The taxicab door shuts behind Masaru with a click. She drags her luggage out of the trunk, the wheels scraping against the floor twice with a little bounce. Her ears slightly droop as she casts her eyes upon the looming gate that once held her and Normcore out. Wordlessly, Goutarou retrieves a card and presses it to the reader, causing the door to slide open. He then gestures for her to follow.

  The nightly air inside the gates feels thin and cold, the courtyard itself lingering with fresh pain too short to scar but too distant to sting. Masaru follows mere paces behind Goutarou, her suitcase rattling softly. The lamps lining the walkway cast narrow cones of pale light that stretch long shadows over the grass; and she hears still Kentaro’s screams echo in her ears.

  “...Goutarou-san?”

  He halts, the sound of his shoes cutting off sharply against the stone. For a second he remains still, then he lifts his head; his fingers idly resting with the edges of his access card. His gaze rises intently into the starry sky, his glasses reflecting nothing in particular.

  “Yes?”

  Masaru lowers her head slightly, her bangs brushing against her eyes. The silence between them stretches, filled to the brim with everything she could say and all of that she can’t.

  “Thank you for… everything.”

  Her bow lowers itself deep, the tips of her hair draping inches before the gravel floor. A sensation of warmth rises from the path of her head and into her eyes, her voice cracking with an uncontained sob.

  “You… You kept Norm’s dream alive. Thank you.”

  The tears don’t wait for her to finish. They collect at the corner of her eyes before pooling together like tiny pearls, splashing against the floor in little dark splotches.

  Goutarou’s hands retreat into his coat pockets, his shoulders rising then settling with a small breath.

  “I did what was responsible.” The lamplight traces across the lenses of his glasses, turning them transparent. “You need not thank me.”

  Masaru straightens slowly. The courtyard wind whistles past her, tugging faintly at the hem of her jacket. She shakes her head, the motion sending misty droplets soaring through the air. She lifts her collar and runs it frantically over her eyes, her voice catching with hic after hic.

  “You… you didn’t need to come with us.” she says. “But you did. Why?”

  Goutarou hesitates for a split second before turning back towards her.

  “I believe in the freedom of choice.” His gaze softens into concern before freezing, watching Masaru try- and fail- to contain herself. “It is a matter of principle.”

  Masaru doesn’t respond; she simply draws in another quivering breath. After what seems like an eternity, she finally lifts her gaze to meet his.

  “I-I’m sorry…”

  “Hm?” Goutarou blinks, his shoulders stiffening in surprise.

  “I’m sorry for being so angry…” Masaru sniffles, clenching her fist and putting it to her chest. “Norm was- I- …you’re right. What I did was reckless. I shouldn’t have been so reckless.”

  The wind brushes across the courtyard, carrying the faint scent of cut grass and cold pavement. An exasperated sigh leaves Goutarou’s lips as he pulls a hand to his forehead with a soft smile on his lips.

  “Listen, girl. There’s no objective right or wrong when it comes to matters like these, only what you are willing to compromise to achieve your goal.”

  He retrieves his hat from his head, lowers it before his eyes, and dusts off the fuzz that’s begun to overtake the top of his beret. After what feels like an eternity, he finally deems its appearance acceptable and re-dons his headdress.

  “You are operating from a viewpoint of agency, but remember that what you perceive to be righteous may not be so for the system. If you can handle what comes of said complications, then by all means… walk the path you desire.”

  His gaze shifts past her for a moment; to the gates, to the dorms, then to the horizon. He gives his beret one final adjustment.

  “You are a brave girl, however misguided your antics may be. If you dedicate that courage to your future, you will be capable of great things.”

  He does not wait for a response, turning and marching briskly away. His footsteps echo into the night, riding upon the breeze into the silence. Masaru stands still for a moment, the words lingering in her chest like a pile of warm coals.

  She bows her head once more.

  “…Thank you,” she whispers, barely louder than the wind.

  Masaru steps back into the familiar yet estranged corridor, the first thing greeting her the stillness. A hollow, brittle kind of quiet settles between the walls like dust. Her footsteps echo down the narrow hall, louder than she remembers, bouncing off doors that once rattled with laughter and late nights up past curfew when neither could sleep.

  She pauses at the doorway, a key trembling between her fingers. The knob is polished by the handle and rusted everywhere else, creaking and jamming with every other movement. The door swings open to reveal the bunk bed by the window, the closet on the left flung wide open with all of Norm’s belongings cleared out. The moonlight spills across the empty pillow, pale and cold like a memorial, and all Masaru can feel is the void of absence breathing down her neck.

  She sets her belongings down with a sigh, too tired to unpack and too weary to try. She flops onto the bottom and stares into the unholy mess that Normcore had left when she rushed out that morning, a corner of the blanket hanging off the corner like an outstretched hand inviting her into the past.

  Bzzzt. Her phone vibrates, the glow lighting up the room. It was Norm.

  [N] You get to the Academy okay?

  Yup. She replies, the soft clicking of keys echoing in the air. Just got back. You?

  [N] Got picked up. Omw home

  A cold breeze washes over her, causing Masaru to shudder. She leaps up and slams the window shut, then slumps back with the covers drawn over her.

  [N] You should come visit sometime. The scenery’s pretty nice.

  Her thumbs hover over the keyboard in solemn silence.

  [M] Sounds good. I’ll think about it.

  She hits send. The message glows back at her, unbearably cheerful in its blue bubble. She didn’t mean it to sound so final, she just… didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t come crashing out like a dam. Normcore replies with a thumbs up, and Masaru sets her phone down, pulling the covers close.

  It was cold. Too cold. She stares longingly at the opposite wall where Norm had hung up a picture of Symboli Rudolf, then to the top of the bedside drawer where Norm had put up pictures of her and her family. They were gone, replaced by a thin, barely-wiped hole in the dust where they once sat. She still smells the scent of Norm’s shampoo lingering in the air.

  “What now?” She whispers into the night.

  The night offers only silence.

  Masaru wakes earlier than usual.

  Not because she wanted to, but because her brain had registered the absence of Norm’s morning noise as something wrong- and kicked her up at dawn. She reaches toward the window and yanks the bamboo blinds upward in one smooth motion. One side catches, the slats snag halfway, and the whole thing clatters into a slanted tangle.

  “Norm! The blinds got jammed aga-”

  She pauses. Her words crack in half.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The silence echoes louder than the residue of her voice, as if the universe had been mocking her. She sits up and dejectedly crawls out onto the top bed, slowly trying to clear the congestion. The sheets are a soft mess that shuffle beneath her, one that Norm didn’t bother to make right before she left. Masaru’s fingers trail over the fabric, tracing faint ridges where a knee had rested, where a pillow had been pressed down.

  She tugs on the blinds a few more times, each attempt more half-assed than the last. Her ears droop with a soft whine before she gives up, slumping into the sheets. She lies there, motionless, taking in a deep whiff of her own misery before letting the soft blankets swallow her up. At least she finally knew what it felt like to sleep in the top bunk.

  Like trespassing on the last outline of her friend.

  She shuffles out of the bedding with sluggish movements, the sheets clinging to her as if they, too, don’t want her to leave. She finally walks over to her suitcase, the zipper catches several times as she tries to unfurl the bag. Something was straining it. She pulls again, harder. And then it gives.

  “Ah!” The suitcase springs open like a startled creature, one half aggressively jumping forth with a sharp flap of fabric. Masaru jerks backward on instinct, scrambling halfway across the room as if a starting pistol went off.

  A pair of racing shoes tumble out onto the floor, tucked away neatly between waxed paper. Pink. Dirt shoes. Her ears twitch upwards as she kneels to examine the wreckage, gingerly, as if the shoes might bite her.

  “What the-?” She lifts one up in each hand, bringing them to her face. The rubber soles press softly into her palms, dust and dirt lodging themselves firmly in the seams and crevices. The laces hang loosely from their eyelets, frayed at the tips from long practices and rain. “This isn’t mine.”

  A handwritten note flutters out between the two, imprinted with hastily scratched handwriting on a Tokyo subway napkin. It hits her in an instant- They were Norm’s dirt running shoes that she had worn to the race. The ones Masaru brought her.

  Saru,

  I won’t be needing these where I’m going.

  Those shoes helped me run a miracle, and I hope they can help you find yours too.

  When I wore them, I felt as if anything was possible. Maybe you’ll feel the same way.

  This way, no matter how far away we are from each other…

  I can always be by your side.

  Yours dearly,

  Normcore

  The words blur.

  A hot, stinging wave rushes up behind Masaru’s eyes before she can inhale. The world dissolves in a blur of color, the napkin crumpling as a choked sob leaves her throat.

  She tries to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming. The first spills over, landing in a small dark spot near the inked edge. Her shoulders tremble. Another sob climbs up from the depths of her chest, tearing its way free before she can cage it. She presses her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to hold herself still.

  It doesn’t work.

  She surrenders herself to the sensation, collapsing upon the floor in a broken, devastated heap.

  The air outside the small, weathered house is sharp with the scent of pine and cold earth, a world away from the stale sweat and antiseptic smell of the academy. Normcore stands on the front step, a single, neat duffel bag at her feet.

  Her mother fusses with the collar of Norm's jacket—a simple, sturdy thing, not a tracksuit. Her hands are rough, callused, but her touch is gentle.

  “You have your ticket?”

  “Yes, mom.” Normcore lifts up a piece of paper.

  “And your shoes?”

  “Yes, mom.” She gestures, the pair tied against her bag and resting on the floor.

  “And your sweater?”

  “Yes… mom.” She lets out a dejected sigh. “It’s in the bag.”

  “Promise me you’ll call when you get there, okay?”

  She meets her mother’s eyes. They’re the same shade of blue, but where Norm’s were burning with the fierce and prideful flame of youth; hers burned with the prideful warmth of a successful parent.

  She nods. “Don’t worry, I will.”

  It’s enough. Her mother’s face crumples for a second into a smile that is all relief and pride. She pulls Norm into a brief, fierce hug before parting. A bus crests the hill at the end of the lane, the hum of a diesel engine softly filling the air.

  “Gotta go!” She yanks up the duffel and dashes towards the stop, waving with a chipper jump as it comes to a halt. “Love ya!”

  “Bye, Norm!” her mother’s calling comes echoing down the road, waving one hand and the other pressed to her mouth. “Take care of yourself at Tracen!”

  “Okay! I will!” She screams back as she hops onto the bus.

  A hum. A screech. An echoing “thank you” as the passengers file off the bus. The door to the train station slides open, followed by the beep of a ticketing machine. In the blink of an eye… She was headed back to Tokyo.

  “The next stop is: Fuchūkeiba-seimommae. Fuchūkeiba-seimommae. The door will open on the left. Please make sure you have all your belongings when you disembark.”

  Normcore stands, hoisting her duffle bag over her shoulder. The blur of Tokyo slows, unraveling into neat rows of mid-rise apartments, narrow streets, and the faint shimmer of power lines overhead. The platform doors glide open with a soft sigh, the warm afternoon air spilling into the carriage.

  “Hey, hold on. Isn’t that the girl that-?” A murmured whisper follows her out. Her ears give an irritated twitch, but the whisper has already dispersed into static by the time she begins to listen.

  The platform itself is as modest as Kaibara could remember- narrower, quieter than the rest. The pale tiles along the walls gleam faintly, their edges softened by years of foot traffic and sunlight. Blue-and-white Keio signage punctuates the space at careful intervals, the rails below catching the light in thin, glamorous ribbons.

  The sensation hits her, an overwhelming bout of Deja Vu fused with estranged disconnect, like stepping into a dream she once lived in and never truly left. The city bustles as usual, and yet here she was, a stranger feeling right at home. She softly taps her IC card against the reader, the gates sliding open with a hiss.

  Sunlight spills across her shoulders. The air tastes bright- free, light, alive with the tapestry of city noise she hadn’t realized was missing in the quiet Tohoku countryside.

  “Excuse me!” Footsteps echo from behind. Her ears perk up as she instinctively dash sideways. A salaryman dashes past her with a cup of coffee in hand. “Thank you!”

  Normcore can’t help but let out a giggle.

  She’s finally returned.

  “Well, I got until 6… might as well walk and save on the taxi."

  Tokyo unfolds around her like an origami of memories. Vending machines humming in chorus, crosswalk lights chirping, bicycles rattling over seams in the pavement. The streets near the station are familiar enough that her feet move on instinct… or so she thinks.

  Five minutes later, she realizes she’s taken a wrong turn.

  “…Huh?”

  The street is narrower than what she could remember, lined with cozy cafés and tiny shops with chalkboard menus out front. A pair of schoolgirls walk past, chatting animatedly, one of them glancing at Normcore’s duffle bag and ears.

  “Did I walk in the wrong direction?” Norm throws a glance at the street sign, then down to her phone. The little blue icon spins in circles a few times as if contemplating its life choices, and then lights up.

  “...You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  She makes her way back along the road. The bright plastic sign by the convenience store feels like an old friend welcoming her back. With a resigned sigh, she ducks inside and emerges a moment later with a small, neatly wrapped bread. The wrapper crackles softly as she peels it open, steam curling into the cool afternoon air.

  It tastes like memories shared with Masaru.

  “Can’t believe I got lost.” She mutters.

  She makes her way down to the riverside, following the snaking path as the breeze brushes past her like an old friend. The skyline begins to shift, taller buildings giving way to the stretch of green that she was finally starting to recognize.

  “Mommy! Mommy! Look! The girl has a tail!” A small voice pipes up, clear as a bell.

  “Shhh.” Normcore feels the mother’s gaze snap to her child, then to her, and finally away in a flash of polite horror. A hand swiftly covers the child’s pointing finger, guiding it down. She offers Normcore an apologetic smile. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “She’s so cool, though!” The child squeals, quieter this time. Normcore’s ears perk up, coming to a stop on the spot. “Her hair is silver! And she looks so… pretty!”

  She turns with a soft laugh she can’t quite hold back and gives a small, gentle wave. For the first time since stepping off the train, she doesn’t feel stared at. She feels seen.

  “Thank you. I like your hair too.”

  The little girl beams, clutching her mother’s sleeve while peeking up at her with wide, sparkling eyes. “What’s your name, missus?”

  Normcore’s tail swishes before she can stop it. She kneels down, level-eyed with the child and flashing a polite smile. The kind you give when you introduce yourself.

  “It’s Normcore.” She replies. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes!” The child beams harder at her as if being handed a secret. Her small hands wave with enthusiasm, the sunlight catching in her wide eyes and making them sparkle like dewdrops. “Nice to meet you too!”

  Normcore straightens slowly, letting her hair fall back into place, the tips brushing against her shoulders. As she’s about to part with the child, a familiar voice rings out in the distance- smooth, melodic, pulling her attention like a taut thread.

  “Normcore… was it?”

  Her ears twitch instinctively, her heart being set slightly off rhythm. She spins around like a deer in headlights, and a familiar curtain of bay colored-hair shifts gracefully into her view.

  “Seems we were destined to meet again after all.” Danon Fantasy, in her immaculate Tracen uniform, steps forward with a courteous smile, the meticulously pressed purple and white fabric crisply glowing in the afternoon sun.

  “Ah. I guess.” She blinks, uncertain how to respond.

  “First day?” Danon tilts her head slightly, her amber eyes filled with amusement. Norm nods tentatively.

  “Here. I’ll show you the way.”

  Normcore hesitates for a heartbeat, her lips parting and closing again. She finally lets out a small shrug, gesturing towards the hilltop with a sideways nod.

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  The child’s voice calls to her with each step she takes.

  “Bye-bye!”

  “Mm! Bye!” She returns with a parting wave.