キャッチ
Aoi turned out to be sick with a mild case of the flu, which was giving her a slight fever. The stomach pains were just cramps reacting to the illness in her body. Even though she cringed from pain as she said it, she admitted that she was glad it wasn't food poisoning. She really did love ramen, and seemed to always be on the look-out for any new spots that served it.
Aihara, the nurse on duty, thanked Pai for bringing her to the nurse's room. After learning that she was going to call Aoi's parents to pick her up from school so she could rest up properly, Pai bid her goodbyes to Aoi and left the nurse's, glad that it wasn't anything too serious.
She didn't go back to class, though. She wasn't sure if Natsume and Shuusei had gone back to finish their lunch, or if Shuusei was still chasing his sister around. She didn't want to risk going back to sit in empty silence beside Shiori.
Normally, the two could always find something to talk about. Even when they were quiet, it was always comfortable. Pai didn't feel the need to talk if she didn't want to, and Shiori always seemed just fine with being near her without talking.
That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Pai was too tired to talk, and she knew that Shiori would notice that, if she hadn't already. Her eyes were weighed down by bricks, and her feet dragged on the floor as she wandered around aimlessly, mulling over on her limited options of what to do until the end of lunch.
She didn't want Shiori to ask her why she was so tired when Pai had been retreating to her room early with the excuse of sleep for the last few days.
Finally, when she thought she would drop from exhaustion if she didn't pause for just a minute, she walked over to the open window overlooking the green sports field. Some of the second year students were playing a lively game of football on one half of the field against the first years, excited yells filling the air when someone scored a goal. The other half of the field was being used by third years playing baseball.
She braced her elbows on the metal frames of the window, leaning forward as a fresh, cooling gust of wind blew the stray strands of her hair back over her shoulders. She sighed heavily and dropped her head to rest on her crossed arms, staring at the specks of dirt on the floor in front of the toes of her shoes.
Kuniumi? She called drowsily, closing her eyes. Can you tell me what happened?
What happened when? Kuniumi returned. So many things happened so many times.
When I tried to – when I attacked Shin.
Kuniumi was silent for a long time before she heaved a sigh not unlike Pai's own moments ago. Why do you ask now? Why didn't you ask us yesterday? Before yesterday? When it happened?
I'm afraid.
She could almost Kuniumi cocking her head to the side, like a confused kitten. Afraid of what? Us?
In a distant corner of her mind, a resounding yes was what she wanted to say. Unwilling to antagonize Kuniumi, she instead answered, I'm afraid you'll tell me that I wasn't sleepwalking. That a part of me knew what I was doing and did wanted to kill him.
Ah, Kuniumi crooned, delighted. You're afraid that there's a part of you still geared to killing Ayakashi like you were trained to.
Is there?
Yes. There always will be. They broke you, and when they built you back up it was with that part of you forever ingrained into the core of who you are. It will take you breaking apart to be rid of it – do you think you'll be able to piece yourself together again? She giggled. You'll be like a broken toy with a missing head.
Pai gulped as her eyes opened, her focus sliding from the running bodies of the students down in the field to the windows of the school buildings to her right that were lit with the light of the sun.
She held her breath and she asked, That night, did I truly want to kill Shin?
A considering pause. No. You were sleeping, and remembering. You reacted instinctively, blindly, when you sensed an Ayakashi near you. Even when you do finally remember, we do not think you'll hurt Shin – at least, not with the intent to kill.
I didn't – I didn't want to kill him, she asked on a stuttering thought, again, just to be sure, just to be absolutely sure.
You did not know it was him.
She expelled her pent-up breath in a single whoosh, relief flooding her like a gate had been opened. She was so glad that she hadn't attack Shin consciously, no matter how little of her had been aware of it. She couldn't even put it into words how relieved she was that she hadn't actually wanted to hurt Shin.
Then she paused. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dunked over her head.
I was sleeping.
Yes.
And remembering.
Yes.
I do that a lot now.
You do that a lot now.
What if it happens again? What if next time it's not Shin, but Shiori, or – or – the blood drained from her face as she stared down at the field below. There is a Hengen in this school. There are three Daitengu in this school. What if it happens again and I go berserk and attack them, and people get hurt –
Do you really not want such a thing to happen? Kuniumi asked contemplatively. Would it be so bad to hurt them? It's not as if they will never die.
Why would I want to? she fired back.
Why wouldn't you?
She opened her mouth. Closed it. She needed to think. No, she needed to think like Kuniumi if she wanted to show her why she would never, ever want to hurt someone.
But there was one thing she needed to consider – she had begun to notice that, in small ways, it was like Kuniumi was protecting her. When her hands shook, the buzzing that accompanied it in her wrists didn't hurt like it used to. The headaches that plagued her since she'd woken up at Ayashi House, over a year ago, were now just dull throbs at the back of her head she could easily ignore.
That wasn't the only thing. In her memories, it worked both ways. Kuniumi protected her, and in her memories Pai saw that she somehow protected Kuniumi as well. Pai kept her in check, held back the more murderous tendencies that sometimes rose to the surface.
Why...What could she say that would sound like she wasn't trying to be a good person, that she was being realistic? Why would I want to waste time and energy hurting someone who has not wronged me?
Hm...she hummed contemplatively. We'll help you control yourself, then.
A little flicker of hope burned in her chest, but she stamped down on it immediately to keep it from growing.
She still didn't know who Kuniumi was. She couldn't forget that. She didn't know anything about Kuniumi. It would be foolish to believe her right off the bat. The only reason she hadn't told Kouta yet about this was because Kuniumi didn't seem at all interested in Shiori. She spoke of Shiori with disdain, as if she didn't care if Shiori lived or died.
Still, just because Kuniumi wasn't interested in Shiori as the Koki Sakura Hime, it didn't change the fact that Pai was forced to live with a presence in her mind every single day. It didn't change the fact that there was a reason Kuniumi was in her mind, and that it was most likely not because she simply wanted to spend time with Pai, as if they were friends.
What do you want from me in return?
Kuniumi laughed. It was a sad, broken sound that made her feel guilty for asking the question, even though she didn't think she had anything to be guilty about.
Except, of course, lying and pretending like everything was all right to her friends when everything was not.
Not everything comes with strings, Pai. Some strings are broken before they can ever be spun into gold.
"Ah, Momozono-san."
She jumped in surprise. She snapped to attention, spinning around quickly. Tottering over to her with a somewhat flustered red face was Kurebayashi. His face, however, was partially hidden by the pile of notebooks he carried in his arms.
She hurried over to him without a second thought and relieved him of half his burden. She glanced down and saw that it was History exercise books that he was carrying, for the third year students.
"Thank you very much, Momozono-san," he said gratefully. His forehead was beaded with perspiration.
"Do you need help, Kurebayashi-sensei?" she asked.
He nodded, almost reluctantly, as if he didn't want to be troubling her despite the fact that he was the teacher, and she the student. "Please, if you're not busy."
She gestured with a nod of her head around her. "Where do you need to take these?"
Kurebayashi set his half of the exercise books on the window sill, holding onto their precarious teetering with one hand as he reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief he swiped over his forehead.
"Upstairs, to the third years' classrooms," he said, putting the handkerchief back. He leaned toward her pile of books and peered at the names scribbled on, then looked back at his own pile. "I believe you have the exercise books for class one to three. I will follow right behind you with the rest." He sighed heavily, smiling at her wearily. "I just need to catch my breath. When you reach my age, you realize you can't go up quite as many flights of stairs as you thought."
She smiled vaguely, to be polite. She turned and started to walk to the stairs, trying her hardest to hide the shaking of her arms under the weight of the books she carried. She was already almost at the end of the second flight of stairs leading up to the floor where the third years' classrooms where when she heard the huffing of Kurebayashi beginning his climb up the stairs.
You are pushing yourself too hard, Bibari, Kuniumi mused speculatively. Why didn't you eat lunch? Or breakfast? Or dinner yesterday? Or lunch before that? Those meals are supposedly important. You are still human.
None of your business. She grumbled back irritably. It wasn't as biting and firm as it usually was. She was too tired to put anything real behind it.
She paused for a quick moment to gather herself, adjusting her grip on the exercise books. She leaned them on her hip and looked down at the first book and saw it belonged to a Katsura Yuri in class 3-1.
She looked up to the signs hanging outside the row of doors in front of her, the sun streaming in from the windows opposite the doors. She stopped and squinted, peering out at the classes ahead of her through a half-lidded gaze. Her eyes watered from the harsh light of the sun, and she blinked rapidly until everything seemed to go back to normal.
She started walking ahead, keeping her eyes up on the signs, until she reached the end of the corridor. There was only a girl in the classroom, sitting at the back where there were posters, cards, and other stickers of the like stuck onto the boards.
"Sorry for intruding," she called out to the girl. She was reading a novel, and looked up when she heard Pai's voice. Her eyes widened when she saw the white hair, a flash of recognition lighting them, but she recovered much faster from her staring than most of the students in Pai's own year.
"Oh, hello." The girl pushed her seat back and stood, quickly making her way over to Pai. She was a few inches taller than her. Pai squinted at her for half a second as she felt like she'd seen the girl somewhere before. Then she remembered that the girl was on the basketball team with Shiori. She couldn't recall her name, though. "Are these our books?"
She nodded. "Kurebayashi-sensei asked me to bring them up."
"Okay." With no effort on her part, the girl easily took most of the pile from her and turned, walking to the stand at the front of the class. "You can just leave the rest here."
She nodded again, and quickly walked over to neatly add the batch of books to the one the girl had already set down. Her eyebrow quirked as she noticed that her half of the books were for class 3-2. She quickly flipped through them, and saw that she still needed to leave the rest of the books at class 3-2 and 3-3.
She took the books and turned, bowing to the girl. "Thank you for your help."
The girl smiled kindly. "No problem."
There was no one else in either of the remaining classes Pai went to. She simply did as she had before, and put the books on the stand, hoping that the class representatives would easily see them. She was leaving class 3-3 when she happened on Kurebayashi again. His pile of books had reduced by half, and he was looking a lot less flurried than before. A thin line of perspiration beaded at his forehead, but his breath was no longer quite so laboured.
"Ah, thank you very much, Momozono-san." He said, bowing to her. "I am sorry to pull you out of your lunch time for this."
She shook her head. "It is no problem at all, Kurebayashi-sensei. I am glad that I could be of help."
He smiled, clearly pleased. Unlike everyone else, he didn't seem to find fault at her constant way of speaking formally.
That's one person, she thought. An amused twitter was her only response.
"Very well." He looked down at his wristwatch. "You should be heading back to class now. Lunch will end in fifteen minutes."
"Yes." She bowed again and turned to leave.
She went down the stairs slowly, placing each foot carefully, as if the staircase were made of fragile glass. When she reached the stairwell landing just before the floor her classroom was in, she stopped by the window and looked out.
The window faced the opposite direction from the field, instead heralding the sight of Sapporo city to her. Tall skyscrapers with gleaming windows that flashed from the light of the sun reached for the cloudless blue sky overhead. Over the fence surrounding the school people went about their daily business. They looked like ants from this far away, scurrying to and fro. She pushed herself away from the window and started to head back to her class.
Do you want to see what we look like? Kuniumi's voice floated in, teasing. What we really look like?
She paused from going on her way. Curiosity churned like an angry whirlpool in her chest. She turned back to the window, barely able to discern her own reflection looking back at her. There was no one else beside her.
Kuniumi never showed her true form, instead adopting the appearances of other women rather than her own. It was one of the bigger things she wondered about the strange voice in her head – what did Kuniumi actually look like when she wasn't wearing other people's faces?
Will you show me?
Will you see?
Of course I will.
No. She could imagine Kuniumi shaking her head. You have a problem, Bibari. You remember only what you see, you see only what you want, and you hide from what scares you. It is part of why you cannot remember what happened to us.
Her heart was trapped in her chest. She couldn't breathe. The implications of what Kuniumi was saying scared her. It lined up too perfectly with the few dots she had been able to connect on her own. She didn't like the pattern that was forming from it all.
If we show you what we look like, her voice thrummed with a mad mirth that scared Pai. If we show you, will you see? Or will you fall down a hole like last time, scared, unable to take it?
Last time? She repeated.
Cloud-ground you should not fall through, and yet you did. Yet you did, sweet Bibari.
She rubbed her hands over her arms when a cold draft blew up the stairs. Gooseflesh rose over her skin. She turned from the window, violently shaking her head of wet cobwebs that clung to her mind, making her feel weary and overburdened with the weight of the world.
Hot and cold flooded her body, and her stomach roiled queasily. The sudden movement of her shaking dislodged one of the pins Shiori had stuck in her hair, and the thick braid fell from its bun to thump against her back. She watched the little black bobby pin fall to the ground, almost as if her world had slowed down to this single moment in time.
The pin twisted and turned in the air as it fell, landing with a tiny clattering sound. She swallowed around a thick ball lodged in her throat, and bent to retrieve it. Her hand closed around it, short fingernails scrabbling against the concrete, but when she straightened again, the whole world around her tilted alarmingly on its axis.
Pain, pain, pain makes people remember, doesn't it? If we make you pain a little bit, just a little, will you finally remember us? Will you come back to us?
She knew what Kuniumi was talking about. She didn't know how, but she just did.
Kuniumi, no. Please don't –
A butcher's knife stabbed into her growling stomach. She gasped sharply from the pain and grabbed onto the railing of the staircase with both hands, uncaring as the bobby pin fell out of her weakened grasp. She clung desperately to the railing as her knees buckled, knocking against each other. The skin on her back felt like it was being torn apart, bit by bit, under the blistering breath of a sun of ice.
She didn't know if what she was feeling was real, or if Kuniumi was making it all up in her head so that it wasn't reality. It didn't matter. All she knew was the hurt radiated through her entire body. Her ankles were breaking from the weight of trying to keep herself up. She didn't know she was falling until she landed on her knees with a hard thump, and the world in front of her righted itself jarringly. It did nothing to settle her upset stomach.
The pain disappeared almost as suddenly as it had appeared, but its residual effects lingered. She was nauseas, and she wanted to vomit though she knew nothing would come out because she hadn't eaten a proper enough meal since Shiharu died. The rims of her eyes burned with unshed tears begging to fall. Her skin was too sensitive, and even the lightest breeze that blew in from the window she'd just been standing at stung with cold.
"Pai!"
She looked up. There was worry, frantic concern in the voice that called to her just now, the man's voice that spoke her name like that. Her blurry world sharpened to normal. She blinked owlishly at who she saw standing in the middle of the corridor of the second floor.
Shin. He was hurrying towards her, long legs carrying him so much further than she could manage on her own.
Shin. Shin.
Pai wanted to call out to him. She wanted to erase that look on his face, wipe it away so that he didn't look so scared. She didn't know why he looked like that, didn't know what could possibly be enough to scare him, but she didn't want to see that look on his face.
She wanted to tell him that she was all right, because she suddenly realized, knew, that he looked like that because of her. But she didn't even have the strength to tell Kuniumi to stop the pain. The black smoke writhing in the fields of her vision was growing, getting darker and thicker.
She was slipping away.
"Hah," she breathed, whimpering at the sharp pain that lanced in her chest. "Shin-san..."
She raised her aching eyes to look at him. The figure that was Shin had doubled. There was now two of him standing at the foot of the staircase, leg raised in the air as he started up them to get to her. His eyebrows were creased in worry, blue eyes shadowed.
She blinked sluggishly in surprise. She didn't know Shin could make a face like that for her. She didn't know he had a twin, either. He looked so similar to Shin, as well. He was even moving at the exact same time Shin did, mouth opening to say something, to call out someone's name. She didn't know who. She didn't hear.
A flash of heat melded with cold, and it inched over her prone body. Gripping onto the railing for support, she just managed to pull herself to standing again. But her legs were too weak, her body too tired to keep her up on her own.
She leaned heavily on the railing, staring woodenly at the ground between her wobbling knees. Trying to force herself to stand up straight, raise her chin, and smile reassuringly as she always did...it was difficult. More so than it should have been if all was well.
What did you do to me...?
Pain makes people remember. Do you remember?
The sight of Shin blew up into a wall of white in front of her that slowly faded into darkness, and she stirs, coming to full wakefulness on her own. She sits up on the cot when she hears voices outside her door. Muffled snippets of conversation, hushed, hissed through clenched teeth.
Angry.
They are angry.
Frowning, she pushes the blanket aside and shoves her feet into the shoes she keeps at the ready by the foot of her cot. Her steps are quiet as she approaches her door, sturdy metal fortified with steel. She presses her ear against it.
There, she can just make out two voices. They sound vaguely familiar. She can't tell to whom they belong. That annoys her.
She wants to know.
She was unconscious before the seam of her eyes closed. Her body went limp, and she pitched forward down the stairs head-first in a dead faint.