Catharsis

By: Aviantei

-1a

"I heard," Ishikawa-sensei said as I helped him carry some boxes down to the teacher's office as part of my classroom cleanup duty, "that you decided to resign from the Literary Club."

It was funny how a few months could help you distance yourself from an emotion. Before, I had dreaded hearing those words—with my Japanese and Language teacher being the club advisor, this topic was bound to come up eventually. Lucky for me, I was very good at not getting cornered into one-on-one conversations with my teachers, so I hadn't needed to deal with that yet. Two months, though, seemed to be my limit.

Two months was plenty of time to suppress the feelings, bury the hurt, and decide that general apathy was a much more productive use of my time.

"I did," I said, the words clipped and final. The tone startled even me. With how little I'd talked to anyone else, the sound of my own voice seemed like a foreign thing. I was certain the last time I'd spoken had been in class when called upon to answer some science problem, and that had at least been a few days ago.

Ishikawa-sensei didn't break his stride in the slightest, but something like a sigh slipped out of his lips. It was hard to hear with our footsteps echoing through the stairwell. "I didn't want to believe it was true," he said.

"Takahashi-senpai would never make up something so pointless."

"Yes, you're right." I let the silence stretch out, hoping that Ishikawa-sensei would leave it at that. Club advisor or not, it wasn't Ishikawa-sensei's business whether or not I was a member, let alone the reasons why I'd quit. (Considering the circumstances, it was very much his business, but there was nothing to discuss if I didn't come forward.) There was only so much he could push and still be within reason. "I think it's a shame, Sugiyama-san. You have a way with words, and you did good work with the club."

If I had such a way with words, why didn't anyone notice that the piece was mine and not Kamiya's?

The frustration and nausea kicked me in the stomach like a displeased horse, chattering through the thin walls of my apathy. I'd pushed so hard to keep it all down that having the emotions kick back in almost gave me a sensation of disassociation—like it couldn't be me feeling those things. Not when I'd worked so hard to abandon them.

In that disjoined haze, we made it to our destination, and Ishikawa-sensei opened the teachers' office door and led the way. "I don't have any intentions of joining the literary club," I said, just so it was clear; just so Ishikawa-sensei couldn't interpret my words a different way. With the box in my arms dropped off to its destination, there wasn't even any excuse he could use to keep me roped into this conversation. "If that's all you need, Sensei, I'll head back to help the others finish taking care of the classroom." Still maintaining as much respect as was due, I dipped into a bow.

The added benefit was that I didn't need to see Ishikawa-sensei's expression and all the expectations wrapped up in it.

"Yes, that's fine, Sugiyama-san." Though I could hear the disappointment in his tone, there wasn't any resignation. He wasn't going to take this conversation as a total defeat, not by a longshot—and it was going to be an absolute pain in my ass. I moved back towards the entrance, but couldn't escape before Ishikawa-sensei's next question caught up to me. "Have you at least kept up your writing?"

It was a miracle I didn't slam the office's door on my way out.

Two months was far too long to go without writing anything, but I just couldn't get the words out anymore.

b

I spent my time on the rooftop reading through one of the anthologies in my bag. In my shock at seeing Kamiya again, I'd creased one of the pages, and I'd spent at least several minutes trying to prevent the damage from being too permanent. The work with my hands wasn't enough to distract me, though, and I ended up seeking the comfort that words could bring. I'd been avoiding catching up to the anthologies that would have Kamiya's name in them, but this one was still distant enough that I didn't need to worry about that.

I could just read.

Escape into those other worlds that existed thanks to ink on paper.

Not even the fact that some of these works were overall weak could stop me. They still represented something important to their writers, and those feelings made their way through. The sheer process of interpreting kanji and my brain recognizing the characters before me was like a security blanket, even as the sunset deepened into darkness, and I had to struggle to read.

When had the absence of light ever stopped me from pursuing the written word?

You let Kamiya stop you.

The thought was its own blade cutting through the peacefulness of my current life. With the damage that Kamiya had done by showing up, it wasn't difficult to further tear things to tatters. Not even bothering to reach for my bookmark, I let the anthology slip shut in my lap and stared up at the deep blue-black of the sky, the night spreading like a bruise that would last for weeks.

I can't sit out here all night. I still need to do homework so I don't get in trouble for my grades slipping. The idea of having my mother hounding me on top of everything else going wrong with my life at the moment sounded like absolute hell, and I groaned. Kamiya has to have left already. It's dark enough that the announcement to go home has to have happened by now. He wouldn't just hang around on the off chance of running into me, right? Hell, I haven't moved, either; he might even remember where my apartment is—

The click and creak of a door opening.

Considering where I was, there was just one possible door I could have heard, and the sound was enough to almost make me jump right out of my skin. I scrambled to pack up my things and get on my feet in case I needed to make an escape—what would be a worse encounter: a teacher doing rounds to make sure the school was empty, or Kamiya? Kamiya, hands fucking down, because just thinking of his presence made me nauseous—

"Senpai, there you are!"

"Kuriyama-chan?!"

Any tension I'd been feeling bled straight out of my body, from the stiffening of my shoulders straight down and out my toes, like someone had pulled the plug. Kuriyama-chan didn't have a school bag on her, but she was taking heavier breaths than usual, and her delicate hair had mussed up enough that I felt tempted to comb the strands back into place. Some other part of me flared up—protective instincts, I realized. If someone had kicked up Kuriyama-chan into a panic, I was going to have some serious words with them.

"I'm so glad you're alright!" Kuriyama-chan said, genuine relief coloring her words. She clasped her hands together, like a half-realized prayer. "Forgive me if this sounds weird, Sugiyama-senpai, but you seemed out of it when you left. I know you said it was a family issue, but something didn't just seem right. I wanted to check up on you, but when I tried to call, your phone went straight to voicemail, and you weren't at home when I stopped by, either."

"You went…all the way to my place and back?" I asked, feeling dazed. "Why'd you even come back here?"

And then Kuriyama-chan's torrent of words processed. Considering the way I'd left the clubroom, of course she'd worry.

…It seemed I was going to need to have some serious words with myself.

"Ah, well, that's…" Even without much light to work with, the flush of Kuriyama-chan's pale cheeks was unmistakable. "I asked the others to help me look for you. Nase-senpai said there wasn't a point, since you can take care of yourself, but Senpai and Nase-senpai decided to lend a hand. And then we—I mean, I just had a gut feeling, so I came here!" She was so worked up that I couldn't even fault her for spewing out partway incomprehensible talk. Based on context clues, I was willing to bet that Nase had decided to stay the hell out of this little drama (downright charming of her, considering that her invitation of Kamiya was the cause of it), while Kanbara and Hiroomi had chosen to help for whatever reason.

Scratch that. As one of the club's "bespectacled beauties," of course Kanbara would decide to look for me. Even more so since Kuriyama-chan was the one asking for help. Hiroomi was stepping up because he was still worried I was going to die or whatever.

I've gone and caused trouble for everyone, I see.

Though it felt very much like trying to reassemble a panel of shattered glass, I still gave Kuriyama-chan a reassuring smile. "I promise I'm not hurt or anything," I said. Physically, anyways. "I just…needed to step away after hearing from my family." Kuriyama-chan continued to look concerned, and I ruffled her hair, earning a pouty-sounding whine in the process. "Everything's going to be alright. Sorry to worry you."

When I pulled my hand back, Kuriyama-chan tried to scowl at me, but it had the same impact as a fluffy puppy trying to play tough. Her dissatisfaction melted away soon after, though, and I could tell there was still worry in her eyes. "So long as you're okay…" She paused, fidgeting with the ring she wore, and then added, "But know that if you ever need anything, Senpai, I'm here for you, and so are the rest of us. Even though she acts disinterested all the time, Nase-senpai cares, too. If you need anything or want to talk, you can come to us, alright?"

The last line had such force to it that I could feel my heart racing from the sheer intensity. Man, Kuriyama-chan would make for a stellar heroine of a novel. A laugh bubbled up inside me, and Kuriyama-chan just pouted more. "Easy there," I said, tossing an arm around her shoulder. "If you go saying stuff like that, I'm gonna lose out on all my pride as your senpai. You've done more than enough, Kuriyama-chan. Let me treat you to dinner as thanks for running around to check on me."

The offer of a free meal was more than enough for Kuriyama-chan to perk up. "You mean it?!"

"Yup, yup, anything you like. Sugiyama-senpai has got you covered."

"Oh, goodness, where should we go, then? There's that one Mexican place. Ah, but beef bowls sound good, too. This is hard…"

And with Kuriyama-chan's mutterings providing our soundtrack, we climbed down from the roof of the cultural clubs' building and hopped the gate on our way off of campus. The pure enthusiasm Kuriyama-chan put into picking out her dinner of choice helped put me the slightest bit at ease.

I wouldn't let her be the bearer of my burdens.

c

I couldn't even begin to build an accurate descriptor of what Friday morning felt like for me.

The good news was that Kamiya wasn't back in Nagatsuki to stay—he had responsibilities, like university, to take care of. The fact that I'd encountered him again still left a downright foul emotional aftertaste lingering in my body, but having a nice dinner with Kuriyama-chan had helped alleviate some of that stress. On the downside, my episode of hanging out on the roof until late meant that I'd needed to sacrifice some sleep to finish my homework and keep up that end of the deal, which left me more than groggy as I landed at my seat at school.

Oh how nice it would be if I were too tired to feel anything right now.

I let my head meet my desk, not caring in the slightest about the echoing thud that resulted. I'd done all that work to force my feelings down over the past few years, and now they'd cracked through the surface. I didn't see a way to push them back and away, either. How much longer could I keep juggling that disconnect and the pain and keeping up with my schoolwork like a good prep class student before I broke?

When the bell signaling the start of the day rang and our homeroom teacher's voice called us to attention, I forced myself to sit up. Perched on the corner of my desk was a bottle of coffee milk, condensation starting to form on the plastic. I glanced to Hiroomi's seat, where he gave a me nod, confirming he'd been the one to leave it behind.

I couldn't even scowl. Instead I twisted off the lid, toasted him as much as I could without getting a scolding for disrupting class, and downed the bottle with all the gusto of an exhausted office worker chugging a beer after a long week before settling in for class.

Only six and a half hours to go.

c

Though my phone had been dead for most of the evening (hence why I hadn't noticed that Kuriyama-chan tried to call me), I'd still had a pile of messages to go through the next morning once the thing had charged. There were, as expected, a smattering of messages from Kuriyama-chan, Hiroomi, and Kanbara, all asking if I was alright and where I was. Looking at them made me feel a bit guilty, so I'd marked them as read and moved on, but there was one still catching my attention.

One more message from Hiroomi, sent at some point in the evening when I'd been grumbling at my math homework and losing track of how to even make sense of numbers anymore:

[I heard from Kuriyama-san that she found you and you're doing alright. I'm glad to hear it. Even so, I can't help but worry. You seemed very distressed whenever Kamiya-senpai stopped by yesterday. If you'd rather not discuss it, I understand, but know that I'd be willing to listen if you want to talk.]

I hadn't responded to that message, in part because I'd read it in the middle of getting ready and I needed to leave if I didn't want to be late. The other part was, as much as I enjoyed the written word, the idea of typing it out and leaving a record of everything seemed like too much. Hiroomi didn't push the issue during the school day, either, giving me enough space while still providing some assurance with his presence.

When I woke up from my lunchtime nap, he'd left another coffee milk for me on my desk.

Is this what…concern from a friend feels like?

Between his little gestures, Kanbara's worried messages, and Kuriyama-chan's frantic search to find me, I was going to get overloaded if things kept up. Even so—

When classes dismissed for the day, I put my homework in my bag, stuffing in notebooks alongside the Shiba-hime copies I had yet to go through. We still had a half day tomorrow, but I suspected that we'd be getting into the next stage of "club gatherings outside of school" soon. And while our anthology project would almost be done, there were still plenty of other issues that could crop up—though those were for the most part on me.

So.

Finished packing up, I stood before Hiroomi's desk, feeling just as awkward as I had back in my first-year days and I was getting ready to introduce myself to the Literary Club. Hiroomi acknowledged my presence with a small smile and waited, as if he knew that was the right thing to do.

"I can't promise anything super fancy since I spent a bunch of money on taking Kuriyama-chan out last night," I said, unable to be honest about my feelings like a proper human being, "but I'd at least be able to make dinner if you'd come over and listen to me for a while."

And Hiroomi nodded, standing up with his school bag in hand. "I'd be glad to, Sugiyama-san."

Time to stop running away for a bit.

d

Considering that the last time Hiroomi had attempted to walk me home ended in a painful collision of my bag and his gut, it was up to me to lead the way. In any other situation, I would have been a lot more conscious about our classmates noticing us together, but that seemed like a distant worry. Did him knowing where I lived matter in the big picture of things?

I'd decided not to burden Kuriyama-chan with my problems because she was my kōhai. By that logic, Kanbara and Nase were ineligible, as grating as they could be. Outside of the Literary Club, I didn't have any friends. Who else was I supposed to open up to? Ishikawa-sensei? My parents? After the shame of everything had kept my mouth shut, I didn't think I could go through with it.

And Hiroomi…

Hiroomi had offered.

We walked most of the way in silence, though it wasn't too stifling. I felt far too much like if I opened my mouth, everything would come spilling out and I'd make a mess of myself in public. If I had to have a potential emotional purge, I was at least going to do it in the comfort of my own home. Hiroomi read the mood enough and didn't say anything, either.

When we got to my building, I hesitated a moment, remembered that the rest of the Literary Club had already been to my place and there was no sense in hiding it from Hiroomi, and went in anyways. Lucky for me, I hadn't messed up my apartment since then, save for my bedroom, so the place was clean. We kicked off our shoes at the doorway, Hiroomi sat at the table as directed, and I went to the kitchen to make some tea.

Waiting for the water to boil gave me some quality time to space the hell out, which was just what I needed. Pulling myself out of it was less pleasant, but it was either that or leave Hiroomi alone sitting in my living room. And while the idea of having him in my apartment wasn't half bad, I didn't quite trust him enough in the same space as me taking a nap without anyone else around.

So I poured the tea and set up the tray and carried it back to the table and took my seat. Hiroomi, somehow not out of patience for my bullshit yet, gave me a polite thanks and waited. Unlike the walk home, which allowed me to at least have the movement of my body as something to do, the silence while sitting now felt almost painful, like a piece of plastic wrap stretched out too far.

"If we're going to get anywhere," I said once the steam rolling off my untouched teacup had somewhat thinned out, "you're going to need to force me to keep talking about this."

Hiroomi lowered his teacup with an unfair amount of grace. "Are you sure that's what you want, Sugiyama-san? I know that sometimes it's best to push something difficult out, but you don't need to push yourself too far. I can…tell this is something stressful for you."

Warnings aside, I nodded my answer to his question.

"Very well, then." Hiroomi placed his hands in his lap and looked at me. "As I offered before, I'm here to listen. If I may, I assume that this has something to do with Kamiya-senpai showing up yesterday?" I nodded again, trying to remember how to form words—how to speak the things that I'd refused to even acknowledge before. "He didn't…hurt you, did he, Sugiyama-san?"

"What? Oh, no—not…in a physical way, at least." A piece of tension seemed to slip out of Hiroomi's shoulders, though the look in his clear green eyes was no less serious. "It wasn't anything even that awful, but it still hurt. He…" I swallowed, but the gross taste flooding my tongue didn't go away. Though my teacup was sitting right there, going for a drink felt like cheating. "He took one of my stories and claimed it as his own to the club."

The words slipped out of me like a burst of exhaust from a vehicle. Sure, there was more that happened, questions that plagued me—like did he agree to go on dates with me just so it'd be easier for me to trust him?—but it already felt as if I'd dumped too much in the air and there wouldn't be room for anything else. After all, what if—

What if Nase-kun doesn't believe me?

"Sugiyama-san." I should have looked at him to try and get a sense of what he was thinking from his expression, but all I could do was watch my knuckles turn white in my lap as I clenched my hands into fists. The pasty color looked even worse against the dark blue of my skirt. "I'm sorry. That's awful that he did that to you. You didn't deserve that."

"You believe me?" The question actualized itself before I could even think of holding it back. "Just like that."

Hiroomi's brow furrowed the slightest amount. Considering that the most upset I tended to see him was when he was being overdramatic about Nase's absolute refusal to treat him like an older brother (let alone a human being), watching a more reasonable show of discontent seemed as if it was more unnatural. "Of course I do. Sugiyama-san isn't the type of person to make up something like this just for attention. And, well, I know you don't put much stock in these things," he said, glancing away for a moment, "but I was worried last night, so I read your fortune again. I couldn't pick up everything, but I got some impressions."

"You can read someone's fortune without them being there?" I asked. Some part of me may have intended the words to be sarcastic, but the tone didn't quite make it in. Considering that I'd highjacked his afternoon to bitch about my problems, I didn't need to be rude on top of that. "What did you figure out?" Despite everything, I was a bit curious.

Even something as empty as fake reassurances would have been nice right then.

"Well, without getting into the particulars, I didn't see very much. I was trying to confirm that—if there was anything I could do to help, really." I, he had said, rather than we. "But I could tell that you needed someone to listen. And that whatever you'd tell me is the truth. However—" he added as I felt my lips purse "—I would have believed you anyways, Sugiyama-san."

"Just because?"

"You could say that."

"Mn."

At least one of my worries out of the way, I went for my tea, just to realize that I'd forgotten to add sugar beforehand. Grimacing, I dumped some in and stirred, at last rewarded with some relief. All my recent interactions with the Literary Club had tricked me into thinking I was decent at conversation, but the fact still remained that I just sucked at it. Hiroomi must've been keeping track of how long the silence dragged out or something, because he held to my request to force me to talk more: "Can you tell me more about how it happened?"

My natural instinct was to brush the whole thing off, but something inside me had already started to boil over with enough intensity that slapping a lid on top wasn't about to do a damn thing. So I told him in bits and pieces—about how I'd admired Kamiya Noriyaki; about how that idolization had inspired my attendance at Nagatsuki High School; about how I'd joined the Literary Club; about how I shared a draft of my work, hoping for feedback and instead had gotten betrayed.

I didn't mention my all too obvious crush (not like I needed to) nor the fact that Kamiya and I had gone out together several times.

Funny enough, the fact that he'd used me while dating me didn't even hurt the most.

"They even used your piece under his name in one of the anthologies?" Hiroomi asked, picking up on the detail before I could even say it out loud. Since I'd already spilled so much else to him, nodding in affirmation was simple, like a puppet bobbing on a string. "Which one was it, Sugiyama-san? We may not be able to take back what happened before, but we are doing a reprint. We could always—"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," I said, holding up my hands in a signal to stop. "Why though?" Hiroomi stared at me, aghast, and I pressed on. "It happened like two years ago. Besides, it's not like the piece is guaranteed to fit in with all the other contenders we have lined up—are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am," Hiroomi said, but he was digging through his nearby schoolbag at the same time. A few anthologies made their way onto the table, and Hiroomi made sure to move his teacup out of the way before thumbing through the Shiba-hime spines. "I just think that you deserve credit where credit is due, Sugiyama-san. Besides—" He opened one of the anthologies to a waiting bookmark. "This was the piece, right? It already got everyone's stunning approval, if I recall."

I fixated him in my best available deadpan stare. "And if I recall, that issue was under Kuriyama-chan's responsibility, not yours."

He at least flashed me an apologetic smile. "That's true, but I wanted to reread it again, just to see what else I picked up on." The idea that someone wanted to delve into something I'd written for a second round was enough to make me feel happy—but a decent helping of embarrassment was also working its way up my neck at the same time. "But based on everyone's reactions, it'll make it into the final edition. We can print it with your name, Sugiyama-san."

The offer was…tempting, to say the least. I'd long since given up on the piece—hell, I'd almost given up on writing anything worthwhile enough to publish, given my extended slump. Seeing my work reclaimed, even if it was just in some silly school anthology, felt like some far-off dream, as if I would always be stuck in Kamiya's shadow.

Kamiya.

I grimaced at the thought. "Listen, I don't want to sound like I wouldn't like that. Because I would. I'd like it a lot." The more time the idea had to settle, the more comfortable it felt, like growing to enjoy wearing a new pair of shoes as they adjusted to the shape of your feet. "But your sister already invited Kamiya to write the anthology introduction for us. It's just polite to give him a copy. He'll…notice what's going on."

"Bold of you to assume that I care about being polite to someone that hurt you."

The declaration came with such certainty packed behind it that I couldn't even form a response. Though he'd been the one to say it, Hiroomi seemed just as stunned. He thumbed through the pages of the anthology in his hands again, while I worked on downing the remains of my teacup. Maybe I'd made a mistake in thinking this conversation would be best handled in the privacy of my home…

I was still sorting through potential options of what to say next whenever Hiroomi cleared his throat. I let him take the lead with gusto. "What I mean to say is—you're a member of the Literary Club and my friend, Sugiyama-san. I'm sure if you asked the others, even Mitsuki, they'd say the same thing. So of course we're going to be on your side."

That pit in my stomach started to reform, and I bit down on my lip. "You think we should tell them, too?"

"If we're going to do this, I think it would be difficult to pull it off without explaining the situation. With that in mind, we should tell Ishikawa-sensei, too." Though it was the logical follow-through, I still flinched at the idea. I'd avoided telling him for so long because I hadn't wanted to see the fallout that would come. Hiroomi gave me a soft but reassuring smile. "You wouldn't be facing this alone, Sugiyama-san. I'd be there with you, if you wanted me to, and I'd make sure we saw this through to the end."

There was a notable stinging in the back of my eyes. I realized that it had been some time since I'd processed enough emotion to even feel like I wanted to cry. "You make it sound like it's going to be so easy."

"Well, I can't guarantee anything like that. Still, I can guarantee that you've got support. Or have I done something to make you think I won't stand by you?"

"It's not you. I just… I trusted Kamiya-senpai," I said, the honorific slipping out before I could think to stop it. "And I'm not saying you're like him. Just that I've been all too trusting before, and it didn't end well for me." Hiroomi nodded, his expression understanding. I pushed a laugh out of my throat. "Well, if nothing else, I like to think I'm not as spineless as I was before. If you screw me over, I'll just have to be sure to get even!" I didn't have a concrete plan yet, but it wouldn't be too hard—just shit talk him to Nase or something, and Hiroomi would crumble.

A chuckle slipped out of Hiroomi, too, and the moment felt like peace. "If I do something to betray your trust, I'm sure that I'll deserve whatever retribution you decide on." He tapped his fingers against the anthology's pages, fingertips dancing along the sentences I'd built character by character, as if that would pull their meanings into reality. "If I may be so bold, shall we make a plan together?"

Clenching my fists, I sucked in a deep breath to pump myself up. "Let's make this happen."

Catharsis

FOURTEENTH

There was no way to tell if we were headed for success or disaster.

[Author's Notes]

And one more chapter for the holiday/fic anniversary special! The flashbacks are done, and we're in the present now, baby! Time to move forward with as much zeal as we can muster.

Thanks to Valen Goncalvez, Tora3, and Keelan1210 for the favorite, follow, and reviews! Let me know what you like; I'm a sucker for positive affirmation.

Writing all the Sugiyama and Hiroomi interaction scenes is fun, because Hiroomi has ten-thousand things going on in his head fueling what he says and does, and Sugiyama is clueless (lol). I'm very much looking forward to unraveling those things in the future, but for now, we're playing the long game, and we've got other fish to fry!

In addition to promoing walk steady on this cruel world's path last chap, I would also like to draw attention to my The World Ends with You fic, Muse, which has entered its third and final season as part of [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm]. It's a smaller event this year, but if you're interested in maybe working on a fic over the next ten-ish weeks or so, hop over to the forum and join us. I promise it's fun.

And we're almost at the end of the year, too! I'll see y'all for the next update in 2022, so please look forward to it!

-Avi

[12.28.2021]