Epilogue

What is the color of an epilogue?

I didn't know, for my story hasn't ended yet.

I still had an entire life worth living ahead of me.

“Hey, that mural’s turning out pretty nice,” Mrs. Yamabuki said, “I’m sure Emuru would like it.”

I wiped off a stray dash of yellow paint from my face as I looked at the mural in front of me.

Painted on there was the same scenery I saw a few months back—it was Emuru standing in front of the sunset with the last of the sunlight shining behind her as she gave a big smile.

“I’m sure she would,” I said, “but is it really okay for me to paint something so personalized?”

Mrs. Yamabuki shrugs.

“As long as you have the yamabuki flowers painted on the bottom, I’m fine with it,” she said, “plus, Emuru is one of our regulars here, so it’s not like making a mural for her is too strange—but most importantly, I get a nice mural painted for free, so I really can’t complain.”

I looked back at the mural and smiled.

“But anyway, if you always had these art skills, why didn’t you speak up sooner?” she asks, “I almost had to actually pay someone to paint it.”

“Ahaha…” I said, scratching my head, “I guess I just wasn’t too confident in my skills back then. You know how it is with artists and their self-doubts.”

Mrs. Yamabuki didn’t know about the whole suicide ordeal, and I had intended to keep it that way. It wasn’t a badge of honor for me to wear anyway. The only people who knew about the attempt were Emuru, the people on the bus, my family at the factory, and more recently, my parents.

I did eventually end up going back to Ueda and got an apology from everyone at the company even though I didn’t have the courage to demand anyone for one. I had only let Mr. Ichikawa know about the attempt because I felt like he deserved to understand that his actions that day did have consequences. I knew that he was a good person at heart, and that he would take the initiative to change for the better.

“Well I’m glad those self-doubts about your skills have cleared,” she said, “you’re starting art school in a few weeks aren’t you? It wouldn’t be right to keep doubting yourself by then.”

That’s right.

I finally had pooled enough money together to pay for a year’s worth of tuition at the local art school after taking up more shifts, including the higher-paying morning ones. I had considered returning back to the factory to work a few times, but ultimately made the decision to stay with Emuru in Hachioji.

After all, we were dating now, and it would be weird to start a long-distance relationship after only a few months of it.

The voices in my head had also finally stopped coming after that day. It seemed that blob-me was satisfied with what Emuru had said to it. Every now and then however, I would hear a faint ringing in my ears, but they grew more and more distant each time they appeared.

I was healing. I didn’t know how long it would take, but I was finally healing.

I still felt heavy regret at what I did, and even stopped by to visit Itsumi’s grave from time to time when I occasionally went to visit my grandpa’s. On one occasion I even met her parents who came by to visit from Osaka. At first, her mother slapped me, and we were distant the first few times we saw each other, but over time as we continued to cross each other’s paths at the graveyard, both of her parents eventually granted me their forgiveness.

It was the final heavy burden concerning Itsumi’s death that was on my chest, and now the only person who hadn’t fully forgiven me was myself.

Suddenly, an alarm rings from my phone in my pocket, and as I opened it to check, I realized I was late for my date at the art museum with Emuru.

“Oh! Sorry Mrs. Yamabuki, I have to go,” I said, packing up my painting supplies.

“Haha, it’s alright. You two go have fun with each other.”

                                                              -✧─✦-. ⁺【❤】⁺ .-✦─✧-

“Sorry I’m late!” I called out, running up to Emuru.

She was waiting at the bus stop alone—the same exact one where we had first met.

She was wearing a winter coat and had a red scarf wrapped around her neck.

It was cold outside today.

There was snow everywhere along the sidewalks, and the cloudy sky above gave me a sort of melancholic feeling.

It was the first winter I had in a long time.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, “we still have a few minutes before the bus arrives anyway.”

I sat down next to her on the bench, the two of us both reserved and quiet, however, I liked it this way; it meant that she was able to be herself around me.

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t the Emuru I first knew her as. This Emuru was a happy Emuru—an Emuru that had finally found someone to be herself around without having to act.

The days where she was silently blue when she talked to me were no more.

“Hey Emuru,” I said, “do you remember the first few times we met at this stop?”

“Hmm? Of course. I remember checking your eyeball for a parasite or something when you said you could only see half the color spectrum.”

She laughed.

“That was pretty stupid of me,” she continued, “but still. Why are you bringing it up now?”

I looked at her face.

“I just wanted to say that back then, I thought that you were prettiest thing in the world, but I had assumed that it was only because you were the only thing that I was able to see clearly, but… now that I’ve seen everything else, I came to realize that you were in fact just the most beautiful of them all.”

She blushes.

“Stop it, you,” she said, hiding her face beneath her scarf as she mumbles, “unlike you, I already knew that you were the most beautiful thing in the world ever since we first met.”

I smiled.

Suddenly, I heard my phone ring, interrupting the two of us.

As I took it out to check who was calling, I noticed it was my mom.

“Sorry,” I said to Emuru, “I have to take this.”

She nods in understanding, and I walk a few feet away before answering the call.

“Hey mom,” I solemnly said.

There was a long moment of silence.

Even though she was the one calling, she still hadn’t figured out what she wanted to say.

“...Are you eating well?” she finally asks.

“Yes.”

“I heard you finally got enough money for art school.”

“Yes. I did.”

“...”

“...”

“If you ever need money for next year you can always ask.”

“Thanks… mom.”

“Of course.”

“...”

“If you ever get the chance, I would love for you to introduce your girlfriend to us.”

“...”

“...”

“I’ll think about it.”

I hear the familiar sound of the bus arriving before turning to see it round the corner.

“I have to go now,” I said.

“Ok… …I love you Mashiro.”

“...I love you too.”

As I ended the call, I noticed Emuru cheerily waving over to me as the bus approached the stop.

I let out a smile, making my way back.

My relationship with my parents would probably never fully be repaired, but that was alright. After all, I had Emuru, and she was all I needed. Unlike them, she had been supportive of me from the day we first met—from the day she was just a smudge of blue on my blank white canvas—and through the days she would add more colors onto it, dying my world in a myriad of beautiful colors.

To me she was like a palette—the palette on my canvas.