Beyond the Lines

Like a miracle our lives came together
And became silhouettes in a bustling scene
An epilogue so dazzling I could cry
Filled with emotion I could write it on the sky

—Topology, Itou Kanako (trans.)

Single Step

And then he wasn't alone. At least not for the moment.

Oreki Tomoe touched her little brother's shoulder sympathetically from behind as he slouched on the sofa, the atmosphere between them as thick as cream. Houtarou didn't try to shrug her hand off, which she took as a good sign. She knew that he knew that she'll be bringing up the topic that she'll have brought up already for a thousand times since the incident, and so opened her mouth to speak, as to not let the heaviness extend its stay even longer.

"Houtarou," she began rather awkwardly, squeezing his shoulder with reassuring weight when he stayed silent. She couldn't be sure, but she thought he looked more downcast than usual, a product of his brooding too much on things. Especially when it's about her. Chitanda Eru. My little brother's tragic first love. "Are you visiting her today?"

He nodded once, some of his wavy hair settling to the left as he rested his head back on a tilted position. She, almost automatically, grabbed a stray lock of his hair and twirled it absently around her finger, letting him find a proper footing to elaborate as she indulged in her favorite habit of playing with Houtarou's hair.

"I can't think of anything to bring her," he finally admitted, a sigh escaping at the end of his sentence.

"How about some rice balls?" she suggested, simply. "I can make some quickly before you go for you to take to her."

"No, aneki," he said with a sudden determination that threw her. He never sounded this stubborn about himself intentionally making an effort except whenever she was concerned. Tomoe felt a soft smile curl her lips for this little brother of hers who didn't seem so little anymore. "Teach me how to, instead. I'll make them myself."

"That's a good idea. She'll like that better." She let go of his hair, watching the strands that she had disturbed settle into loose rings and then completely lose the shape, going back to their natural curl. "What time are you planning to go anyway?"

"Sometime this afternoon… I haven't decided yet." Houtarou stood up unsteadily, easily dwarfing Tomoe by a couple of inches as he walked past her and into the kitchen. He turned and scowled at her bemusedly when she just remained where she stood. "What are you waiting for, aneki?"

"If you have to do it, make it quick, eh?" Tomoe said with a broad smile, quoting from her brother's motto. "Well, prepare the rice first…"

"There's some leftover from lunch. Will that do?"

"Nicely."

Houtarou quickly fell into a rhythm when he finally got the hang of it, finishing six small rice balls in a matter of minutes and arranging them neatly in one of his old but clean lunch boxes. Beside him, Tomoe watched his work silently, noticing that even with his terrible posture, his recent growth spurts were noticeable. He had been standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her just months ago, and now he had to look down on her to meet her eyes. The thought of the changes that she had appreciated just now made her, irrationally, terribly sad.

"Finished?" she asked him gently as he put the lid over the box, green eyes staring moodily at it before placing it on the dining table to take later. "Are you taking anything else with you?"

"This year's Hyouka," he said finally, after thinking for a bit. "I think she'd want to see what we put in it this year. After all, it's our graduation issue." She could almost see the conflict in his eyes. Almost.

She crossed her arms. "I'm gonna pack your things in a bag then. Pick your outfit already so that you can go quickly later."

He let out a short exhale of breath, which she took as a sort of "okay", and when he was gone upstairs to think about things to himself (and hopefully to actually act on her advice), Tomoe went on to grab the box from the table and search for a bag comfortable enough to contain everything he might need for his visit.

After settling for Houtarou's old blue standard-issue schoolbag, which was standing quite dejectedly on a corner, already abandoned by its recently-graduated owner, she absentmindedly slid the box in, feeling its weight settle on the bottom of the bag. Tracing the zipper with her finger, she wondered if Houtarou still felt that he was to blame for the incident. Of course he still does, she answered herself, frowning. Houtarou was someone who rarely blames himself, but whenever he does, he blames himself hard. He never was one to back out from responsibility. She also wondered whether the Chitandas also secretly blamed him for it. Possible, but they knew that Houtarou did everything he could to save her. No one could have predicted what had happened next.

"Aneki?" She heard Houtarou's muffled voice from his room upstairs, and she ditched the bag right away to see what his query was. Her feet felt strangely heavy.

"What was it?" she asked him when she reached him, standing by the doorway to his room.

"I can't find my watch. Did you hide it again?" He huffed silently as she laughed, half-confirming his accusations.

"Come on, I just borrowed it for a bit. My watch ran out of batteries the other day, so I helped myself. You did leave it scattered on your desk." She went to her room and retrieved the watch in question, the old leather straps smooth against her palm. "Here you go." She considered flinging the object back and watch him curse and miss as per usual, but thinking that he had a lot on his plate right now without herself adding as an annoyance, she handed it back properly instead with a playful ruffle of his hair. When he had closed the door behind him, Tomoe went back downstairs and swiped Houtarou's umbrella off the stand, putting it in the bag along with a blanket that she had acquired earlier when she looked for the watch. The incense, the lighter, and a bottle of water followed it inside, along with some snacks if Houtarou should feel famished after the walk.

Setting the now-plump bag on the sofa, she finally heard Houtarou's heavy footfalls on the stairs, and she swiveled to see him in a casual dark short-sleeved shirt, coupled with simple faded jeans. In his hand, he held a tightly rolled-up copy of this year's Hyouka, the light purple cover standing out in the gloom of the light.

"You're going now?" she asked, surprised that he had already dressed when she just told him to get out his clothes.

"Might as well." He looked restless, she noticed. Tomoe can hardly blame him—the day was getting rather cloudy. He took the bag as Tomoe held it out nonchalantly, and padded his way to the door. He stepped in his shoes and turned back to Tomoe, his expression bland. "I'm off, then."

"Have a safe trip," Tomoe dutifully called back, and the Oreki siblings finally parted when Houtarou closed the front door behind him.

The walk was quite short, the silhouette of the hill where the Arekusu shrine was built immediately noticeable after a few minutes of traveling dispiritedly on the road. Tugging his bag higher on his shoulder, he squared his shoulders and began the long walk up the steep stone steps to Arekusu, his shoes hitting against stone the only sounds that he can hear in the long ascent. He felt almost numb as his legs started to ache.

When he finally reached the top, his face sweating with the effort, he immediately went straight to the family tombs on the back of the main shrine, the hand clutching the anthology closing even tighter. He always felt nervous whenever he went up to see the Chitandas' family tomb when the anniversary of her disappearance came around. Her "disappearance"… The term was bitter on his tongue, the people around him taking for granted that that was what he chose to euphemize to mention her death. Well, they would be right.

"Chi—tan—da," he huffed, finally spotting the row of markers with the Chitanda family names. Chitanda Eru's ended the row, the carvings much fresher than the ones that came before it.

"Here you are." Forcing himself to act normal, Houtarou squatted down in front of the grave and opened his bag, finding that the blanket that his sister had stuffed in was pretty much obscuring everything else. "Aneki… hopeless." He pulled out the blanket and stretched it out on the ground, and when he sat on it, Eru's framed picture on the foot of the marker looked up clearly at him, her sweet smile forever frozen behind glass. Suddenly feeling his throat dry up, Houtarou stuck his hand in the bag for the bottle of water that he knew Tomoe would have packed.

Satisfying his thirst from the climb took up half of the bottle, but his dry throat still wouldn't go away. Twisting the cap firmly back on, he put it down on the blanket beside his bag and proceeded to take out the incense, the lunch box, and a lighter, lighting and placing the sticks in the pot and setting the box beside the picture. Clapping his hands once together, he knelt and offered a silent prayer, his lips barely moving as he mouthed the words.

Opening his eyes to meet Eru's still ones, he smiled, the gesture halfhearted on his part. "I wonder if you could still hear me now, Chitanda. But, anyway…" He took the copy of Hyouka and cradled it gingerly in his hands, his eyes watching the pages flash past until he got to the desired one. "You wouldn't have stopped thinking about what we had published in Hyouka for this year, would you?" He leaned forward on the blanket, and felt so much older than the perpetually sixteen-year-old Eru beyond the glass. "I'm nineteen now, you know that, Chitanda? We just graduated from Kamiyama High. You should have seen Satoshi… He was so happy that he almost cried when it was all over. On my shoulder, mind. Ibara almost choked herself to death, laughing at us. And I can't see what's so funny." Like always, you're so emotionally unresponsive, Houtarou, Satoshi would have remarked had he been listening on the side.

He let his mind drift back to the memory of the sea of somber black gakuran and white sailor uniforms, clumps of flowers and bits of ribbon pinned on collars and pockets beside faded school badges. And then, Fukube Satoshi's face among the crowd, searching for Houtarou among his classmates as the congregation finally broke up. Ibara Mayaka by his side, frowning up at him like always.

He didn't notice the footsteps even when they became close, his mind totally wrapped in the memory, his voice permeating the air as he talked about the graduation ceremony and its aftermath and sounding as strong as he'd hoped he truly felt. So when the intruder finally placed a hand on his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin, his head snapping up to look at the stranger's face.

Or, no, not a stranger—her hair had been cut in a different style than he had seen it last, but those sharp blue eyes and haughty look named the woman before him. She stood, looming over him, clad in a simple yet classy outfit as was to be expected of her choice in clothing.

"Irisu-senpai," he acknowledged her with a wary look. Irisu Fuyumi sighed, an incredulous smile spreading on her lips as she looked him over again, a young man sitting on a blanket spread in the middle of the cemetery, speaking aloud to someone who wasn't even around to listen. She had to admit that it was quite romantically idiotic—although she would never have for the life of her envisioned that she would see someone like Oreki Houtarou doing it.

"A simple '-san' would suffice. We're not schoolmates any longer." Irisu bent her knees so that she came down to his level, her sharp eyes staring him down like always. But Houtarou had long ago forgotten that he had ever been intimidated by the Empress, and so green met blue unhesitatingly, lasting until Irisu smiled and grudgingly admitted defeat, her eyes dropping to the offerings that he had placed on Eru's grave. Her expression became serious when she saw Eru's picture.

"I thought you were already studying in university over there in Tokyo," Houtarou said with a glance, setting the copy of Hyouka beside the box of rice balls.

"I am. I just took a few days off for some important family affairs. I also deemed it a good reason to visit Chitanda-san… Eru, that is." Irisu surveyed the slightly smoking incense, the lunch box, the copy of Hyouka. Her hand stretched out and touched the framed picture in the middle of it all, a frown on her face. "You've been busy."

"Was it so unusual?" Houtarou asked crossly, drawing his knees to his chest as he studied her expression.

Irisu laughed shortly. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that." She let go of the picture and shook her head. "On to more pressing matters, have you still your penchant for solving mysteries, Oreki Houtarou?"

Houtarou shrugged, staring moodily at the picture. "Even so, if I still do have it, why bother? Chitanda's not around to pester me anymore into unraveling things that aren't clear to her. Not around anymore to tell me that she cannot stop thinking about something." His voice became bitter, subdued. Irisu wondered how many people have heard all these words from Houtarou before her, and then wondered why he would choose her to unburden himself to. She considered that someone like her, who has no reason to repeat them again, would be the ideal person.

"Oreki-kun…" She felt herself hesitating on saying the next words, wondering yet once more as to what will happen next if she did choose to let them be heard. "What if I tell you that I have concrete evidence to the possibility that Eru might still be alive?"

His smile was tinged with incredulity, but Irisu saw in his eyes what she had expected to see—a glimmer of hope. A mere glimmer, but refusing to go out anyway. "What?"

"I saw her in Tokyo just once by freak chance. But it was enough to take an image of her. Her expression looked rather different than to what I was used to, but it was expected—and when I reviewed my picture, it was her, without a doubt. And the first question I asked myself is as to why she is still alive. And in Tokyo." She paused, searching his face, his face unreadable. Knowing that mere words would not move him any more from his seat, she took out her phone and flipped it open, accessing her camera album and choosing the image that had so baffled her.

Houtarou devoured the picture greedily with his eyes, his eyebrows drawing together in a perfect harmony of both shock and joy. Irisu could almost read his reluctance to accept the fact, but his longing to see her again breathing and alive stifled the negative emotions, leaving him with an expression that told Irisu that she had finally convinced him to join her cause.

"So, will you take up this case?" she finally put before him.

Houtarou silently handed back the mobile to its owner, his eyes lighting up truly for the first time in years. "This might be strange for someone like me, but I'll have you know that I haven't stopped thinking about her." He paused. "So, yes. I'll unravel this little problem of yours."