The morning came, but Umi was in no hurry to tackle it in any way. As the day zipped by, Umi couldn't even bring herself to change out of her pajamas. Frustrated at the imposing mental wall she'd run into, she now found herself splayed out on the floor. This proved to be no more fruitful despite the cold, unforgiving hardwood that pressed into her back.

After some time, even this discomfort became secondary to the swarm of thoughts in her head. There was, of course, no way she'd hear the sound of the front door opening. The same went for her own door allowing someone in. In fact, she didn't even realize that someone had arrived for her until their voice rang out, directly in her ear.

"What are you doing?"

Umi had been so detached from reality, drowning in her spiral of negative thinking, that the foreign voice made her heart leap into her throat. Umi snapped up on instinct - and collided head-first with Maki, who crouched over her. Umi didn't realize this at the time, as the sheer force of the impact rang in her skull and took precedence over everything else. She grunted unceremoniously, clutching at the acute pain that lanced through her skull, and crumpled back to the ground.

When the pain began to subside to manageable levels and Umi could open her eyes again, she was still kneeled over. "Ow… Oh, heavens, my head…" Her voice was raspy from lack of use.

"Fuck. Remind me never to do that again," Maki grumbled, tenderly massaging her presumably sore forehead. If she was in as much pain as Umi, she didn't show it.

"You were coming?" Umi muttered, shifting into a sitting position with some difficulty. Her head complained every step of the way. "Why didn't you tell me? There are better ways to announce your presence than that."

"I did." Maki glared at her, pointing at her dormant smartphone on the ground. "I texted you, and when that didn't work, I called. And when that didn't work, I just let myself in."

The protest on the tip of Umi's tongue died when she picked up her phone, seeing the evidence for herself on-screen. '...Oh. Sorry," she said feebly, bowing her head and instantly regretting it, due to the dull, throbbing pain that resulted.

"Did you forget? We're late for recording," Maki pushed after several seconds of silence. Umi had been scrolling idly through her phone, once again lulling herself into a daze before Maki spoke up.

"Right…" Umi muttered without looking up. "I don't really feel like going today."

Maki scowled, and Umi braced herself for a flurry of admonishment. Just when she thought it would come, however, Maki's face softened. "Why?"

"I don't feel like doing anything." Umi bit her lip, taking a sudden interest in the dull brown of her floorboards. There was no need for her to elaborate right now.

Maki was silent for several moments. When she spoke, her words were carefully drawn out. "Today's mostly instruments. We might ask you to do a few more lines, but maybe you can watch for a bit. Get back into it."

Umi looked up, heaving a sigh. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

Maki shook her head.

Umi reached for her phone and pocketed it. "Fine," she conceded, though she was anything but happy about it. "I really don't want to sing today, though."

Truth be told, she didn't want anything to do with the song. Her conversation with Honoka was on endless repeat in her head. In the best case scenario, she could lay low during today's recording before slinking back home, so she could shut herself away again.

Maki rose to her feet. "Maybe you'll feel better once you hear how it's coming." She regarded Umi for a moment, making her think that she was about to pry further, but she didn't.

Umi stood up, but a sudden rush of blood to her head impeded her. She pressed a palm to her forehead, trying to will the ache away. The injury didn't seem like it was serious, and Umi was grateful for that. She already had enough on her plate.

The next couple hours in the recording studio flew by, for better or for worse. Umi kept towards the back, watching each of the musicians take their respective turns. The guitarist went first, and though Umi struggled to stay present, she could appreciate the novelty of his part. Instead of keeping a rhythm with steady, regular chord progressions, or playing the primary melodic part, it wavered in and out of the mix, playing lines that ran counter to the beautiful piano melody.

The other musicians laid down additional takes as well; even Maki went back in to re-do a couple of parts.

Umi could only force herself to pay attention for so long, though, and most of the recording ultimately passed her by in an oppressive haze. When she wasn't focusing on the saccharine melodies and syncopated beatings, she was back in Honoka's room. Honoka's words rang in her head, gently and carefully delivered in a deafening silence.

"I can't look at you without thinking of what you did."

"Umi? Hey! Earth to Umi."

Umi came back to reality with a start. Maki was waving a hand in front of her face, and she lowered it to reveal her stern yet concerned countenance. The rest of the band members looked on, sharing her confusion.

"Pardon?" Umi stammered, flushing. How long had she been spacing out? "Are we taking a break?"

"We're ready to move on," Maki explained. "Before we start the third verse, though, I was thinking we should run through the chorus one more time. As in, everyone. Including you."

Umi frowned. Maki hadn't exactly promised her that she'd merely be watching today, but now that she was confronted with the possibility of singing again, her brow furrowed in irritation. "Why? We already have a perfectly good take of the chorus," Umi protested. "Is it necessary? Do we even have enough time?"

"I'd agree if the chorus was the same the second time around." Maki had already pulled up the sheet music on her phone. "But it's not. The end of the second chorus transitions into the bridge, which is in a different key entirely." Maki handed her phone to Umi, who reluctantly took it, scrolling between the two sections of the song. "So we need the end of that second chorus to serve as a transition, to make the key change smooth."

Umi sighed. Her momentary irritation dissipated. She'd expected this, given the technicality of Maki's arrangement and the unorthodox structure of her own song, but she was almost at her wits' end. She intended to turn Maki down and let the recording proceed some other way, but she stopped herself.

Maybe she was only holding herself back. Already, she felt like she was repeating the same mistake she'd made with Honoka more than a year ago: breaking her own heart along with Honoka's, then proceeding to isolate herself from any form of potential help. If she quit now, she didn't know when she'd be able to start pulling herself back up again.

Despite the pain in her heart, she looked up, putting on a weak yet determined smile. "Alright. I'll do it."

Maki flashed her a smile in return. "Great. Means a lot."

But the skin-crawling dread that lingered in every step Umi took already made her doubt her decision.

"We'll just use the takes we have already," Maki explained from her vantage point at the soundboard. "But for the lines that segue into the key change, just follow the sheet music. Sound good?"

Umi nodded. She restlessly shuffled her feet. The longer she stayed in the recording booth, the more she questioned her own commitment. What was she doing, standing here and pretending like everything was alright? Maki herself had told Umi that putting on a brave face was unhealthy. She and Honoka had both seen the long-term effects of that, flashes of pain and cracks in the facades they put on, which led to long sleepless nights and bouts of self-imposed isolation.

She didn't have much more time to think about it, though, because the music started without warning. She must not have heard the countdown, but she closed her eyes in the brief interlude, steeling herself as best she could.

"All these years

We've hoped and we've dreamed for a final escape

To no avail

All I hear -"

"Hang on, hang on," Tatsuya cut in through the intercom. The music stopped short in Umi's ears, startling her. She peeled the bulky headphones off her head, looking up in time to see Maki taking the headphones from Tatsuya.

"Everything alright, Umi?" Maki asked, silently supported by a group of concerned musicians, all staring her down. "You ready?"

"...Yes." Umi's tongue felt like dead weight in her mouth. "Yes, of course," she repeated more firmly. "My apologies."

She watched Tatsuya exchange a glance with Maki, who shrugged. "We'll run that again from the interlude, okay?" Maki said, tapping on her headphones. Umi fumbled with hers before getting them back in place. She fanned herself, taking several deep breaths to focus on the lyrics. She didn't feel the need to explain herself yet; unsatisfactory takes were an inevitable part of the recording process. She just needed a moment to recollect herself.

Come on, Umi. You don't know when this chance will come again. You have to do this now.

She flinched when the rush of piano and percussion reached her ears, not having heard the countdown from the other room. She couldn't contain her worried glance, shot at the other room. Maki frowned, but urged her to continue with a wave of her hand.

"All these years

We've hoped and we've dreamed for a final escape

To no avail -"

"Okay, hang on." That was Maki again. Umi snapped to attention. Maki leaned over the soundboard, cutting out the backing track entirely.

"Is something wrong?" Umi asked, fidgeting with her headphones. Of course there had to be something wrong, otherwise she would have progressed through the take without interruption.

"Umi. You agree that this arrangement is worth hearing, right? That what you want to say deserves to be written down and played out?"

Umi flushed, recalling Maki's words to her yesterday. Still, she nodded.

"And you agree that you're not just doing this on a whim," Maki continued. "You want to express yourself properly, with enough emotion and passion to do that."

Umi nodded again. The rest of the band nodded along with her. Of course they would: any respectable musician would treat their music with the same gravity.

Maki was hunched over the board, forcing all of the band members to take a few steps to the side. Her expression was impassive as always, except for her piercing eyes, which made Umi want to shrink and cower.

"So where's that passion now?"

Umi stared at her shoes. Maki was right; if she couldn't find the same passion she'd put into writing these lyrics and apply it to her singing, then she was wasting everyone's time. It didn't matter how well-written or perfectly executed the arrangement was; lifeless lyrics would give way to a lifeless song.

"Come on, Umi," Maki pressed. "I'm asking you because I don't hear it."

"I don't know!" Umi admitted, whipping her head up. The rest of the band shrunk back, but Maki held her ground. "It's so frustrating! I locked myself in a room for two years, and now I come out and expect everyone to be okay with that? Is that what you want to hear, Maki? Is that the 'passion' you're looking for?"

It was harsh and she knew it, but Umi simply didn't have the patience to deal with her own failure. What had seemed so natural to her yesterday in the recording booth, the automatic ear for melody and voice control that she normally possessed, was now absent. Yesterday's conversation with Honoka remained in everything she did, in the slow dragging of her feet, in the hopelessness with which she delivered these lines - lines in which hope was supposed to be the only thing that kept her buoyant. Umi sighed, shaking her head in resignation.

"I can't do this right now."

She took off her headphones and placed them on the adjacent chair. No one stopped her as she made her way back into the other room. A part of her wanted to slip right past them and walk out, but when she opened the door, their sympathetic, concerned stares held her in place.

"I'm sorry, everyone." Umi cast her eyes down, her face burning with embarrassment. "It's not going to happen today."

She was met with silence. She alone had brought their progress to a grinding halt, and the resulting shame made her want to curl up in a corner and forget about her own existence.

"Alright. Let's call it a day," Maki said, breaking the awkward silence. "Everyone's free later this week, right? Maybe even before the new year?"

The band muttered a general air of consent, though Umi wasn't focusing enough to pick up on it. All that mattered was that she could get out of here. Not bothering to wait for a specific date or time, she pushed through the exit, not looking back once.

"Hey."

Of course, it only took about ten seconds for Maki to catch up to her on the street. She gripped Umi by the wrist. Umi didn't turn around, but she didn't resist, either.

They stayed in place for several moments, with Maki holding Umi limply by the wrist. She let go, and Umi's hand fell helplessly to her side. Umi still didn't turn around, but she didn't try to get away, either.

"We still have a week and a half," Maki finally spoke. "If you can't find it in you today, that's fine. We have room to afford a break or two."

"Not today, and probably not tomorrow," Umi muttered despondently. She finally raised her head to acknowledge Maki properly, but her eyes were vacant. "It was hard enough for me to get up and put on a change of clothes. Of course I couldn't do this much."

"Yesterday didn't go well, I take it."

Umi nodded. Merely thinking about it made her eyes well up again, and she wiped at them hurriedly. Maki chewed on her lip, saying nothing. If she couldn't find the right words to say, Umi didn't blame her.

After a few moments, Maki stepped past her. Umi turned and followed, grateful that Maki didn't press her for information.

The walk home would take only a few minutes, barring any detours or sudden stops. But Umi found the seconds dragging on. She kept her eyes cast down, trailing a couple steps behind Maki.

"Want to talk about it?" Maki asked. Umi stiffened. It was unreasonable to think that she could keep these most recent developments secret, and Kotori already knew about it anyway. Maki deserved an explanation as well, now that Umi had effectively stalled out any recording sessions in the near future.

"I'll give you the short version, I suppose," Umi muttered, devoid of any emotion. This was inevitable, she figured. Maki didn't press, so she followed up after scraping her heel against the dreary grey concrete.

"I talked to Honoka yesterday. After our successful first takes, I thought I was ready for it."

"Ready for what?" Maki turned around, her measured steps coming to a halt.

"Ready for any possible scenario. The best, or the worst." Umi sighed, watching her breath cloud in front of her before it dissipated into the frigid winter air. "And I guess I thought being courageous, tackling the problem head-on, would count for something."

Umi was met with silence. She looked up just in time to stop her from running headfirst into Maki, who was staring at her with brows upturned and mouth twisted. To Umi, it was an unfavorable combination of understanding and pity.

"I've never seen Honoka like that. Measured. Calculated. Cold. That's how she rejected me. I couldn't take it." The pangs in Umi's chest intensified. "Nothing could have prepared me for that - not even knowing it was a possibility."

Fear briefly appeared on Maki's face. Umi figured that she was trying to picture an unfeeling, despairing Honoka in her head, to little success. "I still can't imagine Honoka like that."

"Well, you might have to start pretty soon," Umi retorted. Maki's eyes flashed, but she didn't fire back. Umi bowed her head slightly. Maki was only here to help - there was no reason for Umi to take out her bitterness on her.

"Are you giving up?"

Umi grimaced, avoiding Maki's stare once more. "On Honoka?"

Maki didn't reply, but even though Umi wasn't looking, that all-knowing stare kept her rooted in place.

"...I don't know." Despite the all-encompassing ache in her heart, resonating in every difficult step she took, she couldn't bring herself to say no.

"It sounded like you were giving up." Maki pointed back towards the recording studio, though they'd since rounded a corner, which left it out of their sight.

Umi bowed her head, awash with shame and self-pity. The two of them had come this far, but thanks to her, their progress had hit a brick wall. The band could certainly continue recording without her for the time being, but right now, Umi couldn't imagine going back in there after her outburst. Her face was soon aflame with embarrassment. "It's hard to focus," she admitted. "A part of me had high expectations. I wouldn't have come back if I thought I was setting myself up for failure."

Maki crossed her arms. Umi didn't expect her to say something that would instantly make her feel better. But she still desperately needed something like that to hold on to.

"It'll get better," Maki's tone was even more clipped and blunt than usual. To Umi, it seemed highly inappropriate.

Umi took in a sharp breath. That wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind. "What does that mean? Who are you to say?" she snapped. She instantly regretted it, but Maki hardly even flinched.

"I can't tell you that. But you and Honoka are…" she held up her hand, showing Umi two tightly-crossed fingers. "You're better than that."

"How do you know?"

Maki shrugged, turning around again to lead Umi home. Before she did, Umi caught the faintest hints of a smile on her face. "It's the premonition winter gave me, maybe?"

Umi tilted her head, lagging a few steps behind, until understanding dawned on her face. "Please." Despite herself, she had to smile. "Now's not the time to quote old μ's lyrics."

Maki looked back and returned the smile, a bit of a teasing glint in her eye. "I wouldn't overlook it. Fuyu ga Kureta Yokan* is a little too fitting, if you ask me. I was always partial to that one, too."

"If only the conflict-resolution of my life played out in 5 minutes." Umi sighed, though she laughed quietly to herself. It was hollow, doing nothing to soothe her breaking heart. She did find herself humming that irresistibly catchy melody, though.

Three days had gone by since Umi had last left the house. The only reason Umi even knew was the rigid, mechanical numbers on her phone, which mercilessly ticked away the hours.

Somehow, she'd managed to hole herself up again without incident. Maki sent her updates on the recording, though Umi responded with the bare minimum of effort. She didn't actually know how well it was going without her.

The group chat wasn't as active as she thought it would be, though both she and Honoka had remained silent throughout. She knew that Honoka needed time to process the gravitasse of her words to Umi, and that she'd probably spend a good deal of time on her own as well.

Still, a more selfish part of her was grateful that Honoka had retreated into herself again. If she'd seen Honoka acting like normal in the group chat, it surely would have sent Umi even further into the abyss.

Ever since she'd come home, Umi's dreams had been less than coherent. Some nights, they were little more than blurs, smudges of color and nonsensical moving scenes. Now she dreamed of Honoka, though that was about as much she could recall. In each fleeting scene, all she knew was that Honoka was inconsolable, a reflection of Umi's own sorry state.

Even after she woke up, Umi spent several hours in bed, getting up only in vain attempts to convince herself that she was still functioning. Time seemed to pass her by, and before she knew it, New Year's Eve was a little more than 24 hours away. It would be getting dark soon, and Umi had left her room a grand total of two times today.

She had to get out of the house.

She threw on some clothes, combing some fingers through her hair even though the effort would be wasted, and slid open the door. She would only be a few minutes. Her parents wouldn't notice.

The path she took was familiar, and not simply because she had yet to eclipse the vicinity of her house. This was the route she used to take to school, the same route that Honoka had led her down just a few days before.

The quiet emptiness of the street was tense before, yet it had folded as they walked. The two of them, out past their bedtime, tentatively reconnected over their shared fears, their shared wistfulness. Now, that same emptiness was a reflection of the hole in Umi's heart as she walked, her head bowed low.

Perhaps subconsciously, her feet carried her up several flights of stone steps, and she found herself at the top of the stairs, under the torii of Kanda Shrine.

Umi took stock of the shrine, half-expecting Nozomi to be there in preparation for the New Year, but she seemed to be alone. A suspicious glance behind her confirmed this. She could never be too sure.

She took a few steps forward, and the memories came to her immediately.

Countless holidays spent together, with Honoka's hand locked with hers, tugging her through the crowd to the shrine's offertory box. Honoka would always pray for the same thing: their happiness. It took different forms over the years, but she'd always end her prayers the same way.

A different scenario unfolded, gradually gaining clarity as though it were a video buffering in her head. They had just lost their chance at competing for the Love Live. Honoka, arms thrown wide, vowed that, if their final bid at immortality failed, it wouldn't be for lack of trying.

"Honoka was right. I'm stuck in the past."

And yet, she couldn't help but defend her decision to stay there. Compared to now, to the mistakes that had been piled on top of one another since she had graduated high school, the rosier days of their youth seemed so far away. In some ways, all of them remained the same. Kotori retained her quiet, cheerful demeanor. Maki still picked everyone apart with her eyes alone, even if she'd become more honest. Nico was still sharp-tongued and blunt, albeit caring.

But Honoka had lost the relentless, boundless optimism that had driven both her and μ's forward. The smile that she put on was tired, more than anything else. Tired of living out the same routine, tired of drumming her fingers on the storefront counter and dreaming of brighter days. Tired of getting up and pasting on a smile that had once come so naturally to her. Umi had seen flashes of the old Honoka since she'd returned, but they were just that: fleeting remnants of the past that disappeared if she dared to look for too long.

And Umi herself wasn't faring much better. That wasn't something she needed to dwell on for any longer, though.

Thinking about it, she had a choice:

Option A was to forget this all, use the distance as an excuse to sever ties, and try to move on and better herself. She couldn't imagine doing something that drastic, but now, reflecting on the bleak outlook that was born of months and months of isolation, she had to admit she had been headed down that path.

Option B was to swallow her pride, apologize properly, and attempt to reconnect.

So far, the results of option B were disastrous. Perhaps it would be better for her to retreat back into herself and prevent any more damage. Right now, standing in front of the offertory box, Umi wondered if muttering a short prayer would do her any good. Not to help her figure out what to do next - just to momentarily relieve the immense weight of her responsibility.

Movement behind her. She heard quiet footsteps closing in, and before she could react, a voice sounded in her ear:

"Boo."

Umi's elbow shot out behind her, but she only connected with air. Whoever snuck up on her had to have a decent reaction time, so that narrowed it down…

She whipped around, still on the defensive. Eli stood there, a good three feet back, her grin sheepish, her hands up, and her eyes on Umi's outstretched elbow.

Umi scowled at her senior. "I'd prefer it if you got my attention normally."

"Um… Sorry?" Eli tried. She rubbed at the back of her neck. "You were just standing there, stock-still. I saw a good opportunity." She laughed, not looking at Umi. "Not a good idea, in hindsight. I don't think I would've enjoyed an elbow to the stomach."

"And I wouldn't have enjoyed hurting you." Umi laughed, now that the tension of the situation was beginning to dissipate. "What brings you here?"

"Just going for a walk. It's nice to visit before the New Year, before everything gets so hectic. I feel like I get to truly reflect on the past year if I come here alone. It's like a pre-hatsumode, I guess." Eli turned around, sitting down on the steps leading up to the offertory box. Umi joined her without much hesitation. The two of them were afforded a pleasant view of the shrine, painted in warmth by the evening sunset. Skyscrapers and apartment complexes accentuated the scene, serving as stark yet familiar contrasts to the historical beauty of the shrine.

"I never thought about it that way," Umi said. By comparison, she'd come out here on a whim.

"Right?" Eli agreed, quite pleased with herself. "I could ask the same for you, though. What's on your mind today?"

Umi hesitated for all of a moment. This was Eli she was talking to. If there was anyone in the group who she could trust to give her a logically charged piece of advice, it was her level-headed upperclassman.

"I'm brooding." She smiled wryly.

Eli nodded. "Thought so. You do strike me as the type to."

"I'm not sure how to feel about that." Umi frowned, looking down at her feet. "How about you? Anything you're harping on?"

"Not really," Eli laughed dismissively. "I'd call this more 'reflecting,' really."

"I'd like to hear what's on your mind first," Umi said. Her hands moved restlessly across her lap, almost of their own accord. "Before I tell you what's on mine. It's been a while."

"I just talked to you the other day, though." Eli jabbed Umi in the side with her elbow. When Umi didn't budge, she relented. "Alright, alright. Though it's nothing special."

Eli took a moment, presumably to gather her thoughts. The calm serenity of the shrine, unconcerned with the passage of time, was something that Umi had always appreciated as a sort of retreat. Today was no exception, and Umi found that the torrent of self-pitying thoughts had slowed to reveal something a little more manageable here.

"You know how most people take this time of year as an opportunity to reflect," Eli began. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, looking down. A shadow of doubt crossed her face, but it was quickly masked by her usual demeanor. "Well, I've done this every year since I graduated. And each year that goes by, I feel a little more ashamed to show my face around here." Eli's carefree tone remained, but her relaxed demeanor had given way to something a little more somber. "I'm afraid that I'll run into someone from high school. And my reputation precedes me - not just as a member of μ's, but as a star student. All that feels so far away now."

"Sounds familiar." Umi observed. Eli looked up to meet her eyes. A thin film of sadness and wonder obscured her normally bright blue pupils.

"Yeah. When you were talking about college, it reminded me of myself. I always have to scramble for an answer, but I can't imagine it's any easier for you. Even though you've had much more time to figure out your answer."

"Do you know what you want to do?" Umi asked.

"Not really. Unless 'try a bit of everything' counts as an answer." Eli smiled wryly. "I guess that's where we differ. I'd gladly throw myself into something - if I had the money or the confidence to commit to it."

"I had no idea, really," Umi said, bowing her head. "If I hadn't been so self-absorbed, I…"

"Oh, enough of that." Eli reached up and ruffled Umi's hair. "I'm glad I ran into you, actually. I heard this home visit isn't going the way you wanted it to." The transition from subject to subject was seamless. Umi wanted to stay on the topic, but judging from Eli's firm yet well-meaning stare, she was having none of it.

"You heard?" Umi repeated, feeling her skin prickle and her mouth tighten. "From who? And how much?"

"Nico told me. She heard all about it from you at the cafe, on Christmas Eve. You still have some things to sort out with Honoka, right?"

Umi drew in an anxious breath. "That's an understatement," she muttered, averting her eyes. Eli didn't know everything yet. Up until just a few days ago, she might have tried to tiptoe around the subject entirely, but her past actions seemed to pale in comparison to the verdict Honoka had cast down on her earlier this week.

"I'd say I was surprised when I heard some of the details, but it really explained a lot," Eli continued, not picking up on Umi's sarcasm. "Why you haven't been in touch for so long, why the other two don't bring you up."

Umi stared at the ground. For a moment, she relaxed, knowing she didn't have to face outside judgment over her most recent actions. That momentary relief was followed by a wave of guilt - as though breaking Honoka's heart two years ago was something she should have been relieved about. She shuffled her feet to alleviate her building nerves. "Are you angry?"

"Angry? No, no." Eli's voice hitched. "Well, maybe I am, but only because you chose to isolate yourself."

"I'm sor-" Umi tried, but she was cut off by a swift finger to her lip.

"Nope! Don't want to hear it. You can depend on us, you know."

Umi sighed, allowing herself a tired smile. "Can you remind me more often? So I don't forget?"

Eli laughed, giving Umi a playful shove. "I will, as much as I need to. I'll call you three times a day, if that's what it takes."

"Well." Umi had no choice but to give in. "I hope I can keep up my end of the deal, especially after I head back to school."

"You don't sound so sure," Eli noted. "What's on your mind? That thing you've been brooding over, I mean."

"I have an update, of sorts. About Honoka." Her tone was grave, which made Eli's brow crease with worry.

"Is it a good or bad update?"

Umi said nothing, choosing instead to stare at the ground, her fingers curling and uncurling in her lap.

"That bad, huh?" Eli said after several moments.

Umi nodded. She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. "Do you still want to hear it?"

"If you're comfortable telling me, sure. That's what I'm here for."

"Okay." Like Eli, she took a moment to collect herself. After her heart rate had calmed down from the prospect of even talking about Honoka, she took another deep breath. "As you know, I still have some things to sort out with Honoka. I tried to start that process a couple days ago. And…"

Here, she wavered again. Swallowing hard, she tried her best to continue. "If you've felt like Honoka's acted subdued over this past year or so, then it's my fault. I broke her heart, and I betrayed her trust in the worst possible way. She told me that she can't look at me without thinking of the day I left. Knowing that, I don't think there's anything I can do to help her. Of course, I still want to support her. I just don't know if I can do that from a distance, or if I'm hurting her no matter what I do."

The hollowness she felt manifested clearly in her voice, similar to the apathy that had wormed its way into her singing a couple days ago. Clearly, she still hadn't even begun to recover.

Eli made no attempt to hide her surprise. "Wow. You're a mess, Umi.".

Umi bowed her head. "Yes. As if I haven't told myself enough times."

"Sorry. It's just a huge shock."

"Why?" Umi asked, already wanting to move on to some other topic.

"I'm sure you already know why," Eli countered without hesitation.

Umi nodded, reluctant as she was to do so. "I want to hear it from someone else."

Eli stared at her for several seconds, picking her apart. Normally, Umi would feel uncomfortable being scrutinized, but she'd gotten used to it from Maki. Besides, it meant she didn't have to keep talking about this for the time being.

"I wouldn't wish floundering after high school on anyone in the group, or anyone in general. It's mean-spirited and it's bad karma. Plus, we always want what's best for each other. But if I had to guess who would be the most likely to flounder, I never would've picked you."

"It doesn't mean much, but I wouldn't have picked myself, either."

"No one would have, I'm sure," Eli agreed, putting on a wistful smile. "I think I saw a lot of myself in you. You were the voice of reason, you acted mature, and you grounded us in reality. I know this will sound like I'm bragging, but I thought we were pretty alike.

"So if your downward spiral is as bad as you say, then it's easy to think that could've been me. Or any of us. No one's immune to it."

Umi wasn't sure whether to feel comforted or targeted. "I kind of resent that it's me."

"Well, you could probably chalk that up to you and Honoka. You two weren't exactly peas in a pod. Especially if Kotori wasn't there to make sure you didn't go off the rails."

"You could say that again," Umi laughed humorlessly. "I could always trust her to keep a level head."

"But now this goes beyond just you two. And you three." Eli pointed out. "It's not a 'you and Honoka' problem anymore. You might even call it a 'defining moment' of the last couple years, since it's made you two mope around and miss each other for so long."

"That's part of why I'm so ashamed of it. Knowing I'm not what anyone's expected…"

Umi trailed off. She had just parroted Honoka's words to her just days before, unconsciously.

Or was it consciously?

She knit her eyebrows, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. Offhandedly, she looked to Eli for a reaction. What she didn't expect to see was a smile, plastered across her senior's face.

In an instant, Umi flushed, fearing that she'd said too much. "Is there something you'd like to say?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Eli tried to wave away her reaction, but she couldn't wipe that smile off of her face. "I'm taking your problems seriously, I promise. It's just…"

"Just?" Umi asked, her patience wearing thin.

"You know you're still young, right?"

"Of course. I've yet to reach twenty."

"Well, you're not acting the part."

Umi tilted her head. "I don't understand."

"When I say you're still young, I'm not talking about age. I'm talking about outlook. I think you're young for as long as you believe in your own possibilities. For example... " she put a hand to her chin. "Tell me, Umi." She pointed, a bit too dramatically. "What are you going to do once you're done with college?"

"I-I don't know. Most likely, I'd return home to run the dojo."

"But you don't know. I know it's daunting to be uncertain of your future, but that's reassuring too, in its own way. Because that's how you know you're still young. Honoka's still young, too. You all need to stop talking like you're forty!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Umi asked curtly.

"Once you resign yourself to one path, that's it. Whether that path is a boring career, or marriage, or what have you… you can't chase those other possibilities. Umi the rock star. Umi the author. Umi the lady-killer." Eli unclasped her hands, and her lips puckered in an airy "poof!" sound for emphasis. "All gone. You're old already."

"Do you speak from experience?" Umi tried.

"Me?" Eli pointed at herself. "A little. I'm not happy about how little I've done since I graduated, but I'm still grateful that I have the opportunity to explore. And to sort my own things out. But really, I'm just trying to smack some sense into you."

"Ah. Thanks."

"Do you want me to do it literally?" Eli raised a questioning hand. "Nico would be pretty happy about it."

"I'll have to pass." Umi took Eli's hand and lowered it. She had to smile. "I feel like Honoka's more justified to feel that way than me. She doesn't exactly have the world on her platter."

"For her career, yes. But not for other things."

"What other things?"

"Um… Romantic options?" Eli tried. "Actually, wait." Regret crossed her face immediately, making her pull an exaggerated frown.

"She's a little stuck there, as well," Umi clarified. "You know, because..." She pointed at herself.

Eli laughed awkwardly, petering out before long. "Right. Not the best example, then."

"Does the great, wise Eli-senpai have any advice for me there?" Umi asked, only half-joking. Eli offered her a smile before falling into silence again, and Umi was grateful for that. Not asking Eli here would be a sorely missed opportunity.

"If you think about it, the whole 'you're young' thing applies there too, right? Both of you still have options here. You either have to help her move on, or be what she wants. Not saying you have to do that now, but however you want to handle it, that's what it boils down to."

Umi thought about Kotori's advice to her on Christmas Eve, which mirrored Eli's take on the situation now. "What if those two aren't mutually exclusive?"

"Then it's a pretty easy choice," Eli concluded.

"Easy to make, but hard to carry out." Nowhere was this more apparent than in yesterday's conversation with Honoka.

"Exactly." Seconds passed without either of them saying anything. Umi was content to leave it at that, but Eli had other ideas.

"You know, I think everyone wants to see you two getting along again. Without this tension and awkwardness that's always lying beneath."

"Me too. I hope it's not…" She trailed off. After the rollercoaster of emotions she'd been through in the last few days, from soaring heights to the most despondent of lows, she still couldn't call her relationship with Honoka 'hopeless.' She wanted to believe in Maki's reassurance, and above all, she wanted to believe in Honoka herself.

"Not just wishful thinking?" Eli finished for her, making her heart drop a little. "Maybe." After a moment, she stood up, taking a couple steps towards the staircase. Umi followed suit. "Only you two know how possible that is, though."

"I doubt that even we know that right now." Walking back to the entrance of the shrine, Umi took one last look around. Whether alone or with her friends, she figured she'd be back in a couple days' time.

"Right, right. It's complicated. Well, I have your back. Honoka's, too."

"Likewise." The main set of stairs came into view. Having walked up and down them for most of her life, they were normally a non-factor to Umi, but seeing them now made her head spin. "Where are you going? Do you have plans tonight?" she asked, attempting to hide her sudden onset of vertigo.

"Don't know." Eli stretched her arms far above her head. "I might just stay in and have a few drinks with Nozomi. Hopefully Nico can come too, if she doesn't have her hands full with her family."

"Sounds like fun." Umi smiled, despite herself. The idea of her old friends getting drunk was a novel one, even if she had to suppress her more judgmental instincts to give it more than a cursory thought.

"Want to come? We're not bad influences, so we won't make you drink." Eli winked. "You've still got a few more months before you're legal."

That would certainly be a new approach, but Eli was right. "I appreciate it. I think I'd rather be alone right now, though. Don't want to bring the mood down." Though she didn't say it aloud, being the only sober person in a room full of drunks didn't sound like her idea of a good time. Not to mention the endless possibilities of a drunk Nozomi and Nico...

Umi shivered, feeling the heat drain from her face. That was something she'd certainly have to witness at some point, but she intended to put it off for as long as possible.

"Come on, Umi." Eli brought her wandering mind back to the present moment. "You're not a burden."

"Right now, I don't trust myself not to be."

"Alright. We're here for you if you need it." Eli stepped forward, wrapping Umi in a hug before she could protest. Umi sighed, feeling days of exhaustion and anxiety leaving her body. She returned the hug as best she could.

"Thanks."

They separated, and Eli made it down a few steps before she turned around. "You're not coming?"

"Go on ahead. I'm not in a rush to get home," Umi assured her, waving her hand in the general direction of her house.

Eli regarded her for a couple seconds. Just when Umi thought she was about to question it, she said something else entirely.

"I worry about you, you know."

With that, she turned and left. Umi watched Eli's retreating figure until she was at the bottom of the steps, where she gave Umi a final wave before disappearing. Once again, Umi was alone.

Being this close to Honoka and all of their friends was even more agonizing now. Two whole weeks of being home had seemed like far too much time in theory, but now Umi wondered how much more she'd need if she wanted to fix the mess she'd made.

Notes: *According to the Love Live Wiki, Fuyu Ga Kureta Yokan translates to "The Premonition Winter Gave Me" in English. Also, it's one of the best μ's songs. Period. :)

this was written in the same sitting as chapter 8, so it's not very likely that i'll continue uploading these at the same rate :/ on the bright side, these past two chapters were the ones i was dreading to tackle the most, and maybe it'll be easier to write these last two chapters. maybe. if you've stuck around all these years, you're amazing and i love you 3 if you're new, welcome! take a seat and expect to be here for a while. much love, and until next time 3