Beyond the Lines
I want to solve your mystery
Look for the back of the boy, burdened with secrets!
You are a fantasy and I'm drawn to you
This growing curiosity, there's no twist in the story
I can't stop thinking about it…
But why?
—Kimi ni Matsuwaru Mystery,
duet by Satou Satomi and Kayano Ai (trans.)
A Mile's Run
"Oh, Jirou." Twenty-year-old Kugayama Muneyoshi greeted his friend on the phone, his eyes scanning the textbook open before him on his desk. "What's up?"
Tanabe Jirou sounded exhausted on the other line, but at least obtained a cheerful note in his voice when he heard Muneyoshi after the first tired "hello". Wiping his forehead, he smiled and replied, "I'm currently taking a break from finishing up some reports that I have to turn in by tomorrow." He paused slightly, grabbing the materials he needed to make himself a glass of iced coffee. The semidarkness of the Tanabes' kitchen surrounded him like a blanket as he held his mobile against his ear. "What about you?" The spoon clinked pleasantly against glass as he stirred some creamer into his drink.
"Reports? Methinks you're always a tad busier than I am, even as we get older," Muneyoshi quipped, and then took on a more serious tone when he had appropriated a short laugh from the other side. "Anyway, I'm just touching up for a long exam tomorrow for stat class. You know how bad I was and still am at numbers…"
"That I can't refute," Jirou replied, relaxing against the kitchen counter as he put back the glass on the counter. "Anyway, have you been in touch lately with Haru-chan? She's also studying in Tokyo, yes?"
He could detect a faint wisp of defensiveness in Muneyoshi's tone, making him frown. "…Yup. Just met with her a couple of weeks ago. She's studying creative writing in some university… I forget the name, haha." He paused. "Why were you asking? Still wondering if we were going to do a collab again? Jirou…"
"I know, I know." Jirou would have raised his arms up in a defeated gesture had Muneyoshi been present with him in the room, but he was still alone in the kitchen. "You know, sometimes I feel queer whenever I pass Kami High. It's as if I am still a student and can enter the school again to see you guys… and at the same time feeling that it's not probable at the moment."
"Our high school teachers were right—you are an old soul trapped in a young body." Muneyoshi smiled lightly and reached for a pen on the side, twirling it absently in his hand for want of something to occupy him. The words and numbers on the page before him suddenly made no sense, he realized. It was always the case when the subject dropped into the past, a topic that Jirou seemed rather fond of bringing up lately in the past few telephone conversations between them. Muneyoshi had to admit that they were dissimilar in that regard—if Jirou lived in the past, he lived for the present and future.
He rose and walked out casually from the room, shutting the door securely behind him and wandering over to the kitchen. "For a change of topic, I must confess, I'm now thriving on instant ramen like a stereotypical college student. And I still haven't had dinner. I'm moving to my makeshift kitch." He smiled as Jirou made a disapproving noise at the other side, and plowed on. "Anyway, I might be able to go back when the Christmas holidays start. Mom asked me to anyway. You know that I can't say no to her."
"I… see." He remembered Muneyoshi's mother—a stern, custom-driven woman that wanted nothing less than perfection from her son. Since the Kugayamas were a sort of politically-inclined family, he could picture the kind of strain that her expectations were putting on Muneyoshi. "Yumiko-san, eh… Although, are you perhaps implying that you have no intention of returning here before she told you to?"
Muneyoshi laughed, embarrassed at being caught. "Well… I wasn't really about to tell you this early, Jirou… But actually…" He sighed. "Hell, you're my best friend. She wouldn't mind now, would she?"
"Who's she?" Jirou sounded suspicious. A new girlfriend?
"I—Haru-kun. Uh, we're sorta… kinda… going out." Muneyoshi blushed as he finally told the truth, and he could almost taste the awkwardness in the air when Jirou fell ominously silent. "Er… Jirou? Hello?"
Jirou finally found his voice. "Haru-chan? Mune, what…?" He was quite shocked, to say the least. He had never found cause to believe that Mune liked Haru as anything more than a friend back in their high school days… But of course that had been a long time ago. Suddenly, the bitterness of the coffee remained in his mouth even after all the sugar that he had put in it. "What has gotten into you two? After all these years?" he said, attempting a cheerful, joking tone. He hoped that Muneyoshi wouldn't notice the undercurrent of feelings rolling under his surface.
"Haha, you meanie." It seemed that the relief of having confessed at last to his best friend had dulled Muneyoshi's insight into Jirou's tone, though, making the latter sigh inwardly with relief. "Anyway… Haru and I had been going out for some months now. I thought to keep silent about the matter as to not attract the attention of others, but… well, let's just say that I felt guilty about having to hide it from you, of all people."
"Oh." Jirou stared into the only light burning in the dark, his pupils partially dilated. "Well, congratulations are in order. You two work better together."
"Thanks." Muneyoshi smiled up at the cupboard, eyes searching the shadows. "Well, I think I should go, huh? My review materials are waiting for me."
"Alright. Good night, Mune." The other line clicking in response, he picked up his glass and found it already empty. It did not look as empty as he felt inside, though.
"Ironic," he muttered, a bitter look in his usually passive eyes. "This whole goddamned mess is ironic."
"Good afternoon. You're in the Classics Club too, right, Oreki-san?" Echoes of the past.
"Who are you?"
She seemed confused. "You forgot? I'm Chitanda." A hand coming up to place itself at her heart. "Chitanda Eru."
He stared at her, deadpan. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."
"You're Oreki Houtarou-san from 1-B, right?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in 1-A."
As if he would get it already. "That doesn't really…" Then he paused, and she watched him piece the puzzle together.
"Did we take Music together?"
She looked pleased, and damn, she looked like an angel from that angle, the sun on her hair looking like a halo. "Yep!"
"Alright, Midori?"
"Y-Yes, I'm fine."
Yamada Midori sighed deeply as the café finally let out the last customer of the day. Interacting with customers had been rather taxing at first, although her senpai had advised her to act naturally since she was just that type. When she got the hang of it, though, the job seemed to flow through her fingers as easily as water. She was beginning to gather a following among the customers, more quickly than anyone else that started before her, she was told.
She watched Kouchi Ayako silently as she helped prop the chairs on the tables, still infinitely grateful for her offer of the job. She learned that she and Anjou-san were friends and rivals of a sort ever since high school, and now sharing one of their classes together in the university as classmates.
Ayako felt her staring, and turned her head to smile tentatively at Midori, as though encouraging her to ask her anything. Midori returned a weak smile, and turned back to her task. However, when everything was finished and the girls were finished changing back into their civilian clothes, Ayako slung an arm around Midori's shoulders and grinned at her when she started.
"I'll walk you home," she offered, amid Midori's refusals. "C'mon. I also needed to return Haru's review materials. Personally," she said firmly when Midori was about to ask if she'd want to deliver them for her instead.
"I—alright," Midori finally acquiesced, tired of arguing with the more outgoing Ayako.
"Anyway, you were looking pretty intensely at me earlier. Got a crush on me or something?" Ayako quipped, making Midori blush easily.
"Um, well…" Midori fidgeted. "Actually, I was curious about something…"
"Oh. What about?"
"Your rivalry with Anjou-san… How did it begin…?"
Ayako laughed. "Haha, aren't you being a little too nosy about our business, Midori-chan? Hey, just kidding!"—seeing Midori display dismay in her eyes—"I'm totally fine with it when it's you asking, for some reason." She skipped forward, smiling. "Well, if I had to find a concrete point as to where it all began, well, I'd say it was when we found out that we both love reading manga. And then we both decided to write our own, and then I found that she is better at it than I am… even though Haruna's technically not that avid a fan. Well, things escalated pretty quickly after that. Rest is history."
Midori watched her quietly. "I see."
"That's all you have to say after spilling my precious guts to you?" Ayako quipped, her grin spreading on her lips once more.
They stayed in an amiable silence for the rest of the walk back to the apartment that Anjou and Midori occupied, Ayako looking all around as they walked.
"Oh, by the way, Midori-chan," Ayako said as they were about to part at the door, with the review materials given to Midori's care anyway. "I met a weird, super-dull guy the other day, and he's such a mysterious one at that. You might get interested in him… He's a walking puzzle, I swear. He looks as if he's lost and yet purpose-driven at the same time… D'you get what I mean?"
Midori smiled and nodded, remembering her own experiences.
"Anyway, I might invite him to come around so that we can introduce you to him. Okay? Figure him out if you can." Ayako turned away. "Bye then. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Kouchi-san."
"Were you planning to confess to me or something?" He sat back.
She gasped and looked up, her violet eyes serious.
"You might consider it a confession." Echoes of the past.
He looked unsettled at this, and looked away. "I'll have another coffee, please," he called out to the barista, instead of answering at once.
"Um, actually, I…"—gripping the material of her skirt tightly—"I have a request!"—and suddenly looking quite determined.
"Eh?"
He was considerably flustered, and she thought it looked adorable on a boy of his age as he looked around with a pink face. "Eh?" he said again, finally looking at her once more, as if realizing the meaning of what she had just said. "A request?"
"Yes."
Satoshi washed the dishes methodically, humming dully to himself as he grabbed the last dirty plate and soaped it clean, feeling the sponge squeak under his fingers. As he finally put it under the faucet to wash away the suds and move to place it on the rack, he finally let his mind wander to the boon that Tomoe had asked of Mayaka and him.
"Please… Satoshi-kun, Ibara-san…"
He closed his eyes, letting the memory engulf him.
"But why? Why do this to Houtarou?"
She had looked so sad. So, so sad…
"This isn't healthy for him any longer."
He had bristled indignantly.
"Tomoe-san, Houtarou is no longer the child that you're thinking he is. He's capable of thinking for himself. What you're asking us to do is nothing short of betrayal from us who were supposed to back him up in his endeavors."
"I understand that much, but would you rather see him destroy himself?"
Her question had startled him. Mayaka as well, although she did try to cover up her scattered emotions even though she knew it would be unsuccessful. Satoshi, on the other hand, just let himself gape at Tomoe like an idiot.
"What do you mean?"
"Houtarou isn't exactly the type who'd express himself so openly. He prefers to bottle up his feelings instead of loosing them because he thinks that acting upon his emotions are foolish and a waste of energy on his part. And when that incident occurred…" She had fought back her tears… Satoshi could barely… "He seemed so quiet, so… so hollow. He had never been quite right ever since. And now, he was given a chance to atone for the sins that he imagined he had done… He'll search for her to the ends of the earth. Houtarou was never one to leave a task unfinished, nor one to leave a mistake unaccounted for."
She's… right.
The doorbell rang, interrupting his reverie. He rushed to open it, having an inkling as to who it might be.
"Mayaka." He quietly surveyed the girl as he opened the door for her, her downcast eyes lifting to catch his. "What are we going to do now?"
"I don't know." She looked almost in agony. "He's your best friend. What do you want to do about it?"
"Tomoe-san's right, but…" Satoshi bowed his head. "This'll kill him. From his actions, I knew how much he has hoped… He has spent almost all of his life in the gray. Why not allow him to chase the person who gave him his first taste of the rose-colored life?"
"Fuku-chan."
"Mayaka. Please." Satoshi palmed his face and drew a deep breath. "Was it possible to do what she had asked in the first place? Answer me."
When Mayaka kept silent, Satoshi nodded wearily, and remembered Tomoe's last words before they went.
"Please… Give me back my little brother."
"It's hard on me as well," Mayaka finally replied. "Then… If you really don't want to… I guess… I'll go along with you on this one for once."
Satoshi's gratitude expressed itself in a crushing hug, his face lightening up for the first time in hours as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder.
He waited, and he waited, and he waited. The cold misted his breath, the scarf snugly wound around his throat as he stood awkwardly by the steps leading to the shrine.
A car pulled up by the curb, and he watched as a girl in an intricately-patterned kimono got off the vehicle. He kept his gaze steady as the girl turned, and to his pleasant surprise—
"Oreki-san!" Echoes of the past.
He appraised her clothing, the red obijime apparent against her lavender-and-yellow-striped obi, her red kimono, and a purple haori over it all, bringing out the color of her eyes; a little violet drawstring bag, tightly clasped in a delicate hand; the sakura flower pin on her hair, and her tiny feet in white tabi and slipped in black zori. She showed every bit of the modest beauty that he hadn't acknowledged properly before.
Her lips parted to form a greeting.
"Happy new year."—a deep, perfect 45-degree bow.
"Oh, happy new year." He awkwardly returned the bow.
She kept the bow, as was proper. "Here's to many more for the both of us."
And he maintained his as well, as was proper. "Thanks, you too. Let's have a good year."
And when they both straightened out, considerably more embarrassed at the wall of formality that had sprung between them, she suddenly smiled brightly, and raised the hand that held the bag, shaking her arm so that her sleeve fluttered. "I came to show off my kimono!"
He admired the sight of her, burning the picture deeply in his mind.
"Well, shall we go?"
"Mm."
"Goodness, it's the little boy."
"I see you also work here. And… wasn't that just a violation of company rules?"
"I see you've sharpened your tongue more ever since we first met last time. Welcome home, master, then. Satisfied?" Donning a frilly maid outfit, Kouchi Ayako led Houtarou through the throng of occupied tables and pulled out a chair for him. When he had seated himself, she placed a menu in front of him and smiled wickedly. "So, should I serve you myself then? Or do you want to pick from the other girls?"
"I'll thank you to keep quiet, Kouchi-san." What am I doing here anyway? Chitanda's not going to be here, dammit.
"I don't want your thanks." Ayako giggled when she saw Houtarou betray a flicker of annoyance. "Oh, and we've got a couple of newcomers. Maybe you can put them on trial. There's Chouko, although she's quite the talker—"
"Anyone quieter than you would do," Houtarou interrupted. That would sap my energy even more…
"Then, we have a shy one. Her name's Midori… Should I call for her then?"
Houtarou stared at her evenly. "On second thought, you'll do."
"Ooh. You're a masochist, aren't you?"
"Hardly." I just don't like the idea of wasting another breath returning your serves. "Oh, and I'd like a cup of Viennese cocoa."
"How cold." She pouted mockingly at him. "But that's what I like about you."
He looked down on the table as he was wont to do, his eyes barely registering the gaily patterned cloth covering its surface as his mind went over the past two weeks.
"Oreki-san, what did you decide to major in from the second year onward?"
He didn't have to think about it. "I chose arts."
She smiled. "I chose science." Echoes of the past.
"…I see."
They walked on, her head bowed in thought. "I don't mind coming back here, nor do I find it sad. I want to fulfill my duty as the daughter of the Chitanda family. I've been thinking all this time of a means by which I could do that."
He frowned, bitterly. "A means, huh?"
"There are two that I can think of." She paused, lightly. "One would be gaining wealth for everyone by producing high-value crops. The other would be optimizing production by management so that no one will end up worse than they are now." Another pause for breath. "In the end, I chose the former."
He did not look at her. "That's why you chose science?"
Simple, direct. "Yes."
He frowned as another minute went by without his cocoa appearing, and he decided he had waited long enough. Surely Kouchi Ayako was teasing him again by testing his patience. But he was a customer, wasn't he? It was quite well within his rights to—
"Excuse me," he started, half-raising his hand to attract the attention of a passing maid waitress— and—
"Oh, you're leaving already, Midori-chan?"
"Yes… Please tell Kouchi-san, since I'm in a bit of a hurry…"
"Yeah… Oh, and have you already finished that novel I lent you? You've had it for quite a time now…"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kanou-san… But can you please lend it to me for a little longer?"
His ears picked up the familiar timbre—
"For some reason, I can't stop thinking about it!"
It can't be—
He looked up, surprised, scared, as hopeful as hell— The maid that he had hailed before paused, attentive, waiting for his question, but he had already forgotten what—
"Well, okay, if you must… I won't keep you any longer then. See you, Midori-chan."
"Ah, yes. See you tomorrow!"
—And he saw her, her, the girl he was searching for, slipping out of the door and into the rain, her violet eyes skimming over him and flitting away without recognition of even the slightest kind.
Within a heartbeat, he had sprung out of his chair and had followed her already, pushing past a surprised Ayako who carried his cocoa, the rain masking the white noise inside his head.
He struggled on through the crowd blankly, even as he lost sight of her in the dark. He was soon soaked to the skin.
He looked over his shoulder at the slender, pale figure of sixteen-year-old Chitanda Eru behind him, her arms spread out to catch the resilient spring breeze.
"This is my place." He followed her eyes, the smell of the late cherry blossoms permeating strongly in the air. "All we have is water and soil. The people aren't getting any younger either. I don't think this place is the most beautiful ever, nor do I see that many possibilities here." Her voice, as if from a melody, filled his head. "But…" She looked down, and then he could catch a glimpse of the sweet, sweet girl that Chitanda Eru was— "I wanted to show it to you."
He turned his head forward, and considered his words as he let them out one by one. "Speaking of which…" This is the moment, tell her—what you truly feel—
And the moment passed.
"Speaking of what…?" she prompted him.
"Ah, um…" he blustered, hating his weakness immediately. "It's gotten cold lately, hasn't it?"
"No." She smiled at his awkwardness. "It's already spring."
Echoes of the past.
And the breeze carried the cherry blossom petals in a whirl of scent all around them, and he stared at her, and looked away when she smiled at him.
They stood there, still, seemingly unchanging.
An illusion. All an illusion, that feeling that everything will remain unchanging.
"Oreki-kun?"
Irisu looked surprised when she saw Houtarou sprawled on the tatami mats in his apartment two days after attending a seminar, his eyes blankly appraising the ceiling. She may have experienced seeing Houtarou unleash his many hidden sides over the duration of the week, but she had never seen him like this before. He looked… empty.
"Oreki-kun."
"What." His voice was unusually rusty. Irisu frowned and edged forward toward him uneasily, her quiet gaze scanning his white face. Her hand reaching out involuntarily, she brushed off stray strands of his hair to touch his forehead.
"You got yourself with fever," she finally declared with an annoyed twitch of her lip. Taking his arm and dragging him up with surprising strength, Irisu helped him onto the futon, her dark hair framing her pale face as she bent over him. Her blue eyes were as severe as he had ever seen them. "What the hell have you been doing to yourself? I was only gone for a couple of days and now—!"
His throat was dry, but he still spoke painfully, desperate for her to understand. She must… she was the one who put him to the task… "I found Chitanda."
"What?" Her face had gone as completely white as his.
"I found her," he rasped, a smile spreading on his lips. And then he was laughing uncontrollably, his surroundings spinning, the scene as surreal as if he had just taken a dose of stimulants. "Irisu, I found her. And I let her slip away again… She hates me. She must hate me. She—"
"Oreki-kun!" Irisu shook him with a worried look, her mouth hard. "Oreki-kun… Perhaps it was all just a—"
And he didn't know why, or how, or when, but he was crying as hard as he had never cried before—
"No, this is reality," he bit out, his voice breaking. "I abandoned her. Don't you see? I was the one who left her to her fate. I killed her existence. I killed her. They blame me. I killed her." The eyes of the Chitandas… Their accusing stares… His own parents, even…
"You've got it all wrong, Oreki-kun," Irisu tried to tell him, but his tortured face was paining her as well, and she knew that for the first time, logic wouldn't solve anything for the two of them, rational they may be normally. So she stopped talking, and simply let her arms encircle his shoulders as they finally began to shake. He lost himself in the wash of emotion as he grabbed Irisu's proffered shoulder and rose slightly from the floor to support himself against her body, willing the sobs that racked his body to slowly subside.
The darkness caught them in the same position, clinging tightly to each other, anchored in the disturbed past.
He cracked his eyes open to the shadows that blanketed him. A single bulb dangled overhead to light up the place, but its failing light was inadequate to help him see any clearer than a rough outline of the girl who lay motionless across the room.
"Aggggkkkhh…" he tried to test his voice, and felt the dryness of his throat. "Chitanda…" He couldn't speak normally above a whisper, although anything above a whisper would be too dangerous in this place. "Chitanda…"
Echoes of the past.
He struggled to inch closer to the girl, his eyes straining to see her more clearly. "Chi—tanda…" He wheezed and coughed, the sound unpleasantly painful to his ears. A question formed hazily in his consciousness.
Why were they suddenly alone?
His feet were bound together with stout rope, but his hands were free. The treatment that he had received hours ago—he couldn't be sure of the time—had left his hands useless, so they deemed it safe to leave them untied.
They were right about the useless part, mostly. His fingers were aching dully, the skin directly over the fractures swollen and red. He couldn't use them to lift anything heavier than a handkerchief, let alone push himself along the floor to get to her side more quickly.
And so he made his way painfully, and marveling still more as their captors still didn't come… but he was already by Chitanda's side now, and he didn't hesitate as he grabbed her shoulder—the injuries screamed—and shook her… or rather, tried to. All he managed was roll her over on her back… and he gaped, stunned at what they had done to her.
"Chitanda, at me," he said harshly, not about to believe his eyes. "Chitanda Eru, look at me. Look at me—at me goddamit!"
His curse lost its impact when he choked on it, his eyes stinging. The girl did look at his direction, up at his face… but it seemed to him that she didn't really see him, her eyes vacant and wiped clean like a blank slate. And that was then when he noticed the blood on the side of her head, sluggishly traveling down her unruly hair before dripping thickly on the rough concrete. They looked like drops of ink to Houtarou's vision, on sickly white paper.
He didn't have anything to tell him whether Chitanda's still alive since his fingers wouldn't help much to find her pulse, so he decided to rely on her temperature, and found that when he touched his elbow to her neck, she was still warm. That counted for something.
"Chi… tanda…" He never felt so lost. And he knew that he had to fetch help. From where, he had no idea.
So he undid the ropes that prevented his freedom, short, desperate whimpers breaking out from him whenever he tugged at a knot. He couldn't care less whether their captors were already returning— he had to run— quickly—
"Tch!" The last knot undone, the ropes fell off and he stood unsteadily, his legs slowly remembering how to support him as he crept cautiously to the partially-opened door— Again, he noted how suspicious that looked. Where were they?
Run, you idiot, he shouted at himself. This is not the time to play detective, damn you.
And heeding his own advice, he stumbled out of the darkening, unguarded room, and ran out, ran out as his last bid to freedom, running like he had never done before in his life, not for himself, but for Chitanda's sake, for she mattered more than everything in his life—
And then there was the darkness. It enveloped him, blinded him, drove him almost to the brink of insanity.
The sounds of the falling rain befell his ears first, and then the sound of his own panicked breathing. It came out of him in short, sharp bursts, but when he automatically put his hand up on a wall that he just knew to be there to save himself from stumbling, he momentarily forgot how to breathe and simply cried out, falling sideways to the wall and hitting his shoulder as he caught his wrist, cradling it in his good hand. The pain of the forgotten fracture stilled him for a good while, as he felt the water seep in his socks and the raindrops drench the rest of his clothes.
"Must… come back… Chitan—Chitan-da—" He crept forward, eyes searching in the unfathomable darkness, his teeth chattering at the cold. He felt like crying. The memory of her blank violet eyes, staring vacantly at him as he stumbled out of the temporarily unguarded room, haunted him. He had to find help.
Now.
Now.
Now—
"Now…" He staggered his way through the dark, the wall supporting him, the floor unsteady under his feet. And then he stumbled and fell, his head hitting a rock—
The darkness swallowed him whole, and he knew that he had lost the game.
He had lost Chitanda.
In a room half-filled with dreams, the girl who changed her name sat up at the first touch of the sun, thinking… and remembering the man with the green eyes that she knew she had already found.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
I'm now starting my sophomore year in university, and might become busier as the days flow by.
Reviews are highly appreciated, and to all of the people who have reviewed, favorited, and followed me, thanks! They are really encouraging~
Hang on for the next update...
And once the secondary characters have all converged from beyond the lines, their stories will become entangled with that of Oreki Houtarou's and Chitanda Eru's.
