Disclaimer: Clannad the visual novel is the property of Key and their respective partners. Likewise, Clannad the anime belongs to Key and Kyoto Animation. I'm not making any money with this fanfic.

Author's notes: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed from the bottom of my heart. I'm very glad to notice that my lengthy absence didn't drive everyone away, and that even some of my oldest readers are still sticking around, bothering to read my story. Thank you very much for your kind words, everyone.

Regarding reviews, I have something more to say. Back when I started browsing this site, there was no such function as 'review reply'. If the author wanted to give the reader a reply for their review, they often included their message in their author's notes, which sometimes meant the notes could take up to third of the chapter's length. As such, I never really got into replying for reviews. When the reply feature was introduced, I tried to make use of it for a while, but the makeshift habit never really caught wind and eventually died down.

So, if you are wondering why you have never gotten a reply for your review, it is not because I disliked your review or considered them unimportant - quite the contrary - but simply because it has never really stuck to me. Besides, I believe the best reply for readers' reviews is to keep on writing the story with a decent pace. Well, that hasn't been top notch all the time, either...

Anyway, enough babbling. Here is chapter fourteen, for your reading pleasure.

The world was without colour.

Everything around her looked the same: dull, colourless. Different shades of bleak upon one another, without so much as a speck of life anywhere. Even darkness was not really dark; when she closed her eyes, it was like a muddy blanket was pulled over her, the dirty shades of black swimming, swaying across her vision. It was a bleak woven of infinite shades of drab. Just like everything else in the world.

The world was grey.

The sky was grey, filled with grey clouds that floated through it in a lifeless fashion. The grey hills towered in the distance, encasing the cluster of grey rooftops below the grey rays of sun and sometimes falling grey rain. That view, the only view she saw, was framed by grey curtains and grey walls that surrounded her from all sides, protecting her world. There was a grey bookshelf, a grey table resting against the wall, and a small, grey television that was sometimes open, its lifelessness gaining another shade to it as grey tunes and pictures poured out of it. She was sitting on her grey futon that she knew was supposed to be white but wasn't in the middle of it all, draped in her grey pajamas which had small grey animals on it. She rarely wore anything else.

Grey. Her little world was grey. She, herself, was grey, her ashen reflection greeting her with an empty expression whenever she brushed past the mirror in the bathroom. Grey lips, grey eyes, grey hair.

Same shade of grey as her sister's when she ran a grey comb through her grey hair, speaking her grey words.

"Alright kids! Your mother is here to pick you up; it's time to head home!" she told the two children - twin sisters - who had not yet left the kindergarten. The girls protested, reluctant to leave their games and toys behind, so absorbed they were in them. With an amused smile on her lips, she gently but firmly guided the squirming children towards their lockers, countering their persistent pleas of not leaving with friendly reminders that there were plenty of opportunities to play tomorrow and the day after. That thought calmed the girls slightly, although they were still pouting when she helped them get their shoes and outdoor clothes.

By the time they reached their mother, however, the frowns had already disappeared. As soon as the two women had exchanged bows and a few words about how the twins had behaved - regarding which she had a few words to say about their habit of not eating vegetables - the mother and the two girls set off, the children waving as they departed. She waved back in response and watched their distancing backs for a while before heading back inside.

"Another long day over, eh?" commented one of her co-workers, gathering the toys the children had left scattered on the floor. "It must've been particularly rough on you, Fujibayashi; those two girls can be quite a handful."

"Ha, all in a day's work!" she replied with a self-satisfied grin. "Those two are easy to handle, really, compared to some of the adults I have had to deal with." The older woman let out a chuckle.

"Well, you sure have a knack of dealing with the most troublesome ones, so I guess whoever you've been handling has given you some good practice, right?"

"You don't know the half of it!" Laughing, she reached for the broom from the cleaning cupboard, but was stopped by another of her co-workers.

"I can handle the cleaning today; you said you were in a hurry to head home, didn't you?"

"Ah, yeah, that's right!" Kyou replied, stepping away from the door. "I need to visit the store for fresh meat and some vegetables, and I need to cook and clean when I get home… You sure it's okay?" The woman nodded, and even her older colleague seemed to agree. She grinned.

"I'll take you up on that offer, then! Thanks a lot!" With that, she went for her own locker and swiftly changed her working clothes for her casual attire, gathering her belongings in a handbag, humming in a cheerful tone. With a delighted 'bye' to both of the women still remaining in the closing kindergarten, she left through the back door.

As soon as she heard the heavy door close behind her, the smile she had had a heartbeat ago fell instantly apart, revealing a mirthless, drained expression beneath. As shegazed up at the sky past the branches of the leafless tree shadowing her, there was no sign of the usual high-spiritedness in her amethyst eyes, none of the self-confident fervour she had expressed to her colleagues just a few minutes ago. Her eyes were hollow and strained, tired of keeping up the usual sparkle in them, the sparkle that had become so dishonest, throughout the whole day.

Still, they knew. She was certain of that. No matter how much she tried to keep the façade up, no matter how convincing her act was, she was certain that everyone in her workplace knew. Word got around fast in a town as small as Hikarizaka, and nothing could be concealed well enough to keep it a secret - certainly not from gossiping housewives and their daughters.

She could see it in their eyes, hear it in their words; the tremors of sympathy and pity they tried to keep hidden but couldn't, their hearts betraying their thoughts. Choices of words and topics they made throughout the day around her, trying to avoid bashful words or phrases that could be interpreted as hurtful. Actions and deeds that felt like genuine kindness - such as letting her go early home today - but in reality displayed their sub-conscious and conscious pity they felt towards her. That's what it was, she was certain of that!

She unclenched her fist and let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, trying to calm herself down. It was no use getting angry, no; getting angry or punching people or throwing dictionaries around didn't solve anything, not anymore. No, she simply had to put up a convincing performance that in reality, there was nothing wrong with her, that there was no need to give her any sympathy or pity or anything. She had to keep her mask on, keep it on until everyone would realize that she was just as strong as she had used to be if not even stronger. She nodded to her thoughts furiously. Yes, that was what she had to do; she was certain of that.

Shaking her head, Fujibayashi Kyou tightened the grip on her handbag, bringing herself forcefully back to reality. She still had things to do today. She still had to go home. She had something to take care of at home.

She still had to keep her mask on.

She wasn't sure of the date anymore.

The thought had come to her at some point during some idle wondering, and she had realized that she had thoroughly lost the track of time. Still, the thought didn't mean anything to her, didn't evoke any kind of reaction. What difference did time make?

Every day was the same, anyway.

She woke up, was served breakfast, and was left alone in the apartment, laying or sitting on her futon, gazing at the ceiling with empty thoughts. The passage of time was not recorded in her mind; it wasn't before the door was opened later on in the evening that her reverie was broken and she was served dinner. It was also at that point she was ushered to rise from her bed, to take a shower or to visit a bathroom or some other small tasks which had long since lost their meaning in her life. She was often talked to and sometimes even touched, having her hair combed or nails clipped, but she couldn't remember if she ever replied or reacted. Sometimes, her sister left the apartment in the evening, but she didn't care for her departure, already laying on her bed, waiting for the unconsciousness to carry her into dreamless sleep.

Every day was the same. Nothing ever changed. Nothing ever happened. Nothing ever stirred her from her hollow existence; nothing ever left its mark on her memory.

It was better this way.

She halted her scooter in front of the familiar shop. Stepping off and locking her vehicle, Kyou took her helmet under her arm and walked in, giving a wave and a spirited 'hi' to the shopkeeper. The store wasn't the cheapest, nor was it the closest to their apartment, but the shopkeeper wasn't one to idly gossip with his customers. What's more, Kyou knew that this shop wasn't frequented by any of her friends or aqcuintances.

She navigated past the shelves briskly, choosing the items and ingredients from their familiar places, determined to set for home as quickly as possible. Although the possibility of running into someone she knew was small, it did exist. Besides, she would have to have the dinner ready by six o'clock; they always ate at six o'clock.

At the counter, the shopkeeper gave her a brief nod as the only means of greeting her, running the merchandise through the reader in an automatic fashion. After having stuffed the purchases inside her bag and paid, she set off with a wave - only to be stopped as she was about to exit by a familiar ringing sound.

"Hey!" the shopkeeper's voice rang over the mechanical ringing. "You dropped your cell!" With a swift 180 degree turn, she dashed back at the shop, finding her phone ringing in the shopkeeper's outstretched hand. She realized it must've dropped out of her bag without her noticing when she had dug her purse out.

"Oh, thank you so much!" she told the man behind the counter as she retrieved her mobile. "I can't believe I was clumsy enough to drop it and not notice!" She gave herself a soft smack on the temple with an embarrassed grin. "I would've been in real trouble tomorrow if you hadn't-" As soon as she took a look on the name that shone on the display, her words were cut short, and the grin fell apart.

Mother. Their mother was calling.

She stared at the display for a good few seconds, until eventually clicking the mute button.

"You ain't gonna answer it?" the shopkeeper asked, suddenly reminding her of his existence. She turned to her with a strained smile.

"Oh, it wasn't a number I could recognise - probably a salesman. I'm better off not answering it." The man looked at her with a quizzical expression that told her how weak of a lie her response actually was. He had seen the name on the screen as clearly as she had. "Well, thanks a lot for picking it up, anyway! Bye-bye!" Not able to withstand the look in his eyes much longer, Kyou dashed out of the shop, practically jumping on her scooter in her haphazard escape. A few heartbeats later, she was already racing through the town, the scene far behind her. Her thoughts, however, remained chagrined.

Their mother had tried calling her again.

Why? Hadn't she talked with her just a month ago? Didn't she understand how annoying her constant calls were? She would call her under whatever silly, mundane reason she could think of, and every time the real reason would be so painfully obvious in her voice - their mother was a poor liar. And, sure enough, every time she would eventually ask how she was doing, was she eating and sleeping properly and if there was any improvement to her condition.

Kyou's scooter speeded through the narrow, darkening streets of the residential area, her knuckles long since turned white.

Why? She had promised to send word as soon as something changed! Didn't she trust her? She had promised to take care of her, vowed that she would nurse her back into health - and she thought she had done a great job so far, all things considered. So what if it had been over a year so far? Healing was a slow process, and things like this took their own time; she wasn't about to start pushing her, no way. Why couldn't their mother see it like that, too?

The scooter's wheels screeched as she brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop in front of their apartment, the bag of groceries swinging dangerously on the handle. The late afternoon sun coloured the world in different shades of yellow and orange, but she found no warmth or delight in those colours. The neighbourhood was silent, but she couldn't tell it over her own raging thoughts. For a long while, she stood there with her scooter in the middle of the driveway, lost in her silent debate.

Slowly, slowly, the churning inside Kyou subsided, and she let out a deep sigh, hopping off her vehicle and starting to push it towards the bike shed.

Tomorrow. She would think of a proper excuse and call their mother back tomorrow, when she was better prepared for it. It wouldn't do to keep her waiting much longer, anyway. Yes, it would be tomorrow.

Kyou took the bag of groceries in her hand and firmly pushed her previous thoughts out of her mind. She couldn't allow a speck of distress stain her face in the place where she was going next. Nothing was wrong with her. Nothing could possibly be wrong with her.

She was her sister's support now, after all.

Sometimes, just sometimes, she wondered why she was here.

She did not know of places other than her little grey world; there existed no knowledge of other worlds in her clouded mind. Despite all that, she sometimes couldn't help wondering if there were places outside the four walls: warmer, more vibrant, more interesting worlds. And if there were, why was she not there, but instead confined in this grey bleakness?

Had she been at a warmer place before?

She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember there being anything before the greyness; her memories reached a dead end whenever they tried to trail through the haze in her mind.

As far as she could tell, she had always been here.

As far as she could tell, she was always going to be here.

She always fell asleep with a sort of vague satisfaction after that thought.

"I'll be right back!" Kyou yelled inside the apartment before locking the door behind her. Swinging her helmet on, she descended the staircase two steps at a time, rushing for the bike shed as soon as her feet touched solid ground again. A couple of seconds later, the familiar scooter was speeding through the darkened streets.

Sweets! She couldn't believe how she had forgotten to buy some sweets to go with the evening tea! Silently berating herself, she navigated as quickly as she could towards the closest convenience store. She thought she had once caught a glimpse of one of her mother's acquaintances visiting it and had decided to avoid the place since then, but right now it didn't matter - they had to have some sweets to go with the tea before going to bed, she had promised her so!

She jumped off her vehicle as soon as its wheels stopped, not even bothering to lock it as she dashed inside the store, ignoring the startled look the shopkeeper gave her. Heading towards the shelf with sweets, her eyes scanned quickly over its contents. Yes, dumplings would do.

A minute later, she was already outside the store, rummaging through her pockets for the scooter's key, a packet of dumplings in her hand. Then the worst happened.

"Kyou?" She froze. She had been spotted. She could practically feel a horrible scenario fleshing itself in front of her eyes. Talking with any of her acquaintances was always a horrible strain, and it would be particularly bothersome right now. As soon as the instinctive shock passed, her mind began to feverishly formulate a quick way out of the situation. If she wanted to get back home in time, she would have to quickly brush the speaker off. Fighting back her anxiety, she nodded to herself and resolved to tell the speaker off as efficiently as possible - even if that meant stepping on their toes a little bit. That was, until she recognized the approaching voice.

"Kyou, it's you, isn't it?" Suddenly, every ounce of her determination vanished and a sensation of raw panic ran through her.

"Tomoya," she breathed out in a quivering voice without turning to him. "Okazaki Tomoya." As the sound of footsteps drew close to her, she somehow found the strength to turn to face him.

"Hah, who else?" The second her face came into his view, her mask was already in its place. With a pose that was practically dripping with self-confidence, Fujibayashi Kyou flashed her old friend her trademark grin. "I mean, there's really no mistaking me, is there, Tomoya?"

"Heh, guess not," he agreed, stepping into the light that shone through the glass door of the convenience store. Dressed in the uniform of the electricity company, the raven-haired man looked older, more mature than she remembered. Having worked at the company for only a few short years, the way he carried himself in those work-stained clothes already spoke of his experience as a man who knew his craft. His eyes, although tired from the labour of the day, held within them a glint of tranquillity and profound happiness.

She had to struggle to keep the warm grin on her face.

"Fancy meeting you here at this hour," she said, trying to erase the black cloud from her mind. "I would've wagered your day long since over, but here you are, in your working clothes, no less!"

"I could say the same to you," he retorted with a small smile, and pointed his thumb at the direction behind him. "I got caught in some emergency maintenance a few blocks from here, and we just finished. I figured I'd buy some dessert to bring home as a way of apologizing to Nagisa."

"Oh, how has she been?" The expression she wore felt painful to uphold. "And Ushio, what about her?" The smile on his face grew a little warmer.

"Both of them have been just fine. Nagisa has been taking care of Ushio with her parents when I've been working. She's growing up real fast, you know; she took her first steps not two weeks ago!" he explained enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up with delight and pride. His hands went to his pockets, searching for something. "Um, I'd show you some pictures, but I'm afraid I left them in the pocket of my jacket at the workplace." A small part of Kyou wanted to laugh at the antics so unlike his usual character; having a child really changed a person.

And then there was the part that was trembling with unexplainable rage that she so desperately sought to keep under control.

It was like this every time they met. Even if their conversation was nothing than an exchange of a few friendly words, she would be quivering with burning anger and loathing she couldn't understand no matter how she tried. Catching even a glimpse of her friend's smiling face was enough to light her irritation, and when she came face to face with him, she would have to use all her willpower to hide her true sentiments.

She was frightened, deathly frightened of her self-control failing her and her mask coming apart, revealing the open hostility to the man she considered her dear friend. She was afraid of his shock and disgust if he were to find out the truth. But his repulsion for her, even in that horrible scenario, was nothing compared to the loathing she directed towards herself. How could she be feeling such unbridled hatred towards him, after everything they had gone through together? How did she have the nerve to consider herself his friend at all?

Yet, despite the disgust she felt towards her irrational rage, Kyou couldn't help feeling that Okazaki Tomoya had, somehow, severely wronged her sister.

"Anyway, how about you? How has work at the kindergarten been?" She returned to reality with a slight startle, the churning ever-present inside her. She struggled to put up a confident grin.

"Oh yeah, it's been a piece of cake!" She gave a victorious thumbs-up. "Those kids are nothing compared to handling you and Youhei back in High School!" The man before her took an involuntary step backwards, an uncomfortable expression passing on his face as certain memories re-surfaced. Despite herself, she felt a shred of genuine amusement. "I went to buy some groceries earlier today, but I just had to forget something, so here I am again. I was just about to head back home for some tea and snacks."

"I see," the man said, nodding. "Well, I won't hold you back any longer, then. I don't want to be any later as I already am, either. Anyway, it was nice to see you again, Kyou. I hope we have a better opportunity to talk the next time." She breathed out a voiceless sigh of relief as Tomoya walked past her, grateful for his hurry. "Have a nice evening." She didn't look back at him, didn't see the smile or the wave of his hand.

"Likewise," she muttered out of habit, jumping on her scooter. Soon, she was driving through the dark streets again, praying for the night air to cool her thoughts before she returned home.

When she arrived, she noticed that she had unconsciously smashed most of the dumplings.

Every now and then, something came back to her.

Most of the time, it was nothing significant; a ghost of a memory of something mundane she had used to say or do. A short phrase, a small gesture, a chore which resembled something she had seen her sister do. At such an occasion, her mouth formed the words or her hands moved slowly about as they tried to carry out the recollection from muscle memory, even though she could not remember their significance anymore.

This was such an occasion.

She was suddenly vaguely aware she had stood up and crossed the width of the living room, stepping into the kitchen corner. Her gaze rotated on the kitchen workspace, from the dishes in the sink to the stove where the leftovers of her dinner were cooling and to the array of kitchen utensils around the cutting-board. She watched her hands move, reach for a knife, and then turn around, groping for the dish of various fruits which she couldn't tell apart from each other. Seemingly in random, her fingers tightened around one and brought it to the cutting board, her other hand pressing the knife against it.

She wasn't doing this. She wasn't here in the kitchen, slicing up a fruit for whatever reason. This was not her, these were not her hands. This was someone from the past she couldn't recall, doing something which had long lost its meaning to her. She could only watch, with detached interest, as the person carried out her chore before she could lay back on her futon, to lose herself in the void, colourless wondering again.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation forced her attention back to her body. The hands, unused for months, didn't manage to press the knife past the fruit's slippery peel, instead causing the blade to slip to the side and cut the hand which had been holding the fruit down. The knife clattered into the sink as her muscles, working on automaton, jerked the injured hand immediately away, and before she realized what had happened, she was already pressing the wound with a piece of cloth.

Slowly, she withdrew her hands from each other and stared at the flow of blood that trickled down her hand and soon threatened to stain her pyjamas. The novel, stinging sensation was beyond what she could grasp; what she could include in her small, unchanging world. Unlike the hazy, everyday sensations, this one was sharp and distinct, forcing itself through her thoughts and idle wonderings, mercilessly grasping hold of her attention.

Staring at her hand, Ryou could feel some of the haze lifting. And because of that, she managed to turned her eyes to the direction of the doorway, her gaze locking with her sister's, who had just stepped in.

"Ryou." She could hear the wonder in her words, her voice pushing past her clouded thoughts. "Ryou, what are you...?" Her words trailed off as her eyes travelled down, on her crimson-stained hands, and the packet of sweets fell down from her fingers. Not bothering to even take her shoes off, she rushed to her side and took her hands into her own, turning her palms up.

"W-w-what happened?" Her words, as well as her hands, were shaking, the vibrations of her panic transferring to her eerily steady posture. "No no, wait, I, I, I've got to stop the bleeding! Got to stop the bleeding!" Pressing down on the cut, she rummaged through the kitchen drawers, knocking down cups, forks and knives in her desperate search, muttering to herself. "The first aid kit, the first aid kit!" Ryou followed her sister's distress with empty eyes.

A few minutes later, her hand was wrapped in a crude bandage. Sitting in the living room, she faced her sister, whose panic had subsided. Instead, she was now looking at her with worry in her eyes.

"You really scared me, Ryou." Her voice was still slightly quivering. "If the cut had been any deeper, we would've had to go to the hospital. I hope it doesn't leave a scar..." She let out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, but there was no real emotion in her words. Her sister flinched subtly. "I just..." Her voice faded off to silence as she tried to remember the words she needed. Her hands twitched on their own, imitating gestures she couldn't clearly remember. "I tried... I tried to cut... A fruit." She could feel her eyes upon her, waiting. "But... I slipped. My hand, slipped." When was the last time she had spoken like this, in more than one-word sentences or murmured half-phrases? She couldn't remember past the haze. "My hand slipped," she repeated, as if seeking confirmation that her short sentence carried any meaning.

"Why?" The worry was mostly gone, replaced by high anticipation. Her posture was tensed, waiting, thirsting for her words. "Why did you try to cut a fruit, Ryou?" She sounded almost desperate to get her speak more.

However, she didn't answer her question, choosing instead to fall into silence again. How could she answer? How could she explain what had happened when she didn't know it herself? She couldn't find a way to put into words that it hadn't actually been her walking into the kitchen, cutting the fruit, accidentally slicing into her flesh; she had been merely a spectator to the whole episode. She didn't know why this ghost of a memory had done so, couldn't grasp the meaning or even the mechanics of such a chore. She was as oblivious as her sister.

"I don't know," she said, a hint of confusion on her face. Her sister's expression had changed, but she couldn't tell what it meant.

She was ushered to bed shortly after their discussion. It was earlier than normally, but she didn't mind. Laying down on the futon, she stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for the unconsciousness to carry her to dreamless sleep, just like very other evening.

For a long while, however, the sleep didn't come, and her consciousness lingered. In the dim light of the room, she wordlessly raised her bandaged hand in the air in front of her, staring at the crude bindings. The stinging sensation was long gone, replaced by weaker but continuous aching that seemed to grow in volume as she looked at her injury. Her sister had told her it would feel much better already in the morning, and that in a couple days' time, she wouldn't even notice anything had ever happened. Her hand fell back to her side. Yes, she could forget about it altogether.

As long as she did, she wouldn't remember she had ever been in pain at all.

With that thought, Ryou felt the sleep gradually getting hold of her, not seeing how her sister quietly slipped out of their small apartment.

The sound of the car door slamming shut rang through the dark, silent parking lot. A moment later, it was followed by the barely audible click of the doors being locked and distancing footsteps echoing off the asphalt. Navigating amidst the motionless vehicles, a figure headed towards the lights shining off the lampposts, display windows and shop signs of the city centre, tightening his scarf in the cold night air.

The man walked through the streets without even a glance to the shops and restaurants around him, brushed past slower pedestrians, and made brisk turns and crossings as he headed away from the brighter, wider streets and towards the part of the town poorer in both appearance and reputation. Had it been in his power to decide, he would've probably stayed back in the bright glow, among the finer restaurants and night clubs, but he had no say in the matter. He never had when he was called back to Hikarizaka.

Then again, he wasn't here to have fun. He was here to help a friend.

The door bell jingled softly, its sound quickly dying off in the heavy, smoky air of the small bar. A few pairs of eyes turned lazily to look at him - out of habit than any genuine interest, he wagered - but were turned away a heartbeat later, falling back upon the sports newspaper, game of solitaire, or into the bottom of the glass, whatever was laid out in front of them. He walked towards the familiar corner of the bar without looking at the slumped figures in the tables around him.

There, in the furthest, darkest corner, he found a figure just as silent and slumped as everyone else in the bar. Only, the figure was smaller than the rest, and on the table in front of her were two glasses next to a bottle instead of just one.

"You're late, Youhei," she stated bluntly, giving him a pointed glance.

"Nice to see you too, Kyou," he scoffed, taking off his gloves and scarf. "Just be glad I even managed to come. I've told you I need to know about these things a few days in advance so that I arrange my shifts, haven't I?" Grumbling, he folded his jacket on the back of his chair. "What if I had had work tomorrow, huh?" She shrugged, running a finger on the brim of her glass idly.

"Big deal; I would've just drank all this myself." He rolled his eyes as he sat down.

"That's the worst case scenario, right there." He half-expected her to snap back at him, but no retort came. He sighed softly; she was in that kind of mood tonight. Silently, he reached for the bottle on the table and filled his glass, but left it untouched, folding his arms on his lap instead. He had come to know her palette of different moods well enough to recognize which approach was the most efficient one in different situations, and right now he could tell that the 'I'm-not-drinking-until-you-talk'-approach worked best. Seconds dragged on slowly in the heavy silence as he kept staring into the distance, seeing from the corner of his eye how the ambience began to press down on her.

"Did you come by car again?" she eventually yielded, giving him a quick glimpse of her amethyst eyes before letting them fall down again.

"Yeah," he answered in a relieved tone, reaching for his glass. That had been one long silence. "I left it in the twenty-four-hour parking lot. It should be fine."

"Where will you be staying?"

"The motel. I called and reserved a room on the way here." He frowned as he felt the alcohol burning in his throat. She had ordered something strong again.

"I'll pay you back half of the costs, as usual." She sipped from her own glass. "Just show me the receipts later, alright?"

"Sure." She paid for the booze and half of his bookings, he paid for gas and the other half. He thought it was a fair arrangement, considering who he was dealing with. With the formalities aside, he turned to face her with a small smile. "So, how have you been?" Her scoff lacked strength.

"Do you even need to ask?" The self-ironic, bitter grin that appeared on her face was weak. "Can't you tell it just by looking at me?" He leaned closer, making a show of carefully peering at her face with a concentrated expression.

"No?" he tried, earning a soft smack from her.

"Piss off, idiot," she muttered as she pushed his head away, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. He celebrated silently for that tiny improvement. Now, with the ice finally broken, Kyou began recounting the events of the past few weeks of her life. It was slow and lazy at first, but grew more spirited and intense as the tale progressed. Taking a sip from his glass, Sunohara leaned backwards as he listened to her rant of her patronizing co-workers, her overly-meddling mother and the gossiping housewives and their daughters that seemed to lurk at every corner of the town. Her arms flailed wildly, chorusing her enthusiastic and bitter fuming of how people took everything by face value, how they couldn't mind their own business, how dishonest they were and how much they enjoyed making her life difficult. The more she spoke, the more she drank - and the more she drank, the more of her thoughts she poured out. Listening to her in silence, adding in only a few nods and agreeing hums, he lost both the track of time and the count of his own refills, drowning his consciousness in the sound of her voice.

When she finally stopped, the silence practically yelled for a response. He lowered his empty glass.

"Glad to hear you've been fine," he commented dryly. She nailed her eyes upon his, her fingers pressing down hard on the wooden table. The grin on his face, however, stripped her eyes of all the hostility and menace. Her posture trembled as realization and self-irony begun sinking in, and after a few seconds her feeble self-control and mask of dignity fell apart, throwing her into a burst of genuine laughter. His grin grew more radiant, and soon he, too, was laughing loudly.

"Idiot," she managed to say after the worst fit of laughter had passed, wiping a lone tear off the corner of her eye. His grin remained. That's right; he was still the idiot - and he was damn good at it. As soon as the smile on her face disappeared, so did his grin, and a silence even more pronounced that the previous one fell over the table.

Sunohara leaned back in his chair and sighed. The fun part was over.

"What's wrong, Kyou?" he asked eventually, his voice a curious mixture of genuine worry and routine-like hollowness. "What are you leaving out this time?" The indigo locks swayed as she looked uneasily to the side, avoiding his gaze. He hated and loved that look; hated how unlike her usual self was, loved how it brought forth a frail, beautiful side of her. He drank on the view greedily, waiting for her to answer.

"I met Tomoya today," she muttered after a long while. He tapped on the rim of his glass, his expression uncharacteristically solemn. "It was a freak accident: I had to stop by the convenience store, and he just happened to pass by. We didn't talk for long, but…" her voice trailed off.

"But you found out you still hate him," he finished.

"I don't hate him!" she exclaimed in response, slamming her fist down on the table so hard that the bottle threatened to fall down. A few other customers threw startled glances at their directions, but neither of them paid any heed. She drew in several deep breaths. Her eyes were still burning, but the strength in them was draining off rapidly. "I don't hate him," she repeated, turning her eyes away from his. "He's… He's my friend; I don't hate him." Both her expression and her words had no conviction in them. She drew in one more wavering breath, and spoke in a pained sound.

"I don't… I don't want to hate him - I just don't. But I can't help it, can't help it at all!" He was silent for a while before responding.

"Is it still because of the same reason?" he asked with a sigh. He didn't like this particular topic, for several reasons. "Do you still think he has done something to Fu-"

"Yes," she cut him short, nodding. "I still do."

"Maiden's inspiration, huh?" He tilted his head to the side, his tone sceptical.

"Don't start with me, Youhei," she warned him, the tone of her voice doing an almost full turn. Itchy as always, he noted. "I've never been wrong about this before, not once. Besides, you said you agreed with me, didn't you?" He pulled a little back with an uncomfortable expression.

"Again you bring that up," he muttered as he recalled the conversation they had had, months ago. He had been drunk - they had both been drunk - and he had spoken too freely about a subject too touchy for his tastes. Up until a year ago, he hadn't believed there would've ever been a subject like that. He shook his head. "Look, let's just drop it, okay? Talk about something else."

"You did agree with me!" She leaned against the table with both hands, peering dangerously close to his face. He could smell the alcohol in her breath. "Don't you dare take that back now!" Instinctively, he pulled back, noticing with growing worry just how explosive the combination of her current mood and heavy drinking was.

"Okay, okay!" he yielded, putting his arms up. "I did say I have a similar hunch; I still do!" He wasn't lying. Just like Kyou, he had a tiny suspicion - mark the word 'tiny' - that the condition of the younger Fujibayashi sister was somehow connected with his best friend. How he had this suspicion or how those two were connected, he had no idea of. However, despite all the loyalty he felt for his friend, he just couldn't shake the feeling off, and it bothered him deeply - perhaps even more than Kyou.

"Look," he said again. She was still awkwardly close. "That's about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Can't we leave it until we're sober?" She remained still for a few more seconds before pulling off, sighing.

"When are we ever sober?"

He fell silent, not wanting to voice the answer both of them already knew.

"Is there something else, Kyou?" he asked after a while, trying to pick off where they had left. As far as he could recall, she hadn't said a word about the touchiest subject yet. "Is there something else you'd like to tell me?" Again, she was looking to the side with an empty expression. Her complete lack of reaction was an answer in itself.

"So… How is she?" he asked, unable to identify even himself what the tone of his voice was. He could see how shivers ran through her frame; how her entire body tensed violently and then relaxed all at once, tensed and relaxed. Keeping her eyes nailed on the ground, he could not see the emotions that must've flashed on her face as she desperately sought to regain control of herself. The only thing he could do was to wait without sound, without giving her any kind of comforting words or gestures - she would hate him if he did, would lash at him if she detected any kind of pity. She was strong, she would say, and didn't need any false sympathy or pity or anything, and would storm out of the bar, leaving him there stunned and aching. He didn't want that to happen, not for the second time.

So, he patiently waited for her to get her bravado together again, even though it hurt him every time so much to just sit there and watch.

When she finally raised her head, the expression on her face was hollow. When she spoke, her voice was devoid of all emotions - even her usual bitter undertone was gone.

"The same as usual: she doesn't talk unless I speak to her, doesn't eat unless I feed her, doesn't shower or bathe unless I order her to. She doesn't do anything; when I come home from work, I find her in the same position I left her in the morning. Even if I put the TV on or loudly drop something, she doesn't react to the noise. She doesn't seem to react to anything." She let out a wavering breath. There was a crack in her voice as she continued. "Why, just today, when I had to visit the store and came back home, I found her in the kitchen, bleeding - she had cut herself while trying to peel a fruit. And do you know what she did? Nothing!" He noted how her hands trembled as she brought them in front of her. "She just stood there and watched her hand bleed! She would've bled to death if I had been away any longer!" Another crack in her voice.

"Why did she do that?" he asked, not able to hide the worry in his voice - but the worry wasn't directed at the younger sister.

"That's just it!" she exclaimed, her voice growing shrill. "She said: 'I don't know', and looked so… So lost! Like she would've just woken up from a dream or something!" She buried her face in her hands, letting out a sound between a sob and a growl. "I have no idea what's happening to her anymore!"

"Calm down, Kyou," he said, leaning closer. "Don't lose your head over this, you hear?" She whipped her head up, the despair in her eyes morphing into anger in a span of two heartbeats.

"Of course I won't!" she hissed. "Who do you think you're talking to? There's no way I would let this get the best of me! That's not even an option!" He wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more, him or herself.

"See, that's just what I mean," he pointed out in a careful tone, trying to gently guide her mood back to a non-flammable status. "I think you're pushing yourself just a little too much. You should give yourself a chance to a breather every now and then." Her expression remained irritated, but was no longer openly hostile. Encouraged, he continued. "Give yourself a weekend, or even a day completely free of work and daily chores. Maybe make a short trip or something, let someone else take care of Fuji-"

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had made a decisive blunder. Without a single word of warning, Kyou leaped upon him, her hands closing around the collar of his shirt so fast that he couldn't even raise his arms up in defence. The chair clattered on the floor loudly as he was lifted off it and slammed against the wall, causing him to wince in pain - she hadn't lost any of her strength. As he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring into her flaring orbs, their faces only a few centimetres from each other. She was breathing heavily, the thick smell of alcohol invading his nostrils and making him even dizzier than he already was. From the corner of his eye, he could see that they had got the attention of the entire bar, the bartender and other patrons looking at them with mixed expressions of fear, worry and expectation.

Oh, now he had really done it.

"You... You..." She hissed the words out between her gritted teeth, her eyes having trouble focusing on his face. Her arms trembled as they gripped his shirt even tighter, holding him still under her burning eyes. "You have any idea what you're saying? The hell, a free weekend? A trip? Leave her?" She slammed him against the wall again. "You asshole, I'm the only one who can take care of her!" Another slam. Pain erupted from between his shoulder blades as the head of a lone screw dug into his flesh. "I'm the only one she has anymore! And you dare, you dare say I should take a friggin' vacation?" She slammed him against the wall one final time, and as icing on the cake, punched him in the stomach so hard that he could not breathe for a good couple of seconds.

"How dare you?" Her shoulders shook heavily as she spit out the words. Opening his eyes, he found the familiar amethyst eyes flaring with unchained, crazed frenzy. However, he made no effort to look away. Instead, he hold his gaze steady, trying to catch his breath as he did his best to ignore his aching back. Against the flame in her eyes, he pitted his own unyielding gaze, silently waiting for her anger to cool down. Words wouldn't do any good now, not after what he had blurted out. No, he could only wait for her to snap out of her rage on her own. The longer it drew on, however, the more painful it became to behold, and a horrible realization began dawning on him.

Had it really become this bad already?

The anger in her eyes took a long, long while to subside, but when it eventually did, it was gone almost as quick as it had come. The amethyst eyes blinked once, then twice, and then they suddenly widened as she realized what she was doing. The vice-like grip on his collar disappeared, and he fell back on his feet.

"Back on Earth?" he asked, but his voice sounded empty even to himself. God, now he remembered how much he had hated being the punching bag. She wrapped her trembling hands, which had been gripping him just a few heartbeats ago, around herself, but the shaking wouldn't cease. Instead, it seemed like her whole body would give in under her. "Sit down, before you fall," he told her as he pulled his chair up and sat down. She complied without a word, her eyes staring vacantly off to the distance. He muttered curses under his breath, rubbing his offended stomach. He gestured to the bartender, who looked ready to throw both of them out, that everything was alright now and no further commotion would happen. Needless to say, the gaze he got back wasn't entirely convinced. That was, however, the least of his concerns right now.

"Wh-wha-... What did I...? What did I just...?" Kyou muttered, her lips moving sluggishly.

"Well, to me it seemed like a recollection of a normal day back in high school," he replied, but the humour was lost even to himself. She twitched in response, but didn't raise her eyes.

"Youhei, I... I'm..." She attempted slowly, trying to find the proper words of apology. Her voice, in all its unfamiliarity, made him cringe.

"I don't wanna hear it, alright?" he snapped before she managed to finish, earning a startle from her. Her eyes, as they finally looked up to him, were round with fear. Again, he cursed. "Why do you look at me like that? You think I'm angry at you? I'm not, I'm not!" The fearful look in her eyes persisted. "Look, you used to do this to me all the time back when we were in school! What's so different now?" She didn't seem to register his words. Her voice sounded like it would shatter at the tiniest impact.

"I just... I just lost it. I was, I was talking with you, and then everything, everything just went red, and suddenly I couldn't see you or hear you or think of anything, and then I was suddenly holding you in the air and realized I had just punched you and-"

"Shut up!" He slammed his hand on the table, and she pulled back so quickly that her chair threatened to topple over. "I said I don't wanna hear it! I don't want you to even think about it!" Suddenly becoming aware that he had raised his voice, he had to force himself to take several deep breaths. Times like this, he really wished he smoked.

"Look," he said after a while, trying to ignore her still-shaken look. "Look, you said it yourself, right? You just lost it. Hey, that happens, what's the big deal?" He tried to put on a reassuring expression for her to see, but wasn't sure how well he succeeded. "Stress gets to people, everyone knows that! It's gonna happen to all of us sooner or later! And you, hey, I never even dreamed you'd be the type who'd go cry in a corner when it happens. No, I've always known you'd fight it out of yourself." He made an exaggerated gesture. "And that's exactly what happened, you know. You weren't beating me, you were taking a shot at your own stress!" He shrugged and managed to push a grin on his face. "And hey, if I managed to help you out at that, I have nothing to complain." He cast his eyes to the side in a carefree manner, but from the corner of his eye, he kept looking at how her expression would change.

Seconds passed on in silence as she digested on his words, the look in her face flashing between doubt, guilt and confusion. Slowly, slowly, the look in her eyes began to regain some of its usual firmness. He had to fight himself not to sigh in relief. When she finally spoke, her words were still shaky, but the worst seemed to have passed.

"You... You're sure?" He nodded vehemently, throwing his trademark grin at her again.

"Hey, I said I'd help you out, didn't I? Just consider this to be special service and stop worrying about it!" She was motionless for a few seconds, but eventually gave a nod, strength returning to her features. "Yeah, that's the way to go!" Under his spirited words, however, he was throwing curses and accusations at his own stupidity. Of course, there was the massive blunder he had made by bringing up the idea of leaving her sister's side, but more than that, he was raging at himself about how he had missed the stress building up on her - he hadn't noticed at all how bad her state had become!

He had known all along how hard she was straining herself: constantly tearing herself apart between her work, taking care of her sister and keeping up the appearances she was too stubborn to let go. He had known all this for several months now, yet still he had let it slide! And now, look at how bad it had become! She must've been running on only willpower for God knows how long now, and from the looks of it, she was finally reaching the breaking point.

How could he have let this happen? Was this his idea of helping her? And, most importantly, how was he going to fix this mess?

Problem was, there was only one thing he could think of.

He grabbed the bottle on the table and poured its contents into the two glasses. Raising the other one, she pushed the other into her still-hesitant hands and gave her a firm look.

"Hey, enough talking! We're here to drink, aren't we - let's focus on what's important, alright?" She looked at him uncertainly, but upon seeing his grin, the anxiety was pushed aside, and she grasped her glass.

"R-right," she tried, and then with more strength, repeated: "Right!" He forced his grin wider and poured his drink down his throat, trying to wash off not only her hesitation and fears, but also his own self-loathing and doubts.

Is this really everything I can do to help her?

He had no idea what time it was when they left the bar. The streets were empty and cold as they stumbled towards the general direction of her apartment, him trying to hazily navigate out of memory and her slurring near-incoherent directions from his side.

"So... Ya take the left turn at the next street... Or maybe it was the other left, or the other street..."

"I know where I'm going, Kyou," he muttered in response, tightening his grip on her shoulder as she reeled dangerously to the side.

"But I've never told ya..."

"I just know, alright? Don't ask." Her long hair swished in front on his face as her head swayed from side to side. He pushed them away, trying not be affected by her feminine smell.

"How much did we drink... This time?"

"I'll show you the receipts later," he responded, trying to make out a particularly fuzzy street name. "Tomorrow. You can pay me tomorrow, I'll visit you before I leave."

"Thanks, Youhei," she slurred, her lips curving into a smile. "You're a real friend, ya know?" Thankfully, the alcohol seemed to have mercifully erased all her memories of how she had man-handled him at the bar, and she had reached a state of mind similar to the beginning of their makeshift counselling session. She rambled on as they walked, at first about how good a friend he was, listening to her worries and sharing a drink with her - there was no one else who could do it, she insisted several times - and how grateful she was every time he showed up. He listened with other ear as he navigated through the dark streets, nodding and giving her short responses to ensure her that he was listening. He was half-aware from the tone of her voice that she had moved back to the topic of how hard her life was, and from the jerky, violent gestures she made with her free hand he concluded she had traced back into ranting about her co-workers and the other people she was surrounded by in this town.

Her abrupt silence brought him back to his senses, and he turned his head to glance at her face.

"Hey, Youhei?" There was a vacant look on her face as she spoke. Even through the alcohol clouding his mind, he could tell her voice was out of place. Was she going to regress back to that heart-wrenching state she had been in just a few hours ago?

"Yeah?" She didn't respond for a while. Just when he was about to shake her, she spoke again in that same, ominous voice. His heart skipped a beat.

"If... If something happens to me... Ya... You've gotta take care of Ryou. She can't be left alone, ya know?"

"Oh, shut up!" he growled, pulling her back straighter, his fears erased by irritation. This was about the only kind of drunken nonsense he didn't tolerate. "Nothing's gonna happen to you! There's nothing in this world that could harm you!"

"I'm serious!" Her eyes flashed, but he didn't care.

"So am I! I ain't gonna hear you talk this kind of crap!" Her free hand, the one that he hadn't draped over his shoulder, gripped the front of his coat, and she suddenly leaned forward so that their faces met. He leaned backwards, desperately trying to keep both of them on their feet.

"No, Youhei, I'm serious!" she repeated with a look on her face that couldn't be denied. "I've really, really thought about this! Accidents happen all the time, don't they? I could, I could be caught in a car crash, uh-huh, or a shoot-out or a... Or under falling construction debris! Even I could get pretty hurt in something like that, ya know - I could even die!" Her hazy eyes had trouble focusing on him. "And, and if that happens, Ryou will be left all alone! I can't let that happen, even if I'm dead!" He was about to yell at her again, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

"Promise me, Youhei! Promise me you'll take care of her! You're the only one I can trust anymore!" Under all that drunken haze, there was desperation, the similar kind she had displayed back at the bar - the similar kind he hated to see in her.

Who could blame him for wanting to wipe that all away?

"Alright, I promise." His response came out so fast, it surprised even himself. Her eyes widened, unbelieving. "I promise I'll take care of her," he repeated, and watched contently as the desperation and disbelief in her eyes faded away, replaced by a kind of warmth he recalled seeing only a few times before. "But, in turn, you'll stop spouting such bullshit. I don't wanna hear anything like that anymore." He turned his gaze away from her eyes, trying to fight off the glow that was creeping upon his cheeks.

Suddenly, an idea sprang up in his mind, an idea so drastic and unheard of that he wondered even himself where it had come from. The more he considered it, however, the more confident he grew, and soon motivation had flared him up entirely.

Yeah. That's the only way I can help her. And if she's gonna hate me for this, well, tough luck.

"We're almost there, let's go. I ain't gonna leave you until you're safely tucked in bed." He felt how she stumbled.

"H-hold on! Ya think ya can walk into my apartment just like that!" she exclaimed.

"When you can't even stand on your own, I ain't gonna take any risks," he told her with a sense of finality, ignoring her infuriated objections as he led her up the stairs with firm steps, towards the small world she had constructed for her sister.

The confidence over the foreign idea was so strong that it seemed to even push the drunken haze out of his mind.

Her sleep had been restless throughout the night; the throbbing of her hand was constantly pushing through her brittle sleep, keeping her teetering on the threshold between dream and reality. As such, even the faint rattle of keys was enough to stir her awake.

"I told ya, ya don't have to do this!" a slurred voice from behind the door insisted. It was familiar. "I'm fine, really!"

"Like I said, I'll leave as soon as you're lying down on your bed," another voice, unfamiliar, replied. There were more words, but they drowned under the rattle of keys. The door was pushed open, and cold night air flowed into the small room. She wanted to pull the blanket more over her, but an unfamiliar feeling forced her to stay completely still with her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. The door closed soundlessly.

"Just… Just, don't wake up Ryou. She's sleeping; she must have her sleep." The hushed voice lisped so strongly that she had trouble making out the words.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'll set your bed - where's your futon?" There was a soft, definite sound of something heavy landing down on the floor. "Hey, hey!" the deeper voice ushered. "Try to hold yourself up for just a minute! Actually, go drink some water in the kitchen while I set things up!"

"Yeah, good idea." Something was dragging itself up against the wall. "The bed's… Over there, in the closet." Heavy footsteps strode past her head, and then there was sound of running water. Something heavy was landed down right next to her. She clenched her eyes shut ferociously, quivering. The sounds surrounded her from all sides, destroying the quiet tranquillity she was used to. The nightmarish cacophony settled down in the pit of her stomach, pushing up an emotion she could not name that shook her all over, raced her heart and made her breathing quick and shallow, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. She couldn't remember feeling the cold grip of fear in a long, long time.

Something heavy crashed down next to her, and an unwilling, quiet 'eep' escaped from her. She immediately tensed, in fear of being caught, but it seemed her outburst wasn't noticed.

"You ain't gonna change?" The unfamiliar voice asked, closer than before. The reply that came from next to her was a slurred, vague growl, but even its tone was enough to make the hair of her neck stand up. Thankfully, the voice wasn't directed at her. "Right, right," the voice appeased. "Sorry." For a while, she could only hear the sound of breathing next to her.

"Remember, Youhei," the voice eventually spoke, half-mumbling. "Remember what ya promised." It was thick with alcohol, but it was also drenched in emotion - emotion even she couldn't help noticing. It stirred her, stirred part of her she couldn't identify, couldn't remember. "If somethin' happens to me… Take care of her. Take care of Ryou." The barely audible words tightened her chest, gripped her harder than the primal fear just a few moments ago and brought the stinging sensation of unspilt tears into her eyes again. Several painful shivers ran through her, shaking her all over. She couldn't understand why.

"Right." The answer was soft, warm. Silence fell again, this time stretching on for several minutes. Slowly, carefully, she pried her eyes open and turned around on her bed. The familiar form of her sister laid next to her, her chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm under the blanket. She hadn't changed into her nightgown, instead lying on the futon with her everyday clothes - she had not even undone her hair, her long indigo locks framing her face in their usual style. In the dim light, she could make out the glittering trails of tears that had fallen down from her eyes before she had fallen asleep. Again, her chest tightened under that painful sensation she couldn't name, and for a long while, she could only stare at her sister's face.

And then she saw the pair of blue eyes that gazed at her from the darkness. Like a deer caught in a spotlight, she stilled entirely under that intense gaze.

"That's right," a voice spoke, as stern and intense as the eyes. "Look at her. Take a good look at your sister." For as long as her memory reached, she hadn't heard the voice of anyone other than her sister. This deep, unfamiliar voice was entirely unlike her sister's soft, comforting murmur: it was rigid and unrelenting and burned with frightening conviction. She felt how her body shivered with every syllable he spoke.

But perhaps more frightening than the voice were the eyes: two clear, blue eyes that gleamed in the dim light of the room. Like the voice, they burned with a sort of grim determination, digging deep into her own eyes. It felt like they tried to drag a part of her soul out, tried to see into her mind and reveal her deepest thoughts. They evaluated her, weighed her, every now and then casting a glance at the sleeping form of her sister, after which the flame within them would grow in volume. She found she couldn't turn her eyes away no matter how she tried. A cold bead of sweat travelled down her brow.

"Look at her," the voice repeated, and she was partially released from the spell, only to do what he told her. "You saw, didn't you? How she cried herself to sleep? What do you think that is for? Who do you think that is for?" The eyes were turned on her again, and she wriggled under the intense gaze without knowing exactly why. The voice sighed, and the eyes closed briefly. "She's pushing herself to the limit, all the damn time. She's straining herself and it's only a matter of time 'til she breaks down. Do you know why? Do you know why she's whipping herself on like this?" The eyes burned. She couldn't reply; she even hardly understood the words. He must've seen that helpless look as well, for there was another frustrated sigh. The figure stood up, and her eyes followed.

"I'll show you," the dark figure muttered as he gazed down at her. "Stand up," he ordered, but she only blinked. There was a sharp gesture she could barely make out in the darkness. "Stand up!" Hesitantly and without a word, she pushed herself up from her futon. "Come here." The figure was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. She did as ordered, but kept a cautious distance to him. Stepping aside, he gestured her to go inside. "Stand in front of the mirror." The bathroom tiles were cold under her bare feet. She shivered.

The light flashed on, and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. Slowly, as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she managed to open them.

In front of her was her usual ashen reflection; the familiar lifeless eyes deep in their sockets, her usual pale face framed by her messy, uncombed locks. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the way her skin drooped, the lack of direct sunlight giving it a sickly tone, or how thin her arms had become, being unused for so long. Her pyjamas, worn day after day, had worn out a little more again, the fabric growing thin and stitches threatening to tear at several places. The mirror displayed nothing novel in her appearance.

Yet, the sight petrified her. Her widened eyes - the only part of her that moved - travelled all over her reflection, finding more and more details of degeneration in her appearance with every glance. Her arms and legs trembled, as if she subconsciously wanted to dash away from the bathroom or at least clasp her hands in front of her eyes, but a mixture of morbid realization and repulsion hold her muscles still. A foul taste began spreading in her mouth, but she barely noticed it over the shocked confusion that rang in her mind.

Is this… What I really look like? Is this really me?

"This is what your sister is sacrificing herself for." The answer to her question came from the doorway, reminding her of his presence. Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, she finally got to see the face belonging to that frightening voice, but as she laid her eyes on him, her initial fear dissipated. She couldn't recognize him, of course; couldn't recall the shape of his face or his sapphire eyes, but for some odd reason, seeing his appearance soothed her. A faint ghost of a memory flashed in her eyes, almost too fast for her to notice, but it still made her knit her brow ever-so-slightly, made her lips twitch subtly as they tried to repeat a name she had forgotten.

"You think she's happy with what she sees?" Ignoring her stare, he pointed at the mirror. When she focused on her reflection again, she found her appearance even more repulsive than before, and she had to fight not to turn her eyes away. "Are you happy with what you see?" Before she realized what she was doing, she was already shaking her head vehemently. "I thought so." His voice sounded satisfied. Without another word, he walked back to the bedroom, leaving her standing in front of her sickly reflection in confusion. Flipping the lights off, she followed him, glad to be away from the painful truth in the mirror.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she found him in his initial position; sitting next to the sleeping form of her sister, with his back turned to her. She wasn't sure whether it was the sight of him or her sister that stilled her, forcing her to silently keep her distance. It was a long while before he spoke again.

"You know," His voice was careful and soft, entirely devoid of the frightening intensity it had had a moment ago. "It's okay to take your time to sort things out. It ain't anything small you went through." She blinked at his words, unable to comprehend. "But, enough is enough." Slapping on his knees, he pushed himself up and turned to face her. The conviction had returned on his face, and although she was no longer afraid of him, she still found herself swallowing uncomfortably. "This doesn't concern just you anymore; it's becoming a problem for all of us. I can't just stand around and let that happen, you know." He stepped closer to her, nailing his eyes upon hers. She took an involuntary step backwards, but her back hit the wall. She could feel her knees beginning to shake again.

"Don't you think it's time to wake up already, Fujibayashi?" His words were formed like a question, but his tone was demanding. Still, there was a tinge of tenderness in his eyes, his face, and concealed sorrow in his voice. She could feel her throat tightening, but the sensation had nothing to do with fear. "I don't want to keep watching you both go wrong like this." The constriction was moving down towards her chest as she kept looking at his expression which seemed to grow more and more pained. Seconds dragged on in awkward, painful silence, and although it looked like he still had more to say, he didn't manage to push the words out of his mouth.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, sighing deeply. Even without his eyes on her, the atmosphere felt heavy.

"Well, you think about it, alright?" His voice sounded exhausted as he moved towards the door, clumsily putting on his shoes. Her eyes trailed after him. "I'll visit you guys tomorrow, but she probably won't let me in anymore, so I don't get to see you." As he pushed the door open, cool night air flowed into the apartment again, but this time she didn't notice the cold. He sighed once more as he stepped out, and then turned to face her. There was a smile on his face, a smile that looked so familiar it was almost painful. "So, I hope the next time I see you, you'll be feeling much better already." His eyes turned on the sleeping form of her sister, and the look on his face grew warmer. "And when that happens, make sure you take care of your sister, alright? She isn't nearly as strong as she pretends to be." With that, the door was pressed shut, and the familiar, comfortable darkness returned.

She stood still for a long while after he had left, her mind desperately trying to grasp everything that had happened in the span of the last few minutes. The words the man had spoken, the expressions he had used, the gestures he had made kept repeating themselves in her mind, tugging the strings of her clouded memory. Why had he been so frightening at one second and then become so mellow and soft at the other? What did he mean by having to wake up? And why was he so painfully familiar?

Her thoughts bounced back and forth, pressing against the thick veil of haziness that clouded her mind as it furiously tried to process everything she had witnessed. She could recall everything from the disruption of her sleep to the profound repulsion caused by her reflection in sharp detail, more distinctly and clearly than anything before, and it both amazed and frightened her. Her mind, usually so serenely devoid of any meaningful thoughts, had suddenly become overrun with notions and details she had never thought of before up to the point that nothing made sense anymore.

She shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her jumbled thoughts and let herself slide down against the wall. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to withstand the stampede within her head that threatened to trample over her very conception of the small world around her. Even her body shook as the mental bombardment continued, forcing her to wrap her arms around her as she tried to steady herself.

What... What is happening to me?

Eventually, the shaking subsided, as did the rush within her head. The muffled silence that returned into her thoughts felt similar to the one that usually reigned, but there was something novel in it now, an aspect she had not felt before. As she raised her gaze from the floor and looked around the dark apartment, her eyes fell upon her sister, and a rush of emotions flashed through her and sparked within her an irresistible urge to be at her side. Slowly, hesitantly, she moved next to her, sitting down on her own futon. Looking down at her sleeping face felt incredibly soothing, yet at the same time, it surfaced entirely different feelings within her: unexplainable anxiety and unease that constricted her chest painfully, bringing tears to her eyes. She had a sudden desire to reach out and touch her face, but held herself still despite the almost physical pain it caused her; she didn't want her to be touched by the person she had seen in the mirror. Her hands shook again, and she had to bite her lip not to wail out loud.

It hurt. It ached. The reality that she was now able to see was almost unbearable to behold. Looking down at her trembling hands, she felt the stinging pain of the wound behind the crude bandage, but it was nothing compared to the pain that seemed to arise from some deeper part of her heart.

You... You hurt too, don't you?

That night, Fujibayashi Ryou cried for the first time in over a year, cried over the pain that she now realized was not only her own.

The next morning dawned clear, clearer than any morning she could remember. Right from the first ray of sun that hit her face, everything around her was clearer and more precise. The view over the town outside the window stilled her; she had not realized how many details the scene could bear. When she looked around their small apartment, she found the pictures and photos on the wall of their apartment much more vibrant and cheerful than she could've ever thought. Finally, when she turned her attention to her sister, who was still sleeping next to her, her heart threatened to burst, so beautiful and serene she looked. For a long, long while, she laid down on her bed, trying to take in everything she saw, heard, felt, smelled. Information about her surroundings she had not realized before were being flooded into her brain all at once, and she could do nothing but lay down in silent wonder and awe.

Why had she not realized all this before?

When she finally rose up, her feet guided her towards the bathroom, her hands unbuttoning her pyjamas. She did not resist, letting her intuition carry her.

She had not realized before how soft the flow of warm water could feel on her skin, how revitalizing the sensation was. As such, she ended up spending a long time in the shower booth, losing herself in the newly-found sensation. When she finally stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, she was unconsciously humming quietly in a cheerful tone. However, the sight that greeted her abruptly silenced her.

Her sister was standing in front of her, leaning against the wall with her other hand and staring at her with wide eyes.

"Ryou," she muttered, and she could distinctively smell alcohol from her breath. She froze, as if she had been caught red-handed from some prank or mischief. "Ryou... What did you...?" Her expression bordered between shock and disbelief, and she blushed unwillingly.

"Oh, I'm... I'm... Sorry," she managed to respond to her older sister, realizing that speaking was much easier than before. "I... I took a shower. I really needed one. I'm sorry," she added as an afterthought: she knew she needed to apologize, she simply didn't know what for. The older sister was still staring at her, but now her expression had changed, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. Trying to desperately think of something to say to remedy the situation, she blurted out the first phrase that came to her mind.

"G-good morning... Onee-chan." At those words, it felt like yet another part of her was released and a warm feeling immediately spread throughout her body. It enveloped her, cut through the remaining haze that still resided within her mind and resonated with a part of her heart that she had forgotten even existed. She didn't have time to further analyze the novel sensation, though, for her older sister caught her in a warm, tight embrace, wailing like a child.

"Ryou! Ryou!" As she kept on repeating her name, she could feel the flow of hot tears on her skin, the tears she realized had been held back for an unreasonably long time now. Trying to ignore the crushing feeling of guilt within her and the sensation of tears pricking in her own eyes, she wrapped her arms around her sister, returning the warmth. Her murmured words were muffled in her sister's shoulder.

"I... I think... I've finally woken up, onee-chan."

Author's notes: Reviewing is voluntary, but very much appreciated.