hey you guys!

I'm sorry this chapter is so short! It's the best stopping place I can think of tho so...

also it's sad. i'm sorry to destroy the mostly happy feels i've been putting in this story, but it is kind of a TRAGEDY...

Please everyone if you could read and review that would be amazing! I want to know what you think of this chapter :)

thanks everyone!

peace out!

Before I know it, the fourth term has absolutely flown by, and it is time for graduation. Finally, it is time to leave the monotony of school and pursue my own path.

I turn eighteen on March twenty-seventh, and Obake does the same on May thirteenth. Tadashi won't be eighteen until September, so we'll probably have to throw him a party outside of school.

When graduation day arrives, I stand in the line of graduating seniors, fingering the golden tassel on my cap. Said cap and my gown are both a deep shade of scarlet, so just for today, I've switched the color of my face paint to red and done my hair so the blue doesn't show.

I look over my shoulder to see Obake, farther back in the line than I am. He waves at me, his face glowing faintly. I'm glad he's not wearing red, or it would clash horribly. No, Obake's cap and gown are black, since he's graduating summa cum laude. I do not have the most spectacular grades, so I have been demoted to red.

Raking my gaze over the chairs in the audience, I spot Tadashi sitting in the tenor section of the choir, wearing a black dress shirt and a scarlet tie. He beams at me, practically bouncing in his seat, and I smile back.

Professor Granville begins to read off the names of the graduates as the orchestra plays, and I inch slowly toward the front of the line, wondering if this would go faster if I knocked everyone in front of me unconscious.

Finally, after what feels like a hundred-year wait, Granville calls my name and hands me my diploma. I give her a nod of thanks and go to sit down, watching as Obake draws nearer to the front of the line and eventually receives his diploma, too.

"And now for the speech from our valedictorian," Professor Granville announces. "Please welcome San Fransokyo's brightest young mind, Obake Yashiki."

Surprise flits through me as the audience applauds. I knew his grades were high, but I didn't know Obake was the valedictorian.

"Thank you, Professor," Obake says smoothly as he steps up to the podium. "I am honored to be here today, my friends. SFIT has been an incredible experience for me, and though I sorrow for its ending, I know that it has prepared me for the next step in that grand journey we call life.

"Of course, it has not been much of a pleasure cruise. In my freshman year, I was the victim of a tragic accident, which I of course take full blame for—it was only by the quick thinking of our beloved dean, Professor Granville, that I survived.

"That experience taught me many things. It taught me the consequences of not planning far enough ahead, and it taught me that sometimes, we must rely on others. But, most importantly, it taught me how to rise above my circumstances, how to become so much more than anyone ever thought I could—and that is what I plan to do after I leave SFIT today. I want to do something great with my life.

"Never doubt that you can make a difference. You do not have to shake the earth to change it—you only need to drop a stone into the pool of life, watch the ripples, and your legacy will be eternal.

"Be strong. Do not fear the world, my friends, for it is yours to change. I have faith that all of you will achieve great things—all the forces of darkness cannot stand against a single ray of light, and that light is yours to be. Pierce the darkness. Do not give up on yourselves, nor on your fellowman. And never lose sight of the glorious future that is your destiny."

Obake dips his head, a faint, tentative smile coming over his face. "Thank you."

The crowd erupts into cheers, and Obake sits back down, his face glowing even more brightly. I clap along with the rest of the graduates, almost amused at how poetic Obake is. No one, not even Shakespeare, has ever used such flowery language in a speech.

The choir stands up to sing, and I stiffen as I realize what their chosen piece is.

Measure Me, Sky—Dad's favorite piece. He'd put it on all the time in our house, sing the tenor part just like Tadashi is doing. He loved that song because it spoke of changing the world, which he wanted Shuto and I to do.

And I am going to change the world.

But not in the way Dad wanted.

I sit there, a cold squeezing sensation in my chest, and wonder how right I really am.

—SHUTO—

three years and nine months ago

The first thing I know when I wake up is pain.

My head hurts worse than almost anything I've ever felt in my life, certainly worse than any headache I've ever had. It's not worse than the time I broke my wrist back in second grade, but still—the pain is pretty bad.

I'm lying on what feels like a bed, something soft and tight wrapped around my forehead. My throat feels slightly scratchy, and everything is fuzzy and dim, light barely filtering through my half-closed eyelids.

A soft moan escapes my lips as harsh neon light seems to stab through my pupil, casting a green glow over everything. I can't tell if it's actual light or simply a result of head trauma.

Deciding not to focus on that right now, I close my eyes and struggle to remember what happened. The last thing I remember is watching The Princess Bride on the couch with Momo, and after that…nothing. I think I fell asleep, but that doesn't explain why I'm in this unknown place with a splitting headache. That's not generally what sleeping does to me.

I try as hard as I can to recall the events that happened after the movie, but all my brain can come up with is flashes of silver, a spurt of dark red, and a high-pitched scream. Momo, maybe? She doesn't normally scream—something terrible must have happened.

My head clears slightly, allowing me to cautiously open my eyes, and I see a high, dark ceiling looming above me. Neon green computer screens shine from the far wall, and I let out an inadvertent whimper as my gaze locks on them, pulling the thin, black blanket over my head.

"Ah, you're awake," whispers a soft, silky voice, which I decide is male. "Come out, boy. I'll dim the lights."

I tentatively poke my head out from under the blanket as the harsh glow of the screens dims, and I see a dark figure silhouetted against the fading light. He approaches me, and I can't keep back a small gasp as a flash of purple light illuminates one side of his face, throwing a mop of black hair and vivid, dark gray eyes into sharp relief.

"Do not be afraid, my friend," the figure whispers. "I do not intend to harm you."

"Who are you?" I mumble. "Where am I? Where's Momo? What happened?"

The guy smiles, and as I study him more closely, I realize that he's a young man, a teenager, even. He looks to be only about Momo's age, fourteen or fifteen.

"My name is Obake," the teen says, his face still glowing slightly. "You are in my base, which is located about a mile off the coast of San Fransokyo. Your sister, I believe, is in the hospital—she suffered severe injuries when your home exploded."

"My house?" I whisper. "Is—is that what happened?"

"I'm afraid that a dangerous gang attacked your home," Obake says sympathetically. "They knocked you unconscious, and you have remained so for the past few hours. I am relieved that you have regained consciousness—that indicates that you are not experiencing a severe brain injury, rather a moderate one. Do you remember what happened?"

I shake my head, then wince at the sudden movement. Obake sighs. "Shuto, the worst of your injuries is a slight fracture in the frontal bone of your skull, but it will heal swiftly with proper medical attention. Momakase suffered a severe head injury, as well as complete amputation of her right hand. She is badly injured, and only time will tell if she will survive. However, there is a much worse piece of information I must give to you. Shuto…I regret to inform you that your father was killed."

My head spins again, and I struggle not to pass out. A lump comes to my throat, constricting my breath. "How…how did it happen?"

"The leader of the gangsters killed him," Obake says softly. "I am sorry for your loss, Shuto. I will give you time to mourn, but first I must explain why you are here. I know it is much to process, but it is critical that you understand."

I nod slightly, struggling to keep tears back. My world is falling in and this guy insists on explaining why I'm here? I don't even care about that anymore—I need to know more details about Dad and Momo. But as I open my mouth to speak, Obake beats me to it.

"Shuto, I have…" Obake sighs. "How do I explain this to a ten-year-old? I have an offer for you. I have seen your prowess with the sword, and I believe you could be instrumental in my plan to create a utopia. That is why I rescued you from the gangsters who kidnapped you—you are the most talented young fencer I have ever seen. Once your head has healed properly, I wish for you to begin training under Yama. He is a bot fighter and excellent martial artist, and he is one of my closest associates."

"But I wanna go back to Momo," I whisper, my voice weak and trembling.

"If she survives, Shuto, you may go back to her," Obake tells me. "But I wish to keep you here with me—I promise, I will take good care of you, and you will receive the best training under Yama. Wouldn't you like to help better the world, Shuto? Create a utopia, where there is no crime or sorrow? Where there are no gangsters to tear apart families?"

I stare into Obake's dark eyes as his face glows brighter and brighter, nearly blinding me. I don't understand what's happening—my head is still throbbing, and I'm still dizzy, and I'm trying not to cry, but all I can focus on is that light and those terrifying gray eyes.

"Wouldn't you like that, boy?" Obake says quietly, his voice like ice. "I know you would. No one will condemn you for that, especially not me. This is your chance to take revenge, to right the wrongs done to your family. Tell me you want it, Shuto. Because I know you do."

I swallow hard and whisper, "Yes."

Obake smiles. "I knew you wouldn't say no, Shuto. Congratulations, my boy—you are about to be a part of history."

Two days later, Obake comes into my room, his expression grave. I glance up at him, rather proud of myself for being able to sit up now. My head still hurts, but I can move without wanting to die now.

For the last forty-eight hours, I've been laying in bed, crying, hugging my pillow and asking God why Dad had to die. I'll always miss him, I know that, but I'm feeling a lot better now, less hopeless. I know I'll see Dad again, and that makes things a little easier.

But Obake has much worse news for me today, worse than the news of Dad's death, and I can see it written all over his face. My heart seems to still in my chest, my breath hanging frozen in the air.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"Shuto," Obake says quietly, pulling up a chair next to my bed. "I'm…I'm afraid…your sister…Shuto, Momakase passed away a few hours ago. Her injuries from the explosion were simply too severe for her to survive."

Dad's death may have rocked my world, but Momo's crushes it.

My vision promptly narrows down to a tunnel-like state, and a rushing sound crashes through my ears, sounding like the waves of the ocean. All I can see are Obake's stormy eyes, mirroring the hurricane in my heart.

"No," I mumble, my voice barely audible. "No, she can't be…she's not…"

"I'm so sorry, Shuto," Obake murmurs, putting a hand on my knee. I flinch a little but let him keep it there, knowing that he's only trying to comfort me.

I don't hear Obake's next words. I barely even register him leaving. I can't feel anything—there is no feeling in my soul but ultimate suffering. The only people in this world who loved me are gone, and now I'll have to live with Obake—he's been kind to me, but I can't imagine staying with him.

Still, I have no home to go back to, no family to care for me. I'm gonna have to learn to make it on my own.

But I'm not ready.

And I never will be.

Whether for better or for worse, I don't know, but life goes on.

My skull fracture slowly starts to heal, and the headaches lessen in frequency, as well as intensity, after a few weeks. I'm able to get up out of bed and move around, and I'm eating well. But I haven't been able to exercise in a while, since I've been confined to bed, and Obake has pretty good food. I'm afraid I won't be in shape by the time I start training.

I may be healing, but my memory of that night hasn't returned. Obake says that maybe it never will, and I'm not sure if I'm okay with that. On one hand, I desperately want to know what happened. On the other, I'm not sure I want to remember my dad getting killed by a gangster, or my house exploding, or getting hit over the head with…whatever they hit me over the head with. I'm just glad Obake rescued me from them, even if he is a little bit creepy sometimes. I'd rather be living with him than evil kidnapping gangsters, I guess.

One day, about a month after my arrival, I'm lying in bed, my head throbbing. I still get headaches periodically, and I worry that they'll never really stop.

Annoyed at the persistent pain, I bury my head under my pillow, trying to block out the green light of Obake's computer screens. As I always do when I have a headache, I struggle to recall the events of the night I was kidnapped, but I can't remember them, no matter how hard I try. I can still only recall Momo's desperate scream.

At least I can remember the words, though. Momo's scream wasn't wordless, she was shouting at the gangster who kidnapped me to let me go—she was trying to save me. At least she died honorably.

I feel a pang of guilt shoot through me, wishing I'd been awake to help Momo stop the gangsters. Maybe then she'd still be alive—maybe we'd both be okay.

But that's in the past now, and I don't want to dwell on it. Of course, I don't want to forget Momo and Dad, but I need to start thinking less about the past and more about my future. I don't know what Obake's plan to make San Fransokyo a utopia entails, but it's the least I can do to help the man who saved my life.

It's fine. Everything is going to be fine.

But, I wonder, is the least I can do a good thing?

—MOMAKASE—

Hi!

I haven't seen you in forever! Do you want to come to the park today? I can bring us lunch :)

I stare at the text, cursing the twinge of happiness in my chest. I should not want to see Tadashi. Obake and I are together, for heaven's sake. We have spent the night in my bed several times over the summer, and Tadashi does not need to be anything more than a friend.

Still.

I miss him. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice.

I try to come up with every reason I can to not go meet with Tadashi. Perhaps if I tell him I have to go to work—but no, he knows I don't work over the summer. Or I say I'm feeling nauseous—this is true, but Tadashi would immediately come to my house and prescribe a cure.

What if I just straight-up tell him I have a boyfriend? That would work. That would be the responsible thing to do.

But Tadashi is my friend. Probably my best friend. I can't cold shoulder him for the rest of my life just because I'm dating Obake.

And, I confess, I still harbor some kind of feelings for him. Nowhere near as strong as those I feel for Obake, but the emotions I associate with Tadashi are somehow more tender, more warm, than the ones associated with Obake. Those are brighter, intense, blazing.

I text Obake, wanting to at least get his blessing.

Would you mind if I met up with Tadashi? He's asking if we can have lunch together. I understand if you don't want us to.

His reply is swift. Of course you can! You don't need to ask permission, he's your friend after all. Don't worry about it, Momo :)

Amazed at Obake's selflessness, I send Tadashi a confirmation text, telling him that I will meet him at one p.m. He responds with an entirely unnecessary but rather entertaining string of emojis, and I can't help but smile.

Going downstairs to my car, I pull out of the apartment complex's parking lot and turn onto Main Street, heading for the park where Obake and I kissed under the cherry blossom trees. It seems almost wrong to meet Tadashi there, but I force myself not to think about that.

When I get to the park, I exit my car and scan the grassy fields for Tadashi but don't see him. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him to be late, though, so I'm not too worried.

Then, suddenly, someone barrels into me, yelling "Momo!" and wrapping me in a bear hug. I almost yank out my graphene blade, because I don't recognize the guy, but then he pulls back, and I stare at him in shock.

This kid isn't wearing glasses. His figure isn't soft. His hair isn't a wild mane.

But it's Tadashi.

He's grown at least an inch since I last saw him, and his hair has been neatly trimmed, sweeping ruggedly over his forehead. Tadashi's hazel eyes seem brighter than they ever did with glasses on, and to my great surprise, he appears to have acquired a six-pack.

"Tadashi," I whisper. "You…you look so…"

"Different?" he finishes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah. Sorry, I probably startled you."

He puts a hand gently on my shoulder, leading me toward where a blanket has been spread out on the grass. "I brought donuts! And sandwiches, in case you wanted something healthier, but I know you like the café's donuts."

I sit down on the blanket, selecting a chocolate donut from the box that Tadashi has placed in the center. Tadashi takes a sugar donut, and after he swallows his first bite, I say, "So what have you been doing this summer?"

How did you get so gorgeous?

"Mostly just working at the café," Tadashi says. "We've been really busy, and Hiro's doing everything he can to get out of working. He keeps disappearing at night—I never know where he goes."

"Teenagers do it," I tell him. "I know I did."

"I didn't."

"That's because you're an upstanding, law-abiding citizen."

Tadashi laughs. "I try. Hey, what's your plan now that you've graduated? Are you gonna go into composites?"

"I probably will," I reply. "But I'm going to try and get a job as a chef somewhere so I can pay off my student loans. Hopefully I'll be able to get a job at a tech company, but it will be much harder to secure."

"You'll get one," Tadashi reassures me. "You're the smartest person I know."

"I doubt that," I reply. "You live with a literal genius."

"But you started college at the same age Hiro did," Tadashi reminds me. "And you're street-smart too, which is more than he can say. Seriously, Momo, don't underestimate yourself. I think you're pretty amazing."

"You're just saying that."

"No, really!"

Tadashi's eyes are wide and earnest. "You're smart, you're awesome with a knife, you're beautiful—you can do so many things I could never dream of doing. That's why you're the most incredible person I've ever met."

His unspoken words may as well have been said, because I swear I hear them, even though his lips don't move.

That's why I love you.

Tadashi's feelings for me are heart-wrenching. He loves me beyond anything, I realize—his heart is completely given to me, the girl he can never have.

But the only reason he can't have me is because I love Obake. This is my fault, not his. I am the only thing holding us back.

Suddenly, I want so badly to love Tadashi.

But I can't. I can't do this. I can't do us.

Tadashi's voice pulls me back to earth.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and it sends a pang of guilt through me as I realize his eyes are shimmering with tears. "I know you and Obake are…together. It's just—I really like you, Momo."

"I know you do," I whisper. "But I think it's a little more than that."

Tadashi stares at the blanket, tracing the gingham pattern on it. "You're right. But it's not my place to talk to you about this. I'm really sorry."

His voice is breaking, and for a moment, I almost want to cry.

"I…" I clear my throat. "Tadashi, I won't pretend I don't love you. It's just…you and Obake…I can't make that decision. I think it might be better for everyone that I break things off with both of you. That I don't choose."

"Momo," Tadashi whispers, his eyes sparkling. "You—you can do anything you want to me, but please don't do that to Obake. He deserves someone to love him, and so do you. Maybe it's not my destiny to be with you, but I want you both to be happy."

"That doesn't mean it should come at the cost of your own happiness," I protest. "We will all suffer less if I don't love either of you."

"You can't just stop loving someone," Tadashi tells me. "Once you have it, it's there to stay. I know it, Momo—I see that in you. Please don't give this all up."

"Tadashi," I say, and my voice is firmer than I mean it to be. "Listen. Do you know what I think of love? I have learned that love is pain, war, even. I will only hurt you both if I keep fighting this battle."

"But it's not fair—"

"Life is not fair!" I snap. "None of us should have to live with the burden of love, and yet here we are, destroying ourselves over a matter of the heart. What does it matter in the end?"

Tadashi is crying now, a single tear having escaped from the corner of his eye. "Momo, please, don't do this. You know we both love you."

"Then both of you made a mistake," I hiss.

"Momo—"

I can't turn back now. "And both of you should have known that you could never love a monster."

Standing up, I stalk back to my car, wrench open the door, and get inside, sparing one last glance back at Tadashi before I drive away. His tearstained, beautiful face seems to drive a thorn into my heart, but I tell myself that this is for the best.

What is wrong with me?

Am I really…

My heart is iron. My soul is ice. My face is stone.

Yes.

I am a monster.