Episode 16: Addiction

Watari sighed as he approached the softball field located on the west side of his high school, hands stuffed as far as his pants pockets would allow them to go. The cold winter air bit at his neck, and the dismal gray clouds in the sky were an appropriate reflection of his downcast mood. Tsubaki would be at the home plate, practicing for the upcoming softball season no doubt.

But he had to tell her this.

Some of the guilt from that night still echoed in his heart, as he remembered Kousei's devastated look of betrayal and shock. As if his best friend finding out about his addiction wasn't enough already, it just had to have happened as Christmas was approaching.

It had been a full month since that conversation. It was January now. Both Christmas and the New Year had come and gone. He and Tsubaki had still gone to the Winter Formal before Christmas break, and visited the market together for New Year. Watari could only hope that would ease the pain of his revelation, and continued dragging his feet towards the softball field.

The once proud soccer star's head hung uncharacteristically low as he recalled the words he'd said to Kousei in a pitiful attempt to justify his undisciplined lust.

"Give me a break, would you?! I need a little satisfaction now and then, so what?! Maybe if Tsubaki wasn't so uptight and actually cared to look and act like a real girl, I wouldn't need this!"

"You're blaming her?!" Kousei had shouted back. "For your mistake?! Is that all she is to you?! Just some model supposed to be on call whenever you want to satisfy your wicked imagination?!"

"Oh that's rich coming from you, little goody-two-shoes mama's boy! It took years for you to stand up to your mom's abuse, and you got all mopey when you still thought Kaori liked me instead of you! What would you know about being a real man?!"

Watari wiped away a tear...that one had probably been the worst.

"A real man?! Like you?!" Kousei's words rang in his mind. "Aiding human trafficking when you watch those things online?! Thinking that just because you're hot stuff on the soccer field, a girl owes you whatever you want?!"

"Whatever, Kousei! This is none of your business! I'm going home! And don't count on me and Tsubaki visiting anytime soon!"

Then Watari's heart really filled with pain at Kousei's last words before he'd stormed out the door.

"YOU TELL HER OR I WILL!"

Watari clenched his fists, balling up the lint at the bottom of his pocket seams. He'd wanted to turn around and defy his—probably former at this point—friend's wishes one last time. But he could not find the words, and had simply texted Kousei after the fact that he'd tell Tsubaki himself. Watari looked up and saw Tsubaki taking some practice swings at the home plate. Watari took a deep breath; he'd been stalling long enough. No backing out this time.

Tsubaki heard the gentle rustle of sneakers on dirt behind her, and turned to see Watari approaching the home plate. She smiled at him and tossed him an extra pitcher's glove from her duffel bag.

"Hey you!" she said with a cheery tone. "You're five minutes late!"

"Sorry Tsubaki," Watari tried to smile back. "Just lost track of time I guess."

In all the time she'd known him, Tsubaki had never seen Watari act this melancholy. He looked like he'd just come back from a funeral for goodness sake; what was weighing him down? Tsubaki propped the bat vertically from the ground, gripping the small end in her palm, and asked her boyfriend what was troubling him.

"Oh, well, I—I forgot to tell you something when we discussed our New Years Resolutions."

"What, another one of your silly pick-up lines?" Tsubaki teased.

That made Watari's heart ache even more. But on the upside, perhaps this was a sign Tsubaki would be merciful. The soccer captain took another deep breath.

"No, not that. A resolution I forgot to mention altogether."

"Which is?"

"Getting over my porn addiction."

Watari looked into his girlfriend's eyes as the last syllable of that phrase left his lips, searching for a reaction. A flash of anger, a flicker of devastated sorrow, anything. But no. He saw nothing except a stare colder than the breeze currently blowing through the field. He couldn't think of anything better to say, and decided to just fill Tsubaki in with more details.

"It started in spring of last year," Watari began. "I wanted to tell you, but I never could find a good time. I haven't looked at it in a while, okay? I promise I'll—"

"Stop it," Tsubaki said coldly.

Watari hesitated. He couldn't tell whether she was angry or not.

"Sorry," he said again, scratching behind his neck in an ashamed manner. "I ramble on to much, I know. I—"

"What were they like?" Tsubaki asked.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"All those hotties you so desperately wanted to look at on your phone!" Tsubaki snapped. "They must've just been so much more suitable for you, huh?!"

"Tsubaki, please!"

"What was so ugly about me that you felt you had the need to seek out others behind my back?!" Tsubaki yelled, her eyes now alight with a furious rage and sorrow. "Would you think of them as you kissed me?! As you held my hand at the summer festival?! As you whispered those empty promises in my ear that you would make me feel like the most special girl in the world?!"

"Tsubaki, listen to me! Just for one second—!"

"You've been lying to me all this time!" Tsubaki wailed bitterly. "Kaori only lied about a small crush, but you! You lied to me about a close matter of the heart, Watari! Is this all I am to you?! Some cheap girl toy you need to satisfy your perverse desires?!"

Tsubaki raised the bat above her head, and Watari put up his hands as he readied himself for the bludgeoning he was about to receive. Then suddenly, he heard the weapon clatter to the ground and opened his eyes to see Tsubaki holding her face in her hands as she cried.

"Tsubaki...come here," Watari said softly, reaching out his arms as he stepped toward her.

But the second his right foot moved just a couple of inches forward, Tsubaki howled with despair and slapped him across the face with all her might. Watari clenched his right cheek in his hand, grimacing in pain.

Somehow, that slap had been much worse than anything Tsubaki would've done with the bat.

"Get away from me!" Tsubaki hollered, grabbing her duffel bag and bat from the ground. "I don't want anything to do with you anymore!"

"Tsubaki, wait! I'm sorry! Please, come back—!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she screamed back, storming off of the field as Watari fell to his knees and sobbed.

He was angry, sad, and defeated all at once.

But more importantly, he was disappointed and disgusted with himself.

Tsubaki took no notice of her everyday surroundings as she stomped all the way home. She didn't know why she'd refrained from clobbering Watari with the bat...whether it was because she was too weak to stand up for herself, or because she was strong enough not to take the pill of revenge. The tears flowing down her now very red face left small blotches on her tracksuit. As she ascended the steps into her home, Tsubaki just barely remembered to pull her house keys out in time to unlock the front door, swing it open, then slam it behind her.

"Tsubaki!" Yua exclaimed as her daughter flung her sports equipment onto the nearby sofa. "What on earth happened?! You look like you just went through ten battlefields and back!"

"Is a betrayal of love worth that many battles?" Tsubaki's voice whimpered.

Tsubaki's mother clenched her fists. She didn't need to verify the sincerity of her daughter's words, for she could sense them in the defeated tone of Tsubaki's voice.

"Dear, what happened? What did Watari do to you?"

Tsubaki's eyes filled with more sadness than Yua thought was possible, and it was her turn to cry as her daughter recounted what had just taken place.

"The same thing that dad did to you!" Tsubaki cried.

Yua clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart! I—I—!"

Yua ran over and caught her daughter in an embrace as Tsubaki's exerted legs gave out from beneath her and she slid down the door. The mother and daughter's shared tears said the rest, as they cried on each other's shoulders, filling the living room with the echoes of their sobs.

Love was an edifying, vibrant joy that was sweeter than honey when properly returned...

And yet also a poison that ran deep into the soul of those who'd been foolish enough to feel it when betrayed.

...............................

As Kousei concluded his performance of Chopin's iconic Funeral March, his lungs released a cathartic sigh that had been bottled up for the past month. For although the world's populace had erupted into celebration following the defeat of Darth Sidious's fleet, many lives had still been lost due to the magnitude of droid fighters that had reached the surface. The cleanup efforts had taken quite a while; many of the deceased had been denied the respect of a proper burial due to their bodies not being found among the urban debris for some time.

Which is why Kousei had volunteered to play Chopin's sorrowful yet appropriate piece at this mass burial currently happening in Kaji Cemetery just a few miles west of his high school. The day was bleak and gray, and Kousei had played the piano with gloves on so his fingers didn't freeze up from the cold. The canopy above the Steinway grand piano shielded Kousei from the breeze, and the large crowd of people gathered in the cemetery comforted one another as they wept with bitter loss.

Though many of the families present had already hosted personal memorials for their deceased loved ones at their residences, this public ceremony gave the lost souls that last bit of proper respect. No applause sounded this time as Kousei stood up from the grand piano and bowed. Nevertheless, a good number of the mourners smiled at the young pianist, grateful for the closure his music had provided. Kousei stepped out from under the canopy, rejoining Hiroko and her daughter Koharu once he found them in the crowd. Kaori and her parents were with Hiroko as well, and for good reason.

Both Ryouko Miyazono—Kaori's mother—and Hiroko, had lost good friends amidst the chaos of the battle that had taken place just a month ago.

Altogether, there were eleven people getting lowered six feet under in today's mass burial, which was a frankly lower number compared to previous mass burial ceremonies Kousei had heard about. Despite the current Emperor having outlined procedures for these mass burials once the need had become apparent, there was still a strict adherence to tradition as the families and friends of the deceased paid their respect. The Buddhist priest overseeing the ceremony bowed to each family as he walked by their loved one's grave, offering his condolences and blessings. Eventually, the service came to a close and the attendees began filing out of the park to return home.

Kaori notified Kousei that she and her parents were departing, and gave her boyfriend a kiss goodbye.

"See you at school next week, okay?" she smiled at him.

"See you then, Kaori," Kousei said, and bowed his head to her parents. "I'm so sorry again for the loss of your friend, Mrs. Ryouko."

"Thank you, Arima," Ryouko answered. "Your performance today brought peace to those who need it right now."

"Let's finish this school year strong, ay?" Kaori's father said, giving Kousei a fist bump. As Kaori and her parents departed the cemetery, Hiroko told Kousei they'd stay back just a while longer to which Kousei told her it wouldn't be any trouble at all. As Hiroko and her daughter went to pay their last respects at the grave of her friend, Kousei's eyes fell upon a young man kneeling at a grave just a few feet down from where Hiroko was. His empathetic curiosity got the better of him, and Kousei walked over to offer the lone stranger his condolences.

Upon arriving where he was, Kousei saw that the picture on the grave was one of a girl with medium-length brown hair who looked to be the same age as the young man currently kneeling at her grave. Her goofy yet carefree smile showed her teeth, and her brown eyes had a joyous spark that even the camera could see.

"What was her name?" Kousei asked the downcast fellow.

"Sakura Yamauchi," the young man answered, his voice flat and devoid of expression.

"I see. Was she a relative of yours?"

"No, a friend. Though I guess you could argue I was her boyfriend for a short time."

Kousei recalled the devastation he'd felt after Kaori's demise in his old timeline, and was hesitant to pry any further.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, sir," Kousei nodded. "I'm sure she must have been a wonderful person to have in your life."

The young man stood up and looked at Arima, a slight smile crossing his face. "Please, you don't have to call me sir. I'm only a couple grades above you."

"Ah, okay. I don't believe I got your name?"

"Haruki Shiga," Haruki replied, shaking Kousei's hand. "I know you don't know me, so thank you for coming over. I appreciate it."

"No problem. We all need support from those around us in dark times."

The two stood in silence for a few moments, gazing at Sakura's picture, before Haruki spoke up.

"She was terminally ill with a rare pancreatic illness," he explained. "As fate would have it, I discovered her secret by total accident when I picked up a journal she'd dropped on the hospital lobby floor."

Kousei nodded in sympathy as Haruki told the story. A loved one hiding a terminal illness? Oh yes, Kousei definitely knew how that felt.

"For some odd reason, Sakura insisted on keeping me as a friend until she passed away," Haruki continued. "And at first, I was resistant. But it came to pass she helped me break out of my shell and make some good friends in our class. We were going to go to the New Year's Festival together."

"I see," Kousei said. "So she didn't die during the bombings from the enemy forces?"

A weak, broken smile came across Haruki's face. "In sad irony, she did not. She was leaving her house to meet me at the festival, and I waited for three hours. Only to find out from a news headline on my phone that she had been stabbed by a thug en route to the festival."

Kousei felt a lump form in his throat as he glanced at Sakura's picture once again. Kousei had not realized just how lucky he was to have been appointed as a Guardian until this moment. After all, he, a lowly civilian just like Haruki, had been given a grand opportunity to start anew and see Kaori again. And even go on missions to other worlds at that! How did Arima's meager, remedied loss compare to the great sorrow now filling the space of Haruki's life? Kousei was suddenly no longer proud of his title as a Guardian.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kousei said meekly. "I'm sure you must be broken beyond what words can say. I wish I could do more to help you, but, well—"

"Don't sweat it, my man," Haruki assured him, putting his hand on the pianist's shoulder. "You taking the time to listen and understand speaks volumes on its own. I doubt we go to the same school, but I wish you luck in the remainder of your studies."

Kousei smiled back, and gave Haruki his thanks.

"Of course, By the way, I actually don't think I got your name?"

"Kousei Arima," Kousei answered, feeling sheepish at not stating his name earlier.

"Ah. Well, thank you, Arima. Hopefully we'll run into each other again."

Before Haruki left, Kousei inquired as to what his plans were after graduation in a few months, to which Haruki freely told him he was planning to join the Police Academy.

"Might as well help make the streets safer so others don't have to suffer the same loss," Haruki explained.

"I understand what you mean," Kousei replied. "On that note, if you end up talking with Officer Shouya Ishida about that, tell him I sent you! I hear he recently took a role as an Instructor so he could probably help you out!"

"Will do, Arima!" Haruki waved as he walked off. "Have a good day!"

"New friend of yours?" Hiroko asked as she and Koharu walked up behind Kousei.

"Well, acquaintance, but maybe we'll cross paths again."

"That'd be swell alright," Hiroko smiled. "Come on. Let's head home. Your dad offered to cook us dinner tonight. I'm sure he'll make something good."

Kousei couldn't help but be somewhat miffed at the all too familiar event of his dad missing an event due to work, but decided to keep quiet about that for now.

"Sure thing!" he said instead, and offered Koharu a piggyback ride as the trio walked back to Hiroko's car.

.......................................

Takeshi grunted and strained as he kicked the stand-up punching bag with all his strength. He'd been taking karate lessons for at least two months now, blast it—why wouldn't this infernal bag topple over already?! He took a brief respite, pouring some water from his hydro-flask over his head before chugging the rest. Others lazed around and wasted time on their video games over Christmas break.

But not Takeshi.

He knew all too well that once school started up again next week, both his piano and karate practice time would have to be cut down to accommodate for studies and other matters. Standing up from his bed, he resumed his stance and executed another series of both lower and upper body strikes that rocked the punching bag to and fro.

Just then, Takeshi heard a knock at the door, and he granted the person permission to enter. The small, rounded face of his seventh-grade sister Nagi poked around the door, and she pinched her nose as the stench immediately overcame her nostrils

"Takeshi!" Nagi exclaimed. "Open a window would you?!"

"It's freezing outside!" Takeshi retorted, then sighed. "You're right though, I probably do need a shower right about now."

"No kidding!" Nagi jested.

"Oh come on already, sis!" Takeshi snickered. "What do you need?"

"Could you please come watch me as I play Fur Elise?" Nagi asked. "I've finally got it all memorized!"

"That's awesome Nagi! But I still have thirty minutes of practice left then I have to shower. Maybe after dinner, okay?"

"But I'm watching a movie with mom after dinner!" Nagi protested.

"Nagi, please, I really need to make sure I'm ready for the Spring tournament, okay? Not to mention my piano recital at school later in the term. I promise I'll come watch and critique your playing some other time, okay?"

Nagi sighed. "Okay Takeshi, I understand."

Takeshi noticed his sister moping as she reluctantly dragged her feet down the stairs, and he didn't understand why. Why did Nagi specifically want his feedback? His playing was on par with Arima's sure, but that didn't make him a complete expert!

After a few more minutes of practicing solo strikes and combos, Takeshi took another respite and checked his Instagram feed. He saw a couple posts from Watari, as well as a few highlights posted by the page of the dojo where he was enrolled. Kaori, of course, had posted another "photo dump" of her and Kousei during the holidays a few days back, and his piano instructor had posted a few vacation photos. Then there was Emi, whose most recent post was that of her trying on a new dress at the mall...

In concordance with several earlier posts of what seemed to be her trying to make herself look as pretty as possible.

Takeshi tapped his screen, putting a like on her post more as a friendly obligation. Again, he found himself unable to grasp why Emi was gravitating towards those kinds of posts as of late. Was it just some kind of phase she was going through, or some sort of likes-based competition with other girls at school?

Takeshi didn't have time to ponder such matters, and put his phone down. He had to perfect these moves if he wanted to win the tournament. And more importantly...

To be strong enough to protect his sister.

..........................................

Emi's heart jumped just a bit upon seeing the notification of Takeshi liking her post.

"Ah, good," she told herself. "Guess that must mean he notices me after all."

But as it always went with her self-talk, a more negative assertion quashed any momentary hope she'd had.

"Give it a rest already, would you? You're just another rival pianist who Takeshi saw go head over heels for Arima when you barely knew the guy. You're nothing like the other girls. He and the other boys wouldn't even give you a second look."

Rather than feel rage, self-disgust, or even sadness, Emi just felt a hollow emptiness inside as she continued to scroll through her Instagram feed—this was the seventh time she'd checked it today—like a mindless zombie. She saw a few posts from other girls in her class, showing off their holiday vacations, new shoes, and more. One girl in particular, the cheer captain, had yet another post dedicated entirely to her and her boyfriend's romantic trip to Thailand.

Emi hardly took notice of her classmate's encouraging comments beneath the picture she'd posted of her in the dress. After all, it was only four of them. What did it matter? How did a measly twenty-one likes measure up to everyone else's untroubled life?

Emi set her phone down at last to use the restroom, and as she was finishing up, she looked over her reflection in the mirror. At first, she smiled; yes, everything was okay. She looked more than ready for the start of school next week.

Then she saw it.

Ever so slight, but it was there, next to the other two on her right cheek.

A pimple.

A new, red, angry zit that irrevocably reduced the appeal of Emi's complexion, and sent a message to all the other girls in school that she was hardly a worthy competitor. Again, the downtrodden self-talk sounded in her mind.

"You're just the silent, stoic piano girl who scares away every boy with a single look. Get back to your piano and stop trying to fit in."

Emi tried to hold it in, but her hands which gripped the edge of the porcelain sink suddenly began to quiver and her eyes watered. She buried her face in her hands, catching the tears that started to flow out of her eyes, between her fingers, and onto the bathroom counter.

"Why?!" she yelled at herself internally. "Why?! Why does it have to be this way?!"

She had no answer for herself, and continued to weep, clawing angrily at the hell-sent zits that silently taunted her with their refusal to disappear from her face.

All the other girls were prettier than her...

And there was nothing she could do about it.