VI - Choice

Ah, the aftermath.

This was going to be a fun week, no doubt. Especially since he was going to do the "right thing" – Aoi and his aunt had pulled double shifts while he was off practicing for the festival. The schedule for the next couple of days had already been set: besides extra hours, he was stuck making dinner for one of those days. It looked like lesson number four had arrived, and in style.

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Opportunities. New doors were being opened to them, according to Asami; the performance at the town festival had paid off. People were already asking whether they would be performing at the school festival in the fall. There was an invitation to play at Asami's church (declined, for now – due to his work commitments). And an offer to play, both a solo and a duet with Asami, at this year's honors recital (there was no competition this year, due to lack of participants).

Unfortunately, this was where Newton's third law kicked in.

What was wrong with Nanaka, anyway? She had been the biggest hit at the festival, by far. If anything, she should have been basking in her glory – she had been congratulated from all fronts, and some were begging for an encore performance at the school festival. She'd been testy from the start, but practically snapped when someone suggested that Sana and Asami should accompany her once again.

An equal and opposite reaction, indeed.

And things only went downhill afterwards. Nanaka seemed to have substituted "Hmph" in place of "Ohayo". She had mastered the art of looking away. And at lunch, Shuri was the only one who could get any kind of response out of her – and they were one-word answers, at that.

So Nanaka was in one of her "moods" again, according to Aoi – just one of those things that could come and go at any time. Sometimes there was a good reason for them, and sometimes there wasn't. The only common denominator was that talking to her about them invariably made things worse, and they always went away on their own. The best remedy was to treat her normally and follow the usual routines – and to let her make the first move. That was the way she worked; she wanted to be the one in control, and to be the one to solve her own problems. And eventually, she would find a way.

Of course, this was easier said than done.

The mid-week student representatives meeting, for example. She did not say a word to any of the other representatives, and looked off to the side or into her mirror during the meeting. Any words directed to her were promptly ignored. And after the meeting, Sana tried to get Nanaka to say something – anything – but when Asami came in the room to fetch him, Nanaka had marched off in the other direction.

"Any idea what's wrong with Nanaka?" Sana finally asked, during a break in their rehearsal.

Asami lowered her head. "No, nothing's wrong. She's always been like that."

Ah, there had been similar words from Aoi. Maybe there was more to this.

"Is there a way to make things better?"

"That's what we've been doing, Hidaka-san. Ever since the time she came with us to the retirement home. She's one of us now, and we've done everything together. And that was after she sent you to the hospital."

Now this was a side of Asami that he had never seen before – and it made him shiver.

"So, does that mean we should stop?"

One look from Asami, and Sana realized that had been the wrong thing to say – and he looked down. Failing to find a hole in the ground to crawl into, Sana did the next best thing, and moved onto the next piece. The rest of the rehearsal was completed in uneasy silence.

"Um, Hoshino-san – "

"Yes?"

From the tone of her voice, it looked like he was safe.

"Would it be OK if we invited Nanaka to visit the retirement home?"

"It would be nice," Asami answered, though Sana couldn't tell how truthful her response was. "But I think Shuri-san should be the one to ask. At least we know that Yatsushiro-san will listen to her."

Sana hated to think this way, but just for a moment – that really sounded like something his mother would say.

* * *

As it turned out, Nanaka was busy with work on Saturday, but she would be available on the following Saturday. And perhaps that was for the better, since Sana couldn't make it until then, thanks to the dictator's revised schedule. So the invitation would be postponed until the entire gang could make it. There were even talks about going out to dinner and/or to the karaoke center afterwards, though that idea was eventually shot down.

In the meantime, time had indeed proven to be the best remedy. Nanaka had relearned the word "Ohayo", although that didn't stop her from walking right past him. She was now able to speak in complete sentences, although she was still limited to one-sentence answers for the most part. And at the very least, she was on good terms with Shuri again – and they were now chatting it up as if nothing had happened.

And so, it was her cool, confident self that arrived at the bus stop on that fateful Saturday, and was greeted in earnest – at least by the twins. The remaining two were still a little behind the curve.

But from the start, this was going to be different from their first trip to the retirement home. The bus ride, for example. Nanaka plopped down on the seat next to him and started talking about all kinds of things. Her favorite manga and TV shows. Latest celebrity gossip. School. Work at the shrine. And when she finally ran out of topics to talk about, she asked him whether he had a couple of hours to hang out – just like old times.

Of course, the offer was declined.

Things got no better once they arrived at the retirement home. Nanaka's presence was like a shadow that he just couldn't shake off. And Asami wasn't having much luck, either – as she had trouble getting anything done, with Nanaka jumping into the fray at every opportunity. Asami was clearly straining to maintain her composure – her mask came close to breaking on at least a couple of occasions.

It all culminated with the visit to Grandma Kaji. She wanted to hear another duet from Sana and Asami, and they complied by playing Beethoven's Spring Sonata – the piece Asami was working on for her competition – but that, also, would be thwarted as Nanaka stomped into the room and immediately struck up a conversation with Grandma Kaji. Sana and Asami held on for a few more bars before giving up.

So it looked like this trip hadn't worked out, either. At least the twins didn't blame him for the mess this time around – and Shuri seemed rather sad for her best friend. Asami was a steadying force, consoling him with gentle words: a reminder to hang in there, and continue to do his best – and wait for the situation to turn around. Alas, that was about when Nanaka broke into sobs, and Shuri left her brother's side to be with Nanaka.

Soon, the trip came to a merciful end.

And thank goodness. He had enough to worry about; there was a pile of schoolwork waiting for him at home, and the dictator's orders were to finish them tonight. And that could only mean one thing: Sunday promised to be a real adventure.

* * *

Hmm, that was early.

As far as he could tell, his mother had never jumped the gun. Every one of her phone calls had arrived between 9:00 and 9:05, without fail.

Then again, there was a first time for everything. So Sana picked up the phone, even if it was 15 minutes early.

"Sana-chan?"

That didn't sound like his mother. And he couldn't believe he was thinking this way, but he would rather be talking to her right about now.

"Shuri-chan?"

"Sorry for calling so late. But this is an emergency. Do you remember what happened to Nanaka today?"

Or what she did, Sana corrected Shuri in his mind.

"She's at my house right now. She's really upset. And I think she wants to talk to you."

"Are you sure?" Let's just say – his track record with Nanaka wasn't too great.

"Please, Sana-chan. Anything would help."

A sigh, and the phone was soon transferred to the intended target.

"Sana."

"Yatsushiro-san."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Could you tell me tomorrow? It's getting late – "

"I'll make this quick."

She better, because the clock was inching closer to 9:00PM. He hadn't missed a phone call from his mother yet, and he had no intention of starting a new trend.

"Sana, I need to talk to you. Tomorrow. Meet me at the grass hills, by the old mailbox. It'll take less than an hour."

Now that was just impossible. Did she have any idea what his life was like? This Sunday was going to be one of the busiest days on record: he was going to be put to work from early morning to late evening, non-stop. And in preparation for this wonderful day, he was going to be spending half the night finishing up his schoolwork. He'd be lucky if he was given time to eat, let alone go off somewhere for an hour.

"Then I'll talk to your aunt. I can't put this off until later, Sana. Please make the time. If you can't, I'll try to make the time for you."

She was being rather insistent.

"You can be honest with me. You're not coming because you don't want to. So let's make a deal: if you come tomorrow, I promise I won't bother you again. And if you want me to, I'll try to stay out of your life. Just this once, Sana."

Now this presented a real dilemma. On one hand, maybe he owed her at least that much – if this was to be the end of their friendship, then she deserved some closure. On the other hand – well, he really had a bad feeling about this. This was Nanaka, after all, and one trip to the hospital was bad enough, thank you.

In the end, Sana couldn't give her a firm answer, and Nanaka hung up abruptly. And about time; it was just before 9:00.

* * *

Use your best judgment, Sana.

That had been his mother's surprising advice during their phone conversation. It may have given him more freedom, but that only made things more difficult. A part of him was hoping that his mother would exercise her veto power, as he had little desire to override it.

You have enough information to make the right decision. At some point, you will have to make important decisions on your own. And the only way to learn is to keep trying.

And keep messing up. Wasn't that the reason he was stuck in Sakuranomori in the first place? But he knew his mother was right. Again. And so, a plan was starting to form in his mind. He would first talk to his aunt – and perhaps Aoi.

The perfect opportunity came during breakfast. His aunt had prepared quite a nice spread for everyone; and the meal was a leisurely one – even if the mood was a bit somber. And everyone knew the reason why.

Nanaka had called his aunt the night before. Not surprisingly, Nanaka had been rather demanding – no, it couldn't wait until Monday; it had to be Sunday. Yes, this Sunday. Tomorrow. No, she couldn't say what this was about – this was strictly a private matter between her and Sana. Yes, this was extremely important, and just couldn't wait. Yes, she understood that Sana was busy, but couldn't he just come out for one hour? This was really, really important.

In the end his aunt had given in, which was an accomplishment in itself. So Sana would be allowed to visit Nanaka for an hour – if he wanted to.

"Should I go?" Sana finally asked.

"…."

"I'm really worried about Nanaka. She is a friend and all, so maybe…"

"Yes, you are her friend," his aunt agreed. "Are you her caretaker?"

"No."

"Are you a member of her family?"

"No."

"Are you her best friend?"

"No."

"I hope you remember that, Sana."

"Yes, but I wish I could do something…"

"You're not the only one. And there are people that are in position to do more. You should understand what you can and can't do."

"Aoi?" Sana asked. He could really use a second opinion right about now.

"Nanaka – " she hesitated – "is unpredictable. You didn't see what she was like two years ago, when she started coming to school again. And I hope you won't. But – "

"Yes?"

"You have to be careful. You haven't seen what can happen; sometimes she has these attacks – "

She stopped. Why did she have to stop? It seemed like she was about to say something important – something he should know about. But try as he might, Sana couldn't get her to continue.

Maybe he'd have better luck with the aunt.

"Did my mom say anything about this?"

"We talked about it last night. She doesn't know a whole lot about Nanaka, so there was only so much she could say. But when I told her about Nanaka's call, she found it – amusing. I think she sensed something. And I did, too. You need to make up your mind, Sana."

"And – if I decide to go?"

"Just make it quick. The longer you stay, the worse it will go for you. Remember, you have a lot of work to do."

* * *

He would go.

He had heard the warnings. Heck, he wasn't exactly gung-ho about this, either. But in the end – he had to know. He had to find out. Just what was it that Nanaka wanted from him? And why did it have to be him, when she was clearly on better terms with the twins?

The location provided a clue.

Grass hills. Just a place that he used to walk by all the time – not much there, really. It was way too open an area to play hide-and-seek; it was a good place to catch insects in the spring, but it also had its share of mosquitoes and fire ants. The only real significance was the abandoned mailbox; a regular meeting spot for the group of friends –

She was there.

Wearing a straw hat, with ribbons that were tossed around by the wind. Her familiar long hair, which waved to and fro, almost as if it was moving in unison. A one-piece, yellow sleeveless sundress that hung loosely from her shoulders…

Yet her eyes were looking down, even as he approached.

"Sana," she finally said.

He bowed slightly. "Yatsushiro-san."

"Do you want to know why I called you out here?"

He nodded.

"I've been thinking. Nothing's like it used to be. Isn't it funny? We used to run around and do all kinds of things around here – and look at us now."

It was hard to disagree with that.

"I know, I'm probably being a bother. You didn't want to come here. And you have a lot of work to do. I understand, because I have to work a lot, too. But I made the time – because I really wanted to see you."

As Aoi said, unpredictable.

"I know what you're thinking. 'Just what happened to that sweet, innocent, little girl? I was really looking forward to seeing her again. But then… she changed. She's not the person I used to know. Where did she go, and how can I find her again? The gentle and kind girl that played the violin? Maybe she'll come to me once again, if I start looking in the right places…'"

Nanaka looked up – and stared at him in the eye. "I saw you… hugging Hoshino-san."

"You saw that? Look, it's a misunderstanding. We're not going out."

"It's not about that," Nanaka said firmly. "And not just that. How about all the times you talked to her at lunch? The times she came to pick you up after the meetings? All that time you spent with her at the rehearsal? And I even heard that you volunteered at her church's booth during the festival."

"Look, I don't think she's interested in me anyway – "

"You're missing the point. I've been waiting for you, Sana. Hoping, that just one time, that you'd come to see me at the shrine. There were so many things I wanted to show you, and stories I wanted to tell. And some days, that hope was the only thing that kept me going. How did things change so much? Didn't you use to come over to my house all the time? I think you even stayed over for dinner a few times."

"That was when we were practicing for the recital – "

"And now you've found a replacement. It was the violin, wasn't it? I don't play it anymore, so you had to go and find someone who did."

"Why don't you play the violin anymore?"

She stiffened – and gave him a piercing glare. "Do you think I wanted to stop? You have no idea what happened. I wanted to play. I demanded them to give me back my violin. But they wouldn't give it to me. Finally, I found out where they were keeping it. So I took it back. And I started to play. But – there was something wrong with it. The strings would break so easily. The bow wouldn't make any sound. And the instrument – broke into pieces. They ruined my instrument, Sana."

"Na – Nanaka?"

"Those people ruined everything. And all they told me were lies. They said that it had been an accident. An accident? I heard the shots; how could it be an accident? How about the tank of gasoline? Was that an accident, too? And they locked me in my room, and I had to jump out the window to save myself. That must have been yet another accident. Just how many accidents were there? Did they actually expect to believe all that? How stupid do they think I am?"

"Nanaka, I didn't know – "

She bent down and produced a key. "Do you remember this mailbox? I remember you told me a story a while back: 'If you need help, or want to make a wish – write a letter and drop it in the mailbox. It will be our secret – don't tell anyone. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find what you're looking for…'"

She unlocked the mailbox with some difficulty, but it wouldn't open – it was jammed for some reason. Try as she might, she could not pry it loose – so she gave it a swift kick. The mailbox bent, but did not open, so she responded with a much more powerful kick – and the box burst open. Letters. Letters. And more letters. There must have been several dozen. As for the contents – Sana didn't even want to look, as he winced and looked away.

A distinct ripping sound could be heard as Nanaka started opening the letters. "I asked for help, but it wouldn't come. I wished for you to be here, but you never came! It didn't matter how many times I wrote you. Where were you, Sana? Why weren't you here, when I needed you? Why were you off in some faraway place? Why didn't you call or write me, even one time? Didn't it mean something to you? Didn't you remember the promise? To be there for each other at all times? To become one, in body and soul?"

"I don't remember saying anything like that – "

"It's not what you said, it's what you did. What we did. It was the day before you left, in the cave – "

Sana looked down at his hands.

"Look, if you're talking about that incident – "

SLAP –

"Incident? All you can do is call it an incident? You have no idea what it did to me. Half the time, it would give me nightmares, and I wanted to strangle you for what you did to me. The other half, I wanted to you to come to me and do it to me again… and I would ask you to keep going, and not stop… I didn't know what was happening. I was so confused; it was like being split in two…"

"But… but… Shuu said it would be OK…"

That earned him another slap. "I don't care what you did with Shuu! This is about you. You should've known better. Why did you do it, Sana? Why did this happen? And what happened to me? Please, Sana, give me an answer…"

She broke down in sobs.

"Tell me something, anything. Am I not good enough? Am I ruined? Dirty? No matter how much I wash it, it won't come off. It just won't come off! Why is that? Why do I still feel it now? Why do I want it so much? But why does it make me feel so scared and ashamed? I don't know, Sana, I don't know…"

Nanaka buried her face into Sana's chest.

"Please promise me, Sana. Help me. I need you, Sana. You're the only one who can help me. Please, say something…"

Sana tried, but the words died in his throat. Why? How? Why was it so difficult? The tears flowed out so easily, yet the words would meet a roadblock. Fear. Confusion. What could he say or do? He couldn't undo what he had done years ago. Acceptance. Realization. There was only one thing he could say, he could do. He only hoped it wasn't too late…

"Nanaka! Nanaka… I'm so sorry. It's my fault. It's my fault! I didn't know. I should have known. It's just – I didn't know. Please forgive me, Nanaka. I'll try to make this right…"

Nanaka held him tight. "You don't need to say anything. As long as we can stay… like this…"

Sana held her close. "Yes, like this… I promise. We'll always be together, Nanaka."

And he continued to hold her until she stopped quivering – then wiped the tears from her eyes. And as he held her tight once again, and started running his fingers through her hair… a warm feeling permeated throughout his body, and quelled his worries, his anxieties, his pain. And as he pulled apart just a little, and stared into her calm face, which had just a hint of a smile… if only for a moment, everything seemed just right.