Mako couldn’t calm down easily.
It must be hard to believe that they were saying goodbye forever without even having time for one last conversation.
When she thought about it, Mako was a tender-hearted kid who could shed tears even in front of a new student. Accepting the death of a close friend wasn’t something she could easily handle.
Harumi appeared sad as well, but seeing Mako crying made her feel like she couldn’t fully express her own tears.
Yū knew that Harumi was quite emotional.
Her face was almost always smiling, but she wasn’t entirely devoid of tears. They had once gone to see a sad movie together, and after that, Harumi consciously avoided watching anything melancholic.
…When Mako and Harumi were crying, Yū hadn’t cried alone.
Just like now.
With Mako sobbing in the middle of the road, Harumi and Yū were at a loss what to do. They had no idea how to handle such a situation. If it were just after watching a sad movie, Harumi would’ve likely told a funny story to lighten the mood.
But you couldn’t say something like that to someone mourning the death of a friend, could you?
“Hey, Mako, let’s—”
Harumi’s voice, choked with emotion, trailed off in the middle of her sentence.
Her gaze was fixed on the far end of the road.
Yū, who was standing about a step away from Mako and Harumi, also turned his gaze in the same direction.
At the end of that line of sight was Kagami.
…Logically speaking, it was a situation that could be understood. After all, Kagami was in a position as Koto Ne’s mother. Naturally, she would be the one to convey the news after the child had died.
Moreover, Koko’s whereabouts were unknown at that moment. Whether the homeroom teacher had called her or Kagami had come looking herself, it was entirely possible.
But to Yū, that sight felt very awkward.
During the sports festival, Kagami hadn’t shown up while all the parents were coming. The same applied for other reasons as well. Koto Ne and Koko always had to solve problems themselves whenever something happened at school.
Even if he knew the backstory—
—And only now did Yū recall that the current situation wasn’t particularly good either.
At least Yū was already aware of the situation, but Mako and Harumi were not yet.
The last image those two had of Koto Ne and Kagami was…
Hastily turning his head back, he saw both Harumi and Mako staring intently at Kagami, who was approaching them.
Especially Mako, who had forgotten to even cry.
Her glasses had been a bit askew because she’d been wiping away her tears with her sleeves just a moment earlier.
“…”
Kagami also stopped when she noticed the three present on the street.
Mako and Harumi had almost never met Kagami. But it seemed she recognized their faces.
It was a moment they couldn’t not remember.
For a brief moment, Kagami’s gaze stayed on Yū before moving away.
Kagami seemed as if she hadn’t any interest in the three of them, her expression nonchalant as she started walking again.
“Ex-excuse me!”
When Kagami passed by the three, Mako called out to her urgently.
Kagami halted.
Yū couldn’t help but feel a bit curious. Was Kagami stopping because of Mako, Koto Ne’s friend? Or was she just going to act again?
Seeing Kagami turn around made him think maybe it was the former.
“…”
Kagami didn’t bother to respond with words. Instead, she just stared intently at the three.
“Ah, um.”
Mako stuttered. Her voice was shaky.
Mako slightly bowed her waist towards Kagami.
“I wish your daughter peace…”
“…”
Those words shocked Yū a bit.
Because… Yū hadn’t even thought to utter such words right in front of her.
“…I wish your daughter peace.”
Following suit, Harumi similarly offered her condolences.
“…”
Was Kagami also shocked?
Perhaps, she and Yū were equally unable to accept Koto Ne’s death. Kagami had said she would bring Koto Ne back, and Yū had nonchalantly agreed to that.
She even went as far as to issue a warning.
Yū’s heart raced as it had when he initially saw Mako and Harumi.
Kagami’s eyes darted around. By the way her lips moved, it seemed she was searching for the right words.
The death of a daughter for which not even a funeral had been held. A death so cold that acquaintances hadn’t even gathered, nor exchanged greetings, with no memorial service whatsoever.
How were Mako and Harumi accepting that truth?
It was only now that Yū realized how much he had forgotten in between.
How was Kagami herself dealing with that fact?
“…Such words…”
Kagami began to say something but then fell silent again.
“I think this incident must have deeply saddened you.”
Before she could finish, Mako interjected.
Yū looked at Mako with a slightly stunned expression.
Mako had already lifted her head.
There wasn’t an overt feeling of resentment in her eyes, as she was the kind of kid who was very far from such emotions.
However, even through her glasses, the intensity of her gaze was heavy. As if she desperately needed to know something.
Moreover, breaking the flow of conversation in such a situation meant that Mako was feeling strongly as well.
“But, but I have one question I’d like to ask.”
“…”
Did Kagami interpret the silence as a confirmation?
No, it probably wasn’t that. Mako had always been thoughtful and considerate of others’ feelings.
She was simply holding a grip strong enough to prevent Kagami from escaping.
“Koto Ne, how did she come to leave us?”
Kagami’s mouth slightly opened.
“Why didn’t you call anyone else? What about the funeral?”
Mako stepped a little closer, as if certain that Kagami wouldn’t turn away immediately.
“Mako-chan.”
Seeing her like this, Harumi seemed surprised as well, gently grasping Mako’s arm.
Mako barely paid it much attention. Her two eyes were locked solely on Kagami.
“No matter how much you may have disliked Koto Ne, you didn’t have to go that far. At least you knew she had friends…”
Kagami stood frozen in place.
Tears that had stopped flowing began to trickle down Mako’s face once more. The remnants of the tears she had wiped away only moments ago now dripped down her chin.
“How did… how did that girl have to leave like that? What could we have done to help? I don’t know anything. I brought bread from my grandmother’s house to give her today…”
“…Ah.”
Yū unintentionally let out a sound.
Now that he thought about it, Mako had given Koto Ne a gift after the last vacation. Seeing Koto Ne receive her present with a joyful expression made Mako smile proudly.
“I haven’t been forgiven for then yet.”
The incident back then?
Harumi blinked in surprise. For a brief moment, Yū and Harumi exchanged glances, but neither had anything to work with here.
Had Mako done something to apologize to Koto Ne before?
With her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest, Mako spoke to Kagami in a desperate voice.
“Um… possibly… possibly…”
Without saying anything, Kagami stared at Mako for a moment before slowly opening her mouth.
“…It isn’t that.”
“…”
Harumi and Yū had no idea what had transpired between Mako and Koto Ne. But at least they could tell through the atmosphere what Mako was trying to convey.
“She didn’t commit suicide.”
Mako took a small breath.
Was it relief? No, it didn’t feel like an easily placated emotion. The feelings she was experiencing were so complex that it was hard to put into words. Not just Mako, but Harumi and Yū as well.
“So you can rest easy about that.”
That remark came off as quite mocking.
A completely different tone from the polite language she used with Yū.
Kagami was acting now.
The side of her that appeared to be a not-so-good mother at all, but at least not hostile toward Koto Ne, was gone, replaced with a mother who viewed her child as just that—her child.
“But…”
Kagami struggled to continue. Her furrowed brow spoke volumes, making it seem as if she couldn’t express her thoughts.
This was with respect to Yū, who knew the backstory.
“…So?”
After moving her lips several times silently, Kagami finally managed to utter that one word.
It seemed that was particularly shocking to Mako.
“So what do you mean?”
“Then if it wasn’t suicide…”
After struggling to articulate her thoughts, Kagami gradually regained a more natural speaking tone compared to before.
“What’s the difference?”
“What?”
Kagami’s words made Mako retort.
“No matter if it was due to someone else or not, she still died in the end, right? Why’re you so desperate to find out these details?”
“I—I’m… because I was close to Koto Ne.”
That was probably what Mako had wanted to say.
But Mako wasn’t the kind of person who could maintain her composure in front of a mother who lost her only daughter.
“You’re Koto Ne’s mother, right?”
However, Harumi, who had been listening to the exchange from the side, was not that kind of person.
“Then how can you say something like that? No matter what, she’s your daughter! She… she’s gone now!”
Yū could feel his heart tighten further the more he listened to their conversation.
It felt as though the things he had been avoiding were slowly but surely coming back into focus.
No matter how slight a glimmer of hope remained, Koto Ne was dead, just as Kagami had said. There was nothing he could do to bring her back to school, nothing he could do to feed her something tasty. He could no longer watch her eat it while giggling.
And perhaps, he might never be able to do so again.
“…”
Kagami stared at Harumi as though her words were something extraordinarily fascinating.
After a long pause, Kagami spoke softly.
“Just because I gave birth doesn’t mean they’re my child, you know.”
“Excuse me!”
Harumi shouted.
Mako’s face went pale, as if her soul had been sucked out.
Yū glared at Kagami, but Kagami turned her back on the three of them, as if she didn’t want to see them anymore, walking back toward the school.
The kids who had been lingering in the distance also began to take hesitant steps away. Ah, right. It was still the way home from school. Yū realized he was finally regaining his senses after being lost in this conversation for a while.
“What kind of person is that—Mako!”
As Harumi muttered in disbelief, Mako suddenly sank down.
Yū quickly crouched down beside her, just like Harumi, but thankfully Mako didn’t collapse or anything.
Instead, she was just huddled on the ground, staring blankly down at it.
“…Why exactly…”
The way Mako murmured sounded so unfamiliar.
“Mako, let’s go somewhere we can rest for a bit. It’s cold here.”
Harumi urged, her nose sniffling repeatedly. Seeing the tears welling in her eyes, it was clear that it wasn’t just the cold that was bothering her.
“…Yeah, Mako. Your body is cold.”
Yū supported one of Mako’s arms with his own as he spoke.
That was true. Mako felt cold. Though she was wearing a coat, Yū couldn’t help but think she might still feel that cold inside.
The three began to walk slowly. Harumi picked up Mako’s dropped bag.
As they walked, Yū glanced back.
He saw Kagami’s silhouette fading away.
Was it just his imagination?
That figure looked even more miserable than when they had lost Koto Ne that night.
*
Just because you give birth doesn’t mean you’re a parent.
When the world views parental relationships, there exist various classifications.
Traditionally, blood ties confirm a parent-child relationship. Parents’ words are absolute, and children must heed their commands. It is the duty of parents to support their young ones, and in doing so, children are expected to repay their parents’ kindness.
Those who lean towards traditional values may argue that even if the balance shifts slightly, there will still be people who side with parents. After all, many prioritize what it means to be a child over what it means to be a parent.
Typically, conservative individuals tend to see children from their parents’ perspective.
But if we view this through a modern lens, balance is necessary in that relationship. What parents give, children ought to give back. Conversely, if children show respect, it is natural for parents to respond in kind.
It doesn’t have to be just money or material things. Politeness and love are sufficient. If such sufficiency exists, people will consider that family as an ideal family.
…Koto Ne, Koko, and Kagami existed well outside the framework of such a familial construct.
Just giving birth doesn’t ensure they are your child. If that child—a so-called child—fails to fulfill their duties, then if a parent should sever ties, people around won’t find it too unusual.
However, it was Kagami who had unilaterally cut that relationship.
What would a normal parent do?
If the child born had a healthy body but their mental state was not right, what would they do then?
…At the very least, they wouldn’t have abandoned that child in a room with nothing for more than ten years.
No matter how much the times change, there are unchanging aspects when discussing the relationship of ‘parent and child.’
Very few would question whether a child is ‘worthy of being a child.’ Even if that child were to act disgracefully, if a parent forgives and accepts them, that relationship still remains a parent-child relationship. Ultimately, the elder one is the parent, while the younger one is the child.
But inversely, every single person questions the ‘worthiness of a parent.’
Accepting a newborn who knows nothing, feeding them, caring for them, clothing them—those are the minimal duties of a parent, and a parent must fulfill those obligations.
Kagami failed to do that.
Thus—
At the school gate, Kagami paused for a moment.
She took a deep breath and sighed. The end of that breath trembled slightly.
“I…”
She had felt it several times now.
Which is why she was desperately clinging on this way.
It was strange. Kagami, who had never felt maternal instincts before, felt them just because that daughter had acknowledged her a few times.
Without having that ‘worth’ at all.
Kagami wondered if time might heal things a bit. While recovering a complete mother-daughter relationship seemed impossible, at least somehow retaining a level of familial bounds might be feasible.
The hand that extended first had been Koto Ne’s.
It was Kagami who let the opportunity to hold that hand slip away.
This might even just be a pathetic struggle.
“…”
Having reached the school, Kagami only hoped she wouldn’t run into Yū.
*
After school, Yūka instinctively ascended to the Literature Club, almost like a reflex action.
Normally, she felt a little excited about the trip up there.
That hadn’t always been the case. For Yūka, that club had only been a place she joined due to a chill she once felt.
She had transferred to this nearby school seeking the key to finding her missing sense of self, and so there had been a period of constant tension.
On days she didn’t want to feel that way, she wouldn’t bother to head up there. To Yūka, club activities had felt like a waste of time.
But when had it come to this? When did Yūka begin to regularly climb up these stairs?
And while climbing, why did she feel such joy?
…She wasn’t sure—
“…Oh.”
Yūka’s eyes widened as she climbed the stairs.
Even the dark circles under her eyes were too substantial to hide, and her face looked worn out.
But at least she hadn’t come apart to the point of missing such a moment.
Feeling the shivers on her spine, Yūka rushed up a few steps at once.
“Ah, wait—Yūki!?”
In the midst of her rush, she heard someone call out, but she ignored it and continued to run.
She held a knife in her hands—her fingertips were quivering. Her heart raced uncontrollably. It was fear. Not fear of the Yōkai, but fear associated with a knife that once had a friend’s blood on it.
Until that moment, she’d never felt anything like it despite swinging it several times.
Perhaps if it had just been about the fear of the Yōkai or the act of cutting itself, she wouldn’t have understood either.
Would she correctly strike the target if she used it now?
Rejecting that thought, she dashed.
And.
Bang!
She forcefully opened the literature club door.
“…”
“…”
And then, she found a scene that seemed almost whimsical.
“…Senpai?”
“Y-Yūka.”
Kōru blinked at Yūka’s words.
Izumi, sitting in front of her, also noted the sound.
“…What are you doing right now?”
“Ah, um, that’s…”
Yūka appeared lost on how to process the current situation.
Both Kōru and Izumi had surely visited Koto Ne’s classroom. Yūka had seen Kōru placing bread on Koto Ne’s desk from outside.
Both still had red, swollen eyes. Because they must have cried for quite a while.
“What about right now—”
But between them lay the ‘Kokuri-Sama.’
In other words, a form of ritualistic sacrifice. Normally, it was a ceremony done with little seriousness.
And it was only then Yūka realized.
What it was that was giving her such chills.
What those two had been trying to do for so long.
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