Ima knew he held on too hard.
His nails dug into the skin of those he loved, his marks left in their soft flesh.He knew this, but, still, he clung.
(Contains Mystery Route spoilers, especially for Ending 100).
Since their group ‘mended’, Ima’s felt as though he’d been walking in an illusion he’d snap out of if he thought too hard about it.
Kako talked to him, Kako ate with him, Kako lived with him.
Kako. Not ‘Sister Dearest’—she’d asked for him to use her name, Ima, so he respected that as best he could. As best as he was able.
Ima retaught himself how to play guitar in his new bevy of free time. Tsubasa managed to hook the school’s power system to solar panels so the fridge kept cold, along with keeping some of the less demanding appliances running, though she needed to modify it more until it functioned at full capacity and gave power to the entire school. Kako appointed herself as part of the search party for the materials Tsubasa needed, leaving for days on explorations and returning only to go out again on another longterm mission.
Ima wanted to go—Kako pulled him aside and asked he didn’t. She wanted to help the group in her own way (and not have him dote on her in front of Hiruko and Moko, he was sure), so after some persistent negotiation, he relented.
He’d find somewhere else to belong. Honestly, it would’ve hurt enough to kill him, if it wasn’t for…
“Mr. Sumino, how was that?” Ima’s fingers stopped as he looked to the older boy. Takumi smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
“You’re improving,” he said. “Nice job. Well, I’m gonna—”
“If you think that was a show,” Ima said, more than aware of what Takumi wanted yet so reluctant to make it easy, “then I’ve got another one up my sleeve you’ll be stunned by!”
“Uh, Ima—”
Ima began to play before Takumi finished speaking. He tried to talk again, but Ima flicked the strings with more and more force, the notes falling out of tune until Takumi shot him a look, got up, and wrapped his hand around the neck of the guitar. The music stopped.
“Ima, I really wanna hear more, I swear—” he said, annoyance masked with a smile, an annoyance all too familiar, “but, I promised I’d help some of the others with the gardening.”
“Oh…”
Ima tore the guitar from Takumi and threw it to the ground.
“Some fresh inside air doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll go with you. I’ve gotten sick of practicing here all the time, anyways.” Ima laughed, and before Takumi protested, hurried out of the room, checking to make sure he was following and wasn’t just making up an excuse before Ima left the rec room.
The two made their way over to the courtyard, where some of the others already working at the plots dug into the ground: Nozomi, Eito, Kyoshika, and Shouma. Shion’s body rested on a nearby bench, though Ima saw no signs of his avatar.
Nozomi waved first, hands and knees caked in dirt. Everyone dressed in plain, comfortable and now dirty clothes, perfect for the work ahead of them. “Ah, Sumino! It’s good to see you! Oh—are you spending time with Ima again?”
“You two have been inseparable, haven’t you?” Kyoshika said, smiling. Takumi flinched at her comment.
“Uh…yeah,” he said, hurrying over to Nozomi’s side. Ima lingered at the door, then doing his best to hide his urgency, he followed and stuck to Takumi as he retrieved some spare gardening gloves. “So, what’s on the agenda?”
“We’re planting some spinach and broccoli,” Eito chimed in as he crafted tiny holes and sprinkled seeds in. “Shouma also wanted to use the corner to make a communal flowerbed for everyone to plant whatever they want—isn’t that nice?”
“I-It was only a suggestion!” Shouma piped up, hands shaking as if he committed a crime. “I thought—”
Who cared what he thought.
“It’d…be nice. To have something we all—”
It couldn’t include all of them, because you killed an innocent young girl!
“—contributed to, something that shows…a part of ourselves…of every one of us…”
Shouma said something. So, so many things. But Ima’s head blurred with static. Something white hot pulsed through it, a driving rage, an urge deeply primal—it made him sick and happy to cling to that feeling even as everything else left him.
This Shouma hadn’t done anything wrong.
This Shouma hadn’t killed his sister.
This Shouma hadn’t destroyed his entire world.
This Shouma didn’t leave him to pick up the pieces of himself over his sister’s corpse.
This Shouma,
This Shouma,
This Shouma!!
Right. He knew that. He knew all that, and he didn’t care.
“Ima!”
At some point, Ima grabbed a small gardening shovel.
At some point, he stormed over. Grabbed Shouma, and pressed it to his throat. And at that, Takumi lunged forward, tore the younger boy away, and looked at him as though he hated him with all his being.
It hurt.
The disapproval and annoyance of everyone in the world never stopped him, but for some sickening reason, Takumi’s hatred drove Ima to scream. He pushed the other boy away, dropped the shovel.
Ima ran. Some of the other called out, but he left them behind. He wondered if Takumi would follow, but as he ran to his room and locked the door, checked to see if anyone would come after him, no one came.
Not even…
He hoped Kako returned early from her mission. As early as possible. He hoped he’d wake up from this nightmare on the day before Kako died, and the twins would figure out how to send the escape pod up early, so they’d be able to leave this mess behind.
Maybe if he knocked Takumi out, he’d be able to drag him along, too.
When did Takumi begin to compare to his adorable sister, in his mind?
Ima wasn’t sure. Maybe when Takumi jumped to save his life before he thought to save himself. Maybe when Ima allowed Takumi to enter the one space he reserved for the most important person in the world.
Maybe it was because Takumi never had the heart to reject him, no matter how hard he clung and suffocated so. That morning, when Ima went down to get breakfast, Takumi and some others still lingered.
Ima stole the space next to him, and despite Takumi’s silence, he let Ima stay. That annoying kid who stuck to Takumi’s side—Ima felt content having a place with that label.
Even if Takumi hated him.
Takumi…he must have hated Ima after yesterday, right?
No, Ima imagined thing, surely. He agreed to help in the garden first, and thought Ima needed space, so he didn’t go to check on him. He wasn’t like Kako (no one could be) and Ima accepted that. Takumi had his own thought process. His own view of Ima.
Right, he didn’t…
“Uh,” Takumi said, as dumb sounding as always, “just so you know, I’m gonna be gone for the day. Tsubasa needs some materials ASAP and our expedition team’s out, so she needs me to run and grab them before nightfall.”
“I—” Ima began, only for Takumi to push his food away and jump out of his seat.
“I’vepickedoutateamalreadysoI’llbegoingnowseeyou!” One garbled excuse later, Takumi ran to the door, disappeared before Ima even breathed a sound of acknowledgment.
Ima wasn’t stupid.
Takumi used the mission as an excuse to avoid him. Right—he hated Ima, just like Kako did. Why else would he leave?
What did Ima do wrong?
He knew, but he didn’t. He understood, but he didn’t.
Someone entered right after, and just as quickly left. Ima saw a slice of a familiar backpack out of the corner of his eyes, and lost his appetite.
Ima Tsukumo did plenty of things for himself. He had hobbies, he had dreams and desires.
Of course he did.
He had favorites, too. What was wrong with that? Wrong with wanting to be around the people he loved? Wrong with wanting to keep them them close, within reach, always there?
He knew they cared. Of course he knew. But when they left, he struggled to remember much of anything else other than the looks of disgust they gave him at one point or another. Like he clung too hard, and they needed to leave forever, to erase the marks he left.
He struggled to string a note, wanting to play these songs only for their ears. His hands hovered over the guitar strings as he focused on the floor, the colorful lights of the rec room burning his eyes and chasing away those last visages of Kako’s and Takumi’s glares.
“Um…”
Everything froze. Ima willed himself to freeze too, if only because he knew what the alternative brought.
“Um…!” Shouma repeated, now in front of Ima, as if he materialized out of the boy’s nightmares. In Shouma’s hands, Ima saw a bottle of poison.
Blink.
No…
A knife?
“Ima—I’m…” Shouma began, gripping the weapon. Ima barked out a dry laugh, throwing the instrument to the side. He hoped it broke and that he’d never get to play again, if only because it helped him focus on losing something far less important.
Shouma bowed. Ima resisted the urge to spit on him.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry that other me killed your sister, and you should be angry at a putrid piece of trash like me! You should hate me! And I should…let you hate me, but…!”
He stood back up, and held the knife to Ima. “But I can’t let a useless wad of gunk from the sidewalk stick to everyone’s shoes! I don’t want Sumino to hate you became of me. So—if this makes up for that…!”
The knife moved from Shouma’s hand to Ima’s—Shouma pressed it into the other boy’s grip and stepped back.
“Then I’ll be happy! I’ll be happy knowing my death made someone’s life better!”
Ima’s hand trembled. A violent shudder, one which drove him to stand. Shouma watched and waited. Waited for Ima to bring the blade down, to enact the vengeance he so desperately wanted—as long as the appearance matched, did it matter what differences laid underneath?
Hm…
Perhaps,
not at all.
Ima brought the blade down.
“No!”
Blood spurted from Shouma’s fresh stab wound as he wailed. Ima wondered idly if someone followed Shouma out of concern into the rec room as Takemaru wrapped his arms around Ima and wrenched him away. Hiruko ran in moments after and tore off her jacket, pressing it to Shouma’s wound before carrying him off.
Tsubasa long since cannibalized the Revive-o-Matic for parts, meaning any blows they sustained needed immediate treatment and bed rest. Takemaru dragged Ima off somewhere else—to the courtyard, and into one of the cages.
“I don’t wanna do this to you,” he said as he shut and locked the door, “but you damn well knew you shouldn’t’ve done that. I’m disappointed in ya—we’ll talk once Shouma’s stable, ‘k?”
Ima’s knees gave out and he fell to the ground.
He didn’t really want to move, especially with Shouma’s blood all over his hands and clothes. Even when everyone else shifted to more comfortable, different outfits, Ima still wore the same school uniform day.
Ima didn’t know how else to dress, unless it was to appeal to a niche or fetish of some kind.
No idea what he liked. No idea who he was.
His jacket covered the blood well, at least. Takemaru gave Ima a look of pity before he walked off. He didn’t want to leave Ima there, but he had to. Even if Shouma offered, wasn’t Ima in the wrong for accepting it?
Maybe it was for the better Takumi left on his trip after all. If he saw what Ima did, he’d leave for much, much longer—just like Kako. Long enough, hoping Ima moved on and found someone else to suffocate.
Ima registered little else until he heard the click of a lock, felt familiar hands around his shoulder as they shrugged off his blood soaked jacket and dragged him to the river to wash his hands and shoes.
Takumi waited until Ima managed a more presentable state before he talked. “What happened? I want to hear it from you.”
“…”
He sighed. “Listen…are you angry? I dunno what I did, but…”
“—I mean…I kinda think I know,” Takumi added, scratching at his cheek. “Sort of. You’ve probably noticed I’ve been brushing you off lately. I just…needed some space. I like hanging out with my friends, but—”
Takumi’s eyes shot open and he shook his head. “Wait, that’s not important! Why’d you stab Ginzaki? He said he asked you to do it, but…you kinda…yeah.”
Ima cringed. “You’re as terrible as always at this, Mr. Sumino. Aren’t you worried I might stab you next?”
“Nah, I could take you,” Takumi said. Ima snorted, if only because of Takumi’s audacity. “There’s no way Ginzaki’s lying about this. He’s been wanting to talk to you since you jumped him in the courtyard. He feels—really, really bad. He’s Ginzaki, y’know?”
“I know he feels bad.”
“So if you—wait, you do?”
Ima sighed. “Come on, I know. I know, okay? I’m not stupid. He gives me those kicked puppy looks every time I see him.”
“Oh…”
“You thought I was as stupid as you?”
“Hey, get back on topic!”
Ima stuck his tongue out. “Okay~, okaaaay~. You know, Mr. Ginzaki’s always been the kind of person who puts himself down as much as he breathes. I knew he felt bad, but even then…”
“Whenever you saw him,” Takumi finished when Ima didn’t, in a startling moment of consideration, “you saw your sister’s killer.”
Ima reached down and ran his fingers against the river’s surface. “What else am I supposed to do, Mr. Sumino?”
“You stabbed him non-fatally,” Takumi said.
Ima stopped.
“They managed to stop the bleeding, and he’ll recover soon,” he continued, “but you know how to stab someone and make it look way worse than it actually is. You did the same to Takemaru in the timeline I came from.”
“…Yeah, I see.”
Ima reached towards the soil, and yanked out a fistful of grass. “But I really hate that stupid looking killer.”
“You still couldn’t kill him,” Takumi said. He tapped Ima’s shoulder, and he saw Takumi’s smile as he looked up. “It’s all right, Ima. Everyone’s gone to bed—Shizuhara wanted me to keep you in there overnight, but I think you guys should finally talk.”
“Nope, not happening,” Ima said, as Takumi grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the courtyard. Ima made no attempt to resist.
If Takumi wanted it, he’d oblige. It couldn’t be worse than a lot of other encounters he’s endured.
The infirmary underwent a complete renovation in the months since its decommissioning.
Tsubasa ripped up the guns first thing, recycling their parts before she went for the drones and pods. She preserved as much of the delicate software components as possible, and by the time she finished her work, she’d left the room bare of everything but basic medical supplies. A few beds, curtains and shelves later, they transformed the once ominous room into a comfortable nurse’s office befitting of a school.
Yugamu repainted the entire area white, but without natural lighting, the atmosphere felt cold and intimidating. Alcohol stung Ima’s nose when he entered, while Takumi stopped at the door.
“I’ll be outside,” he said and left before Ima said a word. Only Takumi Sumino would let an attacker out of his cage, only to leave him alone with his victim.
…But Takumi didn’t hate Ima.
Ima ignored the curdling desperation in his gut as he stepped towards one of the curtains and pulled it aside, revealing a Shouma who pretended (badly) to be asleep.
He forced himself to look the other boy over, to see him and not just static and nightmares and a cold, still body, before he slapped Shouma.
“Waaugh!?” he shot up, before he backed against the head of the bed, trembling. “I’m sorry this worm didn’t bleed out and die like he promised! If my survival instinct didn’t ruin everything with my ear-piercing whining, then…you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…”
“Can you quit that?” Ima said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something important to say.”
“Ngh…” He writhed in his bed. “I’m sorry.”
“…”
“I’m really, really sorry!”
“Stop.”
“H…huh?”
Ima slapped him again. “I said stop. I’m…I’m the one who should be sorry for blaming you. You’re not the Mr. Ginzaki who killed my sister. Someone like you wouldn’t dream of it. So we can put this whole thing behind us and it’ll all be okay again, right?”
Shouma went blank, as if Ima’s response triggered a rejection of reality. He moved his mouth. No words came out.
“Is…will it really be okay?”
Ima smiled, then dropped into a cold glare. “No, it won’t be. I think I’ll always see my dead sister in you for as long as we live. And maybe I’ll hate you too, sometimes. But, I do have my adorable Kako from another timeline here, along with our ever reliable Team Leader, so I’ll try to keep it civil.”
“Huh…” Shouma’s odd black eyes, empty and opaque, focused on Ima and left him at a loss as to the other boy’s thoughts. “…then, do you want to join the gardening club?”
“The…”
Ima coughed. “The what?”
“The gardening club. You joined before, but you weren’t—you didn’t…” Shouma frowned, but continued. “I want to see what flowers you’d like to plant most. If you want to, Ima, I wouldn’t want you to cry seeing my hateful murderous self every day.”
Ima suppressed his grimace—he’d never been equipped for dealing with Shouma’s self-deprecation. For a moment, he wondered if this was how Takumi or Kako felt when he clung so hard to them he left marks.
Deep, painful marks. But he just couldn’t help it, really.
If Ima let Shouma gain ground in his heart, let him in, Shouma would get marked too. Just because an alternate timeline version of himself deserved scars didn’t mean that Ima could inflict them onto whoever.
Still.
“…I might,” he said. “Can I plant flytraps?”
“Of course!” Shouma said, smiling. “Do you know how to feed them? I can show you, if you want! I used to keep a few of them, and they’re surprisingly high-maintenance, but they’re amazing, too!”
As the two fell into a somewhat comfortable chatter, three people listened in.
“I was planning on letting both of them rest first, but go ahead and do things behind my back, Leader,” Hiruko said as she sent a glare to Takumi.
“Hey, you guys just left him in there! Covered in blood!”
“It took a damn long while to stop the bleeding,” Takemaru said, before his shoulder’s drooped. “But…you’re right. I shouldn’t’ve left him there. I let Ima down when he needed someone!”
“It’s—well, you can apologize later,” Takumi said. He needed to apologize too, for not knowing how to tell Ima when he needed some space. But at least doing so wouldn’t make Takumi feel like he left Ima behind when he’d already become so isolated, now that he had another friend.
Ima was young. He still had time to change, make friends, find himself. Leaving everything he knew behind was a tall ask, and maybe he’d still hold on a bit too tight sometimes.
But Takumi didn’t mind. Ever since he saved the boy from the explosion, he’d come to see Ima like a little brother. Plus he had his sister, who Takumi knew missed him more than anything, who’d run to his side and stick for days to come the moment she got a chance.
Despite everything, Ima would be loved.
He’d find a way to be okay.