Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. —Edna St. Millay
It all begins like this.
In a classroom, Motomiya Daisuke stretches when the morning bell rings, yawning. He belches as the homeroom teacher slides open the door. The man glares, but the youth shrugs. The girls next him giggle, and Daisuke winks, or tries to, and they laugh at the silly face he makes. He doesn't feel embarrassed; he never does. He stands and bows with the rest of the class as homeroom begins, but when he sits, one of the girls slips him a note. It is a square piece of stationary with a phone number and a lipstick stain. The teacher barks at him to pay attention, and he hides the paper better than he hides his grin.
At the community pool, Takenouchi Sora dives into cold water. She swims several laps before bursting through the surface. She looks up at her college roommate who sits on the edge of the pool, a timer in her hand. The girl sucks on bottled iced coffee and Sora protests, "Were you even timing?" Her friend stops, eyes wide, as she realizes her oversight. Sora points to the bag on the chair. "Never mind. Can you bring me my phone?" The girl looks at her knowingly. "What?" Sora asks. The other woman shakes her head, and Sora gives up. It's been four days now. I guess he's gonna stay mad for a while, she thinks, and she sinks to the floor wistfully, eyes closed.
Outside the front steps of a modest suburban house, Hida Iori rechecks his school bag. The door opens, hitting him in the forehead. His mother gasps, apologetic, but he tells her he's fine. She hands him a neatly wrapped bento, with a little note tucked into the knot of the fabric. He thanks her with a smile. It is only after he has left her view that he stops again, fishing the note out. He's too old for handwritten notes in his lunch, but he'll never tell her so. The charade is harmless, he convinces himself. It's only her and him now, and he needs to be strong for the both of them. He doesn't think he is.
In a convenience store, Inoue Miyako complains that her family is being unfair. Her sister ignores her protests. She slowly checks the shelves, inspecting all the labels, and walks to the door of the store. Miyako trails after her, whining, but her sister is unmoved. Miyako stamps her foot. She has not done that since preschool, and Momoe raises her eyebrow at the childish response. Miyako does not care. "You were out at parties all the time when you were my age. Can't you talk to Mom? I'm not a child anymore!" Momoe ignores her with a shrug, advising her littlest sister to get to school and to shut her mouth.
At home, Ishida Yamato finds a carton of his dad's cigarettes squashed into the couch cushions. Irritated, he pulls it out and sees it's almost empty. His father stumbles out of his bedroom, scratching his head. The Ishida men look at each other, and the younger throws the carton at the older's chest. "Pick up after yourself once in a while," he says. "I won't always be here, you know." Hiroaki catches the little box in his hand. He looks at the package and frowns, saying it isn't his, but Yamato has already left, slamming the door. Hiroaki's thumb traces the face of the foreign brand, shaking his head. What a betrayal, he thinks, and he slides a cigarette out anyway. No sense in wasting them.
In a university lecture hall, Kido Jou turns his head back and forth on its side, rubbing his neck. The ache is from bending over textbooks late into the night, but he ignores it for the nervous quivering of his stomach. The professor quiets the room with a wave of her hand, then picks up the exam papers. They are thick, and they are terrible. Jou swallows the lump in his throat. He takes his copy, looking at the first page, and smiles. He clicks the top of his pencil to funnel new lead into the tip. He knows this one.
Across the world, Tachikawa Mimi is getting ready for bed. The television begins airing a reality show about teenage mothers, and she immediately changes it. The next network is playing a documentary about a Japanese sushi chef. She puts down the remote and picks up her cellphone: Want some sushi? He responds: I thought you were grounded? Perfectly manicured fingers fly over the touchscreen: Is that a 'no'? He replies: Okay, temptress. Grinning, she pulls a university hoodie over her pajamas and opens the window to her room. She looks into the garden. "Don't even think about it," says her father without looking up from the lounge chair in the lawn. She closes the window with a sigh. Parents.
On a school yard, Takaishi Takeru shoulders his bag, waiting with inhuman levels of patience. He appears at the end of the street corner at last, and Takeru sighs with relief. The older student retracts his hand when Takeru reaches for it, frowning. Takeru blushes. His fingers dig into his pockets, pulling out a shiny 500 yen coin. The other student takes it, handing off the carton. Takeru mumbles his nervous gratitude as the boy walks away. He opens the package, glancing up at the giant clock at the top of his high school. He has time for one, he decides, and lights up.
Across the same school yard, Ichijoji Ken watches his blond classmate inhale the cigarette. He looks away and enters the school building ahead of the boy. The vice principal is standing at the doors and he greets the best pupil in school with a warm smile. Ken distracts him with polite conversation so he does not see Takeru stamp out the cigarette before he enters. Ken removes his shoes and changes into the indoor slippers. He waits, uncertain, but Takeru does not see him. For the umpteenth time, Ken wishes Daisuke were here. Is high school always so lonely?
On the bus, Izumi Koushiro puts in his earbuds and scrolls through his phone. He finds a suitable song and presses play, then closes his eyes. A beep alerts him to a text message, and he looks down. Message failed to send. He frowns, unlocking the screen to look at the message thread. This is the seventh time it's done this since last night. Copying the contents, he opens a new email and pastes the message, typing the name into the recipient column. He hits send with a flick of his thumb and waits. The phone thinks slowly for a moment, then sends successfully. Satisfied, Koushiro closes his eyes and listens to the music.
In her room, Yagami Hikari stirs from a fitful sleep. She opens glazed brown eyes and stares at the ceiling. Her stomach is tight, and her heart is beating without rhythm. There is a knock on the door, and her mother peeks inside. "I don't feel well," says Hikari. Her voice is scratchy and her throat is closing. Yuuko looks at her daughter with worry, telling her to wait, and rushes back to kitchen to fetch a thermometer. Hikari turns over on her side, breathing shallow. I really don't feel well, she thinks, and then her eyes roll back as the world falls away.
And in Yagami Taichi's empty apartment, the darkness grows.
It breaks hope.
It steals purity.
It ridicules kindness.
It buries honesty.
It denies knowledge.
It drowns love.
It burns friendship.
It carves out the light.
They do not find courage for four long years. What happens in the years between, and after, is this.