Chapter 21: Hey, Hey

"Hey, hey—kun, did you know? If you fold a piece of paper 42 times, it’ll reach the moon."

"Huh? No way."

"Ehh~? It’s true! C’mon, let’s calculate it together!"

"Nah, too much work."

"Don’t say thaaat~"

"Together"—that was her catchphrase. Such a sweet girl.

Ah, I was happy.

But that happiness didn’t last long.

Because she was already—

Because—

"Hah— hah—"

Shallow breaths are swallowed by the air, vanishing without a trace.

It’s a lie, I want to scream. But my throat is parched, glued shut—no voice comes out. Only thick, viscous saliva pools in my mouth, doing nothing to moisten my throat before disappearing into my stomach.

Bloodshot eyes. Pupils blown wide. Lips parted, unable to form words.

She—no, that thing—takes a step toward me.

"—kun, you’ve gotten so much cuter."

Giggling, it calls me by a name I can no longer remember—a name that’s faded, distorted, like an error in my mind. But I know. It’s definitely my name.

Another step. Then another. And another, closing the distance.

Each movement makes the air heavier, crushing me with the urge to collapse right there.

My knees buckle. My shoulders tremble. My mouth has been dry this whole time. My throat burns. So much. So, so much.

A metallic, salty taste floods my mouth, filling it like liquid.

At some point, I must’ve bitten through the inside of my cheek. Blood drips from the corner of my lips, trails down my throat, and stains the collar of my brand-new dress crimson.

Even if I swallow, more flows in. But it doesn’t quench the thirst.

The blood sears my dried-out throat, sinking into my stomach.

Each drop sends a scorching, jagged pain through me.

I’m thirsty. So, so thirsty.

"You look awful. You okay, —kun?"

Stop. Don’t call me by that name.

I—no, I’m—

"Hih—!?"

Before I realize it, that thing is right in front of me, pulling me into a gentle embrace, whispering in my ear.

I feel no body heat. Only a corpse-like chill, freezing as it envelops me.

"Hey… you didn’t forget me, did you?"

"Hah— hah—"

I can’t answer. Seeing me like this, she giggles again—then:

"Let’s remember… together, okay?"

"—!? Gah—!?"

I tear myself away and shove my left arm into the fountain behind me.

Hot. Hot. Burning.

My left arm scalds like fire. Beads of sweat—two, four, three—drip from my forehead, tainting the water.

When I pull my arm back, the sleeve of my clothes has grown longer. No—

It’s changed. Into the navy-blue sailor uniform of the high school I used to attend.

And the face reflected in the water is—

"...Me?"

An alto voice, high for a boy, rings in my ears.

Large eyes people envied. A small, delicate nose. Well-shaped lips. A face that could pass for a girl’s.

My own familiar face—now with a trickle of blood dripping from the lips, rippling the surface, staining it red.

"...Blood?"

As the ripples settle, I see it: a blood-soaked kitchen knife clutched in my left hand.

"Wha—!?"

I yank my arm back, desperately trying to drop the knife, but it’s stuck to my hand like a curse. Every frantic shake sends more red droplets flying, staining the sailor uniform, the skirt, my left arm.

Zzzuuu… The blood-soaked fabric sizzles, scalding my skin.

"Hey… where is this again?"

"Th-this is—"

Ah, right. I remember now. This is the rooftop of my old high school.

"—kun, what were you trying to do here?"

"I… was—"

What was I even—?

"C’mon, try to remember."

I was—

"...Trying to die."

"Good, you remembered! So, wanna try it now?"

"...No. I don’t want to die."

"Why not?"

She giggles again, soft and mocking, before adding—

"Even though I’m already gone?"

...Right. A world without her has no use for me.

Suddenly, her voice sounds unbearably sweet. Gentle.

"Then… let’s do it together, okay?"

"...Yeah."

I answer her, then slowly press the knife to my throat—

"Towa!"

"—!?"

But she’s gone. The knife, too. The navy-blue sailor uniform has vanished, replaced again by my white dress. Only the bitter, metallic taste lingers in my mouth.

Yuki’s worried voice reaches my ears.

"Yu—ki?"

I try to speak, testing the name. My voice comes out hoarse.

Is it really Yuki? Am I—?

"Ah—it’s you, Yuki! You okay!? Can you understand me?"

"...Ahh—"

—So loud.

Right now, Yuki’s voice feels grating.

But his lips—the source of that noise—are irresistibly alluring. I can’t help but—

"You okay!? Hang on, the ambulance is—"

I silence him with my own mouth.

"Mmph—!?"

My tongue pushes past his lips, invading, tangling with his own to stifle his words.

A thick, viscous liquid flows down my throat, soothing the dryness.

—Sweet.

A dizzying, saccharine sweetness floods my brain, intoxicating.

More. I need more.

I ravage Yuki’s mouth, drinking down every drop of saliva that spills between us.

How long has it been? I can’t breathe, but I don’t want to pull away.

"—Gah—!"

I finally break the kiss. A string of mingled saliva stretches between our tongues.

For a moment, I slump against Yuki’s chest, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Then, like falling asleep, my consciousness fades.

—Ah… I’m happy.