~What we see is always the result of something. And the most frightening moment is when we begin to like that result.~
1. A Morning That Feels Too Calm
The winter wind slipped gently through the window gap, carrying the scent of wet leaves and the song of a canary—far too peaceful for my thoughts.
I woke with a strange emptiness—not the absence of feeling, but a calm that felt unnatural. As if last night's storm had settled into mud at the bottom of my chest.
Today I promised to go out with Misaki.
Not Shibuya.
Not the crowded center.
We chose Meiji Jingu Shrine—a place said to be filled with prayers, redemption, and unspoken hopes.
Ironic, I thought.
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2. A Date Disguised as Escape
Misaki was already waiting at the station gate.
"I almost thought you wouldn't come," she said, folding her arms.
Her tone was light.
Her smile warm.
But her eyes… still held something I couldn't name.
We took the train. Thirty minutes felt like a single breath.
We walked along the tree-lined path, passing people who came to pray—for better hopes, brighter fortunes.
I felt like I was walking deeper into shadow instead.
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3. Takoyaki and the Definition of Happiness
At lunchtime, we stopped at a small stall.
Warm takoyaki steamed between us.
"What do you think happiness is, Satoshi?" Misaki asked between bites.
I arranged my thoughts carefully, searching for an answer that wouldn't burden her, yet wouldn't openly oppose her either. Something neutral. Safe. A fragile step over unstable ground.
In the end, I only wanted to keep this peaceful meal from breaking.
"Most likely… doing what we like," I answered lightly.
"That simple?"
We laughed softly.
"What about you?" I asked back, careful, trying to see past the surface of her expression.
Misaki looked at the sky for a moment, then said quietly,
"Sharing memories with someone. Not being alone. Going together. Sitting together. Eating together. Listening to the world together."
I fell silent.
Loneliness.
That was her greatest enemy.
And without realizing it—now mine as well.
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4. I Begin to Look for Justification
What we see is always the result of something.
Objects are shaped by hands.
Scenery is shaped by time.
And a person's life—
is an invisible mixture of experience carved into the heart and feelings that guide each step.
Her sibling's existence was not coincidence; it was silent proof she never wanted to face the world alone.
The story Misaki told yesterday felt like the starting point of everything.
And that starting point slowly began to change my perspective.
I did not fully agree with her actions—
yet a question kept gnawing at me:
If I were in her place… would I truly choose differently?
Suri.
Annie.
Tomo.
Their names no longer felt like individuals.
They had become symbols—of injustice, of layered corruption.
And without realizing it, a thought formed:
Wouldn't the world be quieter if the source of the poison were removed?
I was startled by my own mind.
And yet… I did not completely reject it.
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5. Misaki Keeps Me Awake
"Satoshi."
My name pulled me back.
I flinched.
"Were you thinking about me in a strange way?" she asked, pretending to cover herself shyly.
"N-no," I answered awkwardly.
She laughed—
too bright for someone who carried so much darkness.
"Then want some of my takoyaki?" she said, offering it playfully.
I refused. She kept smiling.
And right then I realized something frightening:
her presence was starting to feel like a sedative—
not a threat.
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6. A World That Feels Cleaned
"Everything's finished now, right?" she said cheerfully. "Suri, Annie, Tomo… all settled."
I didn't answer immediately.
There was something too absolute about the word finished.
"Of course people still talk," she continued, "but deep down… I'm sure they feel relieved."
I nodded slowly, choosing my words carefully—yet the urge to speak grew stronger than my caution.
"Yeah. Maybe they are relieved," I said.
The sentence slipped out too easily.
I don't know when I started talking as if ruin and downfall were just weather reports.
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7. The Crack Inside Me
"Your turn," Misaki said. "We always talk about me. What about your life?"
The question cut deeper than I expected.
My childhood.
My achievements.
The applause.
If I look back, I used to be cheerful. Active. Surrounded by people. In elementary school, friends said I would shine brightly in the future.
My grades were always strong. I stood out in basketball and soccer. Even when I felt tired or bored, I never withdrew from people like I do now.
My parents didn't pressure me—but I knew they were proud. Any parent would be.
Then came one event.
One trip.
One day.
It taught me the world could rot down to its roots.
After that, I stopped seeing people as people—
only as objects.
Objects that could break.
Or be broken.
Something inside me shattered. The past began whispering, building a quiet wall around my life.
When I told all this to Misaki, she wasn't surprised.
She only looked at me in a way that made my heart sink—
as if she had known everything from the very beginning.