The Ushio from the other world awoke slowly, her mind still caught in the complex twines of her dream. But she thought she had learnt something from them: something that, in the darkness, became clear. A dream: she'd been dreaming, about her last moments in the snow. And that coldness still clung to her: clung to her even more strongly now, despite the blankets that had covered her when she'd fallen asleep.

A dream. She'd been dreaming. About those last moments, about that desperate wish to see her father again, see that happy life he'd so desperately wished for all of them. That happy life that had been so cruelly denied to him.

Now she remembered. She was seeing the alternate world created by his wish: a wish that had transcended time and space and become a reality: just another dream. That was how she'd gone to that endless winter world as well: wanting to live on…and how her father had followed, wanting to look at her, after her, still…

But this time, he had been the first to go and she the one to follow. And she saw her father's happy life: her happy life, if she hadn't borne that same sickness as her dead mother, in this world not dead. If they'd all lived together happily…

A happily ever after dream she couldn't be a part of without destroying.

She gripped the garbage doll tightly, its plastic fingers digging into her palm. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and she realised why the blankets no longer covered her.

That beautiful dream house was gone. She was in the apartment she'd lived in until the day she passed from that world.

The Two Bays
Chapter 7

Tomoya was suddenly awake, and cold. The comforting weight of Nagisa in his hold had vanished like an echo from the distant past, and her side the covers were smooth and unworn, as though no-one had ever slept under them. He bolted up: his own half of the covers fell into a roll on his lap, leaving his entire pyjama top exposed. The room was half-bare as well, as though it had been many years since Nagisa, and her memories, had lived there.

And the room was wrong, too wrong. It wasn't the one in the house they'd built together: those widely spaced and slightly sloping walls with those pale curtains over the windows that happily let the sun past. That room that was a bedroom and nothing else: not that one that had become the living room and storage room as well, with that low table on one side and his futon spread on the other. And his uniform hanging over that table, washed but not ironed and waiting – though he didn't remember ever leaving it like that with Yoshino's tool beside it.

He'd only had Yoshino's tool after he'd left that job, after Ushio had –

He jumped up and almost fell over the little step outside his room in haste, before turning back around. That place – it was the apartment he'd lived out his life in in that other world. Where Nagisa had died. Where Ushio had fallen sick – and where they'd left because Ushio had wanted to go back to that flower field so badly…

Where he'd lost both Nagisa and Ushio to the winter snow.

He wandered around the apartment after that, like a ghost. Nothing had changed: not a thing since the day Ushio had died in the snow. Their warmest clothes were all packed and gone, the rest neatly in the draws save his work overalls, still hanging over the table. A force of habit he hadn't quite been able to get rid of, whether it was to keep up pretences so Ushio wouldn't blame herself for him living work, or so he didn't have to think about how sick she'd really been.

He'd thought he'd go back, in a few months once the winter was over and done with and Ushio was feeling better…but that hadn't happened. Instead of the gentle clutter that was always around the house: little toys left lying around, Ushio's hat hanging on a chair with his satchel, a cup or spoon or something always left over from the dishes… Instead of all that was a cleanliness that seemed unnatural.

It shouldn't have lasted more than ten minutes. Ushio should have begged for a glass of water as soon as they were inside, or his own parched throat should have requested one. Their two bags should have been dumped in the dining room to be unpacked. He should have brought a little souvenir for Ushio, hopefully one that wouldn't get lost in the sunflower fields this time, and she should have dropped it on the table along with brochures, bookmarks and other bits of paper from the lodge.

Or, rather, Nagisa should have been with them, alive, and the evidence of her glowing life should have been scattered everywhere. Like it was in that house: that dream house they'd built together in that quiet but homely corner of the woods. That place that still looked the same after ten years, except the house that had been slowly built on once vacant land. The house that was his dream house, their dream house…

And never, not even on the coldest days of winter, as chilled and empty as this one.

He entered the dining room: ran a finger along the table and came back without a hint of dust. If only he'd had the habit of keeping a calendar in those days…but it had never been necessary. Either he'd had a work schedule like the clock, in those years he had left Ushio with her grandparents, Nagisa's parents, or he'd stayed home with Ushio and then it hadn't mattered what day of the week it was so long as he paid bills as soon as he got them and expected the doctor whenever the man called ahead to remind about the appointment.

But a calendar would have been useful know, to know what day he was dreaming about, what day he was relieving…

Or maybe he was continuing on, living out his life in that nightmare of a world, from the point where his memories had frozen in the snow.

'Daddy?'

He spun around. Ushio! That was Ushio's voice – but he saw her quickly and clearly enough: not the little Ushio that was a part of that happy world, but the one who had died in the snow and had gone on to live, and grow up, in that endless winter world.

He rushed to her anyway. She must have the answers, he thought. He certainly didn't have them, and she was the only other person in the world, perhaps, who knew her identity, knew of that first world. 'Where is Nagisa?' he asked, grabbing her shoulders, his hands shaking. He caught himself enough not to grab her too tight, but she still looked a little started. 'Where's my –'

He stopped. He'd been about to say "daughter", but this Ushio was his daughter as well.

'I'm sorry,' the other-world Ushio, the older one, said, her voice quavering. 'I didn't want to say goodbye to you so soon…' She pulled the Garbage Doll close, hugging it to her chest like she'd hugged the Dango family back in life. '…I'd just realised it was you: making the Garbage Doll move, always looking out for me, even though I couldn't hear your voice until the end…' Her voice shook more viciously this time, and she clutched the Garbage Doll tighter.

Tomoya let his arms fall from her shoulders. 'Where are they?' he asked, whispered a little pathetically to the door frame she stood in, to the apartment at large that should have disappeared from that nightmare of a world once time had rewound and his happiness had been restored. 'Was it all just a happy dream I have to wake up from?'

That fear he'd kept for five long years, pretending it wasn't there, pretending that there was just no way…but the truth was, there was no way for time to rewind either, for a future that had already occurred to simply change its course. He'd hoped, naively, that wishes would be enough. He'd believed that wishes would be enough.

'I wanted to be in the world that was Daddy's happiness,' Ushio said, and Tomoya forced himself to look back at her. His wish had left her all alone, in that snow he'd followed her to, through countless winters watching her grow: older and thinner and frailer, and eventually to death once more. 'It's okay.' She smiled at him, her eyes watering and her tone more steady now that she'd said what was most important to her. 'That wish brought me here, but I'd forgotten – ' The tears spilled over. 'I've made you unhappy now, haven't I?'

'No!' Tomoya burst out, grabbing her again, this time more tenderly, like the father he thought he'd failed at being, for her. Not for the other Ushio, that sweet innocent and healthy Ushio, but this one who he'd abandoned to her grandparents for five long years after Nagisa's death, and treated her so distantly for a time after. How much time had he wasted with her, in the end? Too much…and when he'd hoped to look after her a little longer it had to have been in the form of a little scrap robot who couldn't speak at all and could barely move. 'I am happy…to see you're alright.'

His voice died there. He was happy to see she was alright, that was the truth, but at the same time she represented everything about the past he'd tried so desperately to leave behind.

'It's just that…'

'I understand now.' Ushio smiled again. 'I was jealous before, of that other Ushio. She got to live in that happy world…but I'm still her, still Ushio. And I mightn't have met Mummy properly, but I had Sanae-san and Akii and Daddy too. I had a happy life. Just not enough time with you.'

Why couldn't she have been that other Ushio, just like Tomoya was Tomoya: there was no past or present or future or other self to him? Why did things have to be confusing like this? Why couldn't he have lived on in his happy little world –

But that wouldn't have been fair on the Ushio he'd left behind in the snow. He realised that now: that fact he'd completely ignored over those years of shoving the memories of the past aside. Even after he'd understood those nightmares he'd had were part of that past as well, he'd ignored them. Tried to forget about them. Because they came at the cost of the happy life he'd been, except for those few shadows, enjoying so very much…

He was still a selfish bastard. He chuckled bitterly to himself, then knelt down. 'I'm a failure of a father, aren't I?'

The Ushio before him shook his head. 'Nuh-uh.' She sounded exactly as she had when they'd played together: just father and daughter, in that world where Nagisa was dead and they were destined to live out their little bit of time together in that tiny apartment he'd had since high school.

Ushio fiddled around with her feet a little, then dropped the Garbage Doll and stepped closer, then closer still, until she could comfortably loop her arms around his waist.

'I wanted Daddy to be happy,' she whispered into his pyjama shirt. 'More than anything in the world. And now I've gotten to see Daddy's happy world, and even Mummy. But I wanted to see it so badly, I ruined it.'

Tomoya hesitated a moment, then wrapped his arms around his daughter…because she was his daughter, just like that Ushio from that other world.

'Let's go to the sunflower fields,' he said suddenly, spontaneously. The lack of dust, everything neatly packed and, probably, now that he thought about it, waiting by the door.

Ushio blinked, and suddenly she was smaller, and wearing mittens and a beanie and a scarf, and his pyjamas were gone and replaced with warmer, outdoor clothes as well. The clothes they'd worn for their last day in this world.

Ushio stared at herself, then looked around. 'My doll!' she cried, in a sudden panic.

'He's waiting for us at the field,' Tomoya said, and he was sure the Garbage Doll was there, amongst the flowers were Ushio had dropped them on their first encounter.

Ushio had really wanted to go back to that field, see the sunflowers bright and yellow and dancing with the wind. Ushio hadn't mentioned that, since she'd died. Maybe she'd forgotten about it. But Tomoya remembered. How long had he tried to find the spring in that other world?

But spring existed in this one, and in that happy world that was the cultivation of his wish.

This time though, he was going to fulfil her wish.