The rest of the afternoon passed in an unremarkable fashion. Chitose and Karen relaxed in the TV room, which was just as it sounded: a chamber with a massive seventy-plus-inch TV mounted on the wall and speakers on each side, complete with a couch stretching the length of the far wall and some beanbags scattered about the carpeted floor to sit on or rest their feet, as well as a few stray cables lying around which Karen surmised were for plugging in a laptop or phone. They watched the episode Chitose was so keen to see, from a long-running office drama series Karen had no idea was still going – though she vaguely remembered keeping up with it for a while in hospital – and, when it ended, moved on to a randomly selected movie from a nearby shelf.
Karen recalled thinking from looking at the DVD packaging that it would be something Nao, a closet anime otaku, would enjoy a lot more. However, that old adage about judging books by covers once again applied, and by the end she was as engrossed in it as Chitose was, both of them sitting in riveted silence, chewing on their crisps quietly as the film drew to a close.
"'All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain'," Chitose intoned as the credits rolled, quoting from the film's climax. "Fitting."
"But also, 'maybe, in those last moments, he loved life more than he ever had before'," Karen replied. "I think that's fitting, too."
Chitose nodded knowingly. "I don't disagree. Anyway, I think Chiyo-chan has returned. She should be making dinner right about now."
Sure enough, as soon as she opened the door, the clinking of pots and pans on the stovetop could be heard, accompanied immediately by the aroma of baked cheese and mixed herbs that wafted in. Karen's stomach growled, and Chitose laughed heartily at the sight of her face turning beet red.
"Looks like it is just about done," she said with a cheery wave towards the dining room. "Let's go. Dinner, like time, waits for no one."
With dinner dispatched and their bellies full with food – including the gratin that Karen had requested, a rich, savory amalgam of mushrooms and melted gruyere that made all the gratin she'd ever eaten previously taste bland as cardboard by comparison – they washed it down with a couple of drinks whilst Chiyo packed and rinsed the dishes. Non-alcoholic, naturally, as they weren't of the requisite age to imbibe anything stronger.
"So what was that thing you were gonna show me?" Karen asked as she downed the last of her soda, the curiosity that had steadily built up inside her over the course of her meal finally reaching its tipping point. "It'd better be worth the wait."
"Worth is in the eye of the beholder, I would say," Chitose replied with a half-grin. "But I am certain you won't be disappointed. Did you bring a jacket with you today?"
Karen nodded. "Why?"
"Good. It can get quite chilly outside at this time of night."
"Wait, we're going outside?"
"Just to the roof. We won't be out long." Chitose turned and slung an arm over her chair's backrest. "Did you hear that, Chiyo-chan?"
"Loud and clear, Ojou-sama," came the reply over the din of the kitchen sink faucet. "Don't be too long. I'm sure you remember what happened—"
"All too well. Mainly because you remind me every other time I go on a walk." Chitose rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "Do you see what I must suffer through on a daily basis, Houjou-san? My dear servant always treats me like a child, despite my being two whole years and a half older than her. Sometimes I feel but a poor princess trapped in a modern-day castle."
Karen laughed halfheartedly, but made no further comment.
"I don't want to hear it from the one who worked herself to the point of exhaustion." Chiyo stacked the last remaining plate onto the rack and glared at her mistress. "Maybe if you actually acted your age, Ojou-sama, I'd be able to expend much less energy on making sure all your affairs are in order."
"But I am acting my age. Is not pushing myself until I faint what working adults do in our esteemed society?"
"Those people do it because they must. That's the difference."
"And I must become an idol, Chiyo-chan," Chitose said, her light-hearted tone suddenly dropping into seriousness. "This is not just some frivolous hobby for me. I thought you knew that well enough."
Chiyo sighed and bowed her head. "It's as you say, Ojou-sama. Forgive me for speaking out of turn – I only wish not to see you collapse as you did."
"There's nothing to forgive." Chitose went over to Chiyo and ruffled her hair. Chiyo, though stiffening slightly at the contact, didn't appear too displeased. "You were correct in scolding me. I should take better care of myself."
"As long as you're aware. I'll clean the TV room now, if you will excuse me." Chiyo grabbed a nearby cloth and spray bottle and disappeared around the corner. "Remember to wear your windbreaker," she called as she left.
"Don't worry, I will. Shall we go then, Houjou-san?" Chitose gestured towards the front door and cocked her head. Karen, who had descended into something of a trance watching the two of them interact, shook herself out of it and followed after Chitose, though in the back of her mind she subconsciously continued to mull on what she'd just heard.
As Karen slipped into her boots and pulled her jacket on, she saw Chitose peering at her.
"…What's up?" she asked hesitantly.
"The sky." Before Karen could groan, Chitose added, "So, what did you think?"
"About what?"
"About Chiyo-chan and myself. Do we seem like the quintessential master-and-servant duo to you?"
More surprising than Chitose's question was the fact that she had somehow managed to figure out what Karen was thinking. "Not particularly," she admitted. "But I wasn't really expecting that sort of relationship to begin with, at least going by what Shirayuki-san told me this morning."
"There's plenty about Chiyo-chan and myself that is… unconventional. But that works just fine for us."
No more conversation was exchanged until they reached the rooftop. The moment Chitose opened the door separating the lift lobby and the rest of the roof, the moonlight swiftly pooled in, bathing their legs in its blue and gray glow before creeping up across the rest of their bodies as they stepped outside. Chitose took a moment to bask in the illumination, her golden tresses taking on a turquoise hue, glimmering faintly as the breeze picked them up and carried them aloft. Her pale skin brimmed with an almost ethereal whiteness, and the darkest corners of her irises were set alight in crystalline fire as she stared wistfully into the starry sky.
"You're not actually a vampire, are you?" Karen found herself asking, before realizing with horror what she'd just said and clamping her lips firmly shut. Chitose, initially taken aback by the question, let out a chittering laugh.
"Who knows?" She placed her hands gingerly on the concrete ledge and blissfully took in the wind. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were one. At least I would get to live forever, and I have a steady supply of fresh blood by my side should I ever require it. But enough about that nonsense." She gestured upwards. "Isn't it beautiful, Houjou-san? The moon."
It was, and Karen said so, to Chitose's obvious delight. "Full moons are my favorite," she continued. "Most of the time, it is covered by the shadow of the Earth, or by the clouds, or by some other man-made obstruction. But tonight of all nights, it can finally display itself in its fullest splendor. In the short time it has left before the darkness swallows it up, it can show the world just how brightly it can shine, so that even when it's gone, it won't be forgotten. And since the moon moves relative to its position in the sky, every full moon is unique. This will be the last time we see this full moon here, at this spot, at this moment in time." She exhaled gradually, her eyes never once moving, fixated on the only thing she seemed to see. "There will be others like it. But it won't ever come back."
Karen understood what Chitose was trying to express, though a suitable response evaded her, just as it had done this entire afternoon. She silently cursed her own haplessness in the face of such familiar tragedy. What was she even doing here if she couldn't bring her personal experience to bear? Why bother saying anything if every sentence she spoke only seemed to make things worse?
Chitose glanced over at Karen and, observing the distress clouding her, slowly shook her head.
"Houjou-san, you've been walking on eggshells ever since you came here." Although the words were softly enunciated, Karen could, for the first time, hear the exasperation buttressing them. "You've come here to befriend me, have you not? Why, then, do you carry on maintaining your distance? Why don't you try to come closer?"
"Because… I don't know what to say to you." The emotions, and the words accompanying them, that she had suppressed this entire time abruptly came flooding out, untrammeled and unabating, her mouth tripping over itself as she strained to hold them back. "I don't wanna sound like I'm only here to gloat, like I'm meant to be the one who made it. I really wanna help, but nothing I ever heard when I was ill actually made me feel better, so I don't exactly know what would make you feel better either. I just don't know. I'm sorry." The corner of her eye twinged. "I'm really sorry. I—"
Something pushed itself into her lowered head, and Karen felt a pair of arms wrapping around her back. She smelled the perfume that had lingered ever since she'd set foot into the apartment, now so cloying, so pungent, that it overwhelmed any and all of the desperate thoughts she harbored, the sharp ache piercing her chest receding as the figurative and physical warmth of Chitose's embrace enveloped her.
"Don't be sorry," came the whisper from far away. "Never, ever be sorry. This isn't your cross to bear."
"I… know." Karen sniffled, blinking back her tears. "I know. I just… I don't really know."
"You said you don't know what you should say to me, Houjou-san, but you've been saying it all along. Haven't you realized?"
"…What do you mean?"
"When you talk to me about your favorite food. Your favorite movies and shows. Your favorite songs. And above all, when you ask me what my favorites are as well. That is all I ever wanted people to ask me." The whisper creaked slightly under the weight of its speaker's sorrow. "That is how I always wanted people to treat me. Just like anyone else. So, please, treat me like you would treat Kamiya-san, Shibuya-san, or anyone else at 765 Production. Can you do that for me, Houjou-san?"
"I… can." It had all been so simple, so obvious, yet she'd been so blind to it. Every time she'd been gazed upon with looks of pity, asked if she was feeling well, having to walk everywhere with a helping hand lifting her shoulder up… she'd detested every second of it. How could she then try and subject someone like Chitose to that same sort of artificial sympathy, tiptoeing around her constantly as if she were some kind of sleeping beast, as if making the wrong comment might spring her into wrathful action? Chitose clearly wasn't that kind of person, and Karen now understood that far better than she had ever done. "I'm sorry. I… should've known better."
"As I said, please don't be sorry. Perhaps it's my turn to tell you I know how it feels, to be subject to all manner of relentless, incessant compassion. But as I also said, I am much more than my illness. And so are you… Karen-san. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't… Chitose-san."
They stayed as they were for a fleeting moment, arms around one another, two infinitesimal specks under an endless sky, warm and comfortable in the desolate chill of the uncaring night. All the while, the moon continued to shine forth, its radiance now just that bit less blinding than before.