chapter 30: success?

Mitsuha- 20 July

The train rattles along monotonously, but within me, my heart pounds rapidly. Adrenaline builds up within me, and a million thoughts flowing through my mind fuels it, like gasoline to a wildfire. It's been a week ever since I went to Emiko together with Taki, and ever since everything has gotten better: when they come to haunt me, I feel… in control, and that I control the dream, instead of letting it control me.

But the adrenaline within me, I can't tell if it's anxiety, or excitement, or maybe both for all I know. I can't not be worried: what are the chances that I can be in control; what if I can't speak? What if… I fail, and that I'll be back to square one?

I begin to feel it. The fear, the terror. It forces air out of my lungs; it constricts me, restraining me, squeezing my soul into a small box.

No.

I can't let it control me, not today, not anymore. I push it aside, and instead, I fuel the spark of hope within me. I feed it the good things-the successes, the joyful memories- and I kindle it into a brazen flame.

"Okay, now I want you to do something different today," Emiko says. She looks much better today: her eyes glow, almost with child-like excitement.

"Sure I guess," I'm hesitant to step away from what I'm used to, but I still do, my eyes set towards recovery.

"Close your eyes, and imagine yourself in Itomori. Don't think about which state it is in, just tell me the first thing you see."

I hesitate for a moment, and then I close my eyes. Fear begins to warn me of what's to come, but I push it aside. I search for something within me, but my head doesn't tell me what it is.

All of a sudden, everything turns silent. All I hear is my breath. Then, my eyes open wide involuntarily.

I'm lying on a soft bed of grass, staring straight at streaks of light in the night sky. These streaks... they are beautiful: pink, purple, blue, green… my mind runs blank. Then a wave of realisation washes over me. That I'm not here, and that I'm sitting on the couch in Emiko's office. My head hurts at all this inception, but then I remember her words: 'tell me the first thing you see'.

I cry out, not knowing who's listening, or who can even hear, "There are streaks in the night sky, they… are beautiful."

My body aches as I get up, but the scene before me shocks me more than anything.

Around the entire patch of grass are shards of… something. They glow of shiny bits of gems and ore within them. I stare at them in awe and wonder: they sparkle with the auroras of the stars. Are they… parts of the meteor?

Surprise and shock coexist within me, and the uncertainty of the dominant emotion fears me, but it continues to keep me awake and to tell me that none of this is real, and to keep me reporting what I see. It's only then I realise where I am, and what has happened.

I'm… alive?

I turn to the skies, only to be greeted by the remains of the streaks of meteorite fragments, painting the night sky a purple glow.

My head begins to hurt. How?

I look around, and all the worry fades to nothingness. I see everyone: Grandma, Yotsuha, Tessie, Sayaka… and all of them appear unscathed.

My mind is filled with happiness, but it is quickly replaced with confusion, which then turns into a pit of fear. A myriad of emotions race through me.

It doesn't make sense. Itomori is supposed to be destroyed beyond recognition, but most people escape by mere seconds. I begin to fear: is any of this real? Then… what…

Headaches split my head into pieces, and it destroys me. It sends me crumbling down. It screams at me, like an alarm clock…

The realisation hits me again.

I open my eyes, and there I was, sitting on the couch. The after-effects continue to shake me, and tears start streaming from my eyes.

"Hey," She hands me a tissue, "Don't worry about what happened. Just know that you did a wonderful job. It was perfect, really! You told me everything you saw."

Suddenly, all the worry fades away, replaced yet again by the ever growing hope. Despite the sheer shock from the scenes, deep down I know that I'm getting better at it, and then the step I'm taking is in the right direction. Hope warms the coldest depths of my heart, scarred from whatever had happened. It whispers, "We will get there."

We will get there.