Either way, with time, my vision began to restore itself. I was again able to distinguish the vague boundary that lay apart things.

Regaining my sense of restlessness, I finally lurched up to my feet.

Then, I stumbled and fell forward.

Thankfully, I caught the staircase railings with both arms and clung onto them for support.

And so I made my way on without ever letting go.

Nothing else from that time left a firm impression on my mind, except that I was deeply afraid. Of what, I did not know.

When at last I arrived at the clinic, I was in a much better state, body and mind alike. I felt great relief over how I had shaken off the amorphous dread which seemed to plague me.

After collecting medicine, I headed back up without much incident.

In the end, I simply chalked my thoughts up to delirium and a spell of depression. In truth, I had hardly been more honest with myself than that time. Perhaps this could only have happened in my state of weakness, when I was too tired to lie to myself anymore.

By nightfall, dinner was prepared and the bath was ready.

To escape the loneliness, I left the front door open and stood waiting for Nagisa by the entrance. An hour or so passed by like that, and I grew more excited all the while. Because I was hoping that she would return home with a big smile as always.

Caught up in my happy imagination, I could not help but grin and giggle to myself.

But her face when she returned was tired and listless.

All I could think of then was: 'It is all my fault.'

Immediately upon seeing me, she hurried over and fussed about my condition. I was led back into the bedroom. Even as I thanked her for her concern, I could barely hide my disappointment.

She soon peeked in again to ensure I was resting properly. Then, before leaving to bathe, she looked at me and tried to smile.

In spite of my guilt, I was put to ease. No matter how wrong I knew it was, I was truly glad from the bottom of my heart. I had even, for a moment, thought: if only she could keep on smiling kindly like this forever.

Thinking happy thoughts, I fell fast asleep.

The next few days were mostly spent resting. My health had, to no surprise, worsened slightly since the trip to the doctor's, but was showing signs of improving nevertheless. Every day, my teachers sent tutorials to cover the lessons I missed. Classmates too asked upon my condition. And every day, I let it all pile up in my inbox.

Though I promised myself I would get started on work, the day would always end with me looking out the window. At dawn, I watched the sun rise. At dusk, I watched the sun set.

Once in a while, I wondered if I was not already dead. But seeing Nagisa would always convince me otherwise. And then, again.

Thus, my final semester ended in a murmur. At the time, when I looked back, I realised that there was so much I could have done. There was so much I could have become. True, I had accomplished quite enough. But I had never felt like I was truly in my own skin. Until my parents died, I had never really "become" anything. Like a child, I had only been wandering into every circumstance, carried forward day after day.

If only I had been free to chase my individuality, if only I did not stop to look back in expectation every few steps, I thought to myself, perhaps I would have been spared of my agony. Yet, at the end of the day, I only used my freedom to disappoint myself.

Objectively, there was much to look forward to. I had only just begun on my journey. But in my mind's eye, I was already at the end of the line. All the light which shined on me only revealed a never-ending confusion. I was left struggling to find a path forwards – and from time to time, it seemed to me like there was nothing more to my life than just that.

When I finally gathered the motivation to even read a book for leisure, I found that I could not read. All the words looked foreign to me and I recognised nothing. The letters seemed to fall off from my head. Nothing connected. All my thoughts were noise. Everything was everywhere.

My assignments were left untouched and revision had been halted. There was paperwork to settle regarding our absence from school. Everything was running out of schedule. Anxiety pressed me on to a breaking point. But still, I could not get to doing anything. Each time I tried, something inside me seemed to sap my strength. I did not quite know why.

To use Homura-chan's words, I had put myself under intense mental pressure and all I wanted was to find relief.

Hence, I eagerly counted down the nights till the Marine Day outing. I hoped that spending time with the others would invigorate me. Thankfully, though I had yet to fully recover, my health was good enough to set off on the trip.

We had all arranged to meet at Homura-chan's apartment beforehand.

But when Nagisa and I arrived at her door in the early morning, we were met with Homura-chan alone, dressed in a floral cardigan and jeans. The others had yet to arrive.

"Tomoe-san. Nagisa. Do, come in."
"Ojamashimasu."
"Ojamasu~"

It was my first time there, but I felt strangely at home. Perhaps it was because of Homura-chan. And Nagisa too – the three of us together.

The living room as I remember was Western-style. It was furnished with essentials and, though spare, looked well lived-in. Everywhere I looked, the windows were all open. Light poured in softly.

Despite the warm atmosphere, it seemed like she was often alone. There were no shoes at the genkan, save for Homura-chan's brown loafers and two pairs of indoor slippers, presumably arranged for myself and Nagisa. And neither did Homura-chan seem like she would bother with housekeeping. In some ways like that, she was quite like my mother.

Returning from my thoughts, I noticed that the television was switched on to a rakugo channel.

At first, the familiar comedy enlivened the silence. But when I began registering the emptiness of her house, the laughter left me feeling slightly forlorn.

When I asked about it, Homura-chan simply shook her head.

"It's alright. Just leave it running."
"But you're not watching it, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"Isn't it a bit wasteful?"
"Maybe so."

With that, we left the living room and headed further in. Her place was much bigger than it looked from the outside.

"Is your family in?" I asked along the way.
"No," she said.
"Then when will they be back?"
"I live alone."
"Ah."

I remembered then that her parents had already passed on. Regretting my insensitivity, I tried making more small talk to lighten the mood.

"Still, I didn't expect your home to be so cosy."
"Is that so? I'd say I simply have enough to entertain my guests. What did you expect it to be like?"
"Something more minimalistic, probably. I thought that would fit your character better."
"My character?" she chuckled. "You're not wrong to say that."

Homura-chan slid the fusuma open and we entered the washitsu.

"Feel free," she said, gesturing inwards.

As we exchanged more pleasantries, Nagisa and I sat on the zaisu by the low table. Nagisa then decided to rest her head on my lap and take a small nap. Fingers running through her hair, I took my time to survey the room. The walls and tatami were the colour of old grass. On the tokonoma was a hanging scroll, with calligraphy written in a faint and trembling hand. It read:

則
天
去
私

Beside it on the wall, there was an inked circle on washi. As the brushstrokes were too fine, I could not tell if the circle was closed or not. From where I was, it seemed complete. But I was sure that if I sat further back, there would be nothing.

By the corner of the toko, there was also an empty vase of flowers. Amused, I thought to myself how fitting it was for Homura-chan.

What most interested me, however, was a long bookshelf attached onto the tokonoma wall. Glancing through the myriad titles, a number of which written in foreign languages, I tried to find any authors I had read before. After scanning through, however, there were only venerable names I had hardly heard of. These were among the many things she left behind.

"Are these all yours?" I asked.
"If not, to whom could they belong? This is mostly philosophy, however. There are many more books in my study."
"You're a wide reader, mm?"
"Haha, do you envy me for that?"
"Better to be as well-read as you can be."
"True. But reading books doesn't necessarily make you a finer person, you know?"

She gazed at her hands, flipping them back and forth, and muttered to herself, "Words, words, words."

We fell silent a while longer.

"Madoka," she said suddenly, "helped me pick out most of the furniture, you see. Some of it, the chairs especially, is hers. The shelf as well. Ah, but the books are mine. She has some books too, but they should be in the study. Or maybe in the bedroom. I don't quite recall. Maybe she's taken them back. The futon is probably hers as well."
"So much – when? Just recently?"
"A long time ago. Long enough for me to have forgotten. But then again, I don't quite remember what I ate for breakfast."

Homura-chan laughed a little then. Then, it struck me how I had never seen her so carefree before.

It was only a small gesture, but I found myself greatly touched. Because, for the first time in so long, I made her laugh. It seemed like I was so busy with myself that I had forgotten to consider Homura-chan. And at last, I had made it up to her. I brought a smile on her face again. That knowledge made my heart swell with immense pride and joy.

Looking at her happy face, I felt like all was right with the world for that one moment.

"You're quite cheerful today, Akemi-san," I said, smiling.
"Am I?"
"Yes, of course. You've been especially chatty too."
"Haha. Maybe it's because I'm feeling free."
"Free?"

She smirked, and her expression softened into serenity.

"The summer holidays are here after all."

Then she turned her face to the side and gazed at the shoji doors, glowing white.

"Does Kaname-san come by often?" I asked.
"I suppose you could say she used to."

I gave her a questioning look.

"It simply happened," she said. "Madoka has her own life to live after all."

And, looking me in the eye, she smiled brightly.

Then, heaving a deep breath, she got up and slid the shoji open. She strolled out onto the engawa, facing the sun. The wind blew in strongly and her blurry shadow fell along the tatami. Outside, I could see a single higanbana in early bloom, as if rising together with the morning.

Stretching her back, she turned and asked me, "The weather is good today, isn't it?"

I answered, "It is, it is."