AN: For this last chapter, there's pseudo-incest, and I'm afraid it'll either make the story worse or won't affect it at all. I rewatched the show and noticed that the box in the basement with cicada shells was labeled "Pieces of Summer, Tomoki and Tomoko". So that's where the chapter title came from. Enjoy (... I hope).

Friday, continued

She went to my room again. I'm sitting on my chair and facing my table and she's sitting on the floor. I was looking out the window. I couldn't see her, and that's better, I think.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" I asked back.

"That kiss."

"Was it even a kiss? I was annoyed, that's why."

"That's a really lame reason. Who kisses people when they're annoyed?"

"So what did you wanna hear? That I like you, that's why I did it?"

"Why, what else?"

"Hn. Think what you want. You can get out now."

She stayed.

"Do it again."

"What? No. Why?"

"I liked it. Again."

A long minute of silence passed.

"Then get near here," I said, and turned the chair around to face her. She was standing right in front of me. She's short, and when I'm sitting straight we have about the same height when she's standing. She stepped closer, until her thighs touched my knees. I don't know how I should do this. She leaned her face closer, and I touched her cheek, tentative. She turned pink. Ragged, slow breaths from her mouth ghosted over my face.

"I can't, because your breath stinks." Then I pushed her face away, tried to put force in my hand to make it hurt for her. She looked funny. Anyway, her breath did stink. She smelled of vomit. I mean, I can always hear her puke from her room. She even has a supply of paper bags in her room with her always vomiting.

"Bastard!" she said, touching her cheek. Then she tried to smell her own breath. Her expression told me she didn't find her own breath that agreeable as well. I grinned.

"Fine. I'll stop," she said and went out. I went out too, there was still ice cream left downstairs to eat. Dad bought too much chocolate that I could live on Hershey's and Toblerones for weeks.

###

I stepped in the bathroom to brush my teeth, and she was already there too, gargling down mouthwash. Our eyes happened to meet in the wide mirror. Her face was still red from my hand that pushed her. After I finished, she was still standing.

"That's it. It's all menthol now." Then she blew her breath to me and it was cold from all that mouthwash. I wiped my mouth with a towel, and leaned my face to hers. She tilted her head up, eyes expectant. I placed my palm on the top of her head. She looked up, wondering why.

"Still no. I'm a foot taller than you and I don't like to bend over, sorry. Next time, maybe." Then I left her alone. She wasn't angry about it, but smiled instead before I left.

That night, I couldn't sleep that well again. I touched my lips, and recalled that the last time I kissed her (before this night) was during that incident I've written about in 'Cicadas have no Memories' years ago. I had the feeling that there was more to that story than what I could remember.

Saturday

Dad wanted to spend time with us, so for this Saturday we went out. We wandered in malls, ate lunch in a restaurant. She's wearing this pink floral dress dad brought yesterday, while I got new shirts. I'm wearing one of them now, plain black. While Mom shopped for clothes, we wandered around and three of us ended up in an arcade.

"Here," Dad said, handing her money to buy tokens.

"Why don't you both take pictures there?" he pointed to the photo booth, while he started to play on that automatic basketball machine.

"Why don't we? Don't you want to take pictures with your nee-chan?" she said, pulling my arm to get in the curtained booth. A screen flashed inside, telling us how to pose: happy smile, peace sign, duckface, tongue out. In my irritation, I didn't move in any of those pictures. The result was funny. Well, her face was funny in trying those expressions while mine remained poker. In the end, Mom and Dad joined us inside. The pictures with them aren't that bad. I'm even smiling. She even looks normal. It was a nice day.

Sunday

Mom and Dad left the house after lunch, leaving me alone again with my sister. They left, since they've been out of each other's company and wanted time together. They wanted to take us both with them, but there's classes, contests, and exams. It was a free vacation from where my dad works, and it would be a waste not to use it, so they both went there.

So, beginning today, this week was me and my sister alone here at home again.

It's a Sunday. I did nothing all day but read.

And wouldn't you believe it, I was curious that I ended up: reading Flowers in the Attic and finished it. I happened to browse the web on my phone and downloaded ebooks from some site, so I read it from my phone. And it was... bad. I'd give it 1 out of 5. I don't like reading stories told in the first person. I was sneering while reading. It was about the siblings Christopher and Catherine, and two lines from the book were striking, what the brother said to the sister:

"I'm never going to love anyone but you, Cathy. I know it... I've got that kind of feeling... just us, always." She told him that if they weren't imprisoned in the attic, they wouldn't feel that way about each other. He answered, "But I want to feel this way about you, and it's too late for me to love or trust anyone else."

And that's me, ending up remembering quotes from a crappy romance novel, with incest at that. It was an odd story told by a naive narrator, the girl, but underneath all that seeming innocence the atmosphere was rampant with lust. I don't quite know how to explain it. I also downloaded translations of popular, foreign book series, The Hunger Games and Series of Unfortunate Events, even Lord of the Rings. I don't know if I'll ever get around to reading all of them, though I've started on the first book of Hunger Games and at least it seems to be better than Flowers...

I think Tomoko's spending the whole day on anime marathons again. Didn't see her out of her room today. I stayed in my room, as well.

Monday

This afternoon, it rained. Even if it rains heavy, soccer practice continues. I rather like it that way, where the field is slippery with water and kicking the ball makes water spray, and we're all wet with mud and we all didn't mind at all. It's rather more fun this way, like we're all just playing a game while bathing in the rain. Usually, we'll go to a hot bath all together after the game. We did that today, and I went home late. 6 PM, and my sister wasn't there yet. She arrived later while I was eating dinner, and she was dripping wet from the rain. I told her to take a hot bath if she doesn't want to get sick.

"But I want to get sick, so I have an excuse not to attend classes tomorrow."

"Hell, you can be absent for a day if you really want to without getting yourself a fever. If you want to get sick, your choice."

"You care?"

"I mean, Mom and Dad's not here. I'll be away all day this week for sports practice. If you don't go to school, you'll be by yourself here."

She went up to her room without talking to me. She didn't even go down to eat dinner. When I knocked at her door and told her to, she said she didn't feel like eating. So I washed the dishes, and slept.

Tuesday

She didn't go down for breakfast. So I went up to her room, and she was still sleeping. I placed my hand over her forehead, and she was warmer than usual, which means it's the start of a fever. I watched her sleeping for awhile, as I sat on her bed. I left a note that I'd be home a bit late. I cooked extra food for her lunch.

The day passed by in a blur, and she preoccupied my thoughts. Even in soccer practice, where I'm usually so zen and hitting goals, but now I couldn't concentrate. I wasn't looking, and the ball hit me, when I can usually dodge fast. The coach even asked me if I felt okay. I told him I didn't, so he let me off earlier than the rest of the team. We usually practice well until 8.

When I went home during night, the house was dark. I noticed that the food I left on the dining table this morning was untouched, and that means she didn't eat. So I warmed canned mushroom soup on the stove for her instead, and ate dinner by myself. For a moment, I imagined dropping a spoonful of boiling hot soup on her face for a bit for revenge – she did that too, when she was pretending to care for me when I was sick.

I went to her room first, and the lights were also off. She was a vague shadow covered with blankets, and the bed sheets in disarray and falling to her floor. I was about to turn the light on when she spoke, "Don't. The light hurts my eyes."

So I didn't. I walked nearer to her, placed the tray with the bowl of soup and a glass of water on her bedside table, and stepped closer to her bed. From the little light from the street lamp to the window next to her bed, the shadows under her eyes looked even darker, cheeks more hollow, hair greasier, the pupils dilated that there was no green left. Just all black that looks delirious and uncomprehending. It was not like herself. She tried to get up, but her hands gave in, she ended up lying down again. She was hugging this large purple stuffed toy with a funny face.

"The medicine, nee-chan, did you take some? Here, eat first." I said, my fingers tracing her bangs away from her face, and her skin almost burned. The fever seems to have gotten worse. So I helped her sit up, just enough for her to be able to eat. She clung to me weakly, as if she had no strength left. Once she took the spoon, I thought that she'll be alright by herself. I left for my room, I needed my rest. As I opened the door to leave, there was a clatter from her bed, and I quickly went to her again. She had almost dropped the bowl but she caught it before it could spill, but a little did pour over the table.

I don't want to feed her myself, but with her like this I had no choice. But I didn't like it. She made herself sick. It was her fault, and I didn't want to bother. It was stupid of her. But if she gets worse, I'll be the one getting a mouthful from Mom. And so I sat on her bed, and fed her slowly with spoonfuls of soup. She was shaking badly, and I wondered if I'd have to call a doctor or take her to a hospital. When she said she didn't want to eat anymore, I finished what's left of it myself. Then I stood up to leave for real, to wash her dishes and go to sleep.

"Why do you go away? Why don't you stay?" she said, weakly, and it made me sit on her bed again. Usually, she was annoying even if she was sick, but tonight she seemed different. Maybe, this was a sign of a worse disease?

"If I stay here too long I'd be the one infected, and if both of us gets sick no one will watch out for you. Look, I think I'm already starting to get the cold," I said.

"Mom?"

"Mom will be back."

"I will never get well."

"You will."

"The kiss, otouto," she said, voice shaking, weak. It was a whisper, but tonight the house was so quiet I can hear her breath loud. "You said you would."

Then I leaned down. It was a proper, brief kiss. Her mouth smelled and tasted strongly of cherry cough syrup. Then I noticed something I didn't see it at first because it was dark... on her bed was an empty bottle of Robitussin. Fuck. This will be a bitch, and I think my night was just ruined.

Then I realized she's a moron. From what I know, cough syrup is an abused over-the-counter drug, and robitussin has dextromethorphan. She finished a whole bottle. An overdose can induce hallucinations and vomiting, and the new bottle was thoroughly consumed. From what I've read, it isn't dangerous if not taken with other drugs. That's all I know, and even then I'm not that sure.

"I can see fireflies and cicadas and bugs. Everything is rippling... Tomoki-kun, I'm afraid."

"Don't be. I'm here."

"You're not real. Tomoki said he'll get out so he won't get infected with my cold. You're just my imagination. That kiss was only in my mind too."

"No."

"I will never get better. I will never be popular. I will never graduate high school because I'll kill myself."

"Don't say that."

"Why do you care? Aren't you the one who told me to kill myself? Do you remember when you promised me one Christmas that we'll take care of each other? Yet you hate me. You laugh at me. You make me get out of your room. You're making your big sister very very sad."

"Nee-chan, you overdosed on cough syrup. That's a very stupid thing to do. You're basically drugged. That's why, you better sleep now."

She didn't say anything after that, and looked like she was already near sleeping. I'm waiting for the right time to get out, then with her eyes closed, she spoke softly,

"Tomoki, do you hate me?" She sounded different when she asked that. I felt now, that she almost sounded like how I imagine normal older sisters should.

"I don't. Yeah, I hate it when you do stupid things. You annoy me, when you act like you own my room and barge in whenever you want to. I really did hate you when we fought about my school application. When I don't talk to you for weeks, that means I hate you. But I can't keep that up for long, when we can't help but see each other every damn day. Now I'm used to you. I tolerate you, but..."

"I hate you too, but because we're family, you can't just get rid of me," she interrupted. Now her eyes opened, looking straight at me. I felt stupid, like I had said too much.

"Why do you hate me, then?" I asked.

"Because you're a normalfag."

"Now, you sound like you're just jealous of me." But her hand reached to me and she touched my face, gently, though she wasn't really looking at me. Her dilated pupils were out of focus. Then she started saying something that I didn't expect her to.

"When you were born, Tomoki-kun, in the hospital... and mother told me I had a little brother now, did you know how I felt? I didn't know how to speak yet, then. I was one years old. The first time I looked at you, so small and pure, and I felt that I'm never gonna love anything more than you. I loved you so much, I thought I were dying of love, I slept beside you and Mom every day, I never left you..."

Was she possessed or something? Her hand slowly caressed me all over, my hands, my face, my arms, my stomach. "Look, how you've grown. You used to be so small, now I'm smaller than you..."

Her voice was so low, it was barely a whisper, but in this quiet it was an invading sound. Now this was new. This wasn't my sister speaking. But I suddenly felt very cold, like ice prickling my neck. The feeling you get when you're alone and sense something supernatural. The same feeling when you hear an eerie, haunting song. I felt like I was lying in bed with a ghost that imitated the shape of my sister. Her feverous warmth radiated to me, but I felt colder inside.

"Do you remember that time when we were lost? What you wrote about? Cicadas have no memories? What you wrote was right. After that, you wouldn't play with me anymore. After that, you always mocked me. I tried to get close to you again, but you didn't like me anymore. I think that's why I became like this..."

I almost rolled my eyes. I wanted to think that what she was saying was corny. I wanted to blurt out, Who cares? She was saying all that in a state of mind I distrust, tainted by mental chemical reactions from too much cough syrup.

"The way you kissed me..."

"What?"

"It's not like on TV."

"Why? What's the kisses on TV? Those aren't real. Those disgusting ones where they look like they're going to swallow each other's mouths? We don't do it that way." This was all silly, like we're talking nonsense, babbling in circles.

"Like this?" and she leaned over to kiss me. She closed her eyes, and pressed her lips softly, chastely against mine. I let her.

But I still said, "Stop kissing me, you're getting your germs into me."

"Stay awake with me. Tell me a story. Like Cicadas have no Memories. Don't you think that you're just a story someone is writing? Maybe I'm actually fiction. That's why god, my writer and creator makes all these stuff happen to me. I'm not happy. It's a series of unfortunate events..."

"Shhhh. Shut up because I'm gonna tell you a story about a brother and a sister..."

"Lost in the wood collecting cicadas?" she asked, but I no longer know, I just made up a story for the sake of having something to speak. I told her a mashed up fairy tale I couldn't remember the exact story of. Orphans, dying of thirst, passed by three rivers but the sister heard the first river sing, If you drink from me I'll turn you into a lion. The second river had the power to turn the drinker into a tiger. They found a third stream was quiet, and overcome with thirst the brother was relieved and drank the water but the sister only heard the water's voice later... drink from me I will turn you into a deer.

So the brother turned into a deer. Hunted by hunters, hunted by wolves, a deer with wide brown eyes and turned with eyes full of sorrow to his sister, trying to speak what it could no longer say. It only made a weak, sad sound of a deer, of a boy trapped in another being. And brother deer and sister wept and went back to home. Something, about the sister marrying a king and the curse eventually broken...

Somehow, I ended up lying on her bed, cradling her in this odd-angled way with my arm holding her to me. Her body curled against mine, her legs crossed over mine, intertwined. I was telling an incoherent story, her answering with more incomprehensible words. She was burning, and I wondered if it was possible for a person to be that sick, that she hasn't ignited and burned herself yet. When you're sick, you feel freezing, but your body feels very hot to others. I never understood that, maybe there's an explanation I still didn't know.

She clung to me, maybe because wanted warmth. And I held on because I don't know. She turned off the air-conditioning since she said it made her cold, and now we're both sweat-damp over her sheets and blankets. She's still drug-dazed, and somehow she was shaking and she crossed her legs over mine and ended up clamping my thigh between her legs. It felt even... warmer there. Then she... held my arm tight enough to bruise and her legs squeezed my thigh tighter. Her sighing became deeper, faster.

And I only belatedly realized that what she was doing was somehow obscene. Pressing against me like that. Moving and breathing against my ear like... what's the word? Aroused? Or just sick? Was it part of the overdose? I would have felt disgusted, but I felt something peculiar myself. She was biting her lip now, thrashing against me, breathing hot against my shirt and soaking to my skin. I pushed my knee between her legs, and she had some sort of reaction, like it hurt. I felt something odd in the pit of my stomach. So this is what it felt like?

I tried to let go. I tried to get her off me, gently, but she held on. And so I let her. Because she asked me to stay, without saying anything. Then she took my hand next. Rested my wrist down under the space between her legs, like she's asking me to touch her there.

"Nee-chan. Go to sleep. You're just taxing yourself," I said.

"I said I can't. I can't." She was holding my hand, the hand between her legs. I only held her hand, not anything else. This near, the more I see how small she is. She's just like a small kid, a boy. She had a thin waist, which can make other girls look shapelier but on her it only made her look starved and malnourished. Her chest is just like a boy's.

"Why're you looking? I feel so cold." She was still holding my hand. "Want to see?" she said, and moved to undress her layers of jackets, and I stopped her.

"I don't. Keep yourself warm."

"Will you go back to your room?"

"Yes. But if you want me to stay I'll sleep on the floor. Just sleep, it'll get better when we wake up. Do you want me to stay?"

"You'll get infected. But stay. Stay. Wait, Tomoki, before you sleep..."

"What?"

"Kiss me goodnight."

I kissed her on the cheek. I'm already feeling a bit of migraine. I know that soon I'll get sick too, we've shared the virus many times tonight, from her mouth to mine. She was drugged. Curling myself to sleep, I thought of what we just did. She practically just used me... to get off. In some sick delirious way, my sister just sort of masturbated on me. And what I find stranger isn't the act itself, but that I didn't find anything wrong with it. I even encouraged it.

Shit. Maybe it's all because the lack of sleep is distorting my mind. Was the drug high infectious?

My last thought before sleep was the teacher's voice in that writing class in school. Write down your first, real thoughts. Not the thoughts you'd like yourself to think. The way I think about it, I've been covering up my real thoughts and feelings, thinking that I should be feeling something else instead.

Wednesday

Last night was a blur. I woke up in her bed. I didn't manage to even get a mattress so I can sleep on her floor, then. But when I opened my eyes I was alone. Migraine pounded the insides of my head. The clock in her room said it was 11 in the morning. I jolted upright. No chance of going to school, then. I fixed her mess of a bed, and dragged myself out. I went down, and when I was about to mix a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I heard vomiting sounds from the bathroom. I opened the door to the bathroom, and there was Tomoko, bent over the toilet and retching.

She looked back at me, and she's paler, her lips white and skin looking sucked out of blood. "Help me over here, will you? I'm dying," she said, voice hoarse. I knelt next to her and only helped her by keeping her hair out of the toilet bowl, holding her head by the hair. This near, it smelled bad. But I got the sense that if I wasn't supporting her, she would've already had her face down the toilet. It took too long, her vomiting.

"You can let go now," she said. "That hurt. And I need a shower, shit, I smell so bad." She was clutching her stomach, sitting on the tile floor in a pained posture. I flushed the toilet and closed it, then stood up and sat on it.

"You were freaking out last night. You swallowed down a whole bottle of cough syrup... was that intentional?" I asked, looking down at her on the floor.

"Was I? I can't recall anything, all I have now is this damn headache. Yesterday, my cough just wouldn't stop, I do remember I drank it all because my throat hurt."

"You idiot."

"I woke up with you beside me. Was it really that bad last night?"

"You were saying stupid things."

"Like what?"

I sighed. "You were like, declaring your unrequited love for me," I said with a sneer.

And then she looked like she was gonna puke again. "Then forget it."

She opened the sliding door leading to the bath, and turned on the faucet. Steam from the hot water filled the room, creating a film of moisture over the sink mirror, reducing my reflection to a blur. She sat in the tub with all her clothes on. She breathed deeply. She was sneezing a lot, and there I was, sitting on the closed toilet. I felt like I had to watch out for her, I don't trust that she'll get by herself. The water filled to the brim, and her sneezing still won't stop. So I had to get in and turn it off. Then she pulled me to the water, splashing water all over. This is annoying. I grit my teeth and glared at her in irritation, my clothes were soaked. She was smiling in a tired way.

But I stayed with her in the bathtub instead. We're on opposite sides of the tub, her facing me. We're taking a bath together. Just like the old days. She took this yellow rubber duck and floated it between us. Also, this was the tiny floating duck that was our old companion during our baths as children. The plastic is fading, now...

"Are you still going to school this afternoon?" she asked, but she was looking at the water and not at me.

"Most likely not. You've infected me. I feel sick." I stretched myself out, letting my body soak, and I closed my eyes. As much as possible, I don't want to be absent. But the beginning of sickness was all over me. I didn't say anything, just sort of meditated there in the water. Sometime there she went out and used the nearby shower, while I dozed. After I heard her walk out the door, I took a proper shower myself.

She's alone on the dining table. She's changed yesterday's clothes to that old ratty cotton dress, plain white but yellowing from age. I sat in front of her, and ate. We had nothing to eat now but sandwiches for brunch, and we had run out of coffee.

"I need coffee. And since we have no sugar and eggs... I'll go to the supermarket," I said, after eating.

"I'll go with you."

"You sure? You were puking your guts out."

So we went outside, and we used the bike, me maneuvering while she's sitting near the back wheel. I think we look completely ridiculous and sick, like pale zombies. But the village streets were empty, with people out working or students in school. On the way, she was coughing and sneezing, using this long towel as a scarf and using it to wipe her snot. We stopped at the nearby supermarket, wandered around the grocery, me getting the needed things while she goes to gather chocolate, candies, and ice cream. We bought a large box of pizza for take-out. Instead of going straight home after buying stuff, we ended up taking a detour around town.

###

These streets and houses are new. It's been long since I had a proper look around the village. We passed by unfamiliar quiet streets, new houses that I didn't notice before. Then, we passed by several homes still being constructed, then by a wide block with only tall weeds and grass. I might have known this place exists just near our home, but I didn't have time to really go around here.

There was a house, unfinished but abandoned. I parked the bike in front of it, and we stopped to wander around the place. The concrete one-story house had no roof, and inside the walls were overgrown plants. An abandoned house seems like an alien thing in an industrial city, a glitch in the landscape of tall corporate buildings, factories, malls, villages with crowding houses. We went inside this house, surveyed the unused rooms. It is calm here, and the vines and weeds had made up a disordered garden. People may have not lived here, but other living things took up residence. But sooner or later, the land will be changed, this house will be taken down to build something new.

I went around and saw: two rooms that would have been bedrooms, a bathroom with halfway-tiled walls, a kitchen counter. Tomoko was bent over the dust-filled sink, and there she was, watching a cicada in the act of taking off its old skin. A single straight line cracked open the amber shell, where a new insect crept out and flew away.

We sat on the unfinished window ledge, the box of pepperoni pizza between us, and we gorged ourselves on pizza, Coke, candy. Neither of us felt like leaving. When was the last time we had time for ourselves, with nothing getting in the way? We've talked, before, but I much prefer her shutting up. Like this. Maybe tomorrow when she gets better she'll be annoying again.

"I'm wasting my second year in high school. My situation never changed from first year." She was the first to break the silence.

"Well. I thought you've improved so much after deciding talking to me every night about your problems wasn't worth it."

"Will I ever get a boyfriend? Be popular? New year's coming, yet my life still sucks. In the fewest possible words, what do you think is the ultimate solution?" She asked this like she was some sort of dumb game show host.

"You have to go into the world, meet people, and get hurt."

"I'm afraid of getting hurt."

"If you want happiness, you have to risk rejection and hurt. I know I'm younger than you, but that's how the world works."

"Then it will be easier for you than for me. You're doing a better job at this high school popularity thing. I hate you because of that."

"Yeah, I know."

"But family's your destiny. Cliché as it may sound, everything may go away but not your family. Family's there, to protect you, to be loyal to you, to love you. So why not us? Me and you?"

"You're practically inviting me to commit incest? No thanks." This conversation was going downhill.

"Don't flatter yourself. What I mean is. Family's supposed to be there for you, right?" She had a way of making everything we talk about into nonsense.

"You used to be more optimistic. There's still college, you know, and at sixteen, you barely know anything about life yet. Maybe it's not yet your time."

"But if I had no other choice, will you be there for me?"

"I was there before the choices. I will be there when there are no choices. As if you had other choices, huh, nee-chan? Are you that much of a loser that you can't attract anyone else that you'd turn to your little brother?" I said, mocking her.

"You're one to talk. Didn't you propose to marry me when you were four, huh, otouto?" And she smiled that annoying, self-satisfied smirk.

That did it. The Coke I was drinking almost came out of my nose. She still remembered that? I felt sick.

"We better go home, before I get worse, or you would have to use the bike and carry me yourself," I said instead, ending the ridiculous conversation. So we finished the last of the pizza and headed home. Nothing much happened after that, we ate cup noodles for dinner and without asking for my permission, she slept in my room, on the floor. None of the strange events of last night transpired again.

Thursday

It was my turn to get sick, and her turn to take care of me. I woke to darkness, and the heavy sound of rain against the roof above me. I woke 11 AM, near noon, but the gloom can be mistaken for night. My sister was there, sitting on the floor, and the only light and color in this grey scale morning was from the glow of her Game Boy screen. She was concentrating on playing.

The heavy rain meant another absent in school for me, and for her.

There was food on my table. I never knew she could cook a proper meal, but there it was. The meat on the steak could use a little salt and the rice was soggy, but it was okay. She even brought me warm coffee. This kind of weather makes me want to stay in bed and sleep the whole day. Since I'm sick, I could do just that for the whole day.

After eating, I turned on my room's TV. News about Christmas. I forgot about that, because it wasn't an occasion we were usually celebrating. The news show was showing this feature of how it was celebrated in other countries. On the screen were images of snow, Christmas trees, Santa Claus, reindeers, and mistletoe wreaths. I watched while lying in bed.

Thunder rumbled above. Lightning flashed. Then the TV turned itself off. A black out? That's fine. I had no other plans for today but to sleep anyway.

I noticed that on the table, the paper where I wrote Cicadas have no Memories is neatly taped together where it was torn before. Somehow, it felt good to be absent once in a while.

Friday

Friday. Another holiday, another day with no class. We had been absent for two days in a row. Which means we're also free until Sunday.

On the living room sofa, was a box. Written on it, in my handwriting, was "Pieces of Summer. Tomoki and Tomoko." I opened it, and inside were cicada skins already years old. Seeing this made me remember. This was the evidence of the very last time we collected them together, just before the incident of getting lost together. I recall that I insisted to write our names down, I had wanted to impress her that I knew how to write.

"Where did you find this?" I asked her, as she sat beside me, about to turn on the TV. Some drama was showing.

"In the basement. Along with your old notebook."

The basement. A destination of things forgotten, a place only revisited to throw old things out, objects that contain memories of a time long gone that will never go back.

"New year's coming up. I bought fireworks. Will you burn them with me?"

I nodded.

"What we talked about the other day... about what you said, 'I was there before the choices. I will be there when there are no choices. As if you had other choices'. Is that true? Did that mean you agreed to what I..."

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't worry about it."

She bent down, and kissed me on the forehead, ruffled my hair. An odd gesture, done out of the blue. I felt so little again. As her hand found mine as naturally as two puzzle pieces fit, I thought of cicadas. It will still be long, I think, before the skin of old prejudices and petty grudges shed themselves completely and show us as we truly are – just a brother and a sister, born to love and protect each other. Just as cicadas emerge anew, just as a year ends to begin another... We still had a chance to go back to the way we were before, the way we truly are, the way we must be for always.

Those are first, real thoughts. Not what I would like myself to think.

I never said it, but tried to make her feel it in the way I never let go for that moment. You will no longer feel alone as long as I'm with you.

End

AN 2: The real end. I feel like I have nothing more to add! This whole story was started coz I just wanted to try writing first-person for a change. So this was only an experiment. Thanks to those who left encouraging comments for the last segments! But I have doubts about this chapter. What do you think? :/