Chapter Text
Eri had a bad feeling she couldn't shake. Not to mention a lingering sense of deja vu.
Ever since she woke up her mind was fuzzy, wrapped in a kind of fog that didn't dissipate once she was more awake, but she was sure something horrible was waiting for her today. Perhaps it's just a sad haze when she'd checked her phone and Shiki hadn't answered her texts.
Was it a fight? It feels almost like one, but Eri doesn't know if she could consider it one in the proper sense. They hadn't argued. She'd meant to assure Shiki, but she'd only hurt her feelings and made it worse.
You're not meant to be a designer.
And it feels lame and insincere to apologize through text. Shiki deserved a proper apology. So her messages were more of a request.
Hey... How are—
Eri frowns, deletes most of it, and ditches the ellipsis.
Hey, are you available to come over?
No, it still feels wrong.
Eri: Hey, can we talk?
There's no immediate response, so Eri tries to go on with her day awaiting an answer, but receives nothing. She spends her time in her makeshift studio among half-finished designs and frayed ribbon, painfully aware of her mother's presence upstairs. Any second now, Eri expects her to come down and tell her something just truly awful.
But that never happens, and she eventually receives messages from Shiki, late into the afternoon. It's a relief for about half a second before she processes it.
Shiki: hey
Shiki: do you mind coming here?
Eri: I don't mind
Eri: I'll be there soon
Shiki: okay
While Eri is antsy on her way over, she takes it as a good sign that Shiki agreed to see her. The strange feeling didn't diminish even if the dread had. Shiki's messages also felt off. Eri wanted to believe it was only because of the tension between them.
She shoots another quick text that she's arrived and receives a strange response in return.
Shiki: you can just come upstairs
If Eri wasn't nervous before, she certainly is now, but she pushes open the door and the house is eerily quiet. She makes her way up the stairs more by memory since her mind was more interested in going into panic mode.
Shiki's bedroom door is ajar, yet Eri hesitates before knocking. “Come in,” she hears Shiki's soft voice, and she pushes open the door.
Shiki's sitting crossed-legged on the bed with Mr. Mew in her lap. Eri studies her expression, trying to determine if she should be more worried or not.
“Dad went to get takeout,” is the first thing Shiki says, voice small, as if that explains the tension currently hanging over them.
“Oh.” Eri murmurs. Her hands feel useless at her side.
They both just exist in shared silence before they speak, saying the other's name at the same time. The bubble of tension bursts at their subsequent laughter.
But it doesn't last long as Eri's stomach knots, looking at her friend's small smile, thinking this might be the last time she sees it. Shiki is going to tell her their partnership is over—their friendship—is over. All because Eri let her stupid thoughts and insecurities get the better of her.
She thought she might have looked down on Shiki, but no, she hadn't.
She had feared being left behind.
“Oh Shiki,” Eri says, a soft suspiration, “I'm so, so sorry.” A lump forms in her throat with her apology, and she can feel tears sting in the corners of her eyes. “When I said you weren't meant to be a designer, I was stupid and I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean to make it seem like you didn't have talent. You are talented. And I'm sure you'd make a wonderful designer as good as you are a seamstress. You have a sharp eye, skilled hands, motivation—”
All the things I don't.
“And you couldn't do it without me,” Shiki murmurs, finishing her sentence.
“I wouldn't,” Eri says, determined, “I'd quit designing if I had to do it without my best friend.”
I've only been lucky. That others like my designs. That I had someone by my side who knew what they were doing. I wouldn't last trying to do this by myself.
She then notices her friend's eyes welling with tears and says in a soft, wobbling voice, “Eri...” And Eri doesn't hesitate to move across from where she'd been standing at the edge of the bed to Shiki's side and pulls her into a hug.
Shiki returns it, still sniffling. “I'm so glad I got to come back and see you,” she says around a hiccup.
“Come back?” Eri questions, smoothing her hand down the back of Shiki's head, “It's only been a day. Where did you go?” She meant it to be half-joking but realizes she may have made a mistake when Shiki pulls back from her embrace. Her damp, dark eyes hold her gaze for a long moment.
“Eri, I died.”
Eri can feel herself become cold and confused. Quite a fair response, given her friend's words. “What?”
Shiki explains to her how, after their falling out, she was in an accident. An accident that killed her. Of a Game she was forced to take part in for a chance to come back to life. It's a little hard to keep up as she's speaking quickly, but Eri doesn't interrupt her.
“Wow. That's...” She takes too long of a pause. “A lot.”
Shiki huffs a humorless laugh and nods with tears still rolling down her cheeks and eyes puffy. Her glasses are in her lap along with Mr. Mew.
They both hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and Shiki rushes to put her glasses back on and resume a sense of normalcy. Shiki's dad then knocks on the door. Eri thinks he's aware of the emotional tension in the room since he greets Eri and tells them they can come down when they're ready.
Things go a little more smoothly. Shiki asks if she wants food, but Eri doesn't have much of an appetite, and judging by how Shiki only picks at her own, she doesn't either. But slowly, the atmosphere turns warm.
“Do you remember that Mr. Mew costume you made? For the school festival?”
Shiki laughs. “Oh yeah. Despite how roughly I put it together, I think it turned out pretty good.”
“Of course it did. Did you ever find out where it disappeared to?”
Shiki taps her finger to her chin but then shakes her head. “No... it just disappeared, I think.”
“Weird. I know I still have the maid outfit.” Probably still with some food stains on it from the pastries. “What about the Mrs. Claus outfit?”
Shiki snorts, and Eri knows she must remember it well. She practically spent all night sewing it, after all.
The laughter and reminiscing soon die down and replaced with a more comfortable but not totally easy silence.
“Do you... do you believe me?” Shiki asks after a moment. She's put her glasses back on and moves Mr. Mew from his spot from her lap and instead nestled on the bed's cushions. As she asks, Eri senses her hesitation and sheepishness and is compelled to chase away.
“Yes, I do,” she answers without hesitation and tries to smile reassuringly.
Is it insane to think about? Yes. But Shiki's demeanor and Eri's strange premonition lead her to believe her friend, even if the events she'd described are difficult to wrap one's head around. That's okay though. She can overcome a little existential dread.
Shiki nods. Eri can tell she's not entirely convinced. “I didn't want to put this on you at all.” It's okay, Eri wants to say, but it doesn't make it past her lips. “But my partner... and the others I met during the Game. I don't know—I don't know if they made it back like I did.” Shiki's blinking very hard again. “I hope so, but I'm so unsure of a lot of things. But if they didn't... I needed you to know. I needed someone to know.”
This time, Eri says nothing, but again moves to Shiki's side. The shadow's under her lashes now hidden behind the heels of her palms as she hides her eyes. Her glasses are sitting on the top of her head and out of the way. Eri puts her arm around her, hoping it comforts her in all the ways she doesn't think just words can express. And when Shiki leans into her touch, she's reassured it does.