Takamatsu Tomori had been acting strange these past two days.
Yoshiiro Chiose wrapped up another day's work and, as was her habit, shot a flirtatious look across the office toward Tomori's desk.
But today, Tomori just gave a little startled twitch and retreated back behind her monitor.
"Tch. Idiot."
She said it, but honestly, Chiose was delighted by that reaction.
She was dodging her! How perfect.
It meant Tomori had her own will. It meant that even if she couldn't make a choice, she wouldn't just blindly follow along either.
This was the result of more than a month of patient, careful guidance — her own handiwork.
The effect might be small, but it was there. It was real.
And there was one more thing to feel good about...
[Maybe I can go home tonight. The end of the simulation might finally be within reach!]
"Tomori, still not done with work? Want to grab a drink after we clock out?"
"Huh? I... I'm not done yet..."
"It's fine, it's fine. Let me see how much you have left — I'll help you finish."
"Chiose, mmph—!"
Before Tomori could react, Chiose had already plopped herself right down onto Tomori's lap.
The weight of her junior colleague shook something deep inside Tomori's soul.
"Don't go thinking I'm heavy, okay? I'm very soft and very light — holding me in your arms won't be a bother at all, I promise."
As she said it, Chiose wriggled obligingly to settle into a more comfortable position in Tomori's arms.
"..."
Please get off. If you keep squirming like that, my phantom limb is going to start doing something very interesting!
Tomori didn't dare resist. Her gaze drifted unsteadily to the side.
Having helped Chiose bathe so many times, even with clothes on, Tomori's brain automatically filled in exactly what Chiose looked like without them.
"Tomori, are you still on the fence?" Chiose had her back to Tomori, working through the files, her nimble fingers tapping the keyboard with a crisp, clear rhythm.
"Yes... I still haven't made up my mind. I'm sorry, Chiose."
"Hmm? A thing like this deserves careful thought. It came out of nowhere — nobody knows whether it'll really work out."
Chiose still hadn't turned around. Takamatsu Tomori tried to read Chiose's emotions from her voice alone.
She couldn't make out a thing.
"Tomorrow I'm getting on a plane to America."
That one sentence, abrupt as a stone dropped into still water, shattered Tomori's reverie. Her pupils contracted — then quickly returned to normal.
"So fast. How is it already so fast."
"They were pushing hard on their end. I've made up my mind — I'm going to take the leap. It's genuinely exciting, isn't it? It hits me like a shot of alcohol."
"But I still..."
"No rush. Tonight I'll be waiting for you at the docks. If you make up your mind, come find me at that same pier where we fell into the sea that time. I'll be there until seven in the morning."
Yoshiiro Chiose struck the keyboard one final, decisive time. She tilted her head and gave a small smile.
"I leave at eight tomorrow morning. Tokyo International Airport. I'm going to go hand in my resignation now — take your time and think it over, Tomori."
"But, but..."
"Whatever you decide, as long as you won't regret it — that's all that matters. People come together and drift apart all the time. Haven't you gotten used to that by now?"
She stood, pressed a gentle kiss to Tomori's forehead, and then Yoshiiro Chiose fell silent and walked out of the office without looking back.
At the door, she gave a little wave goodbye. There were things Chiose still wanted to say.
But say too much and it becomes nagging. Just the right amount, just enough — that was the way.
Ahh, it was a little sad not to say a proper farewell. They probably wouldn't cross paths as easily after this.
...
"I..."
Tomori spoke once Chiose was far enough away — but of course, there was no one left to answer her.
It was just past four in the afternoon. On any other day, she'd already be looking forward to her after-work routine with Chiose.
They'd go drink. They'd find a spot to play guitar and sing. Or they'd wander into a record shop and listen to albums.
But none of that would happen anymore.
From this point on, Chiose was leaving Tokyo. She was going across the ocean to chase her dream.
Someone that radiant — could someone like Tomori really keep up with her?
Put another way:
"In the end, Chiose is a savior meant for other people. And I'm just a lost child who needed a hand."
In the end, I still can't do it.
"No, no — I don't have what it takes. I have zero vocal technique. Everything I've managed has been through sheer brute force, just barely keeping the audience satisfied."
Someone once told her she performed too desperately. But she truly couldn't control her own emotions.
Those lyrics — whether original or written by someone else — Tomori could always feel what lived inside them, and resonate with it in an instant.
The moment she resonated, she wanted to pour everything into the expression. Could someone like her, who couldn't even rein in her own feelings, actually debut successfully in a foreign country?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
"I need to go... have another drink. I'm so torn up about this. I can't think straight at all..."
She'd leave everything to her sober self to deal with later. Even if that self never fully sobered up and stumbled into a decision half-drunk — she wouldn't regret it.
Takamatsu Tomori made her way to Yoshiiro Chiose's desk. Tucked inside Chiose's cabinet were two full boxes of Kisatsu sake reserves.
"If... if we could go together, then whether we succeed or not... I suppose it wouldn't matter so much."
But did she really want to go together?
Maybe she could try to convince Chiose to start things out domestically first?
America had so many opportunities — it was the stage where countless dreamers chased their stars — but if they failed, it would mean enormous upheaval for both their lives.
If, if they failed...
She inserted the straw and drank down an entire carton of Kisatsu sake.
The rough, cheap spirits bit at her nerves — as if some unknown deity of alcohol was reaching out from the unknown to hold her gently.
"Should I go or not... I really want to go, but... but..."
Even as Takamatsu Tomori wavered, the answer had already quietly formed inside her.
It was too uncertain. This opportunity was far too uncertain.
She was a responsible adult. She couldn't bring herself to do what Chiose did — to have the courage to throw everything away and bet it all.
That was just how it was.
...
The evening breeze. Always the evening breeze — a story's ending only feels right when carried on a night wind like this.
Had this same breeze, a thousand years ago, also blown across a wandering soul waiting at a harbor for a friend who never came?
Yoshiiro Chiose waited alone at the docks for Takamatsu Tomori to arrive.
She wore the finest outfit from inside the simulation, carried the bag she'd never dare dream of owning in real life, and waited for someone she knew, deep down, would never come.
"It's quarter past nine. Ugh, I'm freezing to death."
Winter had already settled in. A new year was just around the corner.
The girl pulled her coat tighter. She didn't notice that barely a hundred meters away, tucked inside a back alley, a middle-aged woman carrying a cleaver was wandering aimlessly.
Then, suddenly — as if sensing something — the woman turned and walked straight in Yoshiiro Chiose's direction.
...
[Sea of Enmity: When alone late at night, you are far more likely to attract the attention of random killers or other criminals. High probability of being stabbed to death for no apparent reason. Life cost: zero years.]
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