Ringo wants to feel wanted.
But the fighting that takes place every night in the kitchen leave both her parents angry and scared and too full of hate. Ringo tries to mend her family, piece it back together, but her quiet words are not the spell of fate. Her family is fractured, missing one giant piece at its heart, and Ringo is too broken to fit. She compares two family portraits, almost identical except for the little girl standing in the center-one is lively with purple hair as bright as her eyes, the other is nothing but brown-and knows immediately what the missing piece is. She then wonders where her piece belongs.
It doesn't take her long to learn that her parents want Momoka, not Ringo, so she follows the diary like a religion until some days she no longer remembers which sister she is. Some days she forgets there is a difference.
Other days, the kitchen chaos of colliding words and breaking hearts reminds her that she is Ringo, not Momoka, and Ringo is not good enough.
Ringo wants to feel loved.
Tabuki has already given his heart away though, to a woman who is blonde and beautiful and famous. The couple ascends toward the future two steps at a time while Ringo races behind in Momoka's shoes that are three sizes too small, staring at his back and wondering if this is what it means to love. She follows the diary to a t, so she can't comprehend why, why isn't it her? She hates with a burning passion, and it is so easy to hate because Yuri is everything Ringo isn't.
She still tries though, never lets it keep her down, because she is a child of fate, destined to piece her broken heart together over and over again. She knows it will never be the same, but tries not to dwell on the thought.
Shouma makes her feel wanted.
She knows, in the depths of her mind, that what he wants is only her diary, but she has been lonely and heartbroken and sad for so long that she lets herself pretend. She abuses him with harsh words and angry fists because she needs to cherish the feeling while it lasts: for once he can't leave. For once, someone needs Oginome Ringo.
Shouma makes her feel loved.
He always complains but never says no. He watches her with eyes she doesn't recognize: eyes that don't pity, but understand. And though she cuts him with her words, tries to use them to cut their ties, he still pushes her away from the headlights. The echoing contortion of his body on asphalt mimics the shattering of her heart.
Later he is the one who tries to cut their ties with empty words, and once again it doesn't work. Ringo thinks that something strong must tie them together.
On a snowy day outside the hospital, Shouma lets Ringo pull him close. She sinks into him, lets his broken heartbeat echo in her ears, wonders if it plays harmony to her own. Fate is cruel, is playing them all, and Ringo cannot stop her because Ringo is not Momoka. Yet Shouma would not let Momoka tug him close, Shouma would not squeeze Momoka's hand, but he lets Ringo. And for once, Ringo feels good enough.
Oginome Ringo wakes up on a train with a scarred wrist and an empty heart. There is a lonliness inside her that no one can fill, the kind that happens when someone irreplaceable has gone.
She vaguely wonders why this person has left her behind.
She wonders if she still isn't good enough.