Take care of yourself
There was a possibility, he thought. There was a chance, he could be someone else.
Who would you want to be?
I want to be me, he thought. I want to be me, and I don't want to hate myself anymore.
Is that really you?
He shook his head, he tightened his hands into fists.
"I want to be me, and I don't want to hate myself anymore."
Which do you want more?
"I want to be—" he began.
"—are you stupid?" she finished, and placed her hands on her hips.
The words felt good, they felt familiar, they felt like something someone close to her had said, they felt like something that was hers now, and the shape of them in her mouth made it feel like she and that person she couldn't remember were the same, like they had filled in the gaps between one another.
She gestured at the girl in the chair, her head bowed, the book open in her lap.
"Look," she said, "Yuki's fine with it, why are you being such a pain?"
Kyon offered a look of exasperation in response.
"It's not like I'm deliberately trying to be difficult," he protested.
"So why are you doing it then?" she answered in a churlish voice.
He sighed, shook his head, beleaguered, and it wasn't that she couldn't tell that he didn't want to do it, that he didn't want to join the dance contest with Yuki on behalf of the SOS Brigade, it was just that she knew he had no good reason, because why would anyone object to her?
"It's asking too much of Miss Nagato?" Kyon asked, trying a different angle.
She was wise to that too, but before she could reply, the girl with the open book spoke up.
"It's fine."
"See," she said triumphantly.
Kyon's shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Fine," he sighed. "We'll do it."
She nodded in a gesture of satisfaction.
"Good. And don't forget, I'll be watching, so dance like you want to win."
In sync, she thought suddenly; two people, in sync, the hum of music in the air, and the feeling of being under water. The smile faded, she turned, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of a boy in the reflection of the monitor, sad and anxious.
I want to be me, she thought, suddenly feeling a sense of concern. I want to be me, and I want to be special.
You don't hate yourself?
I do, she thought. Even now, I still do.
But you can do better.
She nodded.
"That's right," she said aloud, "I can do better."
Kyon raised an eyebrow.
"I'll dance with Yuki."
"But—" Kyon begun.
"It's fine," the girl said not looking up from her book.
Opposite her, the boy who sat in the seat ahead of her in class, sighed, and then clapped slowly, a sarcastic sign of his defeat.
"Congratulations," he said.
From behind the rack of spare costumes, Mikiuru emerged, smiling, and, seeing Kyon clapping, followed suit.
"Congratulations."
Who would you want to be?
I want to be me, she thought. I want to be me, and I don't want to hate myself anymore.
Nagato Yuki placed the book down, and looked up, her eyes cold and red.
"Congratulations."