“Mizuki—!”
The blood pounded in their temples, roaring at them to get away.
Anywhere but here, anywhere but with her.
Anyone but her.
Don’t listen to a word she says… Just run, just run.
“Wait…! Mizuki!”
Run, run, run.
It’s all they ever knew how to do.
Apologies spilt from their lips, each one quieter than the last as they utter more and more until their voice broke.
The memories didn’t just fade—they shattered, sharp and unforgiving.
Mizuki could still hear the laughter echoing through that family restaurant, the clatter of plates, the warmth of voices that once felt like home. They could still see the quiet serenity of that train ride back from the haunted house—the first time they had ever felt truly at peace. Kanade, Mafuyu, and Ena asleep beside them, their faces soft, unguarded. No judgment. No fear.
And Phoenix Wonderland—God, Phoenix Wonderland. The fireworks painting the sky in bursts of gold and violet, and Ena standing beneath them, the light catching in her almond eyes. Mizuki had thought, just for a moment, that they could stay in that moment forever.
But forever was a lie.
Ena…
Mizuki remembers the time they went hiking together and fell, that pink napkin they gave her was still in their pocket.
And her most important memory of Ena… Both of them, on the rooftop that Mizuki once considered her safe garden, as Ena promises to wait for them, to wait for Mizuki to open up.
All of it, shattered in just a second like glass, hurting to even pick up the fragments to remember.
Mizuki could still hear their classmates’ voices in their head right before they opened the door to the rooftop. It was just one more door to open before they could finally tell Ena, finally tell her…
“Are you also like a guy or something?”
“Ah—!”
Mizuki’s foot caught on uneven ground, and they collapsed onto the dirt road, the damp earth clinging to their skin, staining their sunny yellow shirt with streaks of mud.
The sun was gone now, swallowed by the horizon, leaving only stars scattered across the endless black sky. They blinked up at the crescent moon, its pale glow casting soft light over their trembling body. Fragile. Small. Lost.
How long had they been running? Where were they even going?
The cold seeped into their bones, and for a moment, they wanted to stay there—curl into themselves, disappear into the damp earth like they had never existed. But Ena’s face wouldn’t leave their mind. There had been no disgust, no rejection. Just shock.
And that terrified them more than anything.
Mizuki swallowed down the lump in their throat, dug their fingers into the dirt, and forced themselves to stand. Then, they ran.
The city lights blurred as they walked, neon signs reflecting off rain-slicked pavement. Their hands were cold but it wasn’t the wind that made them shiver. It was the weight in their chest—the sharp, aching pull of something they couldn’t name. Maybe regret. Maybe loneliness. Maybe both.
“Weirdo.”
Why did Mizuki even think it would be a good idea to tell Ena today of all days? During the school festival where those judgemental eyes of their classmates could spread words faster than anything else could.
“Maybe they just want attention.”
Their body trembled, though they weren’t sure if it was from the cold or the weight pressing down on their chest. Their eyes locked onto the mirror, breath hitching as their own reflection stared back—unfamiliar, wrong.
The frilly bow in their pink hair, once something they adored, was crumpled and askew, barely holding onto the tangled strands. Their skirt—mud-stained, ruined—hung limply against their shaking legs. Smudged makeup streaked down their cheeks, cracking apart like the illusion they had carefully built for so long.
Their cutesy, feminine appearance was slipping away, peeling off like old paint. And underneath, they now looked more like a—
“Are you also like a guy or something?”
SMASH!
Red.
Their shaking knuckles were covered in blood with tiny shards of glass impaled inside, shining as if it was mocking them - but it didn’t hurt at all.
The mirror, like their memories, shattered.
Shattered.
Gone.
Gone were all the courage they mustered up over the years. Gone was the identity they worked so hard to be comfortable in.
Even with pieces of glass missing, Mizuki could still make out their reflection in the mirror.
Don’t look at me
Mizuki ripped the blanket from their bed and hurled it over the shattered mirror, as if covering it could erase what they had seen. Their breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, sobs tearing through them with no restraint.
"Just go away… just leave me alone," they choked out, curling into themself as if they could disappear.
Thud!
The familiar chime of their phone rang out clear throughout their room as it fell to the ground, the soothing yet soul-crushing song that first found them through the darkest times of their life.
They wanted to sink, to disappear where no one could reach them. And then, just like that, the world faded to gray. The Empty Sekai welcomed them home.
And just like that, with just a blink of an eye, they were back in the Empty Sekai.
“Ah…” Mizuki finally cracked their eyes open, immediately adjusting to the greyscale environment. It was perfect.
Their pink pearls landed on the scissors beside them, the metal gleaming under the dim light. Without thinking, their hand reached out, fingers curling around the handle with a grip so tight it ached—so tight it felt like if they let go, they might fall apart entirely.
They held the blades up to their pink curls, breath unsteady. Just one cut. One snip. One step closer to something that might finally feel right.
The sharp edge grazed against a strand of hair—snip—and then the bile rose in their throat, fast and violent. Their chest tightened, nausea twisting inside them, and before they knew it, the scissors were hurled across the Sekai, clattering uselessly against the floor.
They pressed a hand to their mouth, squeezing their eyes shut. Why did it feel so unbearable? Why couldn’t they just tell Ena?
But what if Ena looked at them differently? What if her voice turned cold, her gaze distant? What if she laughed? No—Ena wouldn’t laugh. But what if she pitied them? What if she didn’t understand?
Mizuki dug their nails into their arms. The walls of the Sekai felt like they were closing in, suffocating. They needed to get out. They needed to leave before the weight in their chest crushed them entirely.
Run.
The thought came fast, desperate. If they ran, they wouldn’t have to see the moment Ena realized they weren’t the person she thought they were. They wouldn’t have to watch her struggle to find the right words, and wouldn't have to hear the hesitation in her voice. If they left, they could pretend. Pretend it didn’t matter. Pretend it didn’t hurt.
Mizuki curled further into themself, their wings wrapping tighter, shielding them from the world. No one could see them. No one ever had. That’s why they were the only butterfly in this empty garden, fluttering between the cracks, unseen, unheard.
"Mizuki—!"
But Ena saw them.
No matter how far Mizuki ran, no matter how lost they felt, Ena had found them—just like she always did. That familiar brown-haired girl, the one Mizuki had come to love and cherish, stood before them once more. Steady, unwavering, reaching out with the same warmth Mizuki thought they had lost forever.
Ena saw through everything—the mask, the play, the fragile wings Mizuki wrapped around themselves. She saw the invisible bars, the suffocating cage that held Mizuki’s body and mind hostage. She saw the strings threatening to cut away their wings, their identity unraveling grain by grain like falling sand in an hourglass.
And still, she reached out.
"I’ll wait for you, Mizuki."
Mizuki’s breath hitched. They should run. They should push her away. But their feet stayed planted, their fingers trembling as they hovered over Ena’s outstretched hand.
For so long, Mizuki had been the only butterfly in this empty garden, fluttering between the cracks, unseen, unheard. They had convinced themself that no one could ever reach them, that no one would ever reach them.
But Ena had.
She had stepped into the garden, past the broken wings and shattered glass, and she was still here. Waiting.
Mizuki’s fingers curled slightly, hesitant, uncertain. Their throat tightened. They didn’t know if they could believe it yet—if they could believe that Ena really saw them. That she really wouldn’t turn away.
But maybe… maybe they wanted to try.
And so, with a breath that shook but didn’t break, Mizuki reached back.
Maybe… maybe Ena really does see me.