Chapter 13: Light, Shatter to Dust

“Morning,” said Nanaka with a tired smile.

“Good morning,” Kai replied.

They were meeting in the family restaurant—i.e., the usual place—and began their discussion after ordering one fountain drink each. Kai started by carefully explaining the various circumstances (and that was putting it lightly) which Eru had told him about the day before. He talked about Aina and Eru, the feud in the manga society, and the details that surrounded it.

Nanaka remained silent, with her eyes glued to a random spot on the table, as she listened attentively, soaking in his every word. Every now and again, she’d nod, tremble her shoulders, or squeeze her hands, until finally the tale was over. Slowly, she raised her head to quietly look at Kai. After a moment, her gaze drifted up toward the ceiling, and she stared off into the distance.

Nanaka returned her line of sight down to earth before muttering, “Eru, you’re so dumb... I’m so dumb.” As she scolded herself, she also pulled out her smartphone. A few taps on the screen later, she put the phone up to her ear and said, “Aina-chan?” The hardness in her voice was an unusual departure from her naturally soft tone. Then, she gave the other girl directions to the restaurant and hung up.

It took around an hour for Aina to arrive. Kai recognized her shorts from the time he’d visited her house, and she had a light jacket on to go with it. She was wearing her usual backpack. “Kept you waiting, ♪” she hummed. “Sorry I’m a little late. What’s with the sudden invite, Nanaka-chan?”

“It’s about Eru.” Nanaka’s exceedingly curt reply caused Aina’s expression to shift instantly.

“...I guess I can drop the act,” Aina said tightly. “Alright, and...?”

“Yesterday,” Kai said slowly, “Kuroba-san explained what happened... between you two.” Then he went through the same explanation he’d given to Nanaka. It was meant to be a sort of confirmation to see if there was anything wrong with his account, but Aina didn’t so much as raise a brow—he couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all.

After the story, Nanaka took the initiative to ask, “...Is it true?”

“...And if it is?” Aina replied sharply. The two girls’ glares slammed into one another wordlessly, and Kai felt as though he could hear the horrible screeching of glass rubbing upon glass.

Maintaining eye contact, Nanaka took a small breath and began to speak again. “If you—If you,” she repeated with emphasis, “—are the person who hurt my dearest, most important, best friend... I will never forgive you.”

“Why’s that?” Aina retorted. “‘It’s because we’re best friends!’ Is that what you’re saying?”

“It is.”

“I see. You know, for a ‘best friend,’ isn’t it a little late for you to show up?” Aina scoffed. “In fact, how come you just found out? And yet, you call yourself her best friend...”

Kai nearly shot to his feet. The only thing keeping him in his seat was Nanaka, who extended her hand to keep him in place as Aina twirled her hair around her finger to taunt them.

Nanaka took in a deep breath and quietly let it out. “You’re right,” she finally admitted.

“Huh? What’s this?” Aina asked in surprise. “You’re admitting it?”

“I’ve already explained why I joined the fine arts club in middle school to Kai-kun,” Nanaka told her. “Eru was getting better so much faster than me that she was blinding. I was jealous... and frustrated. So, we joined different clubs. I think... me running away back then was a mistake, after all.

“Maybe I can’t call myself her best friend anymore,” Nanaka continued. “Maybe I shouldn’t... but even then...” A single tear welled up from her eye and rolled across her cheek. Yet her blurry eyes were overflowing with more than that sorrow—they were also full of willpower. “I... I don’t want to make any more mistakes!” Nanaka burst out.

Despite being off to the side, Kai was frozen in place as the two girls went back to silently glaring daggers at one another’s throats. After a little while, the corners of Aina’s lips rose into a faint smile. “You know,” she said, “back in middle school, I really hated you, Nanaka-chan.”

“Did we even talk in middle school?” Nanaka asked.

“Of course not. We were in different classes, too. It was just... a one-way grudge,” Aina said thoughtfully. “I was just frustrated that Eru chose to hang around someone who sounded like she hadn’t gotten over herself yet.”

“That’s... fair enough.” Nanaka began to hang her head but looked back up when Aina loudly clapped her hands together.

“Don’t make a face like that... I don’t think you’re that bad anymore. It’s finally my turn,” she said, rising up from her seat. “Come with me for a bit.”

◇

Kai and Nanaka quickly paid their bill and followed Aina out of the diner. She began by walking away from the station, taking a left at a crosswalk, and continuing straight along the sidewalk of a major road. Their path headed toward the Shinano River, which ran straight through Niigata.

Aina never once turned back as she led Nanaka and Kai down the road. At first, the large street was lined with countless buildings, but the scenery began to shift after ten minutes or so. Just before the Shinano River, there was a redeveloped commercial district called “Bandai City.” The main attractions were the department stores, which were full of fashion brands, but there were all manner of services around them: bus terminals, fast food restaurants, and even specialty stores stocking doujin magazines were all present in the area.

Aina headed into a department store and rode the escalator up to the top floor, where she entered a massive bookstore. She searched around the magazine corner for a time, and after finding what she was after, she made her purchase and instantly turned back to the downward escalator.

“We’re going to the next place,” Aina stated, and resumed her gallant stride once they’d exited the department store. Next, she led them up a flight of stairs to access a skywalk that connected to yet another set of buildings. They walked in the direction of the river and again returned to street level, where Aina entered the building across from the stairway’s exit.

It was a movie theater. The three of them climbed a concrete staircase to enter the theater and were greeted by a hallway, which was lined with posters for all the currently airing films. Aina passed by the ticket booth and picked up a flyer for an upcoming release before making her way to the waiting area in the back.

The walls of the waiting area were made of glass, and the nearby Shinano River expanded across their entire field of view. Kai thought the sunlight glimmering across the flowing water was beautiful enough to be a cut straight out of a movie.

No, wait, he thought, as Aina made her way to the glass pane and reached her hand out to the window, staring out into the river. Her silhouette amidst the incoming rays of sun—that’s what’s truly beautiful. So close, and yet so far away.

Kai’s vision naturally gravitated toward her, and he found himself reminded of how Aina had appeared in her own room. The busy chatter of a movie theater in the middle of summer break seemed distant to his ears. Aina was in a stasis, cleanly separated from the rest of the world, and the sight of her this way dominated his mind.

“Kai-kun,” Aina suddenly called out to him, turning around. Her melancholic eyes were fragile enough to break at the slightest touch, and more fleeting than a dimming ray of light. Wrapped in stillness and silence, her right hand extended toward him alongside the words, “Save me.”

Her voice slipped into Kai’s ears and reverberated directly into his heart. He felt something make its way into the depths of his brain, grasping at the most sacred parts of his mind. He took a step toward her outstretched hand, and that very instant—

“Ta-dah! ♪” Aina sang out. And with that vocalization, the quiet bubble of space around them shattered.

“The setting behind that one was, ‘A boy goes home to the countryside for summer break and meets a girl,’” she informed them. “‘Utterly alone, the girl battles against the entire world, but offers up the first and final peek into her heart to the main character. That would prove to be their last moment together...’

“It was pretty convincing, right?” she asked immodestly. There was no trace of Aina’s previous personality that could be seen now. With her hands on her hips and a satisfied look on her face, she exuded enough power to completely blow away any remaining sense of ephemerality. “Hey,” she said cheekily, “I asked you this before, but I’m super-duper cute, aren’t I?”

“Huh?” Kai tried to respond, feeling dumbfounded.

“Don’t bother answering, I already know,” Aina told them airily. “And when it comes to my acting skills, people toted me as a genius back when I was a child star. But, see—” she said, lifting up the movie flyer in her right hand and the fashion mag she had bought in her left.

Kai had done his research on Aina, so he recognized the two faces in her hands: the main star in the center of the movie flyer was Aina’s father, and the woman decorating the front of the magazine was Aina’s mother.

“—None of that was aimed at me: it was for these two, my movie star dad and model mom,” she continued to explain. “I’m either the leftovers or the result of nepotism. No matter what I do, I’m always reminded that it’s because my parents are amazing.

“For example, I went through a lot of auditions as a kid, right? When I got the role, it was because of the Yozakura name; when I didn’t, I was laughed at for having failed despite being the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Yozakura. It was worse than awful. And to be honest, there were people who tried to use me to make connections with my parents, so I couldn’t even say anything in my own defense... It really was the worst.”

Why? Kai wondered, aware that Aina’s tale brought forth an emotion in him that went beyond pity or sympathy. In fact, it felt as though someone was churning up his innards.

“But the part I hated the most... was that I couldn’t believe in myself anymore,” Aina went on. “At some point, you get confused. You ask yourself, ‘Are they looking at me, or are they looking at somebody standing right behind me?’

“...That’s why I quit on them,” Aina said, sporting a brilliantly cheerful smile. “I let go of everything that had to do with being a child star. I got a lot of hate online, with some people claiming that I only got roles because I’d brute-forced my way in with connections, but I didn’t mind all that much. It’d been that way for a long time. What I was surprised by... was the fact that my parents—my old man and woman—let go of me, too. ‘If you’re not going to join us in our world,’ they said, and off to Grandma’s I went... And that was it.”

“Why...” Nanaka spoke, as if to confirm every detail. “Why did that make you want to become a voice actress?” Her question was the exact same one which Kai had asked earlier, back in Aina’s room.

“Gosh, isn’t that obvious?” Aina asked scornfully. “There’s no way I could just let them keep making fun of me! I want to prove I’m the real deal. I won’t put out the Yozakura name, I won’t put out this face that they gave me, and I won’t embellish my voice with anything more than what I have. I... want to live as me, that’s all.”

Oh, I see, Kai finally realized. When she had said, “I quit on them,” it had hurt him. It hurt as if she had been talking about him, and now he finally knew why.

Back at Tsukigase, he’d had no friends. When he succeeded as a planner, it was because Akane had laid it all out for him; it wasn’t because of his skill. When he made the tiniest mistake, he had been mocked for having failed despite Akane’s tutelage. In truth, he’d only managed to keep up thanks to her help, and to err under her instruction certainly was his fault, so he hadn’t been able to say anything in his own defense.

After the incident that led to his resignation from the club, Kai had been relentlessly bashed on the internet. Faceless strangers who knew nothing of his situation had spread baseless rumors, lies, and words of abuse everywhere, and all he’d been able to do was watch. When Kai had looked Aina up online, the better part of the articles he’d found had been written the same way.

However, Kai had people he could trust, and those people left him with words that he’d carried with him to this day. They had told him he wasn’t wrong, and pointed him toward a path that he could firmly plant his feet on. If I didn’t even have that, he wondered now, what would have happened to me?

“H-Hey,” Aina stammered in a panic. This time, it wasn’t an act.

“Kai-kun...” Nanaka was peering at him, but at a loss for words.

“Ah,” said Kai, finally noticing the cold droplet sliding down his cheek.

“Wh-Why are you crying?” Aina questioned.

“...Because you’re not crying, Aina-san.” Maybe, he thought, she has moments that she can’t show anyone where she weeps alone, too. I don’t know if she does or not. She won’t tell me. She won’t tell anyone. I’m sure she’ll pretend to be fine, just as she’s always done, with a tough smile on her face. I can’t imagine she lets her grandmother see her weak side. And while that’s what makes her strong... there’s no way you can always be okay.

Although this was an issue of the past, there was a time when Kai would have been thrown into a fit of nausea at the mere thought of Tsukigase and the incident behind his departure, because he hadn’t been as strong as Aina. Even then, he knew it was wrong to smile and pretend like everything was fine when you were really hurting inside. Still, it wasn’t good to project his feelings onto someone else, and it wasn’t as if Aina had asked him to do so. Nevertheless, he couldn’t face her lonely smile.

“Oh... Oh, geez! You’re throwing me off...!” Aina grabbed the hood of her jacket with both hands and pulled it forward to hide her face as she looked away. “Gosh,” she mumbled. “You’re such an idiot.”

Kai caught a glimpse of her eye peeking out from under the hood for a brief moment, but she quickly turned away again and closed her hands together, once again obscuring her face.

◇

A short while later, Aina opened her hood again and returned to the conversation. Slowly, she said, “The truth is... This wasn’t the main thing I wanted to talk about.”

She reached into her backpack to pull out a clear, plastic folder. In it was a single sheet of cartridge paper with a drawing on it. Upon further inspection, it was clear that there were several thin cracks running across the paper, like a layer of patchwork.

“Could it be?!” Nanaka exclaimed.

“It’s the one you’ve heard about,” Aina said with a nod. “This is Eru’s illustration... The ripped one. Don’t worry, I taped it all back together.”

Kai took the picture out of its clear sleeve so that he and Nanaka could see it more clearly. It was definitely rougher around the edges than her current work, but there was no doubt that this illustration had been made by Kuroba Eru. It was undeniably hers: it depicted a lovely girl, with delicate attention to the details. And all across it were tiny fissures that had no business being there.

“Everything you heard from Eru... is true,” Aina admitted. “She’s such an idiot. All those monkeys wanted to do was say, ‘I’m not bad at drawing’ and play around, but Eru told them the truth by saying, ‘You’re garbage because you don’t draw.’ And of course, the monkeys are stupid, so they threw rocks at her. But even then, it didn’t get her, so I really thought she was—”

“Aina-chan, wait,” Nanaka said, cutting her off and advancing toward her. “Let me get one thing clear. Did you do this?” she asked insistently. “Did you... tear it up like this?”

“Do you... Do you really think I would?!” Aina asked hotly, her hands quivering with emotion, and Kai worried that her fists were squeezed tightly enough to leave marks.

“She was... my catalyst,” Aina told them. “I put my voice to this drawing and... it made me want to be someone else. That was why I wanted to become a voice actress, you know? I could never ruin something this amazing. I was just the first person to find it afterwards.”

“Then...it’s all a misunderstanding,” Kai muttered. “In that case, why didn’t you tell Kuroba-san that—”

“...You think I could say that to her?” Aina demanded incredulously. “Just because I didn’t do it with my own hands doesn’t mean I wasn’t responsible. If I hadn’t gone overboard and caused a scene, none of this would have happened. I was always in that room, watching her spend day after day completing this one illustration. Always... always... ‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything.’ ...I will never be able to tell her that.”

Although Aina had been facing the ground as she spoke, she now took a step back and raised her head to reveal a beaming smile. “And thus concludes this tear-jerking episode of Yozakura Aina theater! ♪” she sang out. “That was everything I can tell you. Nanaka-chan, I’m leaving that drawing to you, okay? I’m sure... she wouldn’t want me to have it, either. Buh-bye,” she said, waving her hand.

As Aina began to walk away, the one to take hold of her waving hand was Nanaka. “Aina-chan,” she questioned, “are you planning on quitting the club?”

“Wha?!” exclaimed Kai, who couldn’t understand why that would be the case.

Aina squinted at Nanaka and replied, “...As the president of your club, do you really think it’s a wise idea to have someone like me hanging around?”

“When I first called you out today... I wasn’t planning on it,” Nanaka admitted. “But that’s what I want to do now.”

“You have the development competition’s deadline coming up, too,” Aina reminded them. “Are you sure you should leave Eru all pouty by letting me stay?”

“But, Aina-chan... You were there for Eru, weren’t you?” Nanaka asked gently.

“...Let go of my hand,” Aina told her, turning away.

“No way,” Nanaka replied firmly, pulling Aina’s arm back when she tried again to walk away.

Before his mind could catch up with the series of events that were taking place, Kai had joined Nanaka and grasped at Aina’s hand, as well.

“...There’s something wrong with you people,” said Aina. With her back turned, neither Kai nor Nanaka could see her face. Nevertheless, her voice had an unbecoming waver to it that only caused them to tighten their grip. “...Are you sure?” she asked again. “Can I really stay?”

“That’s what we’ve been telling you,” Nanaka said in confirmation. “Right, Kai-kun?”

“Right,” he agreed.

“...It’ll definitely end up being a huge pain,” Aina reminded them.

“When that time comes,” Kai reassured her, “we’ll be there to worry about it with you.”

“...Then, if I’m ever in trouble... will you come help me?” Aina wondered.

“So long as you rely on us, Aina-san.”

“...No matter what it is?”

“Of course,” Kai insisted.

“...Now you’ve said it,” she said brightly.

Huh? By the time Kai’s brain had registered his confusion, it was already too late.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that!” Aina declared triumphantly, spinning around to face them with all the agility of a twirling figure skater. She wore a mischievous grin across her face, and Kai could hear the unspoken Gotcha! overwriting any trace of the meekness she’d had before. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but think that this attitude was far more fitting for Aina, and he let out a laugh.

“Hey, what are you laughing for?” Aina demanded to know. “Well, whatever. I mean, you know? At the beginning, right? I was thinking that maybe I should apologize and all... but do you remember her attitude?! Every time she opened her mouth, it was ‘tramp’ this, ‘witch’ that. And at the end of all that, she didn’t want my rotten voice on her drawings?! I’m impressed she could talk so much smack when she doesn’t even know how good I am...!”

Aina stomped her feet on the ground and angrily shook her fists as she recalled Eru’s bad behavior. After a moment spent silently trembling in rage, she suddenly went completely still and looked up toward Kai, sporting the most beautiful, cutest, and... most horrifying smile yet. “There’s no way I’d just let that all slide now, is there? ♪ Kai-kun? I’m going to make her eat her words... and of course, you’ll be helping me, won’t you?”

Aina’s grin bloomed across her face like a beautiful flower, and despite the difficult expression on his face, Kai had no choice but to nod.

◇

“That’s a piece of cake,” said Aya.

The group had begun their discussion promptly, but making Kuroba Eru, of all people, eat her words was no easy feat. If they came up with a subpar plan, all that awaited them was a brusque refutation. Kai could hear it now:

‘Oh dear, are you messing with me?’

‘Oh dear, can you shut up?’

‘Oh dear, what’s this senseless chatter in my ear?’

‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...’

“Let’s start by talking it out with everyone other than Eru,” had been Nanaka’s suggestion. As a result, Aya had been called out from her lazy routine of rolling the gacha under an AC unit to join the rest of the club at the family restaurant. Once she’d heard the story, the first thing out of Aya’s mouth was a bored proclamation that the problem was simple to solve.

“A-Ah-chan,” Nanaka asked, clearly taken aback, “do you have an idea?”

“Basically,” Aya summarized, “we need to make that massive moron squeal, right?”

“That’s right!” Aina cut in excitedly. “You really get me! ♪”

“But,” Kai interjected, “isn’t that the hardest part?”

“What are you talking about, senpai?” Aya asked lazily. “She’s super straightforward when it comes to the quality of a character’s art. If we can get her to froth at the mouth like a beached crab, it’ll be our victory.”

“Hold up,” he protested, “this isn’t about winning or—”

“It’s fine as long as we win,” Aya continued. “Or do you have a problem with completely and thoroughly beating her down?”

“Ah-chan...” Nanaka spoke for everyone present when she quietly pointed out, “You’re really hard on Eru, aren’t you?”

Aya scrunched up her face into an unreserved scowl. With her easy-going nature, she was always smiling—sometimes alongside a hearty laugh, and other times in spite of her exasperation—so this was a rare sight. “Well... how do I put this?” she asked with some consideration. “I’ve said this to Nana-sen before, but I hate people who lie to themselves. The reason Kuroba is such trash is because she knows she’s lying to herself, and does it anyway: everything is ‘Nana-sen this’ or ‘Nana-sen that.’ Kuroba is just someone who loves the crap out of drawing, and everyone can see it.”

“...Ah-chan,” Nanaka muttered, heartbroken.

“Ngh!” Aya croaked like a frog that had been stepped on to make her displeasure known. “I’ll pass on getting wrapped up in all this youth. And with Kuroba?! That sends a chill down my spine!”

“Pft,” Aina chuckled. “Are you getting embarrassed?”

“Aye-aye, you must not want me to help with the plan,” Aya mused threateningly. “You know you can’t put it into action without me, right?”

“In the first place,” Kai asked, “what is your plan?”

“You still don’t get it?” Aya replied in exasperation. Kai felt that it wasn’t exactly obvious, considering that she hadn’t even given a hint yet. “We just need to get her mouth foaming,” Aya said again. “And there’s only one thing that’ll make that idiot blow bubbles.”

In a moment of epiphany, Kai muttered, “...Her own artwork.”

Aya didn’t nod, but her lips twisted into a smug grin. “We’ve got the perfect starting point right here,” she said, knocking on the sheet of paper lying on the table. “Plus, we’ve got Nana-sen and Aye-aye, and you’ve even got me. I’m a teensy bit good at programming, you know? You know what they say: ‘I can develop a little!’”

Kai found himself cornered by an almost hateful level of Aya’s smugness. He didn’t quite know what she was planning, but there was nothing more reliable than a serious Aya. “...Am I supposed to reply, ‘I completely understand,’ here?” he wanted to know.

Kai ignored Aya as she burst out into laughter so that he could explain what had just happened to Nanaka and Aina, who had turned to each other when they could no longer keep up. Essentially, there was a Japanese programming in-joke stemming from the fact that the creator of a world-famous operating system had once worn a shirt that said he could ‘develop a little.’ As a result, Kai’s line about ‘completely understanding’ had been a second joke, based around the idea that he knew nothing about programming. After his explanation, the group had to wait for Aya’s laughter to die down before they could hear out the details of her plan.