Futaba

The air tasted different here.

Too cold.

Too clean.

Like standing at the very top of a world that didn't want you in it.

He stood there, next to that... thing... that wore his face.

He'd always pick on me,

about a specific "lame traffic earring."

And he'd always be talking about dirty things, and then accuse me of thinking about them.

It used to really annoy me.

And now I miss it.

I miss him.

Look, she's awake!

I pointed to daikon girl,

seeing her awakened on a bed in a cell we'd come into after a certain 

paintbrush showed us the way.

I want you to stay here with me.
Even if it's only in this world, I'm alive, you get to see me all the time! that's better than the real world, isn't it?
I want to stay with you.

Why?
Why would you want to stay here with a stranger?

I already knew the answer.

The same reason I hadn't jumped off the edge to fight his killer,

or screamed in that perfect classroom.

His voice was too light, when he said that.

His movements too easy,

his eyes held no shadows of a boy who had to agree to death,

just the annoyance of a teenager finding someone crying in his classroom.