Oh
Kotori had always harbored a deep-seated affection for her name, which, when translated, elegantly meant "little bird." It evoked imagery resplendent with the delicate grace of a feather, the serene beauty of a bird gliding through a cerulean sky, and the boundless freedom of wings in flight. Yet, the full measure of pride and love she felt for her name was a realization that blossomed only later in her life’s journey.
Long before Kotori’s path intersected with Umi’s, she had formed an inseparable bond with Honoka. Honoka was a vibrant force of nature, her spirit effervescent, her laughter and energy permeating every crevice of the fields they played in and painting the very sky above with streaks of joy and vitality. In this vast canvas of exuberance, Kotori, the "little bird," found herself naturally drawn to Honoka's radiant expanse. Honoka was the architect of fun, the crafter of joyous moments, and Kotori often mused that within Honoka's infectious energy lay the secret essence of life itself.
Then, as if destiny itself had woven their threads together, Umi stepped into Kotori's world. In stark contrast to Honoka’s fiery brilliance, Umi was like the calm after a storm: poised, composed, and inherently noble. Where Honoka was akin to a resplendent phoenix, Umi embodied the mystique of a dragon – quiet, sophisticated, a guardian who cherished and protected all she loved from a silent vantage. Umi was a testament to strength in stillness, working tirelessly, not for recognition, but out of a deep-seated sense of duty and love. Amidst these dynamic forces, Kotori felt herself to be but a diminutive "little bird," her presence seemingly unremarkable. This image perplexed her when she first met Umi, the elegant, blue-haired enigma who insisted on addressing her as "Minami-san" with a formality that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
Within the triad of their friendship, Honoka was the vibrant spark, while Umi was like a serene shadow, offering a tender smile whenever Honoka's antics lit up the room. It came as no surprise to Kotori that Umi, too, was drawn into the orbit of Honoka's magnetic charm. Kotori's initial efforts to connect with Umi often ended in fleeting glances and stretches of awkward silence, like delicate snowflakes disappearing before they ever truly touched the ground. It took two full years after their first meeting for Kotori to genuinely connect with Umi.
Their friendship found its turning point under the branches of an old, towering tree. Honoka, ever the adventurer, had gleefully convinced them to climb its gnarled boughs. As Umi and Kotori ascended, their hearts pounded a symphony of fear and excitement. Perched high above, Kotori realized that despite the commanding view, she was no bird; her heart plummeted with the realization, trembling as she looked down to the distant earth. In a moment of panicked disarray, gripping Umi for support, Kotori's footing betrayed her, and they both tumbled down, a cascade of limbs and gasps, with Honoka descending swiftly afterward, landing feet first, her face etched with a blend of concern and awe.
Quick to recover, Umi rose, extending a hand to Kotori with the ghost of a smile. They exchanged reassurances with Honoka, their hearts still racing from the fall and the adventure. As they ambled home, Umi paused after they parted ways with Honoka, her gaze serious and deep.
"I know you’re hurt," Umi said with a straightforwardness that belied concern.
Kotori's protest was met with Umi's gentle yet firm determination. She carefully revealed Kotori's swollen ankle beneath the sock. "See," Umi stated, her voice soft yet firm.
"I can walk just fine," Kotori responded, stubborn pride coloring her words, even as Umi bent down, inviting her for a piggyback ride.
"I'm not a child," Kotori asserted, her pride flaring like a small flame in the night.
"Minami-san, we are both children," Umi responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, encouraging Kotori to let go of her pride and accept the offer.
Kotori's pout deepened, her words tinged with playful defiance. "You offer a piggyback, yet you won't even call me by my first name."
Umi's cheeks bloomed with a blush as deep and vivid as cherry blossoms in spring, her usual composure wavering under the weight of Kotori's request.
"G-Get on. It's getting dark," Umi urged, her voice trembling like a leaf in a gentle breeze.
"Not until you call me Kotori, and I’ll call you Umi-chan," Kotori stipulated, her tone laced with both mirth and firmness.
Umi, now a portrait of embarrassment with ears as red as her cheeks, turned to Kotori as the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue over their moment. Extending her hand in a gesture of both friendship and surrender, she whispered, "Kotori."
In that singular moment, as her name fell from Umi's lips, Kotori felt an indescribable warmth envelop her – a warmth that transcended the setting sun, the pain in her ankle, and the evening chill. It was the enchantment of her name, spoken with such heartfelt hesitation by Umi, that ignited a newfound joy within her.
Silently, Kotori climbed onto Umi's back, her heart light and inexplicably elated, yet unsure of why this simple act filled her with such profound happiness.
Upon reaching Kotori's front door, Umi gently set her down. "Umi-chan," Kotori said, her voice imbued with gratitude and a newfound affection. "Thank you."
Umi bowed in return, a graceful arc of respect and friendship. "See you… Kotori."
In that moment, as her name echoed softly in the cool evening air, Kotori realized just how profoundly she cherished her name – a realization as beautiful and free as the flight of a little bird.
The Sunset
The shrill alarm pierces the morning silence, jolting Kotori awake. She lies there, her eyes reluctantly parting to greet the indifferent ceiling. In a clumsy ballet, her arm flails at the bedside, seeking the snooze button in a sleepy fervor.Rubbing her eyes, Kotori feels a tinge of sadness, a shadow over the remnants of a dream that left her with a fleeting taste of joy. Yet, she can't recall its contours, only the warmth it briefly lent her heart.
Upon conquering the morning's first adversary, the taupe-haired girl rolls over, only to be startled by the sight of Honoka sleeping beside her. The reaction seems absurd, especially considering the lengthy and difficult discussions they've had with their parents, discussions that eventually allowed them to share their own space for a year. Yet, the surprise she feels is as striking as the shrill of the alarm she doesn't recall setting. Her heart skips, not out of joy, but from a strange, unsettling expectation of someone else. It's been three days since her last conversation with Umi, three days since a muddled night blurred lines in a bathroom confessional. Kotori has tried to reach out, to untangle the mess, but Umi's silence is a thick wall she can't breach. Even before her eyes are fully open, she reaches for her phone and sends another message to the blue-haired girl, adding to the growing list of those left unanswered.
Arms encircle her from behind, Honoka's muffled whispers coaxing her back into the warmth of their shared bed. But Kotori's mind is already adrift, caught in the undercurrents of the day ahead: finalizing wedding preparations with their friends. Oddly, the thought doesn't kindle excitement but stirs a restlessness within her. Umi…Umi will be there right?
Shaking her head as if to dispel the unease, Kotori tries to reassure herself. Wedding jitters, she thinks, a common malady afflicting brides-to-be.
As dawn's light struggles to filter through the tightly closed curtains, a playful hand ventures beneath the soft fabric of Kotori's pajamas, only to be halted by her swift, gentle interception. She turns to meet Honoka's impish grin, a flicker of guilt shadowing her features. Yet, Kotori masks it with a light giggle, leaning in to press a tender kiss upon Honoka's forehead. "How about a lunch date today, before the meeting?" she suggests, her voice a melody of affection.
Honoka stretches languidly, her grin broadening like the morning sun. "Or... we could just linger in bed until then," she proposes with a mischievous glint in her eye, playfully seizing Kotori's arm and drawing her down into the soft embrace of the sheets.
Kotori complies.
The Sunset.
As the light of day dwindles and shadows stretch long across the cobblestone path, Honoka and Kotori walk hand in hand toward Muse Café. Kotori's gaze flits between their entwined fingers and Honoka's silhouette, outlined against the fading day with her fiancee humming "Snow Halation," a melody weaving their past and present into one tapestry.
Kotori's voice, laden with unspoken thoughts, disrupts their harmonious walk. "Can you tell me again why you fell in love with me?"
Honoka meets Kotori's gaze, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of streetlights, lending an ethereal air to the moment. She leans down, brushing her lips against Kotori's forehead. "We’ve known each other for so long. No one else understands me like you do," she murmurs. "I remember you offering me your handmade chocolates, your voice trembling as you confess. Those chocolates are more than sweets; they are your kindness and affection personified. You are, undoubtedly, the sweetest person I've ever known"
Kotori nods, absorbing Honoka's words, yet a lingering question remains. "So, if I hadn't asked you out, would you have never made the first move?" She bites her lips in contemplation. “How do I make you feel?”
Honoka pauses, her thoughts drifting back through their years of companionship. After a moment, she gently shakes her head. "It's hard to say what might have been. But we fit together so seamlessly, like puzzle pieces. You make me feel comfortable, we’re not going to have those butterfly feelings now, at some point, love becomes a choice, and I choose to love you.” She tightens her grip. “We're about to marry, Kotori-chan. Why are you asking these questions now?"
Kotori's eyes, deep with sincerity, answer. "It's important to explore these questions before we commit to a lifetime together." Honoka leans towards Kotori, shoulders now side by side and nods in understanding. “Then tell me, why did you fall in love with me?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but then closes again. Her nose twitches in discomfort. As Honoka waits for her answer, eyes trained on Kotori, twilight fills the air with the scent of impending rain.
"You’re my light," Kotori begins, her voice trembling like a leaf in a gentle storm. "From the moment I met you, you walk with a halo of kindness and courage, unafraid to stand against the tide, inspiring me in ways you never realize."
Kotori's heart swells with a mix of emotions as her eyes land on Umi in the distance, illuminated under a lone streetlight. Umi appears like a solitary actor on a stage, her movements deliberate as she parks her bike and removes her helmet.
"You’re someone who inspires so many, yet remains blissfully unaware of your own luminescence," Kotori continues, her voice a soft murmur. Umi's figure, fumbling with her keys under the watchful eye of the streetlight, was too adorable
Realizing what she was doing but not letting herself get there, she tears her gaze away from Umi, Kotori looks back at Honoka, whose grin is as wide as the chasm between heartbeats. "I've always leaned on you, unsure of a world without your presence," she confesses, her grip tightening as if to anchor herself in the reality of their love. "And I guess I won't have to find out."
Honoka's laughter, light and effervescent, cuts through the tension. "Save your vows for the wedding," she jokes, her words a gentle nudge, before pulling Kotori into a kiss that is deep and profound. Kotori's hand flies to her heart as tears cascade unchecked down her cheeks.
The Sunset
As the sunset paints the sky in hues of fire and gold, the members of Muse gather around the table, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the café's lights. Rin candidly admits Umi's organizational prowess,
"Seriously, it's baffling to think how we ever got by without you and your impressive knack for organization," she chuckles, her laughter clearing the dense air with an honest yet sharp observation. Hanayo gives Rin a gentle nudge, a silent plea to avoid remarks that could unsettle the delicate balance or intensify the discomfort.
"Venue, food, guest list, wedding dresses are all sorted. We only have two days left, so if we stick to this timeline, everything should be delivered and organized for the day,” Umi declares, circling the two remaining tasks on the paper. “Only two things left: the wedding cake, a loving task for Hanayo’s and Honoka’s families, and our speeches, to be ready by the wedding day. Our maids of honor, Yukiho Kousaka and Nozomi-senpai, especially have a crucial role," she notes, her voice steady with the weight of finality.
Eli, sensing the delicate balance of the moment, leans over and gently places a supportive hand on Umi's shoulder. Nozomi offers a smile, tinged with awkwardness, contrasting her usually composed demeanor. A palpable hush envelops the group once again, recognizing the unspoken history that lingers in the air. Umi, once a central figure in Kotori and Honoka's lives, vanished for five years, leaving behind a void filled by others, particularly Nozomi, whose bond with Kotori deepens in Umi's absence. The decision for the maid of honor was made long before Umi's unexpected return.
Umi chuckles softly with a genuine smile that seems to bridge years and unspoken words. “I really don’t mind,” she says, her eyes finally meeting Kotori's in a moment of raw honesty. “Let’s clear the air. I have been absent for five years, out of touch with almost everyone…except for Alisa.” She points out this detail, unwilling to overlook the bond she established with Alisa during their brief encounters. "Bonds are made, and sometimes they fade. Life moves on, relationships change. And that's absolutely okay."And that’s perfectly fine.”
Turning to Honoka and Kotori, her expression softens. “I’m truly happy for both of you,” she says, leaning in to embrace them, a gesture rich with sincerity and…sadness. “I hope you can both forgive me for my absence.”
As she steps back, her smile remains, but it's tinged with an unplaceable dissonance. Kotori couldn’t take her eyes off Umi. Something about the entire meeting feels unsettlingly out of sync. Umi has orchestrated everything flawlessly, yet the perfection feels like a façade.
This isn't the Umi who has returned, carrying the weight of years and experiences. This is the Umi who never left, the one who has always been their steadfast friend and planner. Yet, beneath the surface, this Umi seems like a stranger. The question lingers in the air, heavy and unspoken: Where is the real Umi?
As the clock's hands creep toward 10pm, the Muse Café, once abuzz with the chatter of wedding preparations, settles into a calm, almost reflective silence, as they all leave back to their respective homes. The warm glow of the hanging lights casts a soft, golden hue over the room, transforming it into a cocoon of intimacy. In this serene atmosphere, Umi, her figure silhouetted against the dimming light of the doorway, begins to make her exit. At that instance, Kotori was struck with an unsettling premonition that she would never seen Umi again.
Kotori, her heart thrumming violently with a mix of apprehension and resolve, that her vision becomes blurry, reaches out, her fingers gently encircling Umi's wrist. The gesture, delicate yet laden with urgency, halts Umi in a moment that seems to suspend time itself.
"Can we talk?" Kotori's voice is barely above a whisper, yet it carries the weight of unvoiced questions and tangled emotions. Umi takes her hand off the door handle and turns to face her childhood friend, her smile an enigmatic veil. "About what?" she inquires, her tone calm yet distant, as if she stands on the other side of an unseen chasm.
Kotori's eyes, reflecting the room's soft light, flicker with a storm of feelings. She wants to reach through the facade, to find the Umi she knows, the friend she misses. "I just... There's something I need to understand," she starts, her voice trailing off.
Just as Kotori begins to sift through her swirling thoughts, Honoka smoothly intervenes, effortlessly entwining her fingers with Kotori's. She sends a smile Umi's way, one that's warm but tinged with a subtle claim of ownership. "Umi, would you mind if I steal my fiancée away for a moment?" Although Honoka's voice maintains its lightness, her eyes flash with an intensity of hostility, a clear warning to Umi. Gently pulling Kotori toward her, Honoka's action effortlessly breaks the connection between Kotori and Umi's wrist.
Honoka's usual sunny demeanor is clouded over with concern, her brows knitting together in a rare display of seriousness. "What's this about, Kotori - chan?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What do you need to talk to Umi about?"
Kotori hesitates, her gaze flitting between Umi and Honoka. "She's our friend, and she's been... different since she came back. I just feel like we need to understand, to help," she explains, her voice soft but firm. Honoka studies Kotori, her expression a complex tapestry of confusion and protectiveness. "But she seems fine, Kotori. More than fine, actually," Honoka counters, trying to inject a note of optimism into her voice.
Kotori's response is a gentle shrug, her eyes conveying a depth of intuition. "There's something not right about tonight. It feels... staged, somehow," she murmurs, her words hanging in the air like a delicate mist.
Honoka's frown deepens, her protective instincts surfacing. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to talk to her alone right now," she cautions, her voice now edged with a protective firmness.
"Why are you acting like this?" Kotori's confusion spills into her words, her gaze searching Honoka's face for answers.
Honoka's laugh, usually a melody of joy, now carries a note of disbelief and a trace of fear. "Why am I? Kotori, haven't you seen the way she looks at you? It's..," she voices her concern, her hand tightening around Kotori's.
Kotori's heart skips a beat, her steps faltering. "The way she… looks at me?" she echoes, her voice a whisper, as a tumult of emotions surge within her.
"Forget it," Honoka mutters, a veil of resignation descending upon her features. She releases Kotori's hand and turns, walking briskly toward the door without as little as an acknowledgement to her once best friend. The sound of the door closing behind her echoes through the now silent café, leaving Kotori standing alone, enveloped in a heavy stillness, her thoughts a whirlpool of unanswered questions and unspoken fears.
Umi wishes she didn’t come back.
The Sunset
In the dimming light of dusk, Kotori treads a path laden with echoes of their shared past, her steps synchronized with Umi's, who pushes her bicycle alongside. This once familiar route, etched with memories of laughter and whispered secrets, now seems like a road through a dreamscape—familiar, yet imbued with a sense of estrangement. A ghost of years ago wrapped in today's silence.
"Umi-chan," Kotori breaks the silence, her voice a fragile thread attempting to sew the gaps time has torn between them.
"What do you want to talk about?" Umi's response, immediate yet steeped in reserve, widens the chasm of unspoken truths between them.
A surge of emotions clenches Kotori's heart, the words tumbling out in a cascade of vulnerability. "I’m sorry," she confesses. "That night…I drank too much."
Umi's reply comes without hesitation, tone neutral. "It’s okay," she says, her gaze fixed ahead, as if the path they walk holds the answers they are both seeking. "Alcohol does that." She doesn't halt her stride but clutches the handlebars of her bike, her grip so firm that her knuckles whiten. "Please, head home now."
“Are you okay?” Kotori timidly asks.
Umi casts a fleeting glance in Kotori's direction, her golden eyes searching for… something, before her lips curve into a sarcastic smile. Kotori catches a glimpse of something profoundly melancholic in that smile, a depth of sadness she never wants to see. 'I am,' Umi murmurs, dropping the facade of a smile.
Their conversation, a dance around the precipice of deeper revelations, is abruptly dissolved by a deluge from the heavens. Rain pours down in sheets, sort of like a physical manifestation of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface of these two. Umi, in an act of reflexive compassion, drapes her jacket over Kotori's shoulders, a shield against the storm. They run, mingling with the rain, until Kotori's foot betrays her, sending her stumbling towards the unforgiving ground. Time seems to suspend, a breath held before the fall, yet instead of the cold embrace of the earth, she finds herself caught in Umi's arms—a sanctuary.
"Hold on," Umi whispers, her voice tinged with annoyance but a beacon through the rain nonetheless. With a strength that belies her gentle nature, Umi lifts Kotori onto the bicycle, encasing her in a protective embrace as they make their ascent to the Sonoda household.
Crossing the threshold, Kotori's heart lurches at the sight of Umi's father. The ghost of their last confrontation seven years ago, a maelstrom of accusations and misunderstanding, looms between them, a chasm of unspoken recriminations. With a bow steeped in a cocktail of obligatory respect and apprehension, Kotori braces herself for a confrontation that never comes. Instead, as she lifts her head, she finds Umi gesturing for her to follow.
Immersed in the bath prepared by Umi, Kotori finds her mind drifting to the events of today and the days preceding. Later, in the sparse solitude of Umi's bedroom, Kotori is struck by the emptiness—a physical echo of the distance that has crept between them. The room, though changed, whispers secrets of the Umi Kotori once knew, secrets now shrouded in silence and the passage of time. Clutching the fabric of the bed, Kotori is enveloped in the scent of Umi, a fragrance that ached her deeply.
When Umi returns from her own shower, the tension between them is palpable. "Get some sleep," Umi says curtly, giving Kotori no time to object, her voice cutting through the quiet with the precision of a blade, as she switches off the light and prepares to leave.
“Stay.” She manages to link her index finger with the tip of Umi’s.
“Please.”
No matter how many years has passed, as wrong as it may be, Umi just couldn’t say no to Kotori.
In the darkness of the room, the world outside ceases to exist. Lying side by side, separated only by a whisper of space, they are enveloped by the night's silence, a dense cloak that wraps around them, laden with the heaviness of truths left unacknowledged. Kotori, her heart a tumultuous sea, questions and unknown feelings burning within her, its flames licking at the corners of her soul, braves the stillness with a question that surely would be the first step to the conversation she wanted to have. "Did you ever tell Honoka about your feelings for me?" Her voice, a fragile tremor.
Umi's response, a simple "No," hangs in the air. “But I know she knows,” her voice laden with disgust for herself, defeated.
She ventures further, because within these walls, the lines between reality and fiction blur. She's desperate to uncover the truth, yet she harbors a deep-seated awareness that, regardless of what transpires tonight, Umi will remain silent. By morning, the only thing at stake will be their relationship, whatever remains of it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, was she okay with risk this connection. Honoka's words haunt her—does Umi still look at her with that same intensity? She understands that no revelation can alter their current paths, yet a part of her wonders if there's a sadistic desire within her, craving Umi's unyielding affection even as she prepares to marry someone else. Or is it a masochistic desire?
She doesn’t even understand why she insists on binding Umi with these invisible chains?
“Do you still love me?”
Her question is a whisper against the storm, she could hardly believe she really uttered those words out.
The response is a tangible shift in the air, a stirring that sends electric currents through the space between them. Umi moves away, a subtle withdrawal, yet in that movement, her thigh grazes Kotori's, igniting a spark of raw awareness. It is a touch that screams in the silence, a fleeting connection charged with years of unfulfilled yearnings. Clouded by the feeling, Kotori reaches up, a hand hovering over Umi’s shoulder.
“Please.” The word tears from Umi's lips, a plea laced with a pain so profound it vibrates through the room. “Please don’t touch me.” She understood that this is a barrier out up in desperation, a dam holding back the flood of emotions that threatens to sweep them both away.
Kotori lets go.
But she doesn’t want to.
“Umi—” Kotori's voice is a half-choked sob, a plea for a connection.
But Umi is already retreating, sitting up, her silhouette a stark contrast against the faint light. “Please stop.” She takes a deep shaky breath. Kotori can hear her voice croak as if holding back tears. “Honoka loves you, you love Honoka. Don’t get swept up by the past, or by something thrilling or whatever this is. Just stop.” Her words are a fortress, resolute. “This isn’t fair on Honoka. Please don’t hurt Honoka like this.”
As Umi stands to leave, Kotori's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around Umi's wrist once again in a silent, desperate plea. “I don’t want to hurt Honoka. I…” She pauses. “I won’t hurt her.” She lets go of her wrist.
“This is the last night I’ll probably be able to sleep next to you so, please, stay.” Her voice is a whisper of raw emotion, a testament to the storm raging within her. “I’ll stop.”
Umi's sigh is a surrender to the inevitability of the moment, a reluctant acceptance of the fragile truce between desire and duty. She opens her drawer, pops a few pills and slides back into bed, her body etching a careful line along the edge, and in that charged silence, they lie side by side, each acutely aware of the other's presence in the suffocating darkness. The night stretches on, a silent witness to the turbulent sea of emotions that flow, unbidden and unchecked, between them.
Dawn arrives, yet its gentle light does little to chase away the lingering shadows of the night. The sun's rays, filtering through the curtains, bathe Umi in a celestial luminescence, yet around Kotori, the weight of their unspoken truths lies heavy, like an invisible shroud. Umi, still lost in the realms of sleep, shifts slightly, her fingers instinctively finding solace against Kotori's arm. Kotori marvels silently at the softness of her touch, a tenderness she has never fully perceived before, a revelation in the quiet morning.
In that fleeting moment, a part of Kotori yearns to surrender to the arms of sleep once more, to prolong this intangible, this indescribable connection for as long as the threads of time will allow. But then, a lone tear traces its path down Umi's cheek, glistening in the dawn light like a solitary drop of dew on a petal.
And so, the last domino begins to fall.
“Kotori”
Umi whispers, her voice a tender murmur, so faint that it could have been carried away on the slightest breeze. Kotori stills, her heart finally understanding what her mind has long suppressed. This wasn’t a dream.
The sound of her name, uttered so softly from Umi's lips, is like a siren's call, beckoning Kotori towards a destination that she knows is forbidden, yet irresistibly alluring. And despite all that, she wishes she could hear her name from those lips for eternity.
Her heart races, the sound of its beating filling her ears, drowning out the world.
She places her hand over her heart, feeling its rapid pulse beneath her fingers.
She swallows hard.
Oh.