It was a disaster.
Naoto sat in a car he had rented, his mind racing ceaselessly as he barreled down the highway, away from the future he had begun building for himself.
Why? For what reason?
Naoto couldn't think clearly, he couldn't truly understand what it was he was doing. Yet it felt necessary. He had made plans, plans that were dashed when Nagatoro deemed it unrequired for her to remain for the entirety of his show.
Naoto felt somewhat as if he had gone mad. There was a hint of irrationality to the process in his mind and a not insignificant part of his urged him to call Maki, to allow her to help.
I trust you.
That was such a mistake.
Naoto suddenly realized that he relied so heavily on the prospect of his plan going off without a hitch, that now he had fully lost the reigns. There was nothing within him, no backup, no clue of how he would handle this.
All he knew, was that he needed to talk to her.
Tadano had tried to ask him for more information, for clarity on what was going on with him. Tadano had begged his friend, not to push him away, not to lock him out, yet received silence all the same.
Naoto simply assured he would have returned by the time the next event was upon them, then drove off by himself.
It was reckless. It was selfish. It was just downright stupid.
But it needed to be done.
It was late. Too late. The sun had already vanished behind the horizon, leaving it up to the small lamp in the corner, to illuminate her room. Feeling overwhelmed by the training she had worked through that day, Maki slipped into her pajamas and threw herself onto her bed.
A heavy sigh escaped her as her mind began recounting the days events. There was very little challenge left in this small corner of the world she was occupying. Maki wondered if she should travel, convince her parents to let her go for some time, so she could prove herself to more than just the amateurs that came into their gym, looking to get their name out there.
In all honesty, it felt as if she had reached the limit of what she could achieve living here, in this rather quiet, peaceful town. And outside of her martial prowess, what did she have to offer?
Maki's thought were rudely disrupted by the sound of her phone going off.
With an irritated groan, the woman rolled over, reaching for the phone she had stashed at the end table. She raised an eyebrow, as the number seemed unfamiliar to her.
Regardless, something compelled her to answer.
"Hello?"
It was rather noisy. Many voices seemed to be hurriedly discussing something among themselves.
"Gamo?"
That voice rang a bell, but the redhead couldn't quite put it to a face. "Who's calling?"
"This is Tadano, Naoto's friends."
Oh.
OH.
"What happened?" Maki immediately asked, sitting upright in her bed, her heart beating out of her chest.
There was an awkward pause, as if Tadano was attempting to put together a clean, easily digestible version of whatever he was dealing with.
"Just tell me!" she demanded, panic rising with each passing second.
"Naoto just took off. We don't know why. His hand was bandaged and bleeding. He just stopped mid concert and walked off stage. We don't know what's going on, we're worried."
Maki jumped out of bed, immediately rushing to her closet to pick out anything that would stave off the cold that was most likely waiting or her outside.
"I have an inkling of what he might be thinking," Tadano continued, a clear discomfort in his voice.
"Yeah, me too," Maki confirmed. It was clear as day to her. The way he talked about it last they spoke, it only made sense. "Pretty good idea actually, of where he might be heading to. I'll drive now and let you know."
Maki quickly dropped the phone on the dressed ahead of her, as she put on her jacket and shoes, not in the least bit concerned about waking her family. Having checked that she grabbed all that she needed, the picked the device up again.
"And Tadano?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Naoto parked the car as close to the university grounds as he could and rushed onto the property. It occurred to him, briefly, very briefly, how inappropriate it was for him, someone not in any way associated with the university, to be gunning it for the dormitories in the middle of the night.
But that wouldn't stop him. He was dead set on having this discussion, finishing this fight that had started years ago.
Naoto had to accept that he was close to losing his grip on the whole situation. What he had seen, atop the stage, had begun unravelling everything for him.
Those eyes were not the same.
The ones in his memories, the ones he saw in the mirror of the greenroom, staring back at him. They were not the same as those that wronged him.
Why?
Naoto reached the dorms, having been shown them before in passing by Orihara the last time they had been here. There was a sense of dread, of anticipation for the worst possible outcome, as he stepped through the doors.
What was he doing!?
Naoto's heart was on the verge of giving out on him at this point. He wondered if this was how Hisao felt at all times. The artists tried to remember the room number, that Orihara had given him, but his memories were all a blur, coming to him in waves of incomprehensible rubbish.
As he began slowing, the cheap, buzzing tubes above his head, illuminating the hallway, started driving him nuts. Nothing about this made any sense.
Had he been delusional, to believing that he was able to push past what had happened to him, to push Nagatoro to the wayside, when he was so weak and dependent on her after all?
Naoto ground his teeth against each other, feeling the urge to swallow all the self hatred that began piling up again.
"Naoto?"
The man looked toward the voice calling out to him. Just a little way down the hall, rounding a corner, was Orihara. The woman was in a white shirt and sweatpants, seemingly winding down for the day, as expected for the time of the day. Her expression was screaming in shock over spotting him here, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, far more calmly than he had anticipated.
"Where is Nagatoro?"
The question was measured, yet it didn't strike Orihara as such. She winced, her eyes became unfocused, she clearly and instinctively went into a more defensive stance.
"Come with me," she quickly said, motioning for Naoto to follow her, back around the same corner she had just come from.
Naoto did as he was told, and follow the woman down another path, which ended up leading them deeper into the building, up a small staircase. At the second door past the stairs, she stopped.
Room fifty-five.
Orihara pulled out a small key, swiftly unlocking the door and pushing it open, urging Naoto to follow her inside. The room was rather small. There were two desks, placed flush against either wall, on opposite ends of the place. Doors were leading from the room into, what Naoto could only assume, were individual bedrooms.
Orihara sat down on the desk, right from the entryway, awkwardly spinning in her office type chair.
What struck Naoto immediately was how well Orihara's side of the room was put together, with furniture, posters and all sorts of personal items placed, to indicate that this was her home for the time being.
The other half was empty.
It looked as if a storm had come through, to tear down any sign of another living being having ever been within these four walls. There were signs of wear and tear on the wall, tape and pins, as if the storm had been sloppy in its execution.
"What is this?" Naoto asked, even thought it was clear to him. The question was not needed. Her response, just as much a formality.
"Nagatoro left."
Naoto pursed his lips, feeling the need to lean against the wall for support. Orihara graciously flew out of her seat to his side, just in case she was needed.
This was never part of the plan.
Naoto had this all figured out. This was supposed to be so simple.
He felt like an idiot.
"When?"
"Two days ago. I came home from track and everything was gone."
Naoto looked at her with a forlorn expression. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Naoto, I have things to do! Like- I know, for some messed up reason, you are still worried about her, but I am just- I am sorry."
Orihara turned to walk a few paces away from him. The woman picked up a rubik's cube and started playing with it.
"I- I felt disgusted with her. I only shadowed her because you asked. When I saw she left, I felt- I was relieved. I know we don't know each other well, so it's not really my place to get involved, or tell you what to do. But I was happy she left and I didn't want to tell you."
Naoto raised his brows as he watched her, feeling strangely unmoved by her concern. There was a need to fight in his gut. He needed to talk to Nagatoro and Orihara had robbed him of that opportunity?
Stop.
Naoto pressed his lips together, the painful sensation snapping him back to some resemblance of sensibility.
"I get it," he assured her. "Like, trust me, I get it. That's why I was going to talk to her, I-"
Naoto stopped himself. There was too much to explain. Too few answers he was going to be able to give.
"I needed to talk to her. She was there," he added, rather contemplative. "At our concert tonight."
"Huh!?"
Orihara dropped the cube on the floor, her jaw falling open. "So she booked it from here, then drive by'd your concert, then dipped again?"
"Yeah, that about sums it up."
"She always has to be so extra."
Naoto couldn't really argue that point, not that he felt the need to.
"Sorry," he suddenly spoke up, taking Orihara by surprise.
"For?"
"Barging in like this tonight, being kinda rude about it too. I am sorry."
Orihara shook her head, a weak smile on her lips. "You're fine Naoto. I don't understand this. I don't really like it. But you're a decent guy. I know, you must be feeling all kinds of stuff right now. It's not your fault."
"Thank you," Naoto gratefully said. "I guess I'll get back on the road."
"You sure? It's really late."
"Well, I can't really stay here."
Orihara put her index finger up to her chin, rolling her eyes from side to side, apparently weighing her options.
"Well, her room is unoccupied for now. You could just spend the night here, then head out in the morning, before anyone gets up."
Naoto furrowed his brow. That seemed like such a needless risk. Then again, he was incredibly exhausted, as well as tired. Getting on the road now, driving all the way back to meet up with the others, might lead to a disaster.
"I- I guess," he hesitantly replied. "It's not the worst plan I've worked with tonight."
"Oh thanks," Orihara snarked. "Well, go ahead, lay down. I'll set an alarm, so I can sneak ya out in the morning."
Naoto was too tired to consider the logistics of the situation, or why Orihara was so okay with the idea of him staying over, he simply let the situation play out.
With the adrenaline slowly leaving his system, it became apparent to him just how ridiculous he had been. It was honestly shameful, how he had left his band behind, didn't keep Tadano informed, rushed negligently into an unknown situation and then ended up essentially forcing Orihara to provide him with lodgings for the night.
Naoto walked through the door into the empty bedroom. It was gloomy and eerie. It was hard to imagine someone having slept here only a few days ago.
The room had been fully abandoned.
Naoto couldn't help but feel hesitant. He glanced at the bed, placed in the center of the room and couldn't help but feel a little disconcerted by the sight. This was where she had slept, for the better part of the last few years. This is where her body would rest and her mind would drift into a land of dreams, only accessible to her and no others.
He wasn't sure if he could find peace, sleeping on that mattress.
Regardless, sleep called him, lured him into its grasp.
Naoto didn't even remember how he fell face first into the pillow and immediately passed out.
There was nothing left.
The couch was empty.
Naoto was empty.
Hayase was empty.
Her eyes were not the same.
She stared at him. She cried. She cried so bitterly, so severely, that it threatened to drown them both.
Naoto watched her weep for him, for herself, for them.
A shadow crept in out of sight. It lingered, ever so softly, on the edge of his vision.
Hayase wailed in agony, her face distorting into a mess of colors, morphing into a canvas that reflected her internal struggle.
There was a child, a sad, lonely, left behind girl.
The shadow smiled. It reached out, claws forming out of tendrils, caressing the surface of the girl's cheek, leaving behind a thin trail of blood.
The sharp extension retracted into the shadow, taking the blood with it, consuming it, devouring it.
Moments later, the surface of the shadow began bubbling, like a boiling lake of tar, splattering it's disgusting substance across everything. It swallowed the couch, the room, the lights, the very air they needed to breathe. Once everything else had been taken, had been absorbed by the monstrous shadow ahead of him, it took all of Hayase along with it.
A body began taking shape within the unformed mass, a horrifying grin displaying proudly in the center of it all.
Naoto took a step back as the newly formed creature approached him, its eyes filled with the same freakish, predatory glint he had dreamed of so many times before.
"Hello Senpai~"
"Naoto!"
Naoto woke with a start, leaping from his restless position and instantly slamming his forehead into that of another. Both parties howled in pain, as the stars whirling around his sight began slowly dissipating.
"S-Sorry Orihara!"
"Try again, dumbass," a grumpy, hardheaded voice complained.
Naoto blinked through the pain to notice the hair of red a few steps away from the bed now. "M-Maki!?"
"Who else!?" the woman barked, visibly upset. "What the hell man!?"
"I- Listen, you're the one who scared me awak-"
"Not that!" she growled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "What happened to your hand? Why did you suddenly take off, without explaining anything to anyone? Why do I, so predictably, find you here of all places!?"
Naoto shook his head, feeling some heat rise to his face, trying to do everything in his power not to meet Maki's gaze. "I told you I had stuff to take care of."
"You also told me you wouldn't do anything stupid."
"I did tell you, I could make no promises."
"Don't screw with me Naoto!" she lashed out. "I was so fucking worried about you! When I told Tadano last night that I found you, the dude almost cried from relief. You can't just do this to us!"
"Can we do this maybe after I woke up?"
"No," she countered, adamant about this. "We're talking this through now."
"Fine!"
Naoto swung himself out of bed, glaring at Maki, who in turn was looking righteously pissed off. There was a spark in Naoto's soul, as he wanted to lash out, fight something, someone, free himself. Yet that very spark continued to fizzle out at a blinding pace, the longer he stared at Maki's face and realized that this anger, this fury he was perceiving, were hiding the deep pain and sadness, just boiling beneath the surface.
The woman was breathing irregularly, having put up her defenses for whatever possible, painful words Naoto was about to throw at her, but the way her eye kept twitching and she could barely keep her lip from quivering spoke of her pain.
Naoto took a long, deep breath and shook his head, disappointed him himself, more than anything else.
"I'm sorry."
Maki clenched her jaw, likely trying her best to keep composure. The redhead began tapping her foot on the ground.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice strained.
"I invited Nagatoro to our concert last night."
"Why would y-"
"She showed up."
Maki huffed quickly, her tapping speeding up. "And?"
"I- I can't explain it. It's crazy and weird, and I-"
"Try me Naoto."
"No, I am serious. It's weird."
"Try. Me," she demanded, her brows furrowed.
Naoto looked deep into her eyes, trying to contemplate his next step. What else could he do?
"Fine," he sighed. "I was on stage; I saw her in the crowd and I- I got lost in the past. I was- I was back in that moment, on that day."
"Naoto-"
"Listen," he continued, holding his hand up in to stop her. "I saw it all play out, again. But she was there. I saw Hayase there. It felt so real- It was like-"
"What?" Maki asked, her eyes narrowing. "Like she was really there?"
"No, of course not," Naoto retorted. "That's not possible. It was more like, I noticed something. I saw something. I- I don't know. I needed to ask her something, but she left. She just ran. That's- That's not like her."
"That is so like her Naoto. She ran from Orihara, she ran from her responsibility after taking advantage of you, she ran from me when she thought I was going behind her back in Tokyo, she quite literally almost ran herself to death here, to escape her thoughts and now she is running again. It's all she does!"
"I guess you might be right," Naoto had to concede. It just didn't seem right. "That's all I wanted to do. I needed to talk to her. I needed to reform these thoughts. I needed to reconnect with everyone, I needed to- I need my answers."
"To what?" Maki wondered aloud.
"I don't know!" Naoto cried, his eyes widening. "That's the problem! I just don't know! How could I!? How can I know the question!? There is something that's missing, there is a piece to this all that I don't understand and I don't know why! How can I know what it is, when I don't know it? I-"
Naoto put his head in his hand for a second, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. Maki took a timid step toward him. "N-Naoto..."
"How can I do my best? How can I possibly try to change? How can I do right, when I don't know why!?"
"You're doing the best that you can," Maki tried to assuage his concerns. "You don't need to know everything that goes on in her mind. It'll drive you mad."
"I have to know!"
"Why!?"
"I-" Naoto stared at Maki, his eyes welling over with tears that snuck up on him. "How could I- How can I be your boyfriend if I still dream of that night? How can I do that to you? That's not right. That's not fair to you. That's so-"
Naoto almost lost his balance and fell backward, with how suddenly Maki rushed forward to embrace him, to try and shield him from his pain. Naoto stared blankly at the wall behind her, unsure of what to do with himself. He had been so close.
So close.
Maki put one of her hands on the back of his head and gently stroked his hair. "It's okay Naoto. It's going to be alright. This is- It's fine. One step at a time, okay? You saw her, she derailed you, you lost focus. Th- That's okay. You were doing so well. Remember what you have. Remember how much you and your boys have accomplished. The band's doing so well, you got Yoshi to come to your concert too. That's fantastic. Don't let her take that from you."
Naoto said nothing, simply absorbing what Maki was saying. There was truth to it, but he felt like it was buried below his own mistakes. He had done so much wrong in the last few hours, that it was mind boggling.
"Her eyes Maki," he whispered. "They weren't the same."
"What?"
But Naoto just remained quiet.
Maybe Maki was right.
He couldn't always have the answers he wanted.
Especially when the questions were unknown.
Why?
It was such a simple question, but depending on context, it could be the most complex of them all.
Maybe Naoto would never know why.
But did he really need to?
Why would he need to?