Chapter Text
“You’ll never understand how I feel.”
She didn’t know it’d go like this.
“Look where you’re going, the light’s red!”
She didn’t think it would end up like this.
“SUMIRE!-”
The rain was trickling down from the clouds above them in the softest rhythm, unaware – or perhaps uncaring – of its role as the frame to the scene underneath it. The buildings around them stand impossibly tall and imposing, as if in judgment. The ever moving, ever ignorant passerby betrayed their nature and had abruptly stopped their commute to watch in horror. Neither the wind or the city made a sound, perhaps mourning the unfortunate series of events.
“What…”
At the center of it all, laid the centerpiece, spotlight casted on them.
Sumire Yoshizawa, the good for nothing, participation-place medallist kneeling on the dirty ground…
“Kasumi…?”
…And Kasumi Yoshizawa, the best gymnast and only sister she ever knew, unmoving on the pavement in a pool of her own blood.
She wouldn’t even dare think things would end up like this.
Sumire could do nothing but stare in abject horror as the filth under her sister’s head grew in size. Her stilled body was getting pelted by the rain, as was probably hers. The rain didn’t help dissipate the puddle of red; if anything it was helping spread it. Sumire’s vision was blurry, but she could see Kasumi’s ribbon mixing in with the blood, both contrasting against the colder surroundings. Kasumi’s ribbon was always such a striking shade of red, wasn’t it? It’s crimson, almost fuschia in her eyes. It was scarlet, nearly similar to Sumire’s own hair. It was red, like a rose, like a cherry, or a stop sign.
Her mind, in spite of itself, wandered. That long gone day she’d gotten it, now a distant dream. Kasumi was always the one to ask for matching sets of everything, be it clothes or stationary or toothbrushes. And she always got what she wanted, save for the same hair. Her ribbon, always bouncing in the air when she was excited, woven into the hair tie holding up her high bun when she had practice, or tied around her wrist when she was brushing her hair. Her ribbon, almost neon, flowing in the air as Kasumi jumped to save her.
She shouldn’t have been saved. She should’ve been smarter. Of course she didn’t think, she was never one to think before running off, before looking at her sister, before listening to rationale. Kasumi was always the one who had to run after her, the coward Sumire. The good-for-nothing Sumire. The wimpy Sumire who always needed comfort. The weak, insecure, stupid Sumire who couldn’t even take a joke .
The stupid, selfish Sumire, who had just killed her sister.
Sumire, eyes wide, teary, and burning, looked at Kasumi.
And as if luck would have it, her matching shot-open eyes looked back at her.
Kasumi’s ribbon, red like a stop sign, loosened its grip on her hair.
At some point, The redhead was picked off from the floor. She was sitting on the curb under the bridge with a blanket wrapped around her shaking shoulders, just as the body of Kasumi was being wheeled away on a stretcher. The gymnast’s mind remained elsewhere before a nurse in uniform began approaching her. She only knew to stare at her standing, then crouching, form until she opened her mouth. There came the dreaded question:
“What is your name?”
“…S-Sumire. Yoshizawa Sumire.”
For whatever reason, her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.
Everything afterwards was very spotty for the poor girl. The nurse had left at some point, probably once her dad got to the scene and ran towards her. Very vaguely, she remembered her father hugging her in tears. He was worried, of course, Kasumi getting hurt was bound to do that. His worry wasn't for Sumire, why would it be? His hugs, his words, his tears and kisses to her rain-soaked forehead, so warm and reassuring…they weren’t meant for her, but for Kasumi. Yes, that’s why he was so close to her, because she was the closest thing he had to her sister.
He doesn’t really care, Sumire rationalized during the time – seconds? an hour? Months? – between her magic teleportation from the crosswalk to the hospital. At least she thinks that’s what this is. She and her father are sitting side to side. Somehow, a comforting warmth splayed itself on her back, moving in circles.
Thinking it better to come back down to earth than to sob in front of her father – she was a killer, why would a killer, her sister’s killer no less, deserve the tears to cry? – she started noticing the environment. It was cold, a freezing box dressed in stark whites and grays. She was sitting in a set of three chairs side-to-side-to-side. Not too far away, there was an AC unit mounted on the opposite wall, which, combined with the fact she’d been under the rain for some time, explained why she was so cold despite having a blanket wrapped around her. Also on the other side, there was a row of doors to other hospital rooms.
Sumire turned around. There was a window behind their chairs, showing what she assumed was the parking lot by the amount of abstract colored dots scattered on gray asphalt. This made her realize her lack of glasses, said artifact being held in her hand. She turned back around to put them on, facing the floor. Speaking of which, and now that she could see it properly, there were a few light brown tiles separated by an overwhelming amount of gray ones, forming a strange, spread out pattern of white and dark eggshells.
Right, wasn’t Sumire going to cook the both of them some eggs for dinner? Kasumi always wanted to help her around the kitchen, but that was a big No for the sake of both of their palates after she made those nasty energy drink riceballs once.
Sumire smiled as she reminisced about the back-and-forths between them. Her sister always managed to mess up the recipes, no matter how clear the instructions were. Kasumi resigned herself to assistant chef and “blender master”, as she called the position of making their gymnastics drink of the day, after making ash-flavored steak. Her sister would boast to their grandmother about cooking with her sister at family gatherings, but she really only handed her the ingredients from the fridge and mixed powders together. No matter the name they gave it, though, Sumire enjoyed spending time with her sister like that. It felt…nice to be better than her at something for once.
Kasumi always outmatched her at everything she did. Gymnastics, taking criticism, talking to people, not giving in to pressure, helping others, being confident, bold, honest, optimistic, perseverant, selfless. And despite being all Sumire could never be, Kasumi always believed in her, pushed her to be better, told her that she was strong, kind, amazing. That was the one thing she could never understand. What was it that Kasumi saw in her?
“...ey…mire…wan…”
Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it?
It’s not like she’ll know what the answer would be now, anyway, the selfish, stupid little -
“Sumire…! Hey, Sumire, are you with me?”
Sumire returns to reality once again at the behest of her father beside her, shaking her out of her trance. Right, she was trying to ground herself, wasn’t she?
“Y-yes dad. Sorry.” Sumire replied, blinking rapidly
Her father smiled. “Don’t be. It…it’s ok to cry, don’t worry.”
Sumire felt her face and, he was right, she was crying. How did that happen? She needed to stop that.
Either way, she held her glasses in one hand as she wiped her face with the blanket. It’s fuzzy, she realizes.
“It’s going to be alright, my swan. The doctors said her heart is still beating, we just have to wait and…and see if they say anything else, alright?”
Sumire laughed through her nose at the old nickname and nodded. “Mhm, alright”
Despite the reassurance, Sumire didn’t hold much hope in herself.
“Good. Maybe we could also go for ice cream later, bring your mother or sister a cone when she gets better? Like always…?”
“ If she gets better.” Sumire doesn’t say, but carries the sentiment like a weight on her shoulders.
Her father likely noticed this, as squeezed her shoulder, his warm smile still there in spite of the worry in his eyes. “Hey, Sumire. When we get home, would you want to see that movie you like? The...that one with the blonde girl and the wooden do-”
His words are interrupted by the characteristic noise from a phone call. To little surprise, it’s from her mother. Right, she and her grandmother must be worried sick, too. Shinichi Yoshizawa got up from his chair beside the redhead, giving her a “wait” motion with his hand, and walked further into the stretching hallway.
Sumire was left alone once again. She looked around her chair to see if she had any belongings with her. Considering the haze the girl was in when she got here, it’s a surprise when she finds two pink bags stored under her chair. She tries to grab one, only to feel its cold, wet underside on her hand. She opts to leave it on the floor and open it there, to see if there’s anything she brought to keep her from losing herself again.
Betrayal is the only thing she finds, when after finding a broken phone and a striking red ribbon sitting inside it, like Pandora before her, she realizes she’s opened Kasumi’s bag.
It’s almost mocking, the way the light-sensitive phone turns on to see a picture of Kasumi just a couple months ago. The screen may be hanging on by a thread from how shattered it’s become, but Sumire would have recognized the photo from a mile away: Kasumi had won 1st place in a local competition and was begging for Sumire to take a picture right after the ending ceremony. She was in her pink leotard, with her hair tied up in a neat bun and a trophy in her hands. She was smiling so wide – practically beaming – that even with Sumire not getting to qualify that season, the redhead was smiling as well. There were more pictures, but it’s not an oddity to see Kasumi in one of these types. She was always the winning sister, always running ahead with a golden smile, stealing all the medals, all the love from every crowd, beckoning Sumire to follow with her arms wide open. Kasumi wanted Sumire to reach the top by her side. And yet she always reached higher, always beat her, always one-upped her, always shone brighter. An uphill battle, a footrace, and Sumire could never catch up.
How could she not get it? How did Kasumi never get it? Kasumi was just lucky. Kasumi was blessed by whatever god was up there with better stamina, better mobility, better balance, better social skills, better learning speed, and what-have-you. No matter how much Sumire wanted to give it her all and make her gymnastics her own, Kasumi’s were always praised, while she was only met with neutrality, with critiques sandwiched between compliments…And sure, Kasumi was also met with criticism, but at least she knew how to take it well, how to incorporate and learn from it, how to not feel like every word was a stab to her heart.
How not to feel like all those coaches were telling her how useless she always has been. How she will never be good enough.
Kasumi was better than her, plain and simple. No amount of beckoning or ice cream outings with Hiraguchi-san or kindness or “things will be okay”s would make Sumire a better gymnast, or a better friend, or much less any sort of better person. She would never understand how she feels.
“The light's red!”
“SUMIRE!-”
…And now, Sumire realizes, she never really will.
Sumire grabs at her blanket, shielding her shaking shoulders from being bruised. She’ll never talk to Kasumi again. She’ll never see her smile, or get ice cream cones after failed practices with her again. She’ll never watch her favorite movies or fail to cook or dance with her ever again. All because she wasn’t smart enough. She should’ve seen the light. She should’ve seen the dumb light, she could stand looking at her sister’s ribbon and her pile of gold medals and her being the one everyone wanted, she should have been able to look up to a stupid light for a fraction of a second . Sumire robbed her. Sumire robbed her of her dream. She robbed Kasumi of her dream. She robbed her of her life.
Did she mean this? Did she want this? Did she want this outcome? Did she want this?? Did-
“Excuse me, miss. May I sit here?”
Sumire was, once again, snapped out of her thoughts (thank god) by a lady in a trenchcoat.
“May I sit here?” She repeated, gesturing to the empty chair to her right. “I am in a need to recharge, my…joints grow stiff”
Ignoring the choice of words, Sumire nods, “My dad was sitting there, but I don’t…” She can’t even find him in the hallway, upon looking past the tall lady.
“...I don’t think he’d mind.” She concludes
“Thank you, you are very kind.” The lady then proceeds to sit down, Sumire fixing her posture appropriately.
The girl now takes a good look at the newcomer. She is blonde, with short hair and eyes as blue as a clear sky and a pair of…earphones? It seems? They adorn her head with a gold metallic shine to them. Her trench coat was long and brown, almost like the ones dark-as-night detectives used in overseas comics.
“Pardon my intrusion,” the blonde lady began. “But is there a reason you visit this place?”
“I…” Sumire balks, her chords suddenly refusing to make a noise. How much would she share? Would she cross a line and unload everything? She’s never been good at talking, Kasumi is the one who-
“My sister.” She blurts out, quick before thinking twice. “My sister is interned here. She…got into an accident.”
The lady smiles fondly, before her face turns flat. “It is far from happy for your sister to be here, I am sorry to hear that. However, I find it curious that a friend of mine has also been admitted to this hospital”
“Really?” Sumire asks, “How did it happen? AH- of course i-if it’s ok to ask, i’m so sor-”
“No need, it’s alright.” The lady nods.
“Sa-” ahem “…Pardon. My friend, he works in the area as part of a nongovernmental organization. He often gets into conflicts thanks to his job. As much as he insisted, however, this ‘smashdown’, as he says, was clearly not affiliated with his position.”
Sumire chuckled at the word usage, and the blonde lady smiled. How could she do that? Just…smile so often while her friend is here?
Regardless, the lady continued. “He kept insisting he was fine, that ‘a small bruise never hurt anyone’. He’s a very reckless sort of person…as well as one who broke his ribcage.”
“O-oh! God, is…will he be ok? Was it serious?” Sumire asked, shocked.
“He isn’t critically injured, as all his other important organs are at full capacity, but he had to stay in this hospital for some weeks.
“In better news, I’ve been notified that he is near full recovery as of today, and is likely to be dismissed next week. He is one of those people who are unable to stay still for long periods of time, and so he is more than ready to get up and…’raise some hell’, was it?”
“Well, uh, that’s…that’s great! It sounds like he’s not taking it badly. S-So you’re here to visit him?” Sumire feels herself mentally slipping from exhaustion, ready to put on the autopilot and let her brain head out for the day.
“I believe I mentioned it, but yes. I am here to oversee his recovery.” The tall lady looked at one of the doors down the hall, likely the one she came out from. “I have not come here alone, though. His other friends, like myself, have come to visit him. Not all of them were available to come here today, only myself and his boss, but they’ve all seen him at least once during this last month.”
“I see…” An absentminded reply. Thinking about it, though, how come nobody had arrived at the hospital to see Kasumi yet? Of course, her mother had called, but what about her aunt? What about her grandmother? Her own friends would arrive later ( “if Kasumi even has time left by then” Sumire pushes the thought aside), that’s a no-brainer, but…Were they avoiding Kasumi? Were they scared to see Kasumi in such a state? Sumire could somewhat sympathize with that. But then again, sympathy from an idiot like her wasn’t worth anything.
And what better way to describe her, really? If it wasn’t for her, Kasumi would be surrounded by the people she loves. Even better yet, she wouldn’t even need to be stuck in a stale hospital bed in the first place.
Sumire quickly remembers she’s in the middle of a conversation, and that it is very rude to get lost in self-degrading thoughts when someone is talking to you. “Did, uh. Did you bring him anything?” She grasped at anything to make it seem like her body isn’t about to give up on itself.
“Yes, I did. While I’m not fully versed in the tradition, it isn’t unnatural to bring offerings to those hurt in hopes that they recover soon.” “She must be from somewhere else, then.” Sumire thinks. “That would explain the way she looks. Maybe her formal Japanese, too.”
“I spent some time thinking of what object I could bring him, and after analyzing his likes and routine, I decided on a worthy blender with 35 thousand revolutions per minute for a faster blend. I would have bought a power drill instead of it for that same purpose, but my proposal was declined. I am not sure of why, since both contain the functionality to create revolutions, as well as the correct adaptors for the same job,” Sumire couldn’t help but smile at that mental image, “but I digress.”
“Our boss and friend brought him something not so useful, but still meaningful enough: a small card with serious text demanding a recovery. She is talking with him in his room as we speak, about the current happenings in the job while he’s been out. Perhaps she has chosen the gift of conversation and human connection as something more valuable, which given their connection and busy schedules, would make sense.” The blonde was thinking out loud
“Or maybe she…” Sumire began. “...She has something more to bring him later? Like, uh. A surprise gift for when he gets out?”
The lady thought for a moment. “It is possible, yes. She cares for him a lot, and is a person who enjoys to recompense special occasions. There are many examples of this, but they are irrelevant to the conversation at hand.”
She went on, “He’s received a lot of other offerings. A souvenir keychain from the United States born from a misunderstanding of the language, rather than ‘fate’, as his friend calls it; A set of action toys from a show he and his son enjoy – feathered men, I believe? Though it has nothing to do with anthropomorphic avians so it puzzles me – from his actress colleague; a stuffed bear courtesy of his son, which looked suspiciously similar to the way my friend looks…”
Sumire hears about the gifts this man has received; he must be a great person to have so many others to lean on. She doesn’t know him or his group of friends in the slightest, only through the story this woman is telling her, but if his friends are still willing to come visit him after he recklessly jumped into what she could only assume was a street fight…
She can’t imagine herself in such a position. She’s never been the one to take a blow for someone, for anyone for that matter. Who would she take one for, anyway? It’s not like she had someone she’d break a rib for. Or anyone who’d do that for her. At least, not anym-
Sumire interacted further, “His friends sound…nice. U-Um how- how did all of you meet?”
The blonde lady seemed pensive for a short moment, but almost immediately recovered. “That’s…a difficult question, but it was our school club that brought us together, for the most part. We… We all lived in the same dormitory for a year, and that is what brought us closer. A certain event happened, and we all made a bloodless pact to…keep it from happening again. However, we… ”
Sumire was listening intently, it was almost like she had to, after all. It was either listening to the woman’s vague stories – Sumire can’t and doesn’t care to figure out if or why she’s speaking as if hiding something; she could be part of the mafia for all she knows – or sinking back into the sea. Back into the full reason she is in this hospital. Back into…
…Why would that man jump into that fight? Was he trying to defend somebody? Did he just want to fight someone on the street? Maybe he isn’t really ‘brave’, but instead, an adrenaline junkie…? No, he has a job, a good job, he wouldn’t. She’s not even sure why she’s trying to wrap her head around this; maybe he was just trying to diffuse the situation, if not by talking then by fighting. Maybe he wanted to protect somebody, even if it meant getting hurt himself. Protect a person he cared about, even if it meant fatality. How selfless of him. How kind. How honorable.
How familiar.
Sumire feels a hand on her shoulder, just before that. It’s abnormally cold, she notices, making her shudder.
“I wouldn’t want this to happen to you, but” The woman looks at her younger companion, “me and my friends, we…have lost people very dearly close to us. I, myself, have lost somebody special to me in the past. He was a good person and a true friend, and he gave up something important to save those he loved…”
In the following bout of silence, Sumire feels the similarities.
Maybe she wasn’t the best person in the room – Far from it, and especially after today – but Kasumi…she meant a lot to her. She was her best friend, always so optimistic when her younger sister failed, supportive even at her lowest of lows. She’s the best sister she could’ve ever asked for. This woman, kind and beautiful, suffered a fate familiar to her own. Sumire halts herself there because “no, you idiot, she did not.” She cared about her friends. She was mindful of even the worst of people, people like her. She didn’t kill her friend. She didn’t run off in a fit of envy and lure her friend to his death. She seems smart, smarter and much more generous than she’d ever be, how could Sumire compare herself to her?
The older blonde continues, squeezing her shoulder ever so slightly (the blanket long forgotten around Sumire’s midsection). “I won’t ask about your situation, as it is clear that it troubles you, but I can assure you that you won’t be alone in your path. My friends and I were all hurt by his passing – it still hurts, despite the years – and it’s changed all of us in different ways. But even so, our late friend had one last wish before he left.
“He wished for us to live. To live in spite of the inevitable, and in spite of the pain it brings. To live to see the future that awaited us. To take in every moment, for as short as it may be, and fight for what’s important.”
The woman reaches into the pocket of her jacket. Out of it comes a silver necklace; a thin silver chain that glimmered under the natural light from beyond the clouds, gracefully adorned with a matching silver butterfly half the size of the redhead’s palm. At the center of the butterfly there resided a small cyan crystal encrusted in the metal, its shape resembling the forewings of the creature. The crystal glowed ever so slightly, as if electric.
“I’d like for you to have this,” She said, “it was given to me by someone dear to me.”
The older blonde put the crystal in Sumire’s hands, covering them with her own.
“This person…she was there for me when I felt lost in my path. Back then, she helped me remember that as long as I have a heart of my own, I will never be alone. Regardless of how dark your life becomes, there will always be hope waiting for you, if you choose to reach for it.”
Sumire looked up to the woman, her intentions so warm in spite of the icyness in her hands.
“If anything happens…please, don’t give up your hope. Be strong for her. Everything will be okay.”
Everything will be okay…
In spite of her weariness, all that Sumire could do at that moment was cry. She lowered her head and closed her eyes shut, and felt every sob, every shake of her shoulders, the familiar tremble in her throat. “ Everything will be ok” resonated in her mind. She had heard it so many different times, from so many people that thought they knew her, that she didn’t think she’d feel anything by now.
And yet, now, remembering those words, her father, her sister, the love that surrounded her…
Just this once, she’ll bring herself to believe it.
Kasumi will wake up, the doctors will save her…even if she’s never forgiven, Kasumi will be alive. She’ll wake up, they’ll talk while the doctors process things to let her go, her sister will smile wide like she always does, and the two of them with their father will all go for ice cream again. Kasumi will be okay. Sumire has hope, for now. Everything will be ok.
Kasumi will make it. Everything will be ok.
They will be ok.
…
..
.
Yoshizawa Kasumi was pronounced dead that afternoon.