Breakdowns

Going above and beyond the minimum outings necessary for the month of October resulted in a two week break to recharge my social battery. It was now the start of November, and the first outing we did was the cultural festival at our schools. Sorry to disappoint, but the day was quite similar to Sports Day, in which we stayed away from people and ate snacks on our own. Nevertheless, it counted as an outing and thus required a therapy session in the morning.

"Well, Chamaru-kun, after reviewing my notes of our past few assessments, I can safely conclude that your mental health has stabilized to the point where your antidepressants no longer seem necessary."

Without much elation in my voice, I said, "Oh, that's good news. I just got a refill the other day though, so what do I do with them?"

"You are free to throw them away, but I recommend keeping them in case you feel like you're still not 100% ready to part with them. Just be careful with what you do with them."

"Of course, thanks Shizuko-sensei."

"Moving on, do you have any plans for future outings in this new month? I feel like you didn't max out the potential of the cultural festival yesterday."

"Well, my school is havin' their school trip to Kyoto next week. Though I guess it wouldn't count as an outing because there's no peers in my class."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. So far you've always done so."

That was the end of our session. I left his office and walked away when he called my name from behind. Turning around, I saw his head peering from his office door.

"By the way, since I won't see you on the day, happy early birthday."
He winked and displayed a soft smile.

Briefly bemused, I gave him a smile of my own, albeit rusty and crooked.
"R-Right, thanks sensei. Means a lot, truly."
I bowed to him as he nodded and reentered his office.

I headed to the front door and was going to open it when I heard a loud voice cheering on the other side. The doorknob twisted from the outside and I took a step back to allow her to burst through. As expected, Etsuko threw herself into the house and stopped herself just before crashing into me.

"Ah, Matcha-chan! Hello~!"

She waved at me, but my eyes were focused on her hairstyle. I had never seen her with a ponytail before and was slightly taken aback by it. I instinctively narrowed my eyes and blurred my vision to see if she matched a similar stature of the girl from my memories.

"H-Hey there… D-Did you do that hairstyle yourself?" I asked skeptically.

She shook her head exaggeratedly and said, "Yasumi-chan did it for me this morning."

I tilted my head.
Yasumi… Right, that's Ringomori-san. I didn't know she styled hair. I-I shouldn't be surprised to see that she did that same hairstyle, ponytails are very common. But still...

Etsuko was happily waving her hair around like a light stick.

I said, "It looks nice on you."

"Thanks, Matcha-chan! She's done this for me a lot of times before."

From behind her, coming up the stairs into the house, was Doctor Itō. We exchanged a greeting and I informed her that I had just finished a session with her husband. I stepped out of the house and was closing it when they called me.

"By the way, Vieira-san, happy early birthday."

"Happy birthday, Matcha-chan!"

I thanked them both for their respectful courtesy with a bow.

Once they closed the door, I made my way back to the orphanage. Knowing that I would be filled with minor headaches, I still made the effort of thinking about the ponytail girl from my memories, making an excessive and taxing attempt to find a connection between her and Etsuko. The negatives of pain outweighed the sliver of positivity and I shrugged it off before hurting myself any further.

I did my normal routine of walking while listening to RONselia and not at all paying attention to which roads I was supposed to turn on. Because of that, I instinctively found myself turning three streets ahead of the actual street. I was back to the magical street that called to me.

I expressed my disappointment with a "Way to go again, idiot."

I was in the middle of turning around to return to the correct path but stopped myself to look at the time on my phone.
Well, I was just plannin' to eat breakfast and do homework until dinner, so I have plenty of time to spare. Maybe it's time I figure out what's up with this road?

I started walking.

At first glance, it was like any other road in the city, with modern houses and cleaned sidewalks.
I thought, I'm definitely overthinkin' about there bein' something special about this road. Guess I just have a bad sense of direction.

That's what I believed, but my migraines that emerged from the Etsuko's ponytails were still present, maybe evolving into something more. This sort of pang was typically timid and led to a resurfacing memory, but for whatever reason they rose to the point of insufferable. It wasn't taste, touch, smell, or hearing, so maybe it was simply the atmosphere again. I kept walking and winced at the pain until it was too unbearable to continue. I was brought down to a kneel and my chin sunk towards my collarbone. I mustered just enough willpower to stiffen my neck and open my eyes to see a white house with red undertones. There was something about it that seemed...nostalgic.

➼ ➼ ➼

A kid again, I entered this white and red house with a unique interior, taking a step from the genkan. For whatever reason, each wall was painted a different color. Red, green, yellow, it was like that until I tried to enter the living room, but my next step took me somewhere else.

Pain.

I found myself in the grassy backyard of the house, with a small flower garden in the far corner of the yard, water fountain in the center, and a wooden bench against a white lattice. I sat down on that bench and drew with colored pens and pencils. Before I could finish the drawing, the materials disappeared and I laid on the front lawn, shaded by the young branches of a singular tree.

Pain.

Next, I was walking down the street again, passing by the house early in the morning and coming back to see them painted gold in the early evening. Seeing this street appeared to be a daily occurrence, my height gradually increasing each time. I then teleported into the living room, followed by a trip to a pink room upstairs, and both times was the vinyl playing that special song; the girl was also with me.

Pain.

Then came a memory I had already seen before. I rolled down the window of my dad's car and looked out at the house we'd come from; the once intangible colors, and the figure inside, were now apparent. Beyond the yard's small verdant tree and its autumn branches, the girl stood on the inside of the house's windowsill. Her face was still a silhouette, but her dark hair and cardinal sweater were distinguishable. Of course, that memory ended with the accident.

Shifting my focus from the house to the girl caused one final memory to play out. It was different from the previous ones, because it was after my accident.

I was in the hospital room, probably only a few days after I initially woke up from my induced slumber. My surroundings consisted of the usual gray walls, but also of unfamiliar balloons and items on the trolley. There were also two people standing by the doorway, one being the doctor and the other, cowering behind, was that ponytail.

I couldn't remember her face, my head felt like it was imploding the more I desired to see the truth. Despite that, I knew I couldn't elongate the memory much longer. I remembered saying one thing to her.

"N-No...I don't know...you."

She didn't verbally respond, but instead turned around and ran away.

She was in pain.

➼ ➼ ➼

My forehead pressed against the cold solid surface of the dirtied sidewalk in front of the house, my hands aggressively gripping my hair and pulling it over my ears as the memories echoed and faded. My upper teeth bit my lower lip, blood and saliva dripping down to the cement. A strained cough forced my exhausted eyes open, and all the black spots that were obstructing my vision made me realize I hadn't been breathing. I took several deep breaths and tried to gather the broken branches of my thoughts. With chills shivering through my body, I looked at the house again.

H-How many memories do I have of this place? Y-Yet, I didn't know it existed until now. It's not my rundown apartment, w-whose house is this?

The once young tree had grown tall and mature, losing its leaves due to the autumn season, but still astute with something else growing on its branches. The front lawn was greener and the property overall appeared to properly be taken care of, even better than in my memories.

My memories returning was a good thing, I remembered laughing aloud with the girl until my stomach hurt. However, I had only known dullness all my life, so to be bombarded by a previous life seen through rainbow-tinted glasses at a rapid pace floated my mental space.

That old me would probably laugh at the new me, and the idea of that hurt.

My heartbeat increased with tension, a restraining sensation only getting tighter with each pulse made it difficult to think. I felt a great frisson of fear growing inside me with just the thought of remembering. Sweat was on my palms and air quickly entered and left my mouth, tantalizing my lungs.

All I knew was that I was beleaguered and overwhelmed with stress.

My monochromatic hell started to erupt, the cascading lava gave the entire setting some color. But was gray turning red better or worse?

I-I need something to calm me down! I have to return to my room!

I picked myself up and fled from the house. Forcing myself through the sores and aches, I rushed down the street and tried not to think of anything, but my memories were on a subconscious loop and playing over my eyes as if I had an augmented Heads-Up Display. My focus being thrown off-balance caused me to nearly trip over as I ran through stoplights on the way to the orphanage.

There were a few kids and caregivers who greeted me at the front door, but I didn't care to stop and return the greeting. Forcing myself upstairs and past the rooms of all the other orphans, I entered my room and began searching.

Where are they? Where are the pills? Where are the pills?!

I dropped everything on the floor while looking for the antidepressant container; the gray and crimson mixed embers in my mind translated to the mess in my room. My headaches worsened, I lost the ability to walk straight or comprehend where I had already searched. I made a mess as if an earthquake consecutively hit my room, but I found the pills.

I frantically opened them and took one pill, but I was impatient with the pace of the effects so I took another. Then I took another. And then I took another. I would have taken more if I hadn't slipped on my schoolbag, flailing myself onto my bed and spilling the remainder all over the floor. I put my hands over my sweaty face and tried to reorganize myself before I self-destructed any further.

Oh gosh... I'm already feelin' those effects. W-Wow...

I sat myself and scurried my back to the wall, bringing my wobbling knees to my chest with a pillow in between and my arms wrapped around my legs. I was shaking, trembling from head to toe as the memories erupted again and projected on the ceiling, along with my words to Doctor Shizuko about not necessarily wanting them back. I didn't have any leftover energy to fight them off.

This isn't bad. This isn't bad. This isn't bad, I thought to myself.
Visions of the ponytail girl, the house on the wrong street, seeing both as I went to and from school, and overall, the fluffy-fluffy life I once had weren't bad things, but just too much to take.

Hours were passing, I think. I missed breakfast, lunch, and the sun was completely out of sight that I'd have to turn the lights on if I wanted to see, but I didn't. It was silent in the dark, peaceful; save for the noise outside my room and the occasional stomach rumble. I'd need more time if I was going to rationally piece this all together, but the hourglass was running out. As dinner time approached and I tried to convince myself things were okay, someone knocked on my door.

I assumed it was a caregiver fetching me for my duties, but I didn't care enough to answer them; I wasn't in need of distractions. I cupped my sensitive ears, but they were still startled by the deepened irritating knocks, causing me to sharply scowl at my doorknob. After the knocks ceased, my name was gently called.

"I'm not feelin' good!" I shouted in hopes that it was enough to turn them away, but the person outside kept speaking.

"Will you miss out on dinner? Should I tell someone..."

Ugh, can these people stop pretendin' to care?
Even if I had told them the truth, I had believed they wouldn't understand. For once, I'd grown annoyed with the substitute adults in my life. I needed to get them to stop. I grumpily got out of bed and marched to the questioning door.

I opened the door and the emotions inside me lashed out.
"I don't want you here right—!"
I had assured myself that the person knocking was a common somebody who didn't understand me, but only saw too late that it was the only person who could understand me: Ringomori Yoru.

I slammed my teeth on my tongue to stop myself and there was a silent pause.

There it was, the silence I desired, but now I no longer wanted it. There she stood with her hands over her ears and her small button nose pointed towards the floor. She slowly lifted her chin in response to my abrupt stop and I saw her glistening eyes, but they were swelling with tears. She took one step back and shrunk.

"A-Ah, Ri-Ringomori-san."
I lifted a hand to tell her to stop.
"I-I'm so-sorry."

"It...It's…" She tried to respond, but while her mouth was open, her voice was closed and she couldn’t leak a sound.

At the beginning of the hall near the stairs, a caregiver approached us.
"Ringomori-san, what's the yelling about? I see you've gotten Vieira-san out of his room."

The valves were opening. She curtained her tears and darted off back down the hall past the caregiver.

"Ringomori-san!" I yelled, stretching out a hand but failing to get her to stop.

The caregiver and I saw her run miserably into her room, we could see her wiping her face as she opened the door.

Suddenly becoming panicked, the caregiver turned and yelled at me, "Is she having another depressive episode?!"

I stood still, confused by the question. I didn't have the time to ask for clarity as the caregiver ran after Ringomori; evidently worried. Her question clogged my ears and bounced in my head. I was frozen, but nevertheless I had made a mistake and had to run after her too.

I wasn't frozen because I didn't know what to do, but because I was mentally purging all of my previous worries since they were no longer the top priority. I was still haphazard with my emotions, but my body finally gathered enough impetus to rush to Ringomori's room immediately.

The caregiver was already knocking on the door monogrammed with her name by the time I caught up.
"Can you let me in, Ringomori-san? I want to help you before this anxiety develops more again."

"Anxiety," "more," "again."
Those words struck me as I awkwardly stood idle.

The caregiver turned to me and said, "Ringomori-san's mental state doesn't allow her to handle repressive yelling very well."

"I-I didn't mean to y-yell at her. I was j-just havin' bad thoughts and lashed out accidentally."

"I know you meant no harm by it, but the abruptness has taken a toll on her and she'll need time to recover. I'll stay here, but you should focus on dinner, your stomach has been grumbling."

She knocked again and requested to be allowed in, emphasizing the fact she'd go in alone with no one else present. The door slowly creaked open and the caregiver excused herself inside. It quickly shut before I had a chance to think about doing anything. I wasn't intending to barge in, but it still hurt to see it close so quickly. I decided to wait outside her door.

I sat against the opposite wall and stared at the floor for more than an hour, though I lost track of time after the first thirty minutes. Dinner ended and the other orphans returned to their rooms, walking past my colorless lump asking questions that availed no answers. My ear twitched and I looked up to see her door finally open.

The caregiver stepped out and I quickly rose to my feet, slightly lightheaded.

"Kaya-san—"

"Keep the noise down," she whispered.
She closed the door and approached me.
"You can relax, Vieira-san. There's no need to panic right, that's not what she needs from you right now."
I nodded my head.
"Ringomori-san has experienced abject episodes like this often in her time at the orphanage, but this doesn't look like it's the start of another."

"O-Okay," I said, looking at her door.

"She had a pale pallor on her face, so I tired her out so she can rest it off, but I'm unsure when she'll wake up, and if she'd even want to see you then. You shouldn't hold your breath until curfew and just return to your room for the night."

"Th-Thanks, Kaya-san."

She left downstairs to clock out for the day, whilst I stayed outside her room with no music or game or notebook to keep me company. My hands were still shaky from the pills' effects, and I thought about my abhorrent mistakes.

I wish I could've approached that moment differently. Yellin' at her must’ve rattled her heart and gave her a bad shock. I, of all people, should know how depressed people react to loud and repressive shoutin'. I hope she forgives me, though I know I don't deserve it.

I held my breath for as long as I could, but curfew struck before she woke up, or maybe she was already awake. Whatever the case, the only option I had was to wistfully return to my room. I left a text message apologizing for my crassly mistake and asked if we could talk whenever possible. With that, I laid prostrate in bed knowing I'd be unable to go to sleep and fully expected to not get a reply until morning.

Alone with my thoughts, shattered memories, and regrets, I could only think about how our little canoe ride had hit some raging rapids. The eruptions of the volcanoes were targeted for me, but my poor steering put Ringomori into the splashes too. Her current state was my fault.

The moon could only illuminate so much of my room. I was unable to remain still due to the worries streaming inside my head, so I chose to mindlessly pace back and forth. I had planned to do that until the sun replaced the moon, but my plans changed at around two in the morning.

My phone buzzed, beaconed by the screen on my bed. I frantically leaped over and my baggy eyes were blinded, but I didn't allow them time to adjust as I was impatient with seeing who the notification was from. She was awake.

I texted her that I wanted to see her.

It would have to be in the morning. Unless you can come to my room now.

Her unconventional offer bewildered me, I was unsure if she was being serious or not.

I want to see you too. I need to apologize for some things. If it's too much trouble for you, I can go to your room instead.

I didn't send a reply, because by the time I read her message I had gingerly sneaked through the hallway and reached her door. I informed her of my arrival with light knocking. The threshold under the door lit up, telling me she had turned on the lights and was approaching. The door slowly creaked open, she stood behind it rather timidly.

Once I stepped inside, she closed it as quietly as she opened it and crouched down to stuff a few pillows into the threshold to shield the light and our voices from leaking. The caregivers patrolled the grounds at random intervals at night but didn't go into rooms for respect of privacy.

Ringomori appeared to be in steady condition, and I looked around her room.
It's the first time I've ever been in her room…or well, any orphan's room.

We weren't allowed to paint the walls, so she covered them with RONselia posters from their different eras that gave the room a winter-rose undertone. She had a few small bookshelves stacked with manga and food recipes that emitted warmth from the covers; she must have assiduously handled them. On the hanger of her door hung her schoolbag with the Tsukki raccoon pin.

She sat at the head of her bed whilst I sat down at the foot of it; along the side against the wall were a few stuffed animals. I wasn't sure if I should have sat closer to her, or maybe in the chair tucked under her neat and tidy desk that had her camera and laptop. My body still wasn't 100 percent recovered as I wasn't taking care of myself during all these hours.

Never being one to initiate the conversation before, I knew it should be me now.

"H-How are you doin'?" I asked, unable to look at her straight.

"I...am doing okay. Better now that I...am not breaking down in the corner of my room."

Those words were heart splintering, my clenched fists were digging my nails into my palm. The caregivers said she had episodes before and this wasn't one, but that didn't change the fact that I was responsible for the tears she shed. I stood up and walked in front of her and bowed my head and body, the lowest I had ever bent.

It took some struggle to get the right words and tone.
"I'm sorry for yellin' at you, and for what I yelled at you, and for causin' you to have a breakdown."

Even through my hair's dark curtain, I was able to feel her deep stare. I didn't know if it was from contempt or pardon, but the thought of it cemented my feet to the floor and fettered my arms to my side.

"Please...raise your head… There is no need for you to apologize."

The softness of her voice, so quiet and faint, yet it resonated like an opera. That was the voice of an angel, of a Buddha in hell. She didn't conform to the eruptions and lava around her but instead made them conform to her Nirvana. The cement and chains didn't break with brute force, they melted and rusted with her benign touch.

I picked up my head.
"I need to take blame," I said.
I found her eyes.

"You should...not go too hard on yourself. My breakdown was long overdue because of the stress from the past few weeks… Things like my birthday coming up...and the midterm exams brought back my worries about a lonesome life, and I felt my emotions...wanting to burst out before they clouded me more."

"You were strugglin'?"

"I need to apologize too," she said with her hands elegantly laid on her lap, "because I knew you would pin blame on yourself when there were other factors unknown to you. Despite being friends, there were things I still have not figured out how to tell you. I'm sorry."

I was internally confused, but was more focused on how her humbleness, her quietude, and overly forgiving nature painted her endearing appeal to me. Also, maybe because it was the middle of the night and the potency of the pills were still in effect, but it seemed easier to be enchanted by her. I forgave her too.

"If it's okay with you, may I ask why you appeared infuriated this evening? Are you okay now?"

I returned to the foot of the bed.
"It's the same as you. Stress with school and life, plus my two lives are intertwinin' more and more with the return of some more memories."

I didn't go into detail about the ponytail girl and the house because there was a lot on her plate already. I understood what she meant about not being able to tell one another things despite being friends. Was it good to be similar in that aspect too?

"How do you feel about those memories coming back?" she asked with caution. "By the looks of it, it seems like they're encumbering you rather than helping."

I said, "I know the memories themselves aren't bad, but if anything, I'm scared. The collision of my two worlds is messin' me up, and I'm not sure how much more I can handle."

"I can see your point, but remembering would be beneficial, especially for you. The bad and the good, memories are what shape who you are and are proof that you lived a life. You weren't born at the age of eleven, you should remember as much as you can of your first decade on Earth. Both the bad and the good, keep those stored for as long as you can."

She shifted her eyes from me to the ceiling, her cheeks hued with light pink. I believed it was out of embarrassment, but when I took a glance to the ceiling—expecting to see nothing—I was wrong. Like her, I had to tilt my head to get the right angle. I believed it was a colored picture of some kind of full pie resting on the edge of a window, the background dominantly orange and blue.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A memory," she replied. "The apple of my eye made that for me in elementary school around the time my father became ill. While life in the house was rotting away, it wasn't all bad at school because of that person in my class. We became close while everyone else had their fun. Their disappearance from my life was truly the point of no return for my depression."

A pain stung my heart when hearing her speak of another person making her happy in life. It was cruel and shameful of me to feel an emotion like that at a time like this, I needed to change my perspective. She told me this because that person wasn't in her life now, it was an announcement that she needed someone like that. She needed a shoulder to lean and cry on that wasn't the darkened corners of her room, and I was the only one now to make it possible.

I said, "I think our friendship has become stagnant, a-a bit."
She returned her eyes to me.
"I don't mind our simple routine of not talkin' and just bein' with each other, but I think I want something more."

I felt my mind begging me to look away—the tips of my ears burning, but I had to fight off that command. She had the courage to invite me to our first outing, to speak to me at our birthday and to join me for the first time at the pie shop. I needed to muster that same courage to ask her for more.

I continued, "I want to bridge the gap between us, and I have half an idea on how to do that. I want your help to complete it."

She receded at first, maybe to digest what I told her. After confirming it wasn't drivel, the corners of her lips slowly raised as her eyes reflected the lights in her room more and more. That night, filled with breakdowns and hateful thoughts, ended with a recent precedent of a smile to bed. I needed to get to sleep quickly, because there was now someplace I had to be at noon—specifically 12:04:14.

Sunday, a day free from school and entirely to ourselves.

Something we discovered the night before was that both our schools had our trip-year school trip this upcoming week, which would include our birthday. It was that fact that led to the fruition of a new idea. To go along with our makeshift and weird philosophy, we decided not to attend our school trips to Kyoto and Fukushima with the rest of our classmates. My idea that I pitched was for us to go on our own trip to Aomori instead.

I arrived at the pie shop on time, Ringomori was the customer before me. We sat at the table furthest back from the entrance and she placed down her laptop and camera; she brought them to record the planning phase. I decided on Aomori for the following reasons:

First, it was still outside of Hokkaido. No offense to this snowy and beautiful prefecture, but there was a mass of similarities between every city and village, so once someone has been to one, they have been to them all. We also believed neither of us would relish the full extent of history that Kyoto and Fukushima had to offer if we'd gone without the other accompanying.

Second, the weather was perfect in Aomori, compared to the other prefectures further south. Aomori's weather during the autumn season was nice and brisk in the morning, chill and a little warm during the day, and cool and breezy with the moon. Sure, there were a few storms here and there, but we'd take anything less than a blizzard year after year.

The third and most important reason was the result when combining the first two, the hotspot for apple harvesting. Aomori was known throughout Japan as the home for apples and I wanted to take Ringomori there as a birthday present for her; mine was tagging along.

Our school trips started on Tuesday the seventh—our birthday—and ended on Friday, but since we'd have to take care of ourselves with limited finances, we planned for a shorter trip. We'd leave for Aomori Tuesday morning, spend the night at a hotel in separate rooms, and leave the following day. The details of the trip itself and what to do for the remaining days afterwards were what we discussed as I brought our orders of apple and key lime pies and lattes.

"Here's your apple pie, Miss America."

"Here's a piece of apple trivia, Mister Incorrect, apple pie isn't originally from America. While the connotation of apple pie is associated with being American, the delicious treat originated in Europe. The very first recipe for apple pie came from England, roughly one hundred years prior to America's introduction."

I nodded at that.
"I never knew that."

"Well, it isn't a useful fact to remember."

"One never knows what facts will be useful or not. Now let's break down our plans and find a way to get to and from Aomori."

"Thanks for bringing the pie, by the way."
She turned her laptop around and pointed at the screen, saying, "I found a ferry service we can use. They do trips from Hakodate to other parts of Honshu island, mainly Aomori City. The journey over the strait is three and a half hours long each way and they operate eight times a day."

She found the ferry's timetable and we had a look at which hours the ferries would depart.
"It'll be a four-hour train journey from here to Hakodate, so if we leave at six in the morning we'll arrive there at ten."

"That'll give us enough time to make the ten-twenty ferry and we'll arrive at Aomori at two in the afternoon. Let's go with that."

Since we both saved up our allowance by naturally not buying many pointless things—save for the mall and pie shop—we had accumulated more than enough money to pay for the single day trip. Saying that, we still opted for the cheapest options because we were also sensible...enough.

The ferry website gave us a weather warning. Our trip was a risky play because we wanted to go on our birthday, but the predicted forecast displayed a high probability of an autumn storm rolling through the Tsugaru Strait, which could shut down the ferries. There was also an underground train system, but those could be shut down too if the storm hit the cities.

I said, "Let's assume the trip over the water is possible, what activities should we do in the city? I'll let you choose that since you'd know more than me."

She illuminated the corner of the pie shop with her beaming and amused smile. I ate my pie as she browsed the internet looking at popular and unpopular areas we could visit. She seemed very invested in searching, I'd occasionally look at the camera with a raised eyebrow.

Once she found a spot, she showed me the screen.
"It's called the Hirosaki Apple Park, and because it closes at six in the evening, I thought we could also go to a clothing store nearby the station or hotel and we can buy clothes that represent our time in Aomori."

I agreed with her choice because I trusted her incandescent judgment. I did my own individual research of the two locations to see if any ideas sprung to mind. Some did, but there was some waiting to be done before they came to fruition.

"Alrighty, now we need to book a hotel near the two locations."

We finished our pies and she was still sipping on her latte. It wasn't intentional, but she did most of the research while I sat here like a lazy kid in a group project. I did keep myself busy by tiering Ringomori's account on the current RONselia event; win-win.

"Okay," she said, "I found a relatively cheap and small hotel at the edge of the city."

It wasn't the best of flexes, but I was able to multitask tapping the notes in perfect rhythm and flicker my eyes between the laptop and phone screen until the song finished. I then gave her my full attention as she summarized the place. It was a modest hotel near a train station and we booked two single-bed hotel rooms; luckily they were small.

She said, "Look, along with a laundry room on the ground floor, they also have a full kitchen available for guests who may wish to prepare their own meals. Shall I cook dinner?"

"Are we even goin' to have time for something like that?"

"Who knows, but we should if we do."

"Should we write an entire itinerary for the trip?"

"I would rather follow the river's flow; let whatever spontaneous choices we make guide us that day. Sound good, Chamaru-chan?"
She displayed a playful smile.

I looked her in the eyes. Her long eyelashes batted like a doe, denying me the chance to stare at her golden irises. The name she called me swathed around me like a scarf, a warmth without hesitation.
"Sounds good to me. All that's left to do is confirm those tickets for train and ferry."

We did, unfortunately, skip a step in the trip planning process—it was necessary if we were going to pull this off. We elected to not tell the orphanage our true plan of going to Aomori.

Despite being cleared by Doctor Shizuko, the head caregivers were wary of the two of going to our individual school trips due to our recent breakdowns—they found out about my antidepressant pill problem and messy room—and gave us a signed paper excusing us from the trip if we changed our minds. We knew they wouldn't allow us to go on our birthday trip under any circumstance, so we decided to basically hold off telling the truth until after we returned to Sapporo.

After we bought our tickets, we went back to the orphanage and simply rested for the rest of the day. There wasn't much for me to pack for an overnight trip, so I put the simple necessities into one backpack and called it a success.

On Monday, we informed our schools that we would be unable to participate in the school trip due to worries over our mental health, using the written excuse signed by our orphanage as proof; it wasn't entirely false. After school, I went to a local florist to pick up a bouquet of flowers for a separate activity.

We knew we were dissident for doing this, but it felt exciting all things considered. Honestly, what was more fun than sneakily leaving the city with an equally depressed and parentless friend? This opportunity didn't come often and it would make for the perfect outing. If anything, the orphanage should be encouraging this more.

On Tuesday's nautical twilight—the beginning of our birthday—we planned to say goodbye to the orphanage with our packed belongings at 5:41:29 and take the first bus to Sapporo station. However, I had already left before because there was one secret stop for me to make before leaving the city with Ringomori.

Naebo Cemetery.