The outline of her figure shimmered, like she was just a reflection in water, but the purple strands of her hair left no doubt. It was her. On the old school's rooftop.
She stood barely a meter from the short wall that overlooked the schoolyard and the buildings across the street.
There she was.
Satsu.
Her back was turned to Hana, hands clasped behind her. Her shoulder-length hair flickered in the wind and sunset light like a tiny campfire. Her head tilted upward, as if she was looking for something in the purple-red clouds.
But for what? An angel? No.
She'd just have to look in a mirror for that.
She was just standing there.
And somehow, that alone was more than Hana could've ever wished for. Slowly, like a quiet goodbye, Satsu turned her head toward her. Her deep blue eyes locked on Hana, catching the sunset's glow.
But there was more.
It felt like Hana could catch a glimpse of her soul. A glimpse trying to tell her that everything was okay. That there was no guilt. But Hana would never agree with that. There was guilt.
More than words could ever hold.
More than anyone could bear.
So Hana screamed.
Everything she felt.
Everything she'd wanted to say for so long.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Her red iris shrank. Why?
Why couldn't her feelings reach Satsuna?
Satsuna's lips changed shape.
Hana didn't want to believe it, but they curved into a smile, soft and golden like the sunset in her eyes.
It radiated nothing but peace.
Peace, even though that day had marked the beginning of a war. A silent one. A war no one could see.
Because the battlefield was her mind. And her heart.
But those blue eyes sparkled, as if they could forgive everything.
Suddenly, cracks spread across the ground beneath Satsuna's feet. Hana didn't even have a chance to react before it shattered, pulling Satsuna down with it.
All that was left was Hana's own hand.
Outstretched, fingers spread, trembling.
As if she could still save Satsu.
Her vision went black.
Satsuna vanished with the final glow of the sunset.
But then… there was something in her hand.
A bottle of Eikun Murasaki: Purple.
…what?
She blinked.
The bottle was gone.
Only her outstretched hand remained.
And behind it… a ceiling?
Hana jolted upright, breathing hard.
Satsu… where did you go?
And where… where did I go…?
She looked down at herself. A blanket covered her pink, patterned with cherry blossom branches.
Oh… like the cherry blossoms at Kawazokoike…
Wait.
A blanket with cherry blossoms?
Her eyes wandered around the room in disbelief. The wall was painted a soft cappuccino brown. Across from her, a small desk with what looked like a notepad on it. To the right, a tiny kitchenette. About the size of hers, but spotless. The blinds on the big window were half-down. Rays of sunrise pushed through, landing on the bed.
Right next to her. And there—
There lay Lyra. Sleeping calmly like a child.
What the hell?
Staring in disbelief, Hana bit her lower lip.
A dull sting, then the taste of iron.
It was real.
For a moment, she just sat there—
Half expecting the world around her to crack and fall apart too.
But nothing cracked.
Lyra's soft breathing pulled her attention back. She was turned toward Hana, clutching a pillow between her arms. The blanket had slipped down a little, revealing her black pajamas.
Then Hana looked down at herself.
The bunny costume. The zipper slightly open.
What the hell happened?
Flashes of memory flickered like strobe lights. She shut her eyes tight, as if that could help her catch the fragments.
Falling petals at Kawazokoike.
The crunch of gravel.
The beep at the checkout counter.
Then everything dimmed. She squeezed her eyes tighter, hoping to see more.
A hook to the chin through Rudi's shoulder.
Lyra talking on and on at her.
A circular motion, like a dance.
Feet. First burning, then freezing.
Nausea.
And the whole time, there'd been a warm hand holding hers.
Hana lifted hers to her face.
Lyly..?
A faint, all-too-familiar tightness in her throat shut that thought down immediately. With every heartbeat, it pulsed harder, spreading into her teeth and fingers. Followed by the trembling, which did never bode well. Thirst.
Not again.
She would've much rather stayed in that soft bed, trying to piece together more fragments of memory, but her body commanded her otherwise.
Actually, it didn't command, it just moved.
With a clumsy roll, she slipped out of the bed.
Her raw, blistered feet landed on something soft, but she didn't even bother looking down. Her eyes were already fixed on the kitchen. She followed immediately, opening door after door, drawer after drawer.
Nothing.
She yanked the fridge open, finding a few overpriced energy drinks. A carton of milk. A bunch of instant meals.
Stuff that could beat hunger, sure.
But nothing that could fix her thirst.
I'm so fucking pathetic…
Shame sat heavy in her stomach, but the burn in her throat beat everything. She let the fridge door shut, her gaze darting across the room. Not much here.
A few pieces of furniture. Some pictures on the wall.
And under the window, next to Lyra's bed… A box.
If not there, then where?!
In an instant she was kneeling beside it, her hands opening it on their own. Dust swirled up. But all she found staring back at her was a title: "Summer's End"
The box was full of nothing but old, dusty manga.
Wait… wasn't that the one Satsu—
But a tickle in her nose ruined the thought.
"A–a… ATCHOO!!"
"Fuck…" Hana sniffled and wiped away the tiny tears from the sneeze. She stayed there for a moment, scanning the room again to see if there was anything else.
But before she could find her next disappointment, two red eyes suddenly filled her vision. And they did not look happy.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
Lyra's black-rimmed eyes flicked from Hana to the open box. Her brows furrowed.
"Hands off that box…"
Hana didn't say a thing at first, but the blush on her cheeks forced words out faster than she liked.
"I– uh… I was just, like—"
"Why the hell are you going through my stuff?!"
Lyra's gaze swept to the open kitchen cabinets, then back at Hana.
"Ah, great. Gonna search my whole apartment next? Perfect."
"So this is how you thank me for helping you? Wow. Fantastic!"
Hana's throat tensed as she barely managed to get a sentence out. "I… I just need something… to drink."
The red in her eyes shimmered, trembling slightly.
Lyra's critical gaze was locked onto Hana, as if she was waiting for some explanation. She knew about Hana's drinking problem, but only yesterday had she realized just how deep it ran.
With a long, heavy sigh, Lyra got up, shuffled into the kitchen, and grabbed a glass.
"You need help, seriously…"
She was talking more to the glass than to Hana. Not because Hana wasn't worth a look, but because Lyra couldn't hide the worry in her eyes somehow. And Hana shouldn't see that.
Lyra set the glass down on the table and turned toward her. The cold edge in her voice was gone now, replaced with exhaustion and something else Hana couldn't quite name.
"Drink the water first. We'll figure out the rest in a minute."
Hana obeyed instantly, as if it were an order, even though she kept spluttering a few times.
"How much longer can you go without it?" Lyra asked quietly.
Hana's cheeks were still flushed, yet she didn't answer. She just felt too exposed.
Her mind was chaos, thoughts crashing into each other, none sticking long enough to speak. Only the trembling in her fingers stayed constant. A small, constant quake that crawled up her chest. Then Hana whispered, barely audible.
"I don't know."
A sentence as empty as a hollow room.
She lifted the glass again, even though water was the last thing her body wanted. But Lyra had given it to her, so she drank.
"I think my body hates me right now," she muttered with a weak smile that instantly fell apart. Her voice was rough, almost brittle. Like a cassette that's been rewound too many times.
Lyra sighed. "Your body hates you because you treat it like a fucking trash can."
Hana flinched.
One hand slipped from the glass, her gaze dropped. The floor blurred beneath her, like everything else inside her. The trembling had already burrowed deep into her shoulders. Her cracked lips quivered, trying to form words, but only shaky fragments came out.
"I— I– know, but… but—"
The lump in her throat crushed every word, burned higher and higher no matter how hard she tried to swallow it.
Then it broke. Quietly. Softly. But definitely.
Hana pressed her hands against her face, as if she could erase herself. Just vanish. The alcohol wasn't the real problem anymore. It was everything underneath.
"I… I didn't want you to see me like this," her voice pressed right through her fingers.
"I just… I just wanted to not feel for a bit. Just for a bit, Lyra. Just a bit."
"I… I don't want you to see me like this either… right now."
The last words came out like a plea.
Lyra froze.
Completely still, like someone had just pulled the floor out from under her. For a few seconds, she didn't move. Stuck somewhere between herself and reality. Then finally, she did. Slowly. Like someone who had no idea what the right thing to do was, but would rather do something wrong than nothing at all.
Lyra lowered herself until she was at Hana's level.
And for a moment, she was just there.
Hana still sat, like something slowly coming undone. Her eyes glassy, skin burning hot, her fingers so tense it was like she was trying to hold on to the air itself.
"I can't do this anymore," she forced out.
It wasn't even a clear sentence, just something that had been stuck inside her for too long, clawing its way out.
"I feel like shit. So fucking dirty. I—"
Her voice cracked. Her chest rose too fast. She gasped for air like she was trying to shove everything back inside.
"Shit…"
Hana tried to pull herself together. Somehow.
But her shoulders kept trembling, mercilessly, matching the quiver of her lips.
Then it came. The small, broken sob of a child, quiet but so deep at the same time. Tears fell onto her thighs, though she barely noticed. Even her body didn't feel like her own anymore.
Hana cried, but not the kind of crying you see in movies.
She cried the way people do when there's no holding back anymore. With a sticky face, panicking breaths that sounded more like suffocating.
She couldn't even look at Lyra. Every second of that raw honesty felt worse than anything that had come before.
"I… I have to go," she mumbled suddenly. Not because she really wanted to leave. She just couldn't take it anymore.
"Hey… wait…", Lyra's voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Hana, you can't just—"
She wanted to keep talking, to find something, anything, that might stop this from falling apart.
But nothing came.
Hana stood up. Her knees were weak, the shaking got stuck in her legs. She didn't look at Lyra. Just the floor.
"Please… I just need… a hoodie. Something big. I can't… I can't… go out like this…"
Lyra froze for a second, then quietly walked to the closet and pulled out a big black hoodie.
Hana slipped it on over the bunny costume and pulled the hood low over her face. Her fingers trembled on the zipper, but she managed to close it.
She was just about to leave when—
"I don't know what I can say to make you stay…"
Lyra's face was helpless, uncertain, something Hana had never seen before. Desperation frozen into shock. Her hand hung in the air, reaching for something that was already gone.
A weak, hollow smile flickered across Hana's face. More reflex than emotion. Then she turned around.
And left without any other words.
The door clicked shut behind her.
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It was quiet.
Way too quiet, considering the chaos that had gone down here last evening. Rudi's office sat in a deep, murky shade of black. The room couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be the office of a businessman or a wannabe gangster. Dark wood panels, cheap whiskey bottles lined up on a shelf, neon lights flickering around them, and a stack of paperwork that hadn't been touched in weeks.
Rudi leaned back in his massive leather chair, eyes locked on his phone. The cold glow of the screen reflected faintly in his eyes as he checked his messages over and over.
He'd sent Lyra at least seven already.
"Where the hell are you?!"
"That was your last mistake, fucking bitch!"
"You won't get away from me. I'll find you."
To Hana, he'd sent fewer.
"Hana, we need to talk. Now."
"Don't ignore me or you'll regret it."
Not a single reply. Just that damn little checkmark showing the messages had been read. And every time he saw it, his jaw clenched tighter.
Then the door slammed open with a loud BANG, as a scrawny guy walked in. Vox. His thin frame didn't look like much, except for the gun sticking out of his waistband.
"You wanted to see me, boss?", he asked, his voice carrying a forced edge of aggression that didn't really fit his delicate appearance.
Rudi didn't even look up. His voice came out calm, dangerously calm.
"Heard anythin' from the two lasses, Vox?"
"Nah. Nothin'. They're ignorin' me too." He took a few steps closer. "Want me to go check on 'em? I'll bring 'em back if ya want."
Rudi let out a short.
"Giv'em one more hour. Exactly one. If they're still quiet after that, you show 'em who's boss, yeah? Remind 'em that they can't step on my fuckin' cock."
Vox's mouth twisted into a crooked grin. He shrugged, bony shoulders lifting.
"With pleasure, boss. You want me to be gentle, or—"
Rudi cut him off, his voice sharp as his eyes.
"You just do your fuckin' job, got it? I need Hana and Lyra back in one piece, at least physically. You followin'?"
He leaned back again, jaw tight.
"They're my top girls, Vox. My best. They're the ones bringin' in the money, yeah? The crowd fuckin' loves 'em."
Then his voice dropped lower, almost like talking to himself.
"I don't want this to get messy… but if it has to…", he tapped two fingers against his temple. "…then they'll get a nice little reminder of what happens when someone thinks they can dance on my bloody nose."
Rudi sank deeper into the chair, fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. The silence stretched, while Vox stood perfectly still, waiting for more orders.
Rudi's eyes flicked back to his phone. Still no answer from Lyra or Hana. Just that damned checkmark, staring back at him like a taunt.
"So…" he muttered finally, barely glancing at Vox.
"We'll wait. For now."
"If they don't reply, you go pay 'em a visit."
"Got it, boss," Vox said with a quick nod.
"Good. Now piss off", he lead away Vox with a wave of his hand.
Vox nodded once more, turned, and left the room. Rudi lowered his phone, a dark shadow crossing his face.
"Bloody women…", he muttered under his breath, eyes drifting back to the glowing screen.