It barely registered with Maki that six months passed since their "escape." In a way, the harsh winter helped the days pass. Time bled into itself until each day felt the same: wake up, check in with Himiko and Shuichi, maybe eat. Check the safe news stations. Spend the rest of her day wondering what she was doing before going to work.
She didn't mind living on her own in her small apartment. It was better than living in the orphanage, however fake that memory was. Her days were quiet, permeated only by calls from Shuichi or Himiko, the news channel, or her neighbors when they turn the TV up just a touch too loud. She found she liked it that way. It gave her a sense of isolation from the world that used to enjoy killing games.
Which explained her curiosity as to why her doorbell rang one Saturday. She already called Himiko (who lived a couple floors up) and Shuichi (who lived five minutes away). Neither of them mentioned visiting, though Himiko did drop in unannounced at times. Maki understood that they lived separate lives now, though hers was significantly lonelier.
She didn't bother to check who it was. Whatever reflexes she had in the game were still hers. Besides, she always kept a switchblade on her. Nothing could prepare her to see Himiko and Shuichi both outside her door grinning and carrying a box.
"Happy birthday!" they exclaimed as one. Was it really? She supposed time escaped her more than she originally thought.
"Thank you." She stepped aside, hoping that she didn't sound as surprised as she thought she did. Surely a normal person wouldn't forget their own birthday.
Besides that, this was something they'd done for Himiko and Shuichi as well. Even though their birthdays occurred closer to the end of the killing game, they had a small celebration, just the three of them. In a way, she didn't expect them to have the time for a little celebration for her. They were busy people now.
They remembered her favorite cake- strawberry. Of course they remembered. The frosting was simple, but with little stars all over it. She supposed it was a cute design. All it really did was make her chest ache more than usual.
Their celebration couldn't last too long; she had work later. So they ate cake and talked. Shuichi was well on his way to becoming a professional journalist. He still fought for the truth. Himiko worked at a bakery- she'd been the one to make the cake. Baking was her own brand of magic, she joked.
Nothing was different about Maki's life. They kept advancing while she stayed behind, too caught up in whatever past she did or didn't have.
All too soon they all had work to do. They promised to have dinner sometime soon, a half-hearted promise that they likely wouldn't act on for a long while. She packaged the leftover cake and brought it with her to work. There was no way she'd be able to finish it on her own.
She worked part-time every day at the orphanage down the road. Maybe that part of her past was real; no family came forward to contact her after the game. Even so, the children there acted as distractions. If they were the only thing on her mind, then she'd be able to think about anything other than her life. No matter how much they annoyed her at times, she would rather that than spend even more of her time doing nothing.
"Maki!" She never expected to enter silently. The kids always watched for her; that's what everyone told her. Even when they said that, she couldn't help but doubt it.
The full-time caretakers smiled at her from the back of the horde of kids. She forced a small, tired smile in return. This atmosphere was worlds healthier than in her memories. The caretakers adored the kids, and vice versa. It was a small, close-knit community.
She waded through the kids, the younger ones looking for some part of her to hold onto, like a loose sleeve. Once again, she found herself glad that she chopped her hair to shoulder-length. The pigtails only served as a constant, cruel reminder of the killing game. She'd grown to like her short waves anyway.
With the promise of cake after dinner, they calmed down quickly and went back to playing. Maki nearly blended into the wall as the other adults talked to each other. This was the routine. Now she waited for one of the kids to want her to play with them, or for their to be an argument to settle. Then soon it would be dinner, washing up, and bedtime, though the older kids would be allowed to stay up later. It was routine, and she liked routine.
Today there was a boy she didn't recognize staring out the window as it grew dark. He couldn't have been older than eight, and was likely younger than that. What Maki found strange was that he wasn't playing with any of the other kids. The other kids always made an effort, even the more antisocial ones.
"That's Tadaaki," one of the caretakers told her when she asked. "The child service officials brought him in today. He keeps refusing all of the other's offers to play."
Maki studied him a bit more. He wasn't looking outside, per say, more at the sky itself. And just then, it clicked with her. "I'll talk to him. Don't worry about it."
She approached him cautiously, like he was a colt that would run away at any moment if she spooked him. In a way, that was how she used to be. She crouched down next to him and stared up at the sky. If it weren't too cold out, she would've offered to take him outside.
"Tadaaki, right?" He nodded, not looking at her quite yet. "My name is Maki. Do you like the stars, too?" Another nod. She looked up at the stars, shining bright tonight. This was the first time in a while she was able to get a good look at them. "You probably want to go to space, don't you."
"Space is cool." Just the hint of a smile came onto his face as he said that. "Mommy and Daddy said I could be an astronaut." A touch of sadness crept into his voice when he mentioned his parents. Maki knew the she should distract him from focusing on that.
"Really? Astronauts are pretty cool." She took a deep breath in, trying to still sound natural. "I know an astronaut, you know."
His eyes lit up and he turned to her. "You do?" So much hope was carried in that statement. She nodded solemnly. "That's so cool."
"He taught me a little about stars, if you want to know." She could only remember an instance or two, but surely it would be enough to impress this kid. She sat cross-legged on the ground, and motioned for him to sit on her lap. From there, she could point out some of the stars and tell him stories about those they couldn't see.
As she talked, she got lost in her own stories. She remembered that one day she stayed back to talk to Kaito, and he ended up teaching her about the stars. He got so excited that she wanted to learn about his passion. Just thinking about it made her heart squeeze. Of all things, she didn't want to think about him right now. She didn't want to start crying in front of these kids.
Sooner than she expected, she ran out of stories to tell. She glanced down at Tadaaki. "How about we go get some cake with the other kids?"
Tadaaki took a moment, but nodded. Then he leaned into her conspiratorially. "I can't play with the others. My mommy said I was just shy. I don't like talking to them. It's impossible."
"The impossible is possible. All you have to do is make it so." The instant she said that, she felt her breath hitch a bit. She could've sworn she heard Kaito say it with her, but when she turned her head, nobody was there. "Come on. Let's go make you some friends and eat some cake."
She stood and held her hand out for him. He took it without hesitation, and she led him into the kitchen. Already she had a feeling that she would have a special attachment to Tadaaki. She also knew that she should look up more stories about stars. He could do great things if he wanted to, she could tell.
Once she introduced him to a couple kids his age and got them talking, that was that. He looked over at her and beamed a couple times in pure happiness, as if to show her that her words worked. Of course they did. They worked on her, didn't they?
It wasn't long after dessert that it was time for the kids to go to bed. Maki was in charge of getting the younger kids to bed, which included Tadaaki. Coincidentally, he was the last one she tucked in.
"Are you gonna be here in the morning?" he asked her sleepily. She adjusted the blankets around him so he was nice and warm; it was set to be extra cold tonight.
"Not in the morning, but I will see you tomorrow." He nodded, his eyes sliding closed. Maki felt her lips tug into a small smile at his sleeping form. Yeah. He'll be alright.
It was only around eight thirty when she got back to her apartment. She flicked on the news channel she always watched, one of the only ones that never aired anything about the killing games and Team Danganronpa. There wasn't much for her to do now but settle in.
Just this once, she cracked one of her blinds open. Just this once, she put on the sweatshirt with a star pattern that she bought months ago but never wore. Just this once, she pulled out her laptop and did something she told herself she'd never do.
She pulled up her email, one that she really should've deleted, and searched for the pictures that Team Danganronpa sent them from this season. Before she could chicken out, she opened the gallery of pictures, skipping forward until she found one in particular that she knew was there. It had accompanied enough headlines for her to know of its existence.
It was just her and Kaito. He was smiling and laughing, like always. Nothing out of the ordinary for him. But in this picture, she was also smiling. It was hard to see, but it was there. She didn't even remember when this happened, but it was real. And she looked at Kaito with the most lovesick look in her eyes, something she used to swear she would never do.
Looking at the picture made everything seem more real. This was exactly why she told herself she would never look at the photos. She already laid enough pain on herself whenever she had too much time alone to think. Pictures only solidified everything, forced her to remember that it wasn't a dream.
The news anchor started talking about something she couldn't care less about. Under that, she heard the wavering words coming from her neighbors' TV. Pale moonlight helped light a darker corner of the room. She didn't care if her feelings were written or not. She didn't care if this was who she really was. She didn't care if sometimes she wondered whether it would be better if she died in the killing game so she wouldn't have to face the harsh reality that she was one of only three survivors.
Right now, all she cared about was what could have been. All she cared about was finding the happy memories and reflecting. Because as long as she had those to hold onto, then her nineteen years alive wouldn't have been a waste.
As long as she had those to hold onto, the Luminary of the Stars would live on. His story would be told, real or fictional.
That was her birthday wish.
NGL I made myself tear up writing this. What can I say? I really like Maki.