Asagami Fujino lifted her gaze toward Yumizuka’s home.
Beneath her neatly trimmed bangs ran a clean line of features and a small, delicate face—the kind of face that put one in mind of a daughter of money.
So gentle a girl, by every appearance.
And yet those eyes—those exquisite, sharp eyes—coiled within with something abnormal, a spiral.
Red.
A blue axis.
Mystic Eyes named Distortion.
In this moment, however, she had not summoned them in order to crush.
She had summoned them for the secondary capacity hidden inside them: the gift of sight beyond sight.
She saw it.
Something concealed inside Yumizuka’s home.
Slim legs began to move.
Whatever might bring harm to Sakura, Fujino would erase.
Vrrr—
A vibration buzzed against her chest.
She frowned.
Reaching inside the front of her robe, Fujino drew out her phone, glanced at the caller, pressed accept.
“The young miss is home.” The little maid’s voice came through.
“I understand.
I’m coming back.” Fujino looked once more toward Yumizuka’s home.
Her hand drifted along the weathered wall of the alley.
She turned and left.
· · ·
She dreamed she had fallen into a fairy-tale world.
The houses were pudding-flavored.
The rivers tasted of strawberry.
The mountains were chocolate.
The merest brush of a finger sent things shattering, scattering candy across the ground.
Sakura lay on a cloud, gazing dreamily up at the warm sun.
Of course—the clouds were enormous puffs of cotton candy.
Her body began to sink into the cloud.
The cotton candy pressed up against her face.
Sweetness flooded her senses, but breathing grew harder and harder.
“Mmgh, mmf—”
Sakura thrashed, and woke from the strange, sticky dream with a jolt, gasping in small breaths.
Asagami Fujino was holding her, smiling beatifically.
“Good morning~ Sakura.”
“On—Onee-san!” Realizing what had been happening, Sakura puffed up indignantly, cheeks tinged a pretty peach.
“I told you, stop—stop waking me up like that.
There is nothing fun about being suffocated.” Sakura tried to look stern.
“If Onee-san does that again, I won’t talk to Onee-san anymore.”
“Eh?” Fujino made a regretful face and pinched her cheek.
“But Sakura’s sleeping face is just too cute.
I couldn’t help pulling her into my arms.”
“C-cute, is it…” Sakura’s eyes flicked about like a startled fawn’s.
And then—she noticed where Fujino was looking.
—At her right hand, neatly bandaged in gauze.
She made to whip the hand behind her back.
Too late.
Her wrist was already caught.
Sakura braced herself for the scolding.
Fujino held Sakura’s hand and breathed gently against it.
“Does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Sakura said, faltering.
“Sakura.” Fujino’s expression went through something complicated, and she cradled Sakura’s palm.
“Remember this.
If something hurts—you say it hurts.”
Sakura did not entirely understand the look in her sister’s eyes.
It seemed to belong to a long story.
She wrapped her arms around Fujino’s waist and rubbed her head against her.
“I understand.”
“Good~ now hurry up and wash and get to school.
If anything happens, you tell me, or you tell your Shiki-nee-san.” Fujino gave Sakura’s pert little behind a light, dismissive pat, shooing her out of bed.
“Mou, I know!” Sakura, half-flustered, half-cross, swung herself out from under the covers.
When did Onee-san pick up that particular trick?
It had to be that old auntie Aozaki Touko leading Onee-san astray.
Sakura puffed out her cheeks.
Hah—
Fujino sat on the bed and let out a soft sigh.
Sunlight pooled in her palm, faintly warm.
She looked toward the window.
She would have to ask Shiki—exactly what was happening in Tokyo lately.
She had not wanted to step into it.
But it had touched Sakura, and that meant she had no choice.
· · ·
A normal morning.
A normal walk to school.
Sakura sat at her desk, twirling a pen between her fingers.
The girls in her class came over with smiles to say hello, and asked, gentle and concerned, what had happened to her right hand.
Sakura answered each one, her gaze never quite leaving the empty desk in the row ahead and to her right.
Yumizuka’s seat.
Even though she had braced herself for it, she still found it hard to accept.
How could it be!?
The girl who had been right there yesterday—who had confessed to her—was simply, today, gone.
Sakura clung to one last shred of hope.
Maybe Yumizuka had overslept.
Maybe something had come up.
Riiing—
By the time the bell rang for first period, Yumizuka had not appeared.
Riiing—
By the time the bell rang for the end of school, Yumizuka had not appeared.
The cool breeze from outside the window lifted strands of long black hair.
Sakura watched the sun begin to set, and her face had gone unsettled.
Their homeroom teacher had said she’d called Yumizuka too.
The same.
No one picking up.
Sakura bit down on her lip.
Today, after school, she would visit the Ryōgi house.
Whatever Shiki-nee-san knew, she knew more than Sakura did.
· · ·
“Hah—”
A heavy, dragging breath.
The sound was something like the gasping of a torn bellows.
In the dim room, a pair of crimson eyes opened by degrees.
“Hah—”
“Hah—”
The breaths came faster, as though something was being woken out of itself.
The slight figure of the girl bent low to the floor.
She was… still alive?
Before her eyes drifted, again, those red, almost-glowing eyes from before.
She held up her hand.
The fine white palm had been emptied of color, paper-pale, sickly.
And worst of all—it was cold.
As if all warmth had drained out of her body.
Sakura had been looking for her.
Her stiffened heart seemed to wake.
And with it, woken too: a hunger, a feverish want.
She wanted to gather Sakura into her arms.
She wanted to kiss her.
She wanted to listen to Sakura whispering against her ear.
She wanted to have Sakura.
To take her, to keep her.
Her teeth bit through her own lip.
A thick, strange iron taste spread inside her mouth, and Yumizuka clawed her way back into a measure of clarity.
No.
Absolutely not.
She—she could not, could not, hurt Sakura.
Of all things, this.
Never this.
She fought it back down.
The wandering desires—she shredded them apart in her mind.
But in the dark, her eyes only burned a brighter red.
Yumizuka picked up her phone from the floor.
The faint green glow of the screen lit up her pale, fine-featured small face.
Tap, tap—
She scrolled, on and on, through missed calls and unread messages.
Each one of them—Sakura.
Sakura.
Sakura.—filled the list.
And, watching, Yumizuka felt herself filling up too.
Sitting with her back against the door, she dialed back.
“Sakura…” The words came out parched, dry as kindling.
The sound of her own voice frightened her—a voice already half-spent.
“Satsuki!!!
Where are you!?
Are you okay!?”
At Sakura’s voice, Yumizuka’s mouth lifted at the corners.
She steadied her tone.
“I’m okay.
I’m at home.
I’m just… a little thirsty.”
“Don’t worry.”
“And… thank you.”
“I knew it.
Sakura would never abandon me.”
(Yumizuka Satsuki reference)