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Mother paid for the surgery. It was “worth any price”, she said.
You’re not too sure about that. You’re not too sure about anything these days though, so she’s probably right.
Freesias, they said. You remember them congratulating you on how rare the flowers bloodying your lungs were.
“Hard to find”, the doctor said, “easy to remove.”
Mother let you rest for a day afterwards. She didn’t bring up the flowers, or the surgery, or the hospital. She just patted your head and sent you to bed with a “I’m glad Mafuyu’s okay now.”. Pre-surgery, you would’ve doubled over coughing by then, but in that moment you felt nothing; the cavern in your chest rang hollow.
You don’t remember what you did, then. Everything past that felt easy; automatic; mechanical.
Today you’re back at school. The end-of-day bell has just rung.
You’re packing things into your bag to leave, when…
“Asahina!!”
Your underclassman, Otori Emu, bursts through the door. Behind you, you can already hear the whispers of your classmates as she beelines it to your desk.
You’ve always felt strange around Otori, between her unusual mannerisms and sheer terror when interacting with you. Today, that feeling seems to have vanished, even as she approaches you as boldly as this.
You can’t help but notice that she’s not looking at you, rose-coloured head pointed downwards. Maybe you’ll have a normal conversation today…
“I have! A request!” she half-shouts, voice staccato.
Nevermind…
You turn towards her, hands clasped behind your back, “Yes?”
“Asahina,” she says, with all the strength and grace and conviction of a fawn, head still firmly pointed down, “will you get ice cream with me?”
Ah… this again…
A smile forces its way onto your face unwillingly, a hostage, as you mentally flick through your schedule.
Archery from three-fifty until five, tutoring at six… then exam practice…
“I’m sorry Otori, but I’m really busy today… can we do it ano-”
“NO!”
You blink, startled into silence. Otori’s face reddens from the outburst, but her movements seem determined as she steps towards you.
She takes your hand in hers and continues, head down.
“Asahina, you’re always busy, and I… I’ve been asking for so long… surely, you can spare just an hour or two to let me make you smile..!”
Your brow furrows; Mother wouldn’t like this. Mother wouldn’t approve of this. Mother would-
“And I-I’m sorry for being selfish like this, I’ve just been waiting for so long…”
Eh? Why does that… matter again..?
“T-to make you smile, that is! I mean… it’s just that I was thinking ‘well, what would Asahina like..?’”
When you search your heart for an answer now, only emptiness replies. On its face, the dancing marionette of your mind carries a mirthless grin.
Where’s your spine? it taunts, Where’s your love now, Mafuyu?
“And who doesn’t like ice cream? We could do something else if you want, but, either way… if you could come with me for just a bit… your eyes will be like ‘giragira!’ and your heart will go ‘wakuwaku’, and it’ll be ukiuki nikoniko for both of us! So please..?”
You can’t answer. Behind you, the whispering has increased tenfold.
Otori is still standing here, head down, less than a breath away; and while you can’t tell the contents of your heart, you do know that her hand is so very, very warm…
“Alright then. Are you fine with waiting for me a bit? I have archery club until five.”
Her face lights up as she lifts it, a thousand wishing stars.
“A-archery club? Can I watch?”
You chuckle; it sounds jagged.
“Of course. I’d be grateful for your support.”
Hinomori wouldn’t mind, would she?
Otori’s face fills with equal parts terror and elation as she gazes up at you, a shaky smile forming on her still-reddened face.
“W-won… won… wonderhoy!!!☆”
~^~
“So who’s this cute underclassman you brought along, Asahina?”
“Ah… she and I will be going out later… in the meantime, she wanted to watch us, if that’s alright…”
Hinomori is different today; you figure it’s the product of Otori’s unfamiliar presence.
If the younger girl recognised her, she didn’t say as much, too distracted by… the concept of archery, apparently.
On your way in, she kept stopping to admire all the equipment; by the time you left the changing room, her fidgeting hands looked like they’d explode if you didn’t let her at least hold something.
Even as she sits behind the two of you at the far end of the practice room now, you can hear her as clearly as if she were onstage.
“Wow! There’s so much pyu pyu and hyunhyun and the arrows keep going boo~tsu!”
“Hyunhyun, huh?” Hinomori laughs, shooting another arrow, “my my, Otori you seem rather excited.”
Don’t patronise her, you almost want to say before the marionette reminds you of your place.
Where did that even..?
“I can’t help it..!” Otori giggles, “Watching the arrows fly so gracefully… it’s kind of like a performance, isn’t it? I wonder if we could use something like this on the Wonder Stage, too…”
You draw your bow; the string pulls your arm taut. Release, rest. Bullseye. Repeat. You cast a glance over your shoulder, flashing your audience a half-hearted smile.
“Eek..!!”
Shizuku lowers her bow, “Eh? Are you alright, Otori?”
You pay it no heed; it’s your fault she’s like this, after all.
“I-I’m fine Hinomori! It’s just a bit cold, that’s all…”
Draw; pull it taut. Release, rest. Bullseye.
“Ah, well… that’s autumn, isn’t it? Would you like some miso to warm you up?”
In the background, Otori releases an uncertain cheer:
“Hrk..! G-good job, Asahina!”
You nod towards her, then return to your work.
“N-no, I’m fine… honest..!”
Draw; pull it taut. Release, rest. Miss.
“Heh.”
Hinomori doesn’t say much else, eyes focused on the row of targets as she speaks to you.
“Alright then. Let’s end practice early today.”
~^~
You didn’t end up getting anything at the ice cream place. Otori looked like she wanted to buy something for you, but seemed to change her mind at the last minute.
It’s probably better that way; you don't want her spending money on something you probably won’t enjoy, after all.
Now, the two of you stand in Miyamasuzaka, and you listen to her ramble underneath the gradually setting sun. She might as well be addressing the sun and not you, with the way she’s been staring straight ahead this entire time.
“And then Tsukasa went batan onstage and Rui had to help him up- oh, Rui is another friend who performs with us… he and Nene…”
Otori’s a fair bit shorter than you, you realise: when the two of you crossed earlier, you had to hold her hand to let her match your pace. Somehow, the place she touched feels almost alight.
“Otori.” the sound comes out before you can stop it.
She stops mid-sentence, frozen in place by your voice.
“Mm? What is it?”
You pause, somehow not expecting her to have heard you.
“Nothing, you just…” the marionette averts its gaze, “... you seemed so dead-set on hanging out earlier, but now you’re not even looking at me…”
Otori looks up at you, eyes wide. You watch as her face gradually turns deeper shades of red.
“Ah- well- I was so caught up in getting you to come out like this, I completely forgot how scary you can be…”
She seems to catch herself too late, sputtering.
“I mean! N-not that you’re scary or anything! It’s just…”
You push out a snicker, earning a shriek from her. When she speaks again, she sounds completely resigned…
“Hah, forget it…”
A few minutes pass in silence. Checking your phone, you’re just about to wonder if there’s enough time to head back for tutoring, when Otori speaks up again.
“Asahina… are you okay?”
A strange question: you feel fine.
“Mhm… why do you ask?”
Otori pauses, clearly considering something. When she speaks, her eyes are trained on the ground again, and her tone is weighted.
“It’s just that… you’ve been so… shinmiri today… despite my bestest best efforts…”
Huh?
“And… usually, I can get you to smile at least a few times… but today, you haven’t cracked even once…”
Your gaze travels across her quivering legs, her brightly-coloured cardigan, her soft face… the ice cream she’d bought not for herself, but so that you’d-
“It’s like your heart is someplace completely unreachable…”
All this to make you smile…
“Ah. I’m fine, Otori. Just tired.”
Otori’s jaw clenches and unclenches slowly. She seems to half-believe you.
She breathes, deep, then opens her mouth again. Normally, pity would at least bubble up in you by now.
“Asahina… is there someone you want to make smile?”
What a way to change topics…
Your thoughts stop at your mother. Her smile has never quite been “all there”, has it?
Granted, you don’t know what “all there” even means. You’re not all there most of the time either, probably.
But… her smile has always felt a little low, somehow…
You wonder if that’s what Otori sees when she looks at you, too.
You try to imagine what it would be like if her smile reached her eyes, and a chill fills your chest.
Mother… why can’t… why can’t you feel her warmth..?
A thought flashes by, then another. Hospital. Pure, bloodied petals. Smiling nurses. Your relieved mother. Home.
Hospital. Mother. Home.
Home. Mother. Smiling. Petals.
Emptiness.
“Easy to remove”… “I’m glad”…
She- she killed- she killed your- she killed you-
And the penny drops. The marionette crumbles. You heave, lungs painfully empty, and fall forward, gagging.
“A-Asahina! Are you okay?”
Otori is at your side instantly. Her face reads like a deer’s in headlights.
The sight of it reminds you of yourself all those years ago, in the amusement park.
Scared. Stiff. Hopeful.
“I’m fine, Otori, I just… hrk-!”
Bile runs through your fingers as you cover your mouth, all too late; your hand snags an undigested petal on the way out.
Amaryllis, you recognise as you draw your hand away. Your eyes narrow, confused.
Otori’s gaze follows yours; her face falls at the sight.
“Asahina…” she murmurs, a trembling hand reaching to rub your own shaking back, “that’s not what I think it is, i-is it…?”
You shake your head, trying to reassure her. Maybe you can still salvage this.
It doesn’t work.
“You’ve been so… cold today… y-you didn’t go through with it, did you?”
You don’t answer, struggling to hold in another bout of bile. She’d be disappointed by whatever you say anyway.
“If Asahina abandoned her emotions like that…” Otori continues, clearly fighting a sob, “how would you smile? How would you… l-live…?”
You don’t explain to her that smiles aren’t a necessary bodily function. You don’t explain that your smile means nothing in the face of the life you need.
The marionette is laughing now. Otori takes the petal from your gall-soaked hand, delicate as snow, and draws in a shaky breath.
“This petal is… proof you want to smile, isn’t it?”
You don’t explain to her that the person you wish would smile the most did this to you. You don’t explain that that person probably killed her own emotions a long time ago, just as she has with yours.
The two of you sink to the ground, and you watch as Otori’s knees scrape the concrete. Her quivering index finger softly traces an outline along your stomach.
“Your smile, your laugh, even your tears… they all come from here…”
You remember reading about something like that in your studies; something about the stomach as the originator of emotion.
It was all pseudoscience anyway. You wonder if Otori believes that sort of stuff.
They’re gone, Otori. you want to say, as gently as if you were explaining a math problem to her, You don’t need to worry about any of that now.
Instead, you grit your teeth, heaving again. Distantly, you wonder about the difference between the bile in your mouth and the remnants of ice cream in hers.
“But Asahina! Even like this, you’re…”
Otori leans forward, pulling you into a hug. Her embrace feels almost like a shield in the face of the glaring sunset.
“Asahina, to me you’re… the most uttori flower in the world…”
Tears prick your eyes. You sob.
Right here, right into Otori’s shoulder. Right here, right into the concrete. Right into the hospital floor, your room, your SEKAI, the petals, the clarity in your lungs, mother, mother, mother-
Your hands wrap around the marionette’s throat, and pull.