Chapter XXXV - The Weight of Promises We Make (IV)

I settled into the chair beside her couch, now hyperaware of how the vinyl squeaked beneath my weight. Up close, the changes in Sairenji were more apparent as I could see the faint shadows beneath her eyes, and the slight hollowness in her cheeks that her animated performance had nearly concealed.

She exhaled slowly. Her shoulders dropped as if she'd been holding herself upright through sheer force of will.

"You can stop now," I said quietly.

Her eyes widened fractionally, then softened with something like relief.

"That obvious?"

"Only to someone who's spent his life pretending to be fine." I offered a rueful smile. "For what it's worth, you're much better at it than I am."

A small laugh escaped her, barely more than a breath. "I didn't want them to worry. Especially not after they went to all that trouble with the flowers and the card. It was easier to be the Sairenji Satsuki they remember."

"I understand."

And I did, completely. How many times had I straightened my shoulders, pasted on a smile, and performed normalcy for an audience that needed me to be functional? How many times had I carried home bruises—physical or emotional—and assured concerned classmates that everything was fine?

It would near close to the hundreds of times at this point of my life.

It just felt unsettling when someone else was doing it. Especially Sairenji Satsuki. But that was the point of our conversation, wasn't it? To push behind the facade, to see each other without masks or armor.

"So, how are you? Really?"

She considered the question while gaze drifted to the window where rain continued its steady percussion.

"I am... better than I was. The heart complication was pretty unexpected; that's what kept me here so long. But the new medication seems to be working, and the doctors think I might be able to go home by the end of the week."

"That's wonderful news," I said, meaning it.

"It comes with conditions, of course. Regular check-ups, restricted physical activity, a mountain of pills." Her mouth quirked into a wry smile. "Definitely no pirouettes in hospital lounges either."

The joke should have lightened the mood, yet something in her expression—a flicker of vulnerability, perhaps—made my chest ache.

This was the Sairenji few ever saw: not the perfect student or the gracious class representative, but a girl facing her own mortality. Yet, even with her illnesses and potential death, she fought on.

I wanted to ask what it felt like—to wake up each day knowing your heart could betray you at any moment. But the words stuck in my throat, and instead replaced themselves with something else.

"Will you be able to return to school?"

"Eventually. Not full days at first, and I'll have to be careful with stairs and physical education."

"And class representative duties?"

She tilted her head, studying me.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. You've done well in my absence."

I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped me.

"No, I haven't. I've been a disaster. Missed deadlines, incomplete forms, disorganized meetings—Arisato-senpai reminds me of my failures daily."

"Arisato-senpai has impossible standards. We've been over this, Kagami-kun."

"You met them."

"Because I had nothing else."

The admission startled me, so simply stated yet revealing a depth I hadn't glimpsed before.

"You, Kagami-kun, have finally found something worth your focus."

"...What do you mean?"

"You've started playing again, haven't you?"

...How did she—no, she couldn't have—

"I can see it in your hands, in the way your fingers curve slightly when they're at rest. And in your confidence. Music always gave you that—even back in junior high, you walked differently after the school concert."

I looked down at my hands, those traitorous appendages that had always betrayed my true self. She was right; my fingers were gently arched, as if poised over invisible keys.

When had I started doing that again?

"Only barely," I admitted. "Just once, yesterday."

"But you will again."

Never a question. Always a certainty.

To that, I could only nod slowly.

"Sairenji-san, I..."

The words tangled in my throat.

What was I doing again?

After weeks of neglecting my responsibilities as class representative, after the chaos with Akise and the club and Minazuki-san, I was about to ask yet another favor? Placing another burden on someone who already carried so much?

And yet...

If I didn't ask—if I turned away from this chance, from this possibility ordained by fate—I would be retreating into that loathsome puppet again. The one who agreed with everyone, who helped without question, who had disappeared so completely into other people's expectations that he'd nearly disappeared altogether as a coherent identity.

"I have a selfish request."

Perhaps it was the unusual phrasing, or the intensity in my voice, but Sairenji's eyes broadened slightly.

I took a breath, steadying myself.

"The Four Symbols Club is in danger. Arisato wants to shut it down, repurpose the space for storage or student council use. Akise and I—we fought about it. I refused to stand up for the club, for him. But now I'm trying to make it right. We have a plan to save it through the Cultural Festival, to prove its worth."

Sairenji silently nodded.

"We need four members minimum to keep our charter. Akise and I make two. Minazuki-san has agreed to be our third."

"Minazuki-san?" A delicate eyebrow arched upward. "That's... unexpected."

Heat rushed to my face.

"Y-Yes, well... she's agreed to help. Which leaves us one member short."

"And you'll play piano."

"Yes."

The single syllable felt momentous, a declaration of existence.

"That leaves one more member," Sairenji observed, mind quick as ever.

"Sairenji-san, I know you play guitar. I remember from the talent showcase last year—your acoustic arrangement of that Hikigaya Guren song. You were... incredible."

"It was just a hobby...." she blushed lightly. "I only joined because Miyazono practically dragged me on stage with her. And it's been months since I've played; my fingers must be rusty."

"Still, it's a starting point. Sairenji Satsuki, I'm asking if you would consider joining us. Being our fourth member. Our Seiryuu."

"The Azure Dragon of the East? Oooo, is it like a stage name?"

"It's what Akise calls it. Each member represents one of the Four Symbols from Chinese mythology. Akise is outside the system as our leader. I'm Genbu, the Black Tortoise. Minazuki-san is Suzaku, the Vermilion Bird. We need a Seiryuu."

"And you want me."

"Yes."

She was quiet for a long moment, and I feared I'd overstepped—asked too much, too soon, of someone still recovering from an illness that had nearly taken her from us altogether.

"Kagami-kun... do you realize this is the first time you've ever asked me for anything?"

I blanked out for a good five seconds.

Was that... true? Surely in our year and a half of working together, I'd asked her for something? A form, a signature, advice on class matters?

But as I searched my memory, I realized she was right.

I had never asked Sairenji for anything personal, or anything that might have benefited me rather than the class or the school. I hadn't shown her any vulnerability nor need.

"...I'm sorry," I said, uncertain what else to offer.

"Don't apologize. I'm glad."

Her eyes met mine, warm and sincere.

"I always wondered who you were behind all that helpfulness."

I swallowed hard, unprepared for this insight into how she had seen me all along.

"And now?" I asked, my voice unexpectedly hoarse.

"Now I think I'm starting to find out." She tilted her head, studying me once more. "It's not just the club you're fighting for, is it? Yourself, Akise... perhaps even Minazuki-san herself."

My face was red like a tomato.

"It's not like that—"

"You've both changed," she interrupted gently. "You're standing straighter. She actually came to a class event, however reluctantly. Kagami-kun... something happening there, even if you're not ready to name it."

I grit my teeth. Things like that weren't necessary. I didn't want to explain all the 1000 reasons why Minazuki-san deserved someone better than me, nor did I feel like assailing myself with negative comments in my mind.

One thing existed. And that was...

"Sairenji, will you join the Four Symbols Club?"

I'm trying to get better. I'm trying to become someone you could be proud of. Please... give me this chance.

She smiled softly, and I knew she understood far more than my words alone conveyed.

"So... you've finally found something worth fighting for."

Nothing else needed to be said.

"Let me see how strong I am when I return. If I can handle the classes and the medication and everything else... then yes, I would be honored to be your Seiryuu."

It wasn't quite a promise, but it was far from a refusal. It was hope—tentative and conditional, but real. Like a green shoot pushing through concrete.

And... I felt like crying.

I bowed deeply towards her. I didn't care if tears blured my vision.

"T-Thank you, Sairenji! I'll... I'll do everything I can to make sure this works!"

She smiled, squeezed my hand once, then released it.

"Now, tell me more about this Cultural Festival plan. If I'm potentially joining a band, I should know what I'm getting into."

And so I did, outlining Akise's ambitious vision, explaining the challenge we'd planned to issue to Arisato. As I spoke, I watched energy return to her face; it felt like the prospect of this new adventure was already strengthening her.

Outside, the rain had stopped. A shaft of afternoon sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the room in a warm glow that seemed impossibly hopeful for November.