THERE was no time to rest. The moment I stepped through our front door, it was off to strategizing the next steps. Our team’s loss had been an unexpected development, but not the world-ending blunder I’d thought it was. Finally, I’d become a villainess worthy of my classmates’ ire. That was the hardest part done. Convincing Miyu to undergo surgery would be a simpler task by comparison.
So, I pulled up all the information I could on Miyu. But as I read through her profile, I screamed. Right on a video call with Shizuki.
“All right. What have you done now?” she said.
“Why did you just assume I screwed up somehow?”
“Because have you?”
“I…um. Remember when I went to pick up Shizuku’s belongings at her old hospital the other day?”
“Ah. You ran into Miyu there, didn’t you? See? You did screw up. So? You managed to make a new friend?”
“I…guess you could say that.”
Listen to me trying to play it off like she hadn’t seen right through me… I puffed my cheeks out in a sheepish pout, prompting a light, airy laugh from her. “You won’t be satisfied until you’ve raised every single flag there is, will you?”
“Listen, it really wasn’t my fault this time. I was careful. I asked for her name! Twice, in fact! I was one hundred percent sure she said her name was Miu, not Miyu!”
The names were similar, sure, but I was certain I hadn’t misheard. There was only one plausible explanation for this, and it was that Miyu had given me a fake name for some godforsaken reason.
“Is that right?” Shizuki said unbelievingly. “Well, I guess it could happen. Kids are quite clever these days. Though it does seem awfully out of character for her…”
Shizuki could believe me or not, but the fact remained that Miyu had duped me with a false name. This wasn’t another case of me stumbling headfirst into a trap like I’d done all the other times. “I don’t know,” I mused aloud, half to myself. “Maybe someone planted the idea in her head, like Nono…ka…?”
Wait a minute.
Did I not just recently suggest to Nonoka the wisdom of not giving away her name too freely to strangers? Surely she didn’t pass that advice to Miyu, which then spiraled back to thwart me, right?
“Mio? Do you have an idea how this happened?”
“No. Um, no, not really. I was just thinking…this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Now I can just talk to Miyu directly, and convince her to get the operation.”
“Yes, it might just come to that.” She took a deep breath, then explained that Miyu had just turned down the operation again. Apparently, she’d been there to spectate on Sports Day and witnessed our loss firsthand.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll talk to her,” I proclaimed.
“It’s good that you’re confident, but what’s your plan?” Shizuki asked.
“I’m working on that as we speak.”
Shizuki’s expression turned exasperated. Then she shrugged. “All right. I suppose if there’s one thing I can trust you with, it’s this, but…” She looked at me. “Mio. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Um, yeah? Why, what’s this all of a sudden?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.
“At least recognize that you have a tendency to make people worry about you,” she chided, pointing a finger toward her webcam, toward me. “Mio, it’s not mutually exclusive. Just because you made the right choice and used your team’s loss to cultivate enmity toward you doesn’t mean it can’t also hurt you.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Do you? Then why do you insist on pretending like it doesn’t bother you?”
“Because I…” Have no choice in the matter. It hurt being looked at like that by Nonoka, by everybody, but that was what I wanted: to garner everyone’s hatred so I could save Shizuku. The negativity was mine to sort through, it was part of the job. How greedy would I be if I wanted to pursue my goal without bearing any of the consequences?
“Mio.” Shizuki’s voice softened. “You can blame me, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re in this situation because of me. Every difficult choice you face, every moment you’re pushed to the brink—it’s because of me. That gives you the unique right to blame me for everything that’s happened to you. You should exercise it, instead of shouldering everything yourself.”
“What? No… No!” My emotions surged forth and I couldn’t contain my voice.
“Just like that. Let it all out on me.”
“That’s not what I meant! I have never once thought to blame you for any of this, so stop it with that!”
Shizuki looked at me, her eyes widening at my outburst. “But if I hadn’t given you this thankless task, you wouldn’t have had to—”
“What you gave me is hope, Shizuki. You showed me a path forward, and I decided to walk it. I’m supposed to resent you for a life that I embraced willingly? Give me a break.”
The words just kind of spilled out before I could catch them. I paused, taking a deep breath to recompose myself, and managed a small smile. “You know what Shizuku said to me the other day? She said to not worry about her anymore because she was going to die soon.”
“Well, that’s certainly…” she trailed off. Then looked at me to continue.
“But I was able to cheer her up. I was able to pull her back from that brink. You know why? Because a certain someone promised me she’d be first in line to get treated. For the first time in ages, Shizuku felt hope. Hope that you gave her.”
I was sure that if I hadn’t been able to make that promise to her that day, Shizuku would’ve broken completely. And I, watching my dearest sister force a smile onto her face as she gave up on life, would have broken right along with her.
“Do you see now?” I asked, my voice somewhat steadying. “How much you mean to me?”
“But you,” she replied flatly. “Sooner or later, you’ll—”
“Yeah, I’m having a rough time, I admit it. I hate being so mean toward Nonoka, I hate the stares that follow me around like I’m walking human garbage. It sucks, I hate every single second of it, but…” I stared at my webcam—at Shizuki on the other end—imbuing my gaze with all the determination I could muster. “I don’t regret it. Not one bit. You gave me hope, Shizuki. And I would never, ever fault you for that.”
Sure, assigning blame, unloading my troubles onto someone might make me feel better. Even so, I wouldn’t let Shizuki be that person, not when all I owed her was my deepest gratitude.
Shizuki blinked at me, and then her expression softened. “All right, hopeless idealist, you’ve made your point. I take my words back. And apologize.”
“Thanks. And me too. Sorry for getting all high-and-mighty on you.”
“Not at all. You made some very valid points and convinced me I was going about this the wrong way. So instead, I think I’ll give you a little reward for all your hard work.”
I gave a head tilt. “A reward?”
Shizuki responded with a slight, yet definitely mischievous smile.