I ran.

I ran for my life. Or, at least, for what was left of it.

I ran through the early Chiba morning, through a park and past opening food stalls, merchants nodding and waving. I used to wave back, but not anymore. I have been running for four years, and finally, I know how close to my goal I am. But still, I never stop.

As always, I pause in front of the last big shop window, gasping for air, the shirt plastered to my torso. His street is just up the hill. I check the reflection again. My body is getting thinner, but I never really cared about looks. No reason to, anymore.

I tug at the hem of my shirt once again, turn around, and run downhill.

Music in my ears is loud enough to drown out all the noise, and I run through the morning and into the early afternoon, street after street, city block after city block. I lose my meagre breakfast about the twentieth kilometre, but that is fine. I drink plenty of water.

There are university lectures today, and I haven't missed a single day since, so I return to my apartment an hour early. I go through the email, most from my Service Club friends. I reply to every single one, meticulously and carefully, yet every day the emails sound more frantic. I shower, choke down some food and walk to the university.

There are whispers and glances, but fewer than yesterday and I am sure that tomorrow there will be fewer still. Not that I really care about whispers. I was never going to win a miss popularity contest anyway. And, to be honest, there are fewer rumours than I expected. Hachiman would never believe it, but he has an enduring reputation at Chiba University for being pursued by three prettiest students throughout his stay here. A fourth joining them surprised nobody.

The lecture hall is crowded, and some unknown guy gives me his seat. People's kindness is always a surprise to me. Says a lot about me, I guess.

I take notes diligently, asking questions where appropriate. When the lecture ends, I say my goodbyes and walk home. By the time I arrive it is dark already, and I am tired, but I am not tired enough.

I go for another run, and stumble back late, completely exhausted. It is worth every step, though, as I undress and shower on autopilot and just fall into my bed. No memories, no thoughts, nothing. Just a blank mind that sinks into a dreamless sleep without a ripple.

The terror comes before sunrise, when I wake up, and my aching body won't go back to sleep. I refuse to move, refuse to open my eyes, but it doesn't help. My mind slides into an all too familiar cycle of memories, emotions, regrets, and the only thing I can do is keep repeating a flimsy prayer - another day has passed, and I am one day closer to the moment when all this will finally stop. When I will be drained of both the emotion and the hurt.

And the worst part, the part of me that I hate the most, is that I both eagerly await and dread that day. Once this particular emotion is lost it will never be regained, and I will become less, in every way.

The alarm clock finally, mercifully rings, and an hour later I am running through the early Chiba morning.

Every once in awhile, something different happens. A phone call, a brush with a car, a bruising fall.

The day looks just like the others until a familiar face emerges from the crowd of students in front of the university building.

"Tsurumi-chan. Good morning."

I stop. There is still some time until the lectures start. "Komachi-san. I didn't expect to see you here." Komachi studies in Tokyo and I have no idea what she is doing in Chiba halfway through the semester.

"You are a difficult girl to get a hold of. Your friends wouldn't give me your phone number." I am surprised they gave you the time of day when they heard your name. But you could have asked your brother and his friends.

There is the barest of half-hearted smiles on her face, and even that slips away when she looks at me closer.

"You look… different." It is not difficult to guess what she really wanted to say. But I don't have patience for social niceties. Never did.

"I don't have a lot of time Komachi-san. I don't mean it in a bad way," I don't mean it in a good way, either, "but what do you want?"

Komachi winces at the tone but doesn't look surprised. "Something is happening with Hachiman and he won't say a thing." Hachiman won't talk about his problems? I am shocked.

"I tried talking to Yui, Yukinoshita and Miura but they were almost rude to me." Things must have changed a great deal if they dare be rude to you. Being nice to the precious sister is something they used to compete over.

"None of them has talked to my brother for days, apparently, and I have a feeling they are not talking to each other, either." Komachi's hands are making anxious little circles, and it distracts and annoys me more than it should.

"How is that my problem?" I glance at the building entrance. These disruptions to my routine are most unwelcome. I force my fists to unclench, but there is nothing to be done about the sweat that is prickling on my neck.

"Onii-chan is… I've never seen him this miserable. Not even in the middle school." She looks at me with the hope that is misplaced in the extreme. Her answer has nothing to do with my question. Perhaps she didn't hear me the first time.

"How is that my problem?" I try to sound kind and understanding. Komachi's eyes widen, so perhaps I am a bit off my mark.

"I-I know that something happened between you and my brother." There are Youtube videos about it, woman. Everybody and their dog know. Get to the point.

"He hasn't been replying to my messages, hasn't been working, just spends all day long in his apartment. I moved there for a few days, but only managed to annoy him and force him to eat a few proper meals. And now I have to return to Tokyo, and he looks worse than ever." There are tears in Komachi's eyes.

"I am sure they will work something out in the end." Or not. I really have to go.

"It is not that simple." Komachi looks at me, then away. "The only time he gets a bit more lively is in the morning, at the time when you used to come. He shuffles around, sits in his chair, even types away on his computer a bit. Later he just drifts off."

"His phone shows dozens of missed calls. It rings all the time, and he always checks who is calling, but never answers." She looks at me with wide eyes, like she is imparting some deep secret.

"I am sorry, Komachi-san, but I have to go. I will be late for my lecture." I really have no patience for a psychoanalysis of every big brother's twitch and frown. I move to leave, but she blocks my way. She could teach her onii-chan a thing or two about assertiveness.

"Just a minute more, please." There is desperation in her voice, and I relent. I have learned to empathise with desperate people lately. "What I am trying to say is that I suspect my brother's problems are mostly related to you."

Don't. I've done some bad things but surely nothing to deserve this. It is only when I reach out to the anger bubbling below the surface that I manage to draw a breath.

It takes an effort to force words through my clenched teeth. "I never took you for a cruel person, Komachi-san."

"Whatever fantasy you are living in, whatever things you imagine, what do you expect me to do about them?" I step forward into her personal space, and she steps back. I poke her in the chest. Hard.

"What do you think I can do to help? Perhaps be open about my emotions? Tell your brother how I really feel?" It comes out as a snarl. I barely restrain myself from pushing her back. It is not her fault. It is nobody's fault but my own.

"I was hoping… " Komachi stammers but gets a hold of herself. She is not easy to intimidate, I'll give her that. "I was hoping that you could find a way to be friends again."

I am so surprised that a bark of a laugh escapes me. "It was never possible for us to be friends." I step by her and this time Komachi remains still.

Halfway to the entrance I stop. I don't turn to see whether she can hear me. "I would rather die than become his fourth friend." Not that I see much difference. One is just a more painful and prolonged version of the other.

The door finally closes behind me and, if I hurry, I can still make the lecture in time. I round the corner and lean against the wall, breathing heavily. I raise my hand and feel a pang of disgust at the way it trembles. That must have set me back ten days at least.

The damned Hikigayas will be the death of me.