Episode 16 — Blackout

The phone keeps vibrating. The strap sways with it. Kanzaki-san stands there, face drained of colour.

“Are you okay not answering?”

I asked without thinking. Kanzaki-san nodded, small and rapid.

“Yes. Today is the day you brought me here. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. So — just a little longer.”

A voice so transparent it seemed about to disappear. The ringtone continuing to sound, shameless and relentless. My heart straining with sadness and joy at once.

“Okay.”

There were no words that could hold all of it, so all I could do was agree, helplessly. And Kanzaki-san, as if forgiving that helplessness, smiled a faint, weary smile.

“I had so much fun I’m a little tired. I want to sit down.”

“Um — shall we go to the food court then?”

Kanzaki-san nodded at my suggestion with a puzzled expression — and then:

“Hand. Hold it.”

Without waiting for my answer, her hand was already wrapping around mine.

It was cold. And trembling faintly.

◇◇◇

The food court was busy with students, as you’d expect on a weekday evening. We found a relatively quiet corner and settled in, still holding what we’d bought.

And Kanzaki-san, sitting across from me, looked at the pointed thing in her hand with the expression of someone encountering a curiosity.

“So this is… ice cream.”
“Wait — Kanzaki-san, have you never had ice cream before?”

I asked before I could stop myself. Kanzaki-san answered in her usual expressionless way:

“Never. Mum always said it cools the body down and it’s not good for you.”

I was struck dumb. That seemed far too strict by any measure.

But showing that on my face and making Kanzaki-san sad was the last thing I wanted — so I smiled pleasantly and said:

“You’d better eat it before it melts.”

I took a spoonful from my cup as I said it. Sweetness and a sharp, fizzing sensation hit me immediately.

“That’s not fair, Ogawa-san. Yours looks safe.”

Kanzaki-san had chosen a cone, unlike me, which meant disaster if it melted — and yet she had no idea where to start and was turning it this way and that in a small panic.

I couldn’t just leave her like that. I pulled the little pink spoon from the edge of her cone.

“Here — open up.”

I scooped some ice cream off, cupped my other hand beneath it, and held it out to her.

Kanzaki-san did as she was told, opening her mouth slightly. Eyes closed, for some reason. Visually speaking — it was, well — it looked rather like a kiss, and my heart was doing something about it.

But the sound that touched Kanzaki-san’s tongue was nothing like my heartbeat, and it came out directly as words:

“It’s so cold — and it fizzes. Does ice cream always fizz?”
“Normal ones don’t. This one’s special. Look — now that I’ve made a start, you should be able to eat the rest from there.”
“I’m still a little scared — can you feed me just a little more?”

Kanzaki-san tilted her head, eyes shimmering. Truly — it wasn’t fair. That it took so little to steal someone’s heart so completely.

Which is to say: there was no resisting or refusing. I took the cone from Kanzaki-san and fed her properly. One bite, two, three.

“Enough yet?”
“Not yet.”

This exchange going back and forth like a game of hide-and-seek — when, without warning, a voice cut into us like something sharp. Someone had found us, someone we hadn’t anticipated.

“Shion — what do you think you’re doing…?”

A voice colder than ice cream, and piercing. Standing there was a woman of terrifying beauty — wild-eyed, hair dishevelled, expression ferocious.

And looking at that woman, Kanzaki-san whispered:

“Mum…”

So this was Kanzaki-san’s mother. The resemblance was unmistakable — the beauty, the large eyes, the pale translucent skin. But the emotional register was entirely different. Where Kanzaki-san’s beauty was still, like a calm sea, her mother radiated intensity from every part of her.

And that intensity descended on Kanzaki-san.

“Skipping your lesson, loitering somewhere like this, eating ice cream—”
“I’m sorry…”

Kanzaki-san’s voice came out thin and weak. Her mother spoke over it, continuing without pause — and then drew one breath, as if confirming something important, and said it with the deliberate weight of someone making sure a lesson is understood:

“What if you hurt your fingers.”

The words weren’t directed at me — and yet they hit me like a blow to the head.

There was no concern for Kanzaki-san herself in those words. Her mother said it as though it were obvious, as though it were beyond question the most important thing — and there was no Kanzaki-san in it. Only the fingers.

In that instant, I remembered something Kanzaki-san had said before.

“I don’t like it. This name. For the sound to have a bond with violet — something like that. It feels like a curse”.

So that was it. This woman was the one who had placed that curse on Kanzaki-san. Those words just now were the shape of the sadness that surrounded her.

In that case — I wanted to protect Kanzaki-san from a curse like that.

The thought came to me in a flash, and having thought it I couldn’t unthink it. I stood up, looked straight at Kanzaki-san’s mother, and said:

“Kanzaki-san — Shion-san — is more than just music. She’s beautiful, and she’s lovely, and the parts of her that are a little scatterbrained are lovely too. Please — see all of her properly. Not just this.”

Impertinent words, from someone with no standing to say them. Predictably, Kanzaki-san’s mother’s eyes flew open wide, and she said, almost a shout:

“What do you know about Shion. What do you know about our family. Leading her astray with no sense of responsibility. You don’t know the first thing about the weight that the Kanzaki name carries—”

She seemed about to go on — and then stopped abruptly. And then:

“This is no time for this. Shion, we’re going.”

She took Kanzaki-san by the arm and made to leave. Kanzaki-san, dazed, let herself be pulled — and then, as if coming back to herself, in a desperate voice, whispered:

“Thank you…”

Those clinging eyes. But there was nothing more I could do. Nothing I could give her. So at least — words to hold her here. A promise that led to tomorrow.

“I’ll be waiting. In the music room.”

Kanzaki-san didn’t nod. And, arm still held, she disappeared from view.

In the noise all around, the melted ice cream dirtied my palm.

That feeling wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t go away.

The next day, and the day after that — Kanzaki-san didn’t come to the music room.