Aomori: [End]

The moon was supposed to take over the sun's role of providing light to the city but surrendered the sky to the storm instead. The clouds grew too thick for anything but emptiness to reside, and instead of light, the ground was drowning in water. I hurriedly entered the hotel and took off my hoodie; a small pool of water fell to the granite floor.

Dissimilar to before, the lobby was packed with people who were as soaked as me. Many were at the front desk, probably wanting to book a room last minute. I went to another section of the lobby designated for reservations, where a man awaited me.

"Hello mister," I said while wiping the raindrops from my face. "I have two hotel rooms booked under 'Chamaru Vieira' and 'Ringomori Yoru.'"

The man clacked his keyboard on the hotel computer.
"Yes, I have your reservations right here, sir. We have actually been awaiting your arrival...due to an unfortunate change."

My eyebrows lowered.
Change? Did we lose both rooms? Or...

"Due to an influx of people taking shelter from the storm, the hotel has had to combine parties with multiple rooms into a lesser amount to open up space. This includes you, sir."

It did include us. We were originally meant to sleep in two rooms, but now we had to share one for the night.

It was nearing eight o'clock. I waited in the lobby until the staff was ready with my—or our room key. I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't racing. My morals determined sharing a room with the person of the opposite sex to be a big deal, even if I knew nothing was going to happen. I also knew overreacting about it, knowing nothing could be changed, would be burdensome to everyone else. I wasn't against overreacting because I wasn't prepared for the incoming night.

Once I was called up, I thought about returning to Ringomori to tell her the news, but my shoulders were tiring with all the luggage carried. Yes, unfortunately I wasn't the most muscular man on Earth. Therefore, I decided to drop off the bags in our room beforehand.

I took the elevator up to the sixth floor to see the new room, it was the third one from it. Upon opening the door was a small corridor that led to the open bedroom. I set the bags on the bed and looked around. It was double—maybe even triple—the size of my room at the orphanage, I wasn't used to all this space. There was a warm tone due to the off-white and beige colors and atmosphere.

I think she'll like it, I thought.

I didn't deepen my exploration of the room as I received a call from Ringomori and answered immediately.

"I finished baking the dessert!"

I left the room into the hallway.
"That's great, I'll head over to the bakery now, so just wait—"

"Actually Chamaru-chan," she interrupted, "we're already in the lobby. Fujita-san walked me over with an umbrella."

Fu—who? Is that the name of the worker? How did I not read her name tag earlier?

"So, are you in your room?" she asked. "What floor are we on?"

"It's the sixth floor…"
There was a slightly higher pitch of my voice.
"And we have...one room."

Silence over the phone at first, she asked, "What do you mean?"

I tried answering her question but couldn't avoid stuttering past the first word. The elevator door dinged as I failed to get a word in and she stepped out from it, alone. I hung up the call and she approached me with a cardboard box and metal drinking container, both with the bakery's insignia.

"So, how was the baker girl?" I asked.

Approaching closer, she said, "She's quite the loquacious girl, but that didn't make her any less lovely. So, what happened to our rooms?"

Flustered, I explained to her the situation as we stood outside the room door. The effects of the storm and my soaked clothes must have finally caught up to me because a headache at the back of my head began pulsing. Her reaction to our shared room was a string of emotions, from embarrassment to dubious to a type of smile I hadn't seen on her face; maybe it was self-conscious confusion.

I opened the door for her and she had her first look of the room. Directly to the right of the front door was the bathroom. It had a ceramic toilet right next to the sink with a bathtub compacted together; the tub was combined with a shower head. The main room was also concentrated in size, but still effectively layered.

"Aw-wow, this is a lovely room. Compared to the freezing chills outside, the atmosphere here is quite cozy, don't you think? It's also spacious, reminds me of my old room. I wish I could have a house with rooms like this again."

The single bed was wide enough to fit two people—a fact that turned us pink. At the foot of it was a long but thin wooden desk with a chair tucked under it, behind it was a wall of rose curtains. On the desk was a hotel telephone, wall-mounted TV and a remote, and other amenities for a hotel that two disobedient orphans didn't deserve.

She placed the box and metal container on the desk and I turned on the TV to see the news about the storm.

"Chamaru-chan...would you like to shower first?" she asked. "You'll get sick if you keep your hair and clothes wet."

"Ah, y-you can go ahead. It's pretty much dry already, and so I'll be here lookin' at the TV, so...enjoy the bath while you're in there too."

"Okay… I'll be heading in now."
She grabbed her change of clothes bought at the shopping district and entered the bathroom.

I decided to open the cotton curtains to see the darkness of Aomori. The lack of moonlight caused the horizon to remain unknown, even the city lights weren't visible from my elevated position. The thumping sounds of raindrops splattering on the windows were constant, as I followed them to the bottom. Distant flashes of lightning lit up the city for milliseconds at a time, the trumpeting sound of thunder followed shortly.

I shot up at the sound of water turning on and hitting the bathtub. I did what most teenage boys did and thought about the situation.
Alrighty, there's a girl one wall away from me takin' a shower, and here I am thinkin' about it…thinkin' about her. Thinkin' about her, I can only see her face. That's it, that's more than enough.

Unlike most teenage boys, my mind was unable to divert to anything perverted, though it might have if she and I were normal high school students. I ran my fingers through my quick-drying but still-dampened hair and patted the top of my head to irritate my ongoing headaches, purging my thoughts.

It was a fact that we weren't normal kids on a trip, but kids without parents, with a dark condition that dictated our lives, and a desire to be different together. I laid flat on the floor, my headaches getting stronger, thinking about the experiences we'd been having; the number of different smiles she displayed in a singular day. Once again, an unfortunate and reoccurring thought had come to mind; How can a girl like her be depressed?

I was always confused by that, despite knowing her situation. I thought I had comprehended it all, but I figured it was one of those things she could only fully relate to no matter how close we were. Well, how close were we? Maybe I still needed to be closer to her. There were things I didn't know about her, and maybe if I did know them, I can understand her more.

After all, only I could understand her. I was like her, she was like me, I liked her, and… I liked her.

I like her.

That was another fact.

Without realizing it, I was zoning out by staring blankly at the wall behind the TV. I only regained mental consciousness when I heard the bathroom door creak open and Ringomori stepped out. I sat up and saw her standing there with her new clothes and a towel around her neck, she was drying a few strands of hair.

I felt an elysian sensation. Staring at her natural beauty, with her clear and smooth face that must have been sculpted by the hands of Kichijoten herself. Her silky hair that flowed down to the back of her shoulders, but some peered over the front, was as glossy and sweet as the cinnamon it imitated the color from. She was always like that, and my heart fluttered because of her. I had felt this sensation before, but never to this extent. The amber of her eyes connected with mine, and it was only then that I realized she was calling me.

"Chamaru-chan… Can you stop...staring at me? It's rather...embarrassing."
A nervous chuckle followed.

Registering her discomfort, I dropped my head and vigorously stared at the carpet.
"S-Sorry, Ringomori. Y-You just looked great...for a moment."

"I admire your candor, Chamaru-chan."

"I guess it's my turn to shower now," I said, standing to my feet and grabbing my change of clothes.

"Please. Also...place your dirtied clothes in the bag and hang it on this side of the door. I'll pair it with mine and launder them together."

"Alrighty."

The roles were reversed and I turned on the water in the bathroom. I quickly showered any dirt off me and spent my time in the bath replaying today's events, my focus more on her than the actual happenings. Once I was out of the bathtub and put my newly bought clothes on, I had solidified a conclusion.

Muttering to the misty mirror, so quietly and delicately that I barely managed to hear myself, I said, "I've fallen in love with her."

The world was quiet—no storm, no water, no air. It was peaceful until the ring of my phone took me away from a tranquilized trace. It was a message from Hara.

Happy birthday, Vieira-senpai! Hopefully the trip is go'n great for you and that you're safe too. My mom misses her unofficial son so get back soon. I'll be wait'n for my souvenir too!

Those words stuck to me deeply, so much so that they appeared on every surface around me. I was never accustomed to friends, at least from what I remembered, and now I'm staying with one overnight while the other went out of his way to send me good wishes. I hadn't noticed how much had changed.

When I left the bathroom, Ringomori was setting up plates on the desk. I stared at her with the knowledge that I loved her, but she didn't look any different. Maybe I had already been looking at her with that knowledge. There was only one chair, but she assured me that I could sit on it while she sat behind it at the edge of the bed.

We used the room's microwave to heat up our dinners and ate it quite quickly. Then she placed the box that contained her homemade dessert on the table.

"Is it okay if I record us eating?" she asked. "I want to record your reaction to my first attempt at recreating my 'Pan Roasted Apple Cake' and 'Matcha Tea' recipes. It's been six years since I last made them."

"Go for it," I answered.

She opened the bakery box and took out the dessert; I saw it for the first time. It was circular like a standard pie and had glazed slices of Toki apples as toppings blanketing the dough. She cut out two triangular slices and placed them on plates. The buttery and doughy crust was a deep and golden perfection. She then poured two cups of the Matcha tea; fresh hot steams emerged from the rippling surface.

We each took a plate and cup, then clasped our hands together and said, "Itadakimasu."

She wanted me to have the first bite. The smell was stronger than anything else I'd ever eaten in my life before. I parted a moderate piece from my slice and ate it. The ambrosial fluff of the velvety dough on my tongue coordinated with the toothsome crunch of the apple slices. It would have been the perfect experience if my head had remained calm.

I thought the shower would ease my headaches, but they still lingered. Even so, I tried to ignore it and enjoy the meal. I closed my eyes and took another deep inhale of the aroma, but when I opened them again, I was in a kid's classroom.

➼ ➼ ➼

I was getting a bento box from the student cubbies near the front door of the classroom, there was a great aroma wafting in the air behind me. The clock above me, next to the "Class 2-E" sign over the door, displayed the time as noon.

Turning around, I saw no one else but the usual girl classmate with a ponytail, since everyone else was playing outside. Returning to my seat, I heard music playing. I turned to her and noticed she was using the school-issued learning tablet to listen to music while she read a book, but the earphones weren't plugged in correctly.

Wanting to eat peacefully, I approached her and bluntly told her to plug in her earphones. She became as red as an apple and apologized for the inconvenience. Looking at her desk, I saw her bento box with a piece of dessert inside. I caught a whiff of it, the great aroma.

I asked her what it was and she said, "Pan...roasted...apple...cake. I...made it...myself."

I said, "It smells good," then left for my desk, but she softly called out to me before I could sit.

I turned around and she, while kneading her hands together and not daring to make eye contact, asked, "Do...you want to...try some?"

There was no reason to deny her offer as I was already building an appetite for it due to the smell. I pulled up a chair opposite her desk and shared some of my lunch with her too.

"I'm Vieira Chamaru, pleasure to meet you."

She tried repeating after me but butchered my family name. I lightly giggled at her attempt and told her it was okay to call me by my given name. She tried reiterating my family name until she got it right, but still failed.

Looking down at her homemade dessert, where I had just taken a piece from, she said something so quietly I was unsure if she actually said anything. She made another effort, saying "Cha…" quietly once more, but this time she put more energy to finish it off loudly, "Maru...-san."

➼ ➼ ➼

I lost feeling in my right hand and accidentally dropped the fork on the hotel floor. I could hear the bed shift behind me, she had gotten up in response.

"Are you okay, Chamaru-chan?"

My head throbbed; I realized our terrifying truth. I tried to keep my cool, but my feet were bouncing on the floor by themselves and my heart was beating terribly through my shirt.

I had to ask her, "Ri-Ringomori, when you were a kid...d-did you ever have a p-ponytail?"

"I...I"

I hadn't the control to turn around towards her, but her stutter told me she was perplexed.

"Yess...I did."

I then asked, "D-Did you make this dessert f-for the 'a-apple of your eye'?"

With moderate hesitation, she said "Yes" again.

➼ ➼ ➼

I giggled at the girl's delayed confidence.
"Maru-san sounds cool."

I looked at her and waited until she brought her chin up

"What's your name?" I asked.

➼ ➼ ➼

She had walked up next to me, leaning forward over the desk to try and see my face. I brought up my chin just enough to see her.
With blurred eyes, like a car windshield in a storm similar to the one outside, I asked, "Why..."

➼ ➼ ➼

She was dubious at first, but then she said her name.

"I...am… My name is...Ringomori Yoru."

➼ ➼ ➼

"Why…" I asked. "Why didn't you tell me you were a part of my previous life?"

➼ ➼ ➼

Another day in that classroom, she introduced me to the song I caught her listening to. It was from an idol band named RONselia. I told her I wasn't that into music so she was the one to mostly listen to it through her earphones as she read books and I drew pictures—sometimes I'd be able to hear a song's loud part. We shared lunches and she introduced me to her homemade matcha tea.

The two of us were walking home from school for the first time. We arrived at her home and I took notice of a small sapling planted in her front lawn. My apartment building was several streets south of here, so dropping her off and picking her up on this road became our daily routine.

Our teacher asked us to stand in front of the class. To our surprise, we were both serenaded with a Happy Birthday song. That was when we realized our birth dates were the same. How did we celebrate? She brought me over to her house and she baked her pan roasted apple cake for us to share, her parents recorded us with a camera.

Memories of times I ate apple cake and drank matcha tea swarmed me. My old memories involving the ponytail girl replayed with her face fully revealed, and after a certain period, I heard a vinyl scratch echoing in my head. Each and every time without fail, there was a plate of apple cake or a cup of matcha nearby. The sight of it, the taste, the smell, the feel on the tongue, the crunch of the apple and sipping of tea, I relived those feelings like it was the first time.

➼ ➼ ➼

I fell out of the hotel chair onto the carpet.

"Chamaru-chan?"
She sounded panicked.
"What are you saying?"

It wasn't the dessert that made me this tense, it was her.

I couldn't give her a direct answer and only afforded a groan as my head felt ready to implode and burn.
I-I knew her all my life? How—AH! It…hurts!

New memories, unrelated to the dessert this time, manifested.

➼ ➼ ➼

She'd cried next to her ill-dad's bed in her home. There were no words I could say to uplift her sinking mood, so I decided to put my words of sympathy into a drawing. The background was yellow, not from sunlight but from the color of the trees. The frame of the picture was her windowsill, three similarly yellow apples rested on it with the sashes opened outward.

Time and time again, I recalled her calling me "Maru-chan," something I had never heard anyone else call me before. That was her name for me. I was the apple of her eye. The one that rotted away and left her. She was talking about me.

So why didn't she say so?

She watched me lay soccer.

I tried teaching her how to draw. She tried teaching me how to bake.

I was there for her during her dad's unfortunate passing.

We celebrated birthdays together.

Birthdays.

I found the both of us inside her home yet again, this time with our moms and a birthday cake on the table in front of us; her mom recorded this event too. The cake had an "11" on it, which revealed to me what memory I was seeing.

No. Stop. I don't want to see it again. I don't want to relieve it again.

After the celebrations, Ringomori handed me a used cardboard box from the CLARIS pie shop, inside was a slice of her apple cake. Freshly baked, the aroma could be smelled throughout the span of time. My mom was speaking to hers.

"Yes, one quick stop at our place to change and we'll meet you there."

Ringomori approached me.
"Are you excited to have our party in CLARIS?"

"Super pumped!" I said with glee. "An entire shop of sweets just for us, goin' to be the best birthday yet! See you there, Yoru-chan!"

My mom and I said goodbye to the residents, then I ran to the sidewalk where my dad was coming down the street. I ran forward as he pulled up in front of the house to show off the cake I was gifted. My mom came to fetch me and opened the rear door for me. I rolled down the window and looked beyond the yard's garden to see Ringomori on the inside of the windowsill. She was happily waving goodbye for now.

As my mom spoke, a manifestation of my feelings formed a thought.

I like her. I want to tell her I like her.

I forced the memory to end before the crash.

➼ ➼ ➼

"Are you okay?!"
She tried picking me off the floor, her arms were shaken as she put her hands on me.

I couldn't hack it; I couldn't cope with it. My body was moving to its own behest and shrugged her off. I crawled backwards away from her and the desk, in the direction of the room's corridor. Shock ripened from all the things invading—or actually reawakening—in my mind.

"What was that question about, Chamaru...-chan?"
She was standing, looking down at me.

I gathered the breath in my lungs and forced them to turn into words. There wasn't much firmness in them.
"I-I remember, th-the smell of that cake and tea. I remember y-you. I remember all that I can about m-my life before...before the accident."

Her response?
"Really? That's... That's great!"

Bless her. She was elated and blissful, more so than me.

I should have also felt that way, so why wasn't there a trace of happiness at this moment?

Because my question remained unanswered.

I asked again, "Why didn't you tell me you were a part of my previous life?"

My voice slightly raised because my memories were still screaming inside my head. I couldn't hear myself think, let alone speak. But she didn't know that. A tear or two fell to the floor, paving the path necessary for the other drops to flow through with ease.
"Why? Why did you lie to me?"

Her smile was disappearing, I made the wrong move.

"Th-This whole year knowin' each other, you knew about my life and didn't tell me? The apple cake and matcha tea? RONselia? The vinyl? Soccer? Your house? All the things I told you I remembered; you were there."

I forced myself to stop speaking. My nails dug deep into my palms—however my brain was too preoccupied to feel that pain.

She formulated an answer.
"Hold...on. I...I was scared, Chamaru...-chan. I was scared...and confused...and nervous."

Just spit it out.

"I...was scared because of...because...because of..."

She couldn't answer, and I wasn't withholding.

"I'm...scared right now. Why didn't you just tell me when we celebrated our birthday a year ago? First time you've celebrated with me in five years and you just say nothing? All the things we experienced together; did you want to keep it to yourself? Would it have been so hard to tell me?"
It looked like she was trying to answer, but I kept going.
"I-I-It feels like there's two different versions of me fightin' for control right now. You knew a version of me so happy...so expressive, but you didn't want me to know too? Or...or did you not like that me at all, and wanted to start over?"

The veins in my head throbbed in pace with my accelerating heartbeat. I clawed my hair and pulled it over my face. The darkness it brought over my eyes was like my thoughts inside my head. I shut my eyes and allowed a spiteful part of me to speak.
"A-Are you happy I had my accident?"

"Is...Is it all...my fault?"
Her speech became more distant, and soft.

A loud thud from the same direction as her voice echoed shortly after, causing me to flinch and open my frightful eyes. Through the small gaps between my hair, I saw that she had fallen to her knees with a disheartened frown. She tightly covered her mouth with her hands, muting even the sounds of breathing.

She was quiet, and I was without any more words. I parted my hair to stare at her with impassive eyes. Her peach eyes hardened. The striking rain against the window spoke accurately enough for us. It sounded strong enough to knock the wings off a butterfly.

The situation we were in before was that of a dream. A dream most boys with childhood friends would have. But it wasn't a dream, it was reality—a nightmare.

She choked, "It...It is my fault?"
She became a broken record, burying her head in her hands.
"I...I am sorry...I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry..."

Her resistance gave out, she was melting into the floor along with her pleas of forgiveness. That's when I realized.

I was seeing with my eyes, but that was blinding me from seeing the truth.

Touch: The atmosphere was cold, maybe colder than the storm.

Sound: Her hiccups and constant restraint, she was hurting but still considerate enough to not cause a disturbance.

Taste and Touch: The cause of all of this. What these two senses showed me weren't of pain or loss, they were supposed to be of healing and remembrance.

Those senses readjusted my belligerent sight, and I saw that she was still, though on the inside she must have been falling apart. The only movements were welled-up tears falling in slow motion.

My new eyes saw my confusion—my supposed anger—withered away like a rotten apple core. It left as quickly as it came; unannounced, as if that mattered. When I stood up, she recoiled and leaned against the foot of the bed, gripping the blanket as if it was someone's hand. She was frightened.

I took a step back; the rotten apple had left a seed of regret.

"S-Sorry," I said.
I didn't know if she was looking at me as my eyes turned to the door. Next thing I knew, the door was open with my hand on the knob.
"Sorry."

She called out to me. No honorifics, no formalities.
"Cha…maru?"

I froze for a brief moment but was unable to meet her Toki eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll be...back?"

I stepped into the empty hallway and shut the door. I fled, like the coward I was, out of the hotel without a second soul in sight.

The roaring of bombs and rockets soared in the sky, and the bullets that were fired from the clouds persistently hit against my cheeks as they and my tears ran down my face. The weight of the water shackling my ankles got heavier with every step, it was like walking in the middle of the strait.

I miserably strolled up and down the dimly lit sidewalk with no protection from nature's own tears. I berated the part of me that wanted to go back inside now, knowing I needed to stay out here and literally cool off and ruminate about what happened. She was bombarded by impossible questions that had no answers, I was immature and abhorrent to initiate a strife with a fragile and endearing girl.

I asked myself an impossible question too: Why did you do that?

Well, there was one answer: Because I'm pathetic.

My head exploded and she was in the area of effect.

I kept thinking about the despondence on her face and in her voice, and soon felt pain in a place where my heart should have been. There was more for me to say to her, but all of my words couldn't make it pass my throat, as if a tourniquet had tethered around it.

I thought my teeth had been grinding together, but the sting on my bottom lip felt from the rain brought my finger to it. There was blood on my fingertip. Despite suffering depression for five years, I never felt like the infliction of pain was an honest coping mechanism, and while I contemplated a more extreme resolve at times, I never deceived myself enough to go over the threshold. That being said, the pain I felt right now was deserved.

There was a lonesome bench swamped with water on the other side of the street.
Taking a seat and feeling the frigid water soaking in my clothes, I thought, I don't understand how my best memories with my newly discovered childhood friend could turn into a fallin' out that was entirely my fault, yet the blame fell on her?

From the moment I stepped out of the hotel, I knew there wasn't a future where we didn't talk about the situation any further. We had to go back to the orphanage eventually. There were, however, different futures depending on the conclusion of the conflict. Would we stay as friends? Or would we become distant because of me again?

I don't want that. I don't want to lose the girl I've liked for so long...

An emotion longed for and ripened was harvested.

I believed I had fallen for her in the year that I knew her in this second life, but the memories finally showcased their purpose. I had liked her in my original life too. It may have been a child's crush, but while those memories may have been misplaced for years, emotions weren't affected by amnesia.

The memories were a good thing, and the negatives I blindly focused on shouldn't have had a greater impact than the positives ones. She was my friend, my first and best friend. My Buddha in hell, the first positive that led me to find other positives.

I was gratuitously angry that she didn't tell me the truth, but she did.

➼ ➼ ➼

In my hospital bed the day I woke up, I remembered calling out a yellow apple and a cup of tea to the nurses and orderlies, but I wasn't finished there. I was fading out of consciousness and the nurses panicked to check my health.

"A-Apple… T-Tea…" and what I wanted to say, "C-Cake."

Ringomori showed up a few more times while I was hospitalized, but since that was my most vulnerable state, I couldn't quite remember them even now. All I knew was that she stopped showing up after I said I didn't know who she was. I had completely forgotten all about her.

➼ ➼ ➼

She was probably the only person to visit me at the hospital. Not my teachers, not my classmates, not any other family; only her. I was the apple of her eye, and she was traumatized when her apple and only friend forgot her. She had every reason to be scared, and I proved her point as to why.

Our friendship fell to the ground from the tree it was growing from. I had a choice of picking it up or letting it rot. The best apples were those picked when the ripening was perfect, and the perfect time was a small window. Our relationship, whether it was as friends or something less now, had a small window that I needed to time right if I didn't want to lose it, but harvest it.

I desired to be a milquetoast person no longer, but instead someone who was committed and would do anything to prevent a falling out. Feelings of hatred and resentment didn't linger—they never existed. The only feelings I have always had for her were of gratitude and adoration. I needed to let her know that.

The rain that pelted my face doused it clean of my sorrows and carried them towards the sewers to drown. I dreaded the upcoming conversation, but knew it was necessary. I stood up from the bench and forced my freezing legs to trudge back to the hotel.

My eyes had just become accustomed to the excess rain and lack of lighting, a feat honed because of the weather in Sapporo. With every step, my sense of vision became clearer.

The solitary ambiance of the monotonous cold made that sighting of a silhouette outside the hotel entrance all the more terrifying. My feet stood still as I squinted to discern a face, but the figure started approaching me. I blenched back a step, but fortunately my fear didn't have time to evolve to anything deeper, because I now knew how to put faces onto silhouettes. I took my steps forward at the speed of a sloth.

There she stood; a piece of serenity surrounded by turmoil.

"Ri-Ringomori…? What're you—"

Only a couple meters apart, she picked up her speed and dove into my chest, wrapping her arms around me and tightening with immense strength. There was a tickle on my chest, I dropped my eyes to see her nestling her nose around my soaked shirt. My arms lacked the strength to pull her away from my drenched body, so I conceded and chose to hold her smaller body the same way she held me and took a few progressive strides to bring us under the hotel awning.

Even the bitter cold was no match for her sweet warmth.

She finally lifted her face and we connected the windows to our souls. I had seen her at her highest and lowest, but never at her angriest until this moment.

It wasn't the right time to think about it, but even her angered expression was partially cute. She lifted to her tiptoes, which caused me to slightly lower my head to her—fully expecting a tongue-lashing. Her hand slapped my forehead and she kept it there for a few seconds, she couldn't keep a frown for long as it transitioned to a quiet smile blended with concern.

She pulled away from me and grabbed my hand with both of hers, the frigid trembling was awash with fervent comfort. Without saying a word or letting go, she escorted me all the way back to our hotel room. I'm sure both our drenched states caught a few eyes, but she hadn't cared in the slightest. I was shoved into the bathroom and handed my newly dried clothes and a clean towel. Only now did she speak, albeit admonish.

"Put those on again and hand me your wet ones. I'll dry them."

"That'll—" I hoarsely coughed. "That'll only cost you more. I'll pay you back."

"Pay me back by not getting sick," she glowered at me.

As I was shutting the door, she commented, "Also, who doesn't wear a T-shirt underneath their hoodie?"

That put a chuckle in the air. After I undressed and put the bag of wet clothes on the door handle, I had my second shower. There wasn't much thought going on, simply anxious worrying for once I step out.

She sat crisscross on the bed and invited me to do the same. The TV was off and the curtains were closed. Throughout my friendships with her and Hara, along with my social ineptitude, I had never had a quarrel with anyone. Based on her insecurity to the situation, neither had she.

All I knew about the upcoming process was from a RONselia event story where the members nearly broke up, they called it "Reconciliation."

Out of all the memorable experiences of the trip before this point, despite how embarrassed and guilty I was, this was the one I'd like to remember most vividly.

First and foremost, I apologized. She apologized too, though there was no reality where I'd let her take any blame. Still, she insisted on taking some, saying she was sorry for not telling me the truth during our recent time together. She'd developed a fear of being forgotten during our time apart, and while it's true that I did forget her, she wanted to deny it.

She said, "I was addled about what to do when you reappeared into my life. If I told you about our past and...you didn't remember, would telling you have been a mistake? I...did my best to grow a new relationship with you, thinking I was sparring you by not telling the truth, but in hindsight, I was only sparring myself."

With verbose, I explained the confusion and anxiety I felt when my memories returned and how I wrongfully projected my pain onto her out of fear. She went outside to find me as I went inside to find her. She explained that she wasn't mad for what I said at that moment, but rather for walking out into a life-threatening storm at night without protection. We understood how the other felt.

Many people probably experienced this kind of fighting and making up, but we believed it was specific to us simply due to the cause and effect of the situation.

""I'm sorry.""

After a second's pause, we said, ""We're sorry.""

Our eyes still connected; she held her hands to her chest.
"It's somewhat ironic how so much happiness could bloom out of depression. It only makes sense since the seeds of despair are sowed into the ground, and the only way to go from there was up. It's as if I was walking in an orchard and saw the fruit of that seed. You're the fruit, Chamaru, the ripe apple that catches my eye."

She was my Buddha in hell, maybe even something greater.

Once the room was quiet, we noticed the thunderous roars had faded into the distance. I left the bed to turn the TV back on, the news said the storm over the strait was predicted to pass during the night. For us, that meant traveling back to Hokkaido was increasingly possible. Still, the storm's incessant influence on the city would ravage for a bit longer.

"Oh my…" Ringomori said.
She stood by the desk holding her camera.

"What?"

"Nothing… I misplaced my camera for a moment, but I found it. We're okay."

An hour to midnight, I went down to the laundry room to pick up my clothes when the power in the hotel had momentarily gone offline. Luckily it wasn't for too long and I was able to take the elevator back up to our floor, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't startled by it. After entering the room, I sat back on the chair and put a hand to my chest.

"My heart's goin' a mile a second because of everything today."

She, sitting on the bed, said, "I'm surprised your heartbeat could go that high."

"It's happened before, when I first held your hand at the food court."

"Is that so?"
She sounded intrigued.
"Can I hear it?"

"Too late, it's normal again. Try again next time."

"I will."

We started to feel the effects of the tiresome day and used the hotel amenities to prepare ourselves for bed. Once we were done, she laid on the left side of the bed—away from the wall. I sat on the floor with my head leaning back on the bed; she airily combed my disheveled hair. Staring at the ceiling, I reminded her of a conversation on the train.

"You said your memories are in an orchard, how did you create that?"

She pondered for a bit.
"Memories are like the apples of an orchard. The rows of trees are separated into bliss, serenity, pain, and other emotions. The apples that grow on the branches are memories created with experience. Sure, there are times where you have a few rotten ones, but that's okay; you need to taste the bitterness to better enjoy the sweet ones."

"How many sweet trees have you planted?"

"Imagine my orchard stretching over a hill. Starting at the foot of it, the higher I go, the better the harvest. I've spent a lot of time at the top, as I see more trees planted below. However, I've recently been able to see an expansion at the peak."

"Huh, okay. Could I come up with something like that?"

"That's up to you."

The tips of my hair strands continuously grazed my eyelashes as I mindlessly rocked my head side to side. Next to me was the bag containing the items we bought at the apple park.

"I wonder how the weather in Kyoto is like, I bet my classmates aren't dealin' with a storm this bad right now."

"Mayhaps not…" she yawned with every pause, "…so do I..."

"CLARIS is probably low on sales since we're not there. Maybe Akio-kun and his mom aren't havin' to work as much."

"…I can't wait...to go back..."

She soon started muttering incoherent words for responses.

I said, "The natural disaster cleanup in this country is quick, so I believe we'll still be able to leave by the time we have to check out of the hotel."

"..."

"So maybe we could—"
I paused once I realized the stillness of my hair and the absence of her voice. Leaning forward, her hand caressed to the back of my head until it fell onto the edge of the bed. I turned around to see her on her side facing me, asleep.

Including my first life, this was surprisingly the first time I'd seen her sleeping. Her soft lips slightly puckered out, the steady breathing coming from her button nose was faint, and her eye bags had gotten better; near unnoticeable. Most of all, her fringe that consistently covered her forehead had parted slightly, I found that the most adorable. Back when she said I was the apple of her eye, I was certain the roles were reversed, proven by the way I was looking at her now.

If I told her that now, she'd probably argue against it all night, even if we were both tired.

There was no other place for me to sleep besides next to her, unless I wanted to sleep on the floor, chair, or bathtub. The bathtub was tempting, but I opted for the logical reason for the sake of my fatigued body, plus, nothing was going to happen; we were too pure. I attempted to put some things away as gingerly as I could but ended up doing the exact opposite, dropping Hara's candle gift on the floor. There was a loud thud on the carpet but luckily the candle didn't suffer any damages, nor did that wake Ringomori up. I discovered she was a heavy sleeper.

I took a moment to stare at the bed as a whole. She'd fallen asleep without a blanket over her, so I took the blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it over her as she shifted positions to sleep on her back. I let her have it all since I typically slept without one anyways.

After turning off the room's lights, I used my phone's flashlight to ungracefully get into bed. She had taken the outside lane, which meant I'd have to crawl from the foot to my side against the wall. I stared at the ceiling with my hands over my midriff and heard her change positions every few minutes.

For as far back as I could remember, I had always slept alone. Even when I had my parents and her, each night ended with me in my room. If I had gone on the class trip, I'd probably be sleeping in the same room as my other classmates, but would I feel less alone?

What's the difference between bein' lonely and alone?
Even when surrounded by people, like at school or at the orphanage, I felt lonely. That was until someone equally as lonely joined me—twice. Instead of being with everyone else, I was here with her. We were similar and different, which sequestered us from the rest of society. Having each other, we were not lonely, but still alone together. That was okay.

As the weight of my eyelids became heavier, I realized there was still an unsolved dilemma: I've gone from likin' her to lovin' her, with feelings that were always here in my heart. I need to tell her.

This trip was like a weigh station. I needed a brief checkpoint to ensure my life wasn't overbalanced before reentering the road. I'd now follow the path with an entirely new perspective.

I turned at the neck towards her and saw that was now facing me, sound asleep with only light whispers of air leaving her nose. She was finally getting the sleep she deserved after many years of sleepless nights.

I softly whispered, "Happy birthday and goodnight, Yoru," yet those words echoed throughout the room.

My eyes returned to the ceiling and closed. I wondered how to make my memory sanctuary of hell appear better. I'd hoped for something to appear on the lava river's horizon, a sign of an end. The thunder that ruptured the skies had long faded before the sun reclaimed its spot. The trip was meant to be a birthday present for her, but I felt like I'd been given the best one yet. I fell asleep and rowed through the river without worry.

The next morning saw the city recovering from the storm. The damages it sustained were normal and minor compared to other parts of the prefecture. Debris was quickly cleaned from main thoroughfares and most of the local trains had their tracks cleared before the standard operation time began; Japan's cleanup was top tier.

The sunlight that burned the night away peered through the curtains and a ray of rising sunshine hit my eyes. Upon waking up, I caught sight of the still sleeping face of Ringomori, much closer to me than I remembered. Her arm stretched across my chest to my right shoulder as if she'd been hugging me, and despite not sleeping with a blanket over me, I felt a sense of warmth that suggested something similar might have happened.

Then a familiar scent pierced my nose. Despite not bringing her usual shampoo and conditioner and instead using the hotel's provisions, I could still discern a honey fragrance coming from her hair. If I continued to sniff her hair, I'd probably be able to pick up cinnamon too, maybe it was just her natural odor after all.

Remembering she was a heavy sleeper, I removed her arm and sat up in bed without disturbing her. I reassessed my surroundings and recalled the events of the night before. The chirping birds told me the storm was truly over.

I took a glance at her resting face and detected a strand of hair across her lips. If our relationship status was something different, there would be multiple ways of taking it off. Ever so gently, as if she was a fine china, I stroked the strand back and tucked it behind her ear. A flutter in my heart caused an inadvertent shiver across my arm, but I didn't wake her.

I proceeded to get out of bed, stretch my limbs, and opened the curtains to let the sunshine in. The clock on my phone showed it was a little over eight in the morning.
Looking back at her, I whispered,"Good mornin', Yoru."

Until she woke up, I cleaned up the room with the news on low volume. I used my phone to check the ferries and it seemed like everything would be according to plan. Around nine, I was cleaning my face in the bathroom when I heard rustling from the bed. Peering out of the door, I saw she had finally risen from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes awake and looked around the room, at first in a panic, then calmed down once she met eyes with me.

"Oh, there you are. Good morning, Chamaru."

"Good morning to you too, Yoru."

There was a bit of a delay in her reaction, maybe not enough sleep, but her face soon turned red. While she burrowed back into the pillow, I gave her an update on the ferries.

"They've canceled without refund, we're homeless now."

"Then who's going to get my Tsukki-chan pin? Bought her for nothing."

"Rookie mistake. The ferry service is up, so we're good to depart Aomori at eleven."

She turned to the window then back at me.
"Understood, thank you. Allow me to get ready and we can check out of here."

She spent the next several minutes cleaning herself up, we both had changed into the same outfits we came here in. We gathered all our belongings and ensured that nothing was left behind as we left to the lobby of the hotel. After resigning the room key back to the concierge, both our stomachs desired breakfast, but we had agreed to have a proper meal on the ferry. As compensation, we'd have something light for the time being.

"I promised to return the metal container to Fujita-san, we can get something at her bakery."

The bakery was opened and quite packed since many people were also craving a light breakfast first thing after a massive storm. There were more workers at the counter along with the girl from yesterday.

"Oi, it's ye'two again!" she shouted from the backroom door. "Come 'round back, I'll have it open."

We followed her instructions and were led upstairs into her living room. Ringomori returned the container and Fujita went into the kitchen and came back with a small box from the bakery.

"Here's a few special snacks I made for ye'two today. Tell your people in Hokkaido to come visit our place if they're ever here!"

"Thank...you very much, Fujita-san."
Ringomori took the box since my hands were carrying the other bags.

She was first to go downstairs, and I was going to follow but Fujita stopped me for a brief moment.

"I was wrong about her, ye'know. She can hella bake, and she also seems to care a lot about ya. She's a whole different when gets on camera."

I replied, "You're finally a lucky one," then left to catch up with Ringomori.

Leaving the bakery, we were able to eat our pastry delights on a bench at a nearby park.

She said, "We survived a night together from a dangerous storm in another prefecture that we sneaked away to. The caregivers are going to be livid."

"Well, whatever punishments they give us, I'm okay with it because I know I'll get through them with you."

Once we finished our light breakfast, we explored the city a bit more on our way to Hirosaki station to take the train back to Aomori City. From there, we strolled to the terminal and departed from Honshu island on the "Blue Happiness" ferry. We ate delectable meals that involved a lot of meat and rice, stood on the open deck, and sat in the "View Seats" until we reached Hakodate. During the four-hour journey back to Sapporo, I explained to her the sensory events of the Proust effect that led to the restoration of my memories. Our return to the orphanage was at 18:48:15.

We entered and were immediately greeted by several cheerful children and a few confused caregivers.
They asked us why we had returned earlier than expected, and I said, "That's something we'd like to talk to you guys about."

Ringomori and I wouldn't see each other for the rest of the day—nor week—because after our meeting with the head caregivers, we were given a few punishments that fairly matched the severity of our crime.