a/n

the story is alive! Though I doubt anyone is reading it anymore lol...

Kokomi noticed first. Well, it would be weird if she hadn't noticed, that I never left my room, or that when I did, I never made eye contact. My eyes stuck on the floor, or the wall, or that super interesting stain on the table. Makoto took longer to notice, but he probably only noticed because Kokomi told him. Well, not exactly surprising.

What was surprising, though, was that he tried to do something about it.

"Nomi, want to come with me to my filming? It's the next episode for my detective show. You'll get to see your awesome big brother in action!"

I stuff my face with my pillow. "Not really," I mumble, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear it.

Predictably, he asks, "What was that?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull my face into the open air. "Not that I don't want to, Makoto, but I don't really want to."

"Nonsense! Of course you want to! No need to hide your eagerness, Nomi, I know you're practically bursting with joy from my invitation!"

I hear him stomp over to the side of my bed and clamp down on my arm, pulling me from under the covers. I put up a meager fight, but really, my heart just wasn't into it.

So here I am, three hours from home in the middle of some windy meadow, still wearing my pajamas.

I peer into the bright blue sky. At least it's not cold, because I forgot to grab a jacket.

The crew is bustling around like there's a lion on each of their ankles. Makoto is moving around dramatically while he says his lines, trying to catch the wind in his cape without being obvious about it.

I try not to look around too much in order to prevent the activation of my so-called "power," but I've already had two episodes. Mike the cameraman has never told his wife that he doesn't like her cooking, and Jojo the other cameraman would rather die than let anyone find out about his otaku tendencies.

I had to pretend to be super fascinated with the grass so that I could kneel and calm my pounding head without suspicion.

"WHAT?" A man's voice screeches across the field, startling people and wilderness alike. In response, the crew freezes, the camera clicking off as it stops recording. I grit my teeth and, curiosity winning out, chance a glance up at the back of the director's head. Luckily, no one's face is in my direct line of sight, so I'm able to see what's happening without a painful disruption.

A man with a paperboy hat is speaking in a low voice to the director, who seems to be growing more and more furious with each word. "Find out who did it," the director eventually snaps, and the man practically runs away, retreating to the van with all of the computers.

Everyone is silent as they wait for the director to explain what is happening, though the man doesn't tell us without drama. He sighs, stands slowly, and eyes each of his crew members. I return my gaze to the ground. I don't think he'd actually look at me, since he'd have to know I existed first, but I had begun to feel nervous about keeping my sights near faces for a bit. What if he had suddenly turned towards me?

"There's a problem," the director finally says, and dread suddenly drops on the crew like a damp towel. "Someone has deleted everything, and I mean everything, from the past week."

Murmurs break out immediately. Mike the cameraman actually sits down, as if the news is too much for his legs to bear.

"But, sir! We have backups! Why can't we use those?"

"Those have been deleted, too. I'm afraid that this is very much on purpose, an attack of sorts, and someone, someone we've trusted, has deleted everything and replaced it with a message."

More murmurs.

"The message says: 'Fire Mugami Tooru.'"

Wow. I could hear all of the heads twisting to stare at my brother.

"Sir!" A woman's voice whispers fervently. "You're not actually considering…"

"Of course not," the director says, "He's the only reason we even get views. But we have to find the culprit, or I fear that everything we film from now on will always be deleted…"

A few people gasp and whispers fly through the air, accusing others. Geez, is this a courtroom drama? Though I admit, the situation is pretty bad. If they can't figure out who it is, they either have to fire my brother, or fire the entire crew. Knowing my brother's reputation, they'll probably end up firing the entire crew, but that would be a disaster for all of them. It's their job that they'd be losing, after all.

A sudden idea pops into my head. Not even pops so much as smashes everything else away.

The culprit wouldn't want to tell anyone that it was them, right? So that means it's a secret to them, right?

And...I have a weird access to people's secrets.

I shiver runs down my spine. I'm not actually considering using my power on purpose, am I? It's an invasion of privacy. No, more than that, it hurts.

Besides, who would believe me?

I'd have to look at everyone here until I find them. That's at least 18 painful episodes, and if I'm honest, I don't think I could handle that. I'm just...too weak, I guess.

I pick at the grass below my hand. Maybe it would be fine? It hurts less when it's a complete stranger, and everyone here is a complete stranger, minus my brother.

Everyone is still whispering. They're loud. Almost as loud as the thumping in my chest, my heart surprised I'm even considering that maybe...

Maybe it would be fine to use my power? It's painful, and an invasion of privacy, but wouldn't I be doing something good? Is it even possible for my power to do something good?

I kind of want to try.

I will myself to look up. Just look up. I'd been doing it fine before, but for some reason, there seems to be a wall blocking my brain's orders from the muscles actually controlling my body. If I admit it, I'm...scared. My heart is gradually accelerating the longer I consider doing this and my hand is twitching—shaking, really—in my pile of ripped up grass.

I can do it. I promise myself.

"Just look up already," I mutter.

But the longer I hesitate, the harder it seems to actually do it. And then, suddenly, in a scary burst of motivation, I whip my head up and focus my eyes on the nearest person to me.

Oh, she's not facing this way, so I can't see her face. I glance around for someone whose face I can see, and my eyes find a few, all of whom knocked the air out of my lungs as their memories and secrets hit me like a runaway truck.

Unfortunately, nothing about deleting the film.

Everyone is still panicking, though the director seems to have gotten some semblance of order back to the field. I continue to add to my pounding headache as he addresses them.

"I know we're all worried…" not him "...show must go on! So, if…" not her, not her, not him "...Let's just keep a close eye on the computers…" not him. Where…?

Clenching my teeth to hold back some of my migraine, I scan the field. None of the crew so far is the person responsible, and I really don't think I have it in me to hold out until I check every single person. It's exhausting, and I can barely focus well enough to sort through the chaotic onslaught of memories to pick out just one.

I stare at the crew's van for a moment, remembering the man with the hat who had run inside it. Wouldn't he be a prime suspect? Ignoring my twisting stomach, I rush over to the parked vehicle as quickly as I can and peer inside a window. There! The man is pacing, but as soon as he turns toward this window, I'll be able to see his face and…

A movement to my right catches my eye and I instinctually glance over, finding myself locking eyes with a crew member as he goes to open the door. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my scream as his secrets crash into me, flooding my eyesight. When I finally manage to blink away the memories, he's already inside the van.

But I know. Through the absolute mess of memories, I was able to pick out a fresh one.

It was him.

I practically sprint over to Makoto and the director (who are in the middle of a deep conversation that I didn't mind interrupting) and immediately begin blabbering lies about seeing a crew member delete stuff and pointing everyone in the direction of the van. The whole crew practically marches over with pitchforks and torches. The director bangs on the back door and the man with the paperboy hat opens it, confused and stressed.

"YOU—"

"Not him!" I cry, interrupting the director's shouting before it could begin. I look down quickly as people glance at me in surprise. "The other one," I say to the ground.

I hear Makoto murmur, "Believe her," and the director shoves his way into the van. A few moments later, I hear a "YOU'RE FIRED!" and the culprit running away down the road to escape the mob's anger. Murmurs and mumblings erupted.

"It was Randy Upwald? Geez, he seemed like such a nice person, too…"

"I always knew he was trouble…"

"Dang, he was supposed to treat me to dinner tomorrow, too."

"Wait, I missed it, what happened?"

"Randy just got fired!"

The director claps a few times to gather his crew's attention and announces the plan to continue. Still, though, with a week's worth of film gone, it'll be next to impossible to catch back up without constant overtime work. The morale of the crew is beyond low, and even Makoto's glow pales a bit at the inevitable exhausting amount of work he'll be subjected to.

I go home alone, leaving my brother and everyone else as they work into the night, and probably through the night. I doubt any of them are going to get a break at all for at least a few days.

Did I help? Perhaps it's selfish of me to want to know, but I wonder if I even did anything. It kind of just feels like all I did was get a man fired and leave everyone to work themselves to the bone. Objectively, I probably did help, but it doesn't feel that way at all.

Why did he want Makoto fired, anyway? It was a ridiculous request, no matter how you looked at it. I try remembering anything from the secrets I gained from him, but the only one I can really focus on is where he deleted the film. All of the others are vague feelings, and most are filled with overwhelming desperation.

The man was desperate. Why?

Guilt creeps into my mouth, leaving a sour taste. I just caused a desperate man to lose his job. Makoto could have survived with one less TV show, but perhaps this man was barely scraping by.

"I'm home," I call, taking off my shoes. Kokomi pops her head out of the kitchen doorway.

"Nomi! Where's Makoto?"

The air is scented with fumes of delicious cooking. Yes, don't be too shocked, but my older sister is also perfect in the kitchen. Keeping my eyes on the hardwood, I walk into the kitchen and sit at the counter.

"A situation happened at filming today and a lot of data got deleted. I don't think he'll be able to come home for a few days at least."

"Really? What happened?" It's amusing, but even the perfect angel Kokomi can't hide her relief. Well, if Makoto acted towards me the way he does to her, I'd be relieved too.

I give her a vague outline of what happened, omitting anything about me or my weird power, and when I finish, I poke my food.

"I feel bad," I confess. It's a weird feeling, one I'm not really used to, but I've never made a direct impact on someone else's life before. I never made any impact, really, so my largest contribution to someone's life being negative didn't feel very good.

"What? Why?"

"The man lost his job. What if he has a family or something?"

Kokomi sighs, a breath of melodic air. "What he did was direct sabotage, Nomi. It definitely broke his contract. The man was lucky to get off with just losing his job. The company could have pressed charges."

"Still…"

Sensing my distress, Kokomi placed her hand on my shoulder. I don't dare to look up, but I can sense her sympathetic smile.

"You're right, of course, Nomi. We should help everyone we can, even the people we don't feel deserve it,"

Ah, I forgot that she had that self-righteous thing.

"Tell you what, I have a friend who has hundreds of contacts with different jobs. I'll ask her to recommend this man to one of them so that he can have a temporary way to support himself."

That...sounds great, actually. My guilt subsides a bit.

"How will we find him, though?" I ask.

Kokomi thinks for a moment. "Oh! I have another friend who is really good at finding things and people, we can ask her to help us too!"

"You have a lot of convenient friends," I say, and frown as I remember the one friend I had that I pushed away. I grit my teeth and take a huge bite of my food to try to push away my growing sadness.

I'm grateful to my sister, for coming up with solutions to my problems without even blinking. It was nice to talk through it all with her, but if I'm honest, I miss talking to Gina.

I wonder what she's doing right now.