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Chapter 16: Stay
Kyousuke had witnessed his fair share of astounding sights in his life, however the sight before him still left him gaping like a fish out of water.
The Dean of the music faculty––a woman with decades of performances and industry experience, a respected figure in the classical music scene of both Mitakihara and Japan itself––was bowing to him. And not just a simple incline of the head, but dangerously low in a flawless deep bend.
“Please, Kamijou-kun, there’s no one else we can turn to.”
How did I get here?
To answer that question, let us rewind the clock from the beginning of the day.
Kyousuke had woken up on time, left for class on time and went about lessons as usual. Afterwards, he met up with his friends for lunch. Conversation included mundane details about their respective days; a few complaints about group projects; and at one point, Yukari brought up the idea of a weekend trip before finals, partly for fun and stress relief, partly due to some of her friends performing over in Kazamino.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, Kyousuke had stopped by the faculty office, dropping off a form for Hideaki, and the Dean had called out to him, inviting him for a chat in her office, and one thing had led to another.
Most importantly, the discovery that Saki had been absent since last Thursday.
“We can’t get in touch with her,” the Dean confessed with a sigh. “Not phone calls, not emails. We’ve tried asking her friends and classmates as well, but they don’t appear to be getting any response either.”
“What about her family?”
“Umine-kun’s parents are abroad presently and they can only be reached through their attorney. For now, I’d rather avoid lawyers and the like unless absolutely necessary.”
Understandable; in his experience, anything involving Umine Saki tended to blow out of proportion.
“I’m told you and Umine-kun are on good terms?” she said, hopeful.
“Well, Umine-san and I, we aren’t even in the same year, much less the same track. We don’t see each other all that often, so I can’t say we know each other very well.”
Despite how close their relationship felt at times, it wasn’t like they were especially good friends, not the way he was with Hideaki or Yukari. In fact, so much of Saki still remained unknown to him that it was difficult to say if they were even friends.
“Oh.” The Dean’s optimistic expression deflated.
A stab of guilt hit his chest. Tentatively, he offered, “I suppose I could try stopping by her place, and dropping off any––”
The Dean perked up immediately. “You’ve been to her house?”
“I’ve, um, had dinner there before, so….er, yes?” He added quickly, “But I’m sure you already have her address.”
“We do, but there’s been no response when we call her on the intercom. None of her friends knew where she lived apparently.” There was a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Except you.”
Kyousuke didn’t like where this was going.
“Kamijou-kun, you’re our only hope. Please try talking to Umine-kun and persuade her to attend classes again.”
“Um…” He couldn’t exactly refuse a request from the Dean outright, but she was seriously overestimating the depth of his relationship with Saki. “I’ll consider it.”
“Kamijou-kun, I am on my last strings here.” The Dean rubbed her temples, sighing in a way that sounded like this wasn’t the first or only time the situation had given her a headache. “If this goes on any longer, not only will I have to involve the police, I may have to fail one of the brightest stars in Japan’s classical music industry.”
How would the Dean explain why a genius prodigy like Saki, who had won numerous international awards, been accepted into the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, suddenly flunked her first semester at Mitakihara University?
It was uncertain how the music faculty’s reputation would survive after such a fiasco, including the Dean’s own. Even if the staff had nothing to do with Saki failing, they would still be placed under scrutiny by the public and the press.
Kyousuke grimaced, recalling his own media circus.
That experience was just a taste of what it meant to be a celebrity. For something involving Umine Saki, a person who had been described by complete strangers as ‘representing Japan on the global stage’, it would be a hundred times worse.
To top it off, if this was declared as a missing persons case, Mitakihara City would never know peace again.
However, if Kyousuke was being honest…
“I don’t know if I can help, sensei,” he admitted. “What if––” he swallowed, “––what if I just make things worse?”
After all, someone who actually knew Saki, someone who was actually her friend, would not have carelessly hurt her and driven her away the way he had. Someone else would have known the right thing to say, someone else would have been able to catch up to her and stop her.
And clearly, Kyousuke was not that someone.
The Dean thought differently. “Kamijou-kun, at this point, there’s nothing else that could make things worse.”
Before he could protest, she was on her feet, moving to the other side of her desk to stand before him.
“Sensei?”
To his utter and complete shock, the Dean bowed her head low.
Not the simple incline of the head, not the show of respect to a superior–– either already wildly inappropriate for someone of her standing to offer to him–– no, she was offering a seikeirei, the highest form of respect, and a show of her desperation.
Without raising her head, she pleaded, “Please, Kamijou-kun, there’s no one else we can turn to.”
Thinking back on it, he still wasn’t quite sure how things had turned out the way they did, but outside, there were sounds of footsteps against tiles, of conversation and slightly creaky hinges; people were starting to return to their desks after lunch, and f or the Dean to be seen bowing like this towards a mere student like him, he would be in for another bout of rumors at the very least.
“Sensei, please raise your head,” he mumbled.
“You’ll say yes?”
He relented. “I’ll try my best.”
“Oh, thank you, Kamijou-kun.” Thankfully, she lifted her head, beaming, as she straightened her position so she was no longer bowing.
“…Not at all, sensei,” he managed a weak smile, once again wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.
After classes ended, Kyousuke stopped by a takoyaki stall, and a taiyaki stall, and a fast food joint for fries, and just to be safe, the convenience store downstairs from Saki’s place for pudding.
Growing up, he hadn’t visited his friends’ houses very often, so he wasn’t sure what sort of gift would be polite. Wagashi or sushi felt too fancy and out of place, and he knew very little about Saki’s personal taste, so he chose the classic, safe options.
Hopefully, she would like something from the array he bought.
As he approached the building, it occurred to him that Saki may simply ignore him as well, the same way she had ignored the faculty staff.
He glanced down at the bags in his hand, and back at the apartment doors, before continuing on his way to the intercom. Well, regardless of the outcome, at least one of them would be eating well tonight.
Before he could dial the unit number, the door buzzed open for him. He stared at the intercom, which gave the slightest crackle of static, then fell completely silent.
Taking the hint, he didn’t lose a moment, rushing over to the elevators. By the time he had hurried over to her floor, her front door was ajar, familiar summer-blue peeking out from the crack.
He paused, features softening into a gentle smile, and placed a hand on the doorknob. “May I come in?”
“Do whatever you want.” Her reply came out as a low growl, voice raspy and hoarse.
A part of him remembered their first handshake, when a deep-seated instinct screamed ‘danger!’ at him. Back then, it had been like shaking hands with a dangerous beast, trying to ignore the glint of sharp canines underneath her mask.
From the glimpse of her face now––half-hidden by the shadows as it were––it was easy to tell she was hurting, jagged and sharp and ready to lash out. If he entered her den, he would be the closest target for her claws and teeth, the only target even.
A smart man would know to run from a wolf.
“Thank you,” he said instead, and pulled the door wide open, stepping through the threshold and into her home.
Saki said nothing, simply turning around to walk back inside.
As he took off his shoes, his eyes began to adjust to the dim atmosphere. Most of the apartment was bathed in darkness, the main light source from various appliances, like her TV.
He paused at the space between the dining table and the living room.
On the couch, Saki sat huddled in a thick blanket, only her head poking out. The sight made his heart ache a little; had she been this way, by herself, this whole time?
She gazed up at him expectantly.
Words weren’t needed. Taking his seat on the couch once again, he placed the numerous bags of food between them.
This time, an action anime played onscreen, one of those henshin ones with a team of colorful members and big robots fighting against big monsters.
“Did she like this?”
“Hmm?” he answered.
“The person you admired? She wanted to be a hero, right?” She gave a half-hearted nod towards the screen. “Did she like this sort of thing?”
He glanced up, as the red leader shot a laser beam towards a monster.
“…I don’t know,” he admitted.
Because while kids his age watched morning anime on the weekends, he was busy getting ready for violin lessons. Because while Sayaka had attended every performance of his, he had rarely known much of her at all.
“Maybe she did.” A pause. “Do you like it?”
She shrugged, eyes still glued onto the screen. “Dunno. Maybe I do.”
It felt as if there was something she wanted him to say––maybe about what happened in the music room, maybe about the last time he was here––but whatever was on her mind, he didn’t know the answer, so he said nothing, the sounds from the anime filling the silence between them, as they each took pieces of takoyaki.
“Did you ever want to be a hero, Saki-san?” he ventured cautiously at last.
“Maybe.”
“Did you stop?”
“…No.” There was a crunch as she ripped a piece of taiyaki off, the head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Are you a hero?”
She turned to him then, slowly, her lips curving upwards into a smile, one so empty and sharp that his skin tingled with goosebumps. “What do you think, Kamijou-kun? Am I a hero?”
In that moment, it was as if he was at the maw of a great beast, a breath away from glinting teeth ready to snap him up.
At the same time, if he peered closer, beyond her pain and hurt and the fear she tried to inflict, there was more to it than that.
He should be afraid, that’s what her smile was saying.
But she didn’t want to be alone, that’s what everything else told him.
“Do you have to be one?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off-guard, before a laugh––high and clear––rang throughout the room, brightening the darkness for a moment.
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re so––”
“So are you,” he cut in, grinning.
Saki rolled her eyes, grabbing a fistful of fries, her movements less languid this time.
Kyousuke stood up and pulled the coffee table closer to the couch, placing all the food on top of its surface, allowing him to scoot closer to her.
Saki didn’t comment, only reaching towards the table for a tissue to wipe her hands.
“Have you been alone all this time?” he asked, half to himself.
Saki froze for a moment, before nonchalantly continuing to wipe at her palms.
He waited.
She crumpled the tissue, tossing it into an empty bag. “What does it matter to you?”
“You matter to me.”
“Hah!” A quiet huff, the sharpness of it surprising him. “Do you care about me, Kamijou-kun?”
“Of course I do,” he said, but his words weren’t as firm as he wanted, and she pounced.
“Like that stray, you mean? Kind, benevolent, flawless Kamijou-sensei is taking pity on a poor abandoned mutt like me, is it?”
He opened his mouth to refute her, but his words faltered on his tongue under her gaze.
The way that summer-blue bore into him was unfamiliar; not not the cold, haughty taunting of the one who hated him, or the snarky warmth of his self-proclaimed enemy, but something else, something hollow and empty and so very, very raw.
And faced with this unknown, he could only squirm beneath her gaze, somehow both guilty and innocent all at once.
“You’re not…” Even before he reached the end of those three syllables, he already knew he had blundered.
“You don’t deny it.” Satisfaction flashed through her features, as if she was pleased he had disappointed her, pleased that he had hurt her.
And inside Kyousuke, something snapped.
“What do you want me to say then?!” he snapped. “That I don’t care about you at all? That I should just let you rot somewhere alone? Die in this dark house because I was too stupid to notice you needed my help? Well, too bad, Saki-san, because I do care! I’m worried that you’re not showing up to classes, I’m worried you have to repeat a grade. What if they had to get the police involved?! Then, it might be harder for you to do shows, and, and…”
He blinked, catching his breath. That…had surprised him. He was used to Saki’s hatred, to her taunting gaze and spiteful actions, but he had never felt anger at her. Confusion at times maybe, but not an emotion that left the blood pounding in his ears.
However, things were different this time, he was different now.
Whatever their relationship was, Saki was undeniably someone who mattered to him, and seeing her like this, seeing her stay firmly rooted in her pain and misery, pushing everyone away so she could suffer alone…
He wasn’t going to let someone he cared about go through that, not again.
Quietly, he confessed, “I’m worried you’re going to make the same mistakes I did.”
“Kyousuke…”
“I know your life isn’t any of my business. We’re not even friends, not really. I don’t know anything about you at all.”
Just like Sayaka . The thought came unbidden and just as quickly, pushed aside.
“But I do know what it’s like to shut everyone out, and I do know how hard it is to climb back up after abandoning everything.” Tears dripped down onto his lap. “Saki-san, you don’t have to lose everything. You can hurt and you can be angry, but you don’t, you don’t have to be alone, yknow? I can be here. With you”
Her eyes widened, but she turned her head away immediately. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re going to get hurt.”
“You’ve already hurt me before,” he pointed out. Weakly, he added, “What’s a little more?”
No reply.
“I don’t, I don’t want to lose someone important to me again. I’m dense and oblivious, I’m no good at figuring out something’s wrong until it’s too late, so this is the only way I know how to ask.” He clasped the edges of the blanket, roughly where her hands should be “Please don’t go, please, I don’t want to lose you.”
Saki gaped at him, open-mouthed, eyes beginning to gleam with water. She blinked them away, but one managed to roll down.
Her hands pried his fingers off the blanket, and he was prepared to withdraw his touch, but instead, she pulled his hands towards her face, until he was cupping her cheeks, one cheek in each palm. Her eyes fluttered close, her expression turning into something he would almost describe as blissful.
Barely stopping his jaw from dropping to the floor, Kyousuke could only stare on, not daring to make a sound.
The moment felt far too fragile for that, so beautiful and precious and delicate that perhaps even a breath could shatter it to pieces.
After what could have been centuries, there was a quiet whisper, “I wish you had said this earlier.”
He swallowed. Was he too late after all? “Does that mean you…”
“I’m not going anywhere. For now.” She glanced up, eyelashes catching tears, smiling at him. “For now, I’ll stay right here.”
“With me?”
“With you.”
And that was all that mattered really, so the tension in Kyousuke’s body snapped, his shoulders sagging with relief.
“You were really worried about me, huh?” she chuckled.
“Of course I was! Anybody would be. You haven’t even answered any texts or calls from your teachers or your friends! I bet your parents must be worried too.”
“Probably. But I’ll work it all out later.” She released his hands then, and his right arm dropped back to his side.
However, his left hand stayed in place.
Saki exchanged a look with him.
“If you want…we can stay like this for a while.”
She blinked, before a warm smile bloomed across her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning into his touch, and oh, there was that blissful look again, as if she had everything she could ever want.
Why did you do all of this?
What aren’t you telling me?
Who are you, Saki-san?
There were many questions he should be asking. For all he felt their closeness in this moment, it still felt like only the tip of the iceberg, only the tiniest piece of her was known to him.
But seeing her content face, all those questions faded away.
Another time.
Today…
Today, they would just stay like this, holding each other.