one by one, playing with each one like a toy. She got a good, long look at their pads and their tips, and ran her own thumb over them, feeling them out.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Hey, are you done yet? This is, um, kinda awkward\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Anon was blushing just the teensiest bit.\n\u0026ldquo;Shhh. It\u0026rsquo;s an inspection.\u0026rdquo; She said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world.\n\u0026ldquo;O-okay\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Anon tried not to look. It made her a little queasy to, for reasons she couldn\u0026rsquo;t explain.\n\u0026ldquo;Hmm. Hmmmmmm.\u0026rdquo; She inched her eyes closer, making Anon flinch. \u0026ldquo;Yeah, they\u0026rsquo;ve gotten tougher. Good fingers.\u0026rdquo;\nShe finally let go.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Really?\u0026rdquo; Anon turned to look at her, beaming with anticipation. \u0026ldquo;I got a good grade in fingers?!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;A plus.\u0026rdquo; Raana said in a monotone, while making a circle with her thumb and index. \u0026ldquo;Your guitar\u0026rsquo;s singing, Anon. You\u0026rsquo;re ready.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;You really think so?! Oh man, I\u0026rsquo;m so excited!\u0026rdquo; Anon balled up her fists, curled into herself, and made a weird, pink noise. \u0026ldquo;I\u0026rsquo;m gonna record a video tonight! I\u0026rsquo;m gonna get soooo famous!!!!!! Raana-sensei, you\u0026rsquo;re my savior!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Matchafes.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Yeah, yeah, we\u0026rsquo;re going! It\u0026rsquo;s next Saturday, okay? I\u0026rsquo;ll send you the deets! And wear something cute! It\u0026rsquo;s Ginza, you know! Gi-n-za!\u0026rdquo;\nA few days later, as the band gathered at the café before practice, Soyo called out to Anon.\n\u0026ldquo;Whatever happened to those guitar videos you were talking about? Weren\u0026rsquo;t you really excited to post some?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, that\u0026rsquo;s right.\u0026rdquo; Taki interjected. \u0026ldquo;It was all she could talk about the other day. Though honestly, I was happy to hear she was focusing on something useful for once, so I just kept quiet.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Y-yeah, I wanted to watch them and give you \u0026rsquo;likes\u0026rsquo;, Ano-chan\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Tomori looked at her expectantly.\n\u0026ldquo;Ah, that\u0026hellip; Well, y\u0026rsquo;see\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo; Anon froze up at the phrase \u0026lsquo;guitar videos\u0026rsquo;, then dodged everyone\u0026rsquo;s gazes and started to fidget nervously.\n\u0026ldquo;Oh, boy. Here we go.\u0026rdquo; Soyo sighed, then brought her cup of tea up to her mouth, like it was a bucket of popcorn at the movies.\n\u0026ldquo;You don\u0026rsquo;t get it, Soyorin!!! It\u0026rsquo;s sooo much work! I had to buy a bunch of gear just to be able to record myself, and setting everything up is a huuuge pain, and then I didn\u0026rsquo;t even get that many views! It\u0026rsquo;s just not worth it! There\u0026rsquo;s no ROI here!\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;That\u0026rsquo;s really just like you.\u0026rdquo; Soyo set her cup down, glowering with condescension.\n\u0026ldquo;Absolutely typical,\u0026rdquo; Taki scoffed.\n\u0026ldquo;You guys are SO mean, you know! I still learned a lot I can use for our songs! Plus, plus, I bonded a lot with Raana-chan-sensei! We\u0026rsquo;re besties now, you know?\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Now that is what truly scares me.\u0026rdquo; Taki leaned against the table, a tinge of dread painting her face.\n\u0026ldquo;I can\u0026rsquo;t picture it.\u0026rdquo; Soyo took another sip of Darjeeling.\n\u0026ldquo;Hang on. Now that you mention it,\u0026rdquo; Taki looked at the clock on her phone, \u0026ldquo;the stray\u0026rsquo;s not here yet. It\u0026rsquo;s almost time, you know? Ah, man, what\u0026rsquo;s she up to this time?\u0026rdquo;\nAnon immediately started adjusting the collar of her school uniform.\n\u0026ldquo;\u0026hellip;Tell me what you know.\u0026rdquo; Taki walked up to her and loomed over her menacingly. \u0026ldquo;Now.\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Listen, it\u0026rsquo;s not my fault, okay! I think she enjoyed teaching me more than she expected, and so, um\u0026hellip; Well, she\u0026hellip; set up shop somewhere around here, and she\u0026rsquo;s charging people on the street for guitar lessons\u0026hellip;\u0026rdquo;\n\u0026ldquo;Oh my god. That is ABSOLUTELY your fault!\u0026rdquo; Taki slammed her hand on the table, spilling a drop of Soyo\u0026rsquo;s tea. \u0026ldquo;You go and get her right now!\u0026rdquo;\nA five minute\u0026rsquo;s walk away in Sunshine City, Raana sat on the sidewalk, noodling on her guitar. She had a cardboard sign propped up by her side. It read:\nGUITAR LESSONS (Pro)\nBEGINNER - 1 Matcha au lait/hr\nINTERMEDIATE - 1 Matcha parfait/hr\nADVANCED - 3 Matcha parfait/hr\n","permalink":"/works/raanas-perfect-guitar-class/","summary":"\u003cp\u003eIt was right after practice on a Wednesday evening. Taki had just called it good enough for the day, and since there were no administrative or logistical issues on the table that particular week, she immediately headed out of the studio to walk Tomori home. Soyo threw her gig bag around her shoulders and lagged behind them, waving everyone a perfunctory goodbye.\u003c/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eRaana always wants to leave the soonest, but her teardown takes by far the longest. After unplugging herself and wrapping the cable (over and under so they don\u0026rsquo;t kink, like she was taught) she has to slip her guitar into a bulky hard case, and since she refuses to use the amps provided by RiNG (they don\u0026rsquo;t let it sing right, she says - of course - there\u0026rsquo;s a certain warmth the vacuum tubes give it that you just can\u0026rsquo;t replicate with modern technology, that\u0026rsquo;s what Grandma told her when she complained) she has to disconnect her amp head and cab and her pedals from the wall, put \u003cem\u003ethem\u003c/em\u003e in a case and lift them onto her dolly, and tie everything down. She learned that last part the hard way; that\u0026rsquo;s where that little scuff on the headstock came from.\u003c/p\u003e","title":"Raana's Perfect Guitar Class"},{"content":"","permalink":"/works/promptober-2026/","summary":"","title":"Tomoraana Promptober 2026"},{"content":"","permalink":"/works/in-a-world-of-her-own/","summary":"","title":"in a world of her own"}]