/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46063223 (3/3)
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She's not lying.

She's okay with the baby growing inside of me.

Reimu's changed…

… And she could've been helped earlier.

'Of course I'm crying, idiot!' I wanted to yell but couldn't muster the strength to do it, brows furrowing, supporting myself on the broom. Reimu remained serene, watching with that fucking smile on her face. The words elicited a range of emotions, from unrelenting rage towards the suffering Hana and Anon went through to a despairing fear of confronting the reality that the past two decades of suffering in the lives of two—three, once upon a time—people I care deeply about could have been avoided…

I could've prevented it if I had seen whatever Ran saw in Reimu. But I didn't. I wasted my spring of life robbing, coveting a married man, wallowing in misery and loneliness… Everything while the friend that turned into a monster could've been helped with what: A few words? Some questions? Someone to give a damn?!

What a sick joke—

—I jump slightly when a hand lands on my shoulder. Though now confused, Reimu's smile endures. “What's wrong, Marisa?” She asks, applying pressure to her hand and pulling me down to a sitting position, and I sigh of relief as the pain—stood up for too long—subsides. The one inside my heart does not.

“Why did you never tell me?” I blurted out, looking straight into her eyes. She winces but doesn't move her eyes away. “I could've done something; helped you… We were friends da-ze!” Rage seeps into my tongue. “Nothing of this fucking mess would've happened if you j-just had…” Although my heart thumps and my muscles scream, I don't have the heart to finish the words, aching mind spinning.

Reimu, however: “… Sought help?” I slowly nod, expecting fury or any kind of defense— “You're right.” She follows the statement with a nod of her own, staring at our reflection on the pond, those crimson flames gone. “I wish I could go back in time and spew everything I told Ran to you, to Anon; beg for your forgiveness. I could have given Hana the life she deserved, made amends, and lived a meaningful life rather than just existing… I dream of exactly that sometimes,” she scoffs, closing her eyes for a brief meditation that yields eyes I hope to emulate someday. “But I can’t go back in time; this is the life I have created for myself, and I intend to make the most of it… I am the choices I made—back then and now—and no one other than myself should feel responsible for those choices; not even you, my closest friend.” She stares at my belly and a surge of protectiveness washes over me… Reimu merely smiles. “… Don't blame yourself, Marisa.”

I desperately want to refute her. Of course, it is! We spent most of our lives together! Reimu Hakurei and Marisa Kirisame, Gensokyo's incident resolvers! Always together, always protecting each other's backs... For thirty years, I failed her.

The guilt is oppressive.

“I should've done something back then—anything! I could've changed this future…” I mutter, expecting the same song and dance from her: 'You didn’t know; how could you? It’s not your fault.' My body itches with rage just thinking about it—

— “You can do something now, Marisa.” My thoughts are cut short, and bulging eyes focus on her. She is resolute. “We cannot change our past or future...” W-What?! What does she— “But we can do our best until our futures reveal themselves, and everything I've done from the moment I stopped existing and started to live was for my family. I will go to any length to ensure that they live a happy life for once.”

The sheer confidence of these words took my breath away. The cold that followed, however, made me clutch my belly tightly. I look her—Reimu Hakurei… It’s been so long—in the eye and say, “E-Even…?”

She understood immediately… She smiles. “It'd be worth it.” Words of placidity, eyes soft and focused on the still water.

Unwavering.

My heart pounded, my lips felt dry, and my hands held my belly with a silent promise that, for them, I'd do the same. Yet…

“… Y-You just came back-ze… Why do you want to go away so soon?” Her eyes light up with tiredness when she hears my words, a reflection of the exhausting nature of life.

A reflection of us.

Without expecting input, I laid my head on her shoulder, witch hat falling to the ground with a silent thud. I feel her neck bending forward to look at me before returning to the lake, and she hums: “Every good story is as good as its ending—after everything mine tells, I just wish it to have a… positive ending.”

I frown, heart throbbing. “You sound like Kasen-ze.” She gawks at me and, a moment later… Just laughs out loud.

20 years…

… It's been 20 years since I've heard her genuine laugh.

“Do I really?! Man, that sucks! I've become a loudmouth grandma~!” I don't try to contain my laughter; it just comes out. Tears follow behind.

Our decisions make us—I hold my big belly…—and though I can't change our sad past, the future is not written in stone…

I choose to give her a chance.