Inside her room, Ririchiyo looked gaunt and unhealthy. She hadn't bathed in a week and hadn't eaten anything in all that time. She didn't care to, not when she knew he was out there and she would have to look him in his heterochromatic eyes knowing that she was the reason for the infinite sadness sparkling in them. She couldn't face him, and she wouldn't. Maybe she could starve herself to death. It seemed a much more favorable aspect than torturing herself any longer.

The real Miketsukami wouldn't stand for that, a small voice in Chiyo's head mentioned. The real Miketsukami…my Miketsukami. The past Miketsukami would've sobbed himself dry if he could've seen the state Chiyo was in. The duplicate, on the other hand…would he care as much? Really, genuinely care? The Miketsukami Chiyo loved had been so sensitive, so attentive, so honest to a fault. The one she knew was seated outside her door was only a shadow of the original. No matter what he would do, he would never take his place.

The sketch she had made of her beloved Miketsukami rested in her unused bed. Marai was kept well-fed. He had adored Marai. She figured she owed it to him to care for Marai. Herself, not so much.

The apartment wasn't dirty; in fact, it was spotless. If she kept the apartment the way he liked it, it would be exactly as if he were there. As if he were in the kitchen making her lavender tea as silently as possible to avoid disturbing her mediation. She had to, she had to, she had to. It was a compulsion she couldn't ignore, an itch she couldn't stop scratching, and she knew it would kill her if she didn't stop. Chiyo didn't want to stop. A small portion of her brain gave itself over to rationality, and began to give Chiyo a stern talking-to.

"You can't live inside a memory," she said out loud, wrapping her arms around her knees. She began to rock back and forth. "It's not a memory. HE'S REAL!" She hadn't spoken aloud in days, and her throat was raspy from continual bouts of tears.

Was, her brain reminded gently. He was real, yes. Do you think he would appreciate what you've done to yourself?

"He can't appreciate anything," she snapped. She refused to finish the sentence. It was too morbid for Chiyo to bear.

You can't live inside a memory, true. But if he were here, would you want him to see you this way? Her brain argued. Ririchiyo shook her head vigorously. She knew if she opened her mouth, the tears would start and they would likely never stop.

It's hard to move on, but you have to try to go back to a semblance of a normal life. Okay? For Miketsukami's sake. In that instant, it wasn't just the past Miketsukami: it was the one waiting outside her door as well. Chiyo glanced over at the remnants of her cell phone. She had thrown it against the wall as hard as she could so she wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

I'll have to leave, she thought sadly. She attempted to get to her feet, but the week of not eating and remaining in one spot had rendered her legs incredibly unstable. She sighed. This could be troublesome. Against her better judgement, she decided to call him in. It's not like the door has been locked, and he'll probably just break it down. He tends to overreact.

Ririchiyo took a deep breath, swiveled her torso as best she could to face the door, and as loudly as she could manage, called, "Miketsukami?"