The next day, Hatsune was taken away by that woman from last night, people said she was an agent. Alicia had worried trouble would catch up, but that afternoon a text arrived like sunlight through clouds: Hatsune had handled everything. With her agent’s consent, she’d sing across the world. No more being shoved onto fixed stages; where she sang would be her choice, her sky.
The canary flew out of its gilded cage; little girl sprawled on the ground, when will you wake from your dream?
The school festival after that wasn’t as grand as day one; the star draw, Hatsune’s concert, had already burned out like a meteor. The rest were small amusements, scattered lanterns. Crowd numbers couldn’t compare to the sea at Hatsune’s show.
One event did explode, though. On day three, by the gym, a screening of Midsummer Night’s Lewd Dream pulled a flood of spectators, waves rising to the rafters. It almost topped Hatsune, though she barely edged it.
Lian couldn’t fathom why a crowd would swarm that foul thing. When Alicia said she wanted to go, Lian blocked her like a gate. She muttered about “elements,” “anyone who types with spaces is a brat,” and “114514”—jargon like smoke. That only stoked Alicia’s urge to see it.
Seeing Alicia set on going, Lian sighed like wind through reeds and asked her to wait. She said she’d grab drinks. The kitchen rustled like paper rain. Lian came out with two cups of black tea, pressed them into Alicia’s hands, and made her drink. A fog rolled into Alicia’s head. The world smeared like wet ink. Her knees gave, and that’s where the memory cut.
As the fifth night of the festival arrived, the grounds were the year’s final stage, lights like stars and students’ hearts all pointed there. Each Ban had its own event; Alicia’s Ban chose a bonfire party. Many agreed, flames a perfect cue for any would-be protagonist to ask a girl out.
Not everyone felt the glow. Lian sat off to the side on a chair, a cloud over her face.
Seeing Lian downcast, Alicia walked over with a roasted ear of corn, heat steaming like morning mist, and offered it. Lian took it, nibbled like a hamster, two bites, then stopped.
“Not tasty?”
“No. I’m just really not happy…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Look at them over there, dancing like sparks. I can’t dance. I don’t feel like I can blend in.”
Alicia smiled, half exasperated, half fond.
“Nobody cares about that. How many of them actually know how to dance? Most just hop a step or two. If everyone’s laughing, it’s fine.”
“They may not care, but I do. I don’t want to go in and embarrass myself.”
So you’re afraid of looking silly, huh, Alicia guessed, a little grin like moonlight.
“Then I’ll go in with you and dance.”
“Eh?”
Without waiting for Lian’s yes, Alicia took her hand and pulled her toward the bonfire, sparks like fireflies.
“Wait! I told you I can’t dance!”
“Don’t think about running. The music’s already rolling.”
As Alicia said, the instant they stepped in, the music rose like a tide.
“Okay, Lian. Just follow my steps.”
“Y-yes. Got it!”
Only when Lian started did Alicia realize she was a dancer with negative talent. No matter how Alicia slowed her steps, no matter how she reminded Lian where to place a foot, that bewildered face never cleared. She’d take this step and forget the last. Their moves clashed like mismatched drumbeats, not dance but more like grade-schoolers scrapping and stomping each other’s toes. Lian did most of the stomping.
Tap.
Suddenly, Lian felt her foot drop into empty air. Her body pitched, a plank slipping off the edge. On a normal day, her perfect reflexes would have righted her in a blink. But the brainfog from trying too hard tangled her like vines. She couldn’t decide what to do.
She felt herself falling. The world sharpened like cut glass; even the bonfire’s flames leapt in her eyes. She could see it all, yet her mind sent no orders to her limbs.
She kept sinking. Lian shut her eyes. A nameless feeling surged up, cold water over stone.
This drop… so familiar. My back feels icy. What is this? This plunge into the abyss… someone, please save me.
“Ling!”
Who’s calling me?
Clap.
The sharp smack of two hands meeting echoed in Lian’s skull.
—Who caught my hand?
Lian opened her eyes. A silver-haired girl filled her vision. No—red hair. No… who was it?
Forget it… whatever. I’m going to fall anyway. No one can save me.
Thud.
Flesh met earth. Yet pain didn’t bloom. Lian blinked up. The silver-haired girl’s face was crosshatched with cuts, but her smile hadn’t slipped. Staring at that face, Lian felt a thin tear slide from her eye.
“Ai… er…”
“Who?”
Alicia’s voice carried to Lian’s ears. The silver hair melted into Alicia’s familiar red.
A hallucination… huh?
“It’s nothing. Just me talking to myself.”
She wiped the corner of her eye, stood, and walked back toward her chair.
“I guess I’m not made for dancing. I’m going to rest.”
Alicia watched Lian’s back fade into the firelight. A little sadness settled, because she’d clearly seen a single teardrop on Lian’s face catch the glow.
