Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

2.61: Endurance

I nodded weakly, my fingers twisting into the sheet over me.

“Yes.”

The nurse studied me for a long moment. I could feel her gaze even without looking directly at her. She was careful and professional, not unkind.

“…You know,” she said at last, “when students faint like this, it’s usually not because of one single thing. It’s a build-up of things like stress, exhaustion, emotional strain. Sometimes all three of those at once.”

My throat tightened.

I didn’t have any answer for her. I’d even lost consciousness in homeroom. So embarrassing.

“I might need to call an ambulance if it looks like you have a serious underlying health issue.”

“I-I’ll be fine,” I said quietly. “Please… I don’t want to go to a hospital.”

She sighed, not exactly irritated by my begging, but her expression was thoughtful.

“I’m not saying you have to go to one today,” she said. “But I can’t ignore this entirely either. Losing consciousness the way you did is serious, even if you recover quickly.” She paused, then added more gently, “I’ll need to notify your parents and recommend they at least take you to a clinic sometime soon. Just to be safe.”

My shoulders tensed.

“…Okay,” I whispered. That much, at least, I could accept.

“I’ll let you rest here,” she continued. “When you feel steady enough, you can return to class or be sent home early. But I don’t want you pushing yourself today. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She stood, adjusted the curtain slightly, but then hesitated as if sensing something unsaid.

Before she could speak again, the curtain shifted on the other side.

“Excuse me.”

It was Yuna’s voice.

The curtain rustled as the nurse turned, startled.

“Oh, Arisugawa-chan. You’re not supposed to be here during your classes.”

“I know that,” Yuna said politely, bowing just enough to acknowledge her words without looking chastened. “I’m sorry. I was asked by Kurosawa-sensei to bring Shinohara-san her things from the classroom in case she goes home.”

She lifted my school bag slightly that was slung over her shoulder, to give proof of what she was saying.

The nurse hesitated, her eyes flicking between us, then sighed. “All right. Just leave her bag.”

Yuna stepped closer to the bed. The air between us was already feeling steadier with her there, cutting the tension. I breathed calmer.

“Sumire-chan really overdoes it,” Yuna said calmly to the nurse. “She’s been running herself thin for a while now. Helping at home, staying up late, not sleeping properly.” She tilted her head a fraction. “She’s the kind of person who doesn’t realize she’s exhausted until her body gives out.”

The nurse’s expression softened.

“…That does fit,” she admitted. “You’ve noticed these things yourself?”

“Yes,” Yuna said without hesitation. “We’re very close friends, she and I. I’m always watching her, so I understand her well.”

I swallowed under the sheet.

“She even skipped breakfast this morning too,” Yuna added gently, as if it were incidental. She wasn’t exactly wrong about that. I’d been picking at my food for the last few days. “She didn’t neglect herself intentionally.”

The nurse clicked her tongue quietly. “That alone wouldn’t cause fainting, but combined with stress and lack of sleep…” She shook her head. “Students like you worry me the most, Shinohara-san. Always trying to be responsible.”

I shrank a little, pulling the blanket closer.

“I’ll keep her here until the end of this period,” the nurse decided at last, rubbing her lips with a finger. “If she feels stable by the end of it, she can return to class. If not, I’ll have to notify her parents and recommend a clinic visit sometime soon, just to be safe.”

My chest tightened at the thought. I didn’t want my parents finding out what happened.

“Please don’t do that,” I said quickly. “I’ll be okay. I promise that I’ll take better care of myself.”

The nurse gave me a long look, then nodded. “We’ll see how you do, then. But you don’t get to ignore this incident entirely, understand?”

“…Yes.”

She stepped away, the curtain sliding shut with a soft whisper on her side.

The partition and the whole nurse office settled into silence again.

Then Yuna sat down beside me on the bed.

“…You’re really bad at asking for help, Sumire-chan…” she said softly.

I let out a shaky breath. “You walked me to school even though doing that had to have exhausted you too. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble for anyone.”

Yuna’s smile wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t stern. She was gentle as she grabbed my hand holding the sheet up between us and tugged me to her and put her arms around me.

“Ah…” I blushed as she held me, my heart thumping. “Don’t…”

“Next time,” she said in my ear, “rely on someone to carry you a little sooner. I’m here for you.”

I nodded, my eyes burning and my heart fluttering.

“Thanks, Yuna-chan.”

From that time on, the days passed quickly.

Without Aoi-chan at my side, even though I knew I could rely on Riko-chan and Yuna-chan, I couldn’t accept their love the same way as I had Aoi-chan’s. There was always a small, stubborn part of me that refused to give up on my love. I didn’t want to betray what we had. And even when I smiled, even when I laughed with them, the warmth I used to carry was gone. I was even less approachable than I was before Shirasuna.

Living like that, time didn’t move forward so much as it slid.

Aoi-chan kept to herself in the back corner of the classroom.

For weeks, nothing changed.

Her new desk became a quiet landmark, one I learned not to look at for too long. She kept her head down, worked diligently, and answered when called on. I expected Riko or Yuna to try to take it, but they didn’t. That desk stayed empty and too quiet.

Aoi was polite, distant and impeccable, unapproachable in her own way. She clearly didn’t want anyone close.

After school, she still held her lessons behind the gym, but these weren’t times when we could pretend that nothing happened.

She didn’t invite me to watch her with her club anymore.

Despite that, Shimizu-senpai sometimes invited me to join them, tracking me down where I was sitting behind the gym. I accepted her invitations the first few times, telling myself it was fine and that Aoi-chan would soften towards me at some point if we played together or against each other regularly. I told myself that I should keep moving forward somehow, keep training, and keep proving to her that I was serious.

And I did give it everything I had, but my plan failed because I wasn’t able to handle it.

Whenever I faced Aoi-chan, even across the volleyball net or tried to work with her as a teammate, even without words, my strength and focus slipped away. My timing dulled, my resolve wavering. It wasn’t fear. It was worse than that.

Whenever I saw Aoi-chan, I couldn’t stop longing for what was missing from my life.

After a while, the invitations stopped coming as my performance deteriorated.

I understood why. Shimizu-senpai wasn’t doing it for my sake. She wasn’t trying to bridge the gap between Aoi-chan and me. She hardly knew me.

The first day back at school after my collapse earlier and our breakup two days ago, I changed into my gym shorts as always, sitting on the low concrete step behind the gym with my bag beside me, my knees drawn up, pretending I was only resting there. I’d tried to play with Shimizu-senpai’s club and after a while I was dismissed, told to rest by senpai herself.

Before that, I was so introverted while changing my clothes that the girls in the locker room went back to ignoring me after a few feeble attempts to draw me out. 

I told myself it would be like before when I saw her behind the gym… that she’d come around the corner, glance over, and call my name with that familiar, calm authority and warmth in her voice.

When she appeared, my heart leapt.

I stood without thinking and ran toward her, relief spilling over, my arms lifting on instinct…

… and she sidestepped me.

Her movement was clean, precise, and felt very final.

She fixed me with eyes so wintery they stopped me where I’d stumbled.

“Get ready, Shinohara-san,” she said flatly. “Your true training starts now.”

That was all.

We didn’t call each other, nor message each other at night. Outside of this space, it was as if I didn’t exist for her anymore.

Our only contact was here, whenever she was teaching me.

I cried that first day.

Not loudly, nor dramatically. Just quietly and uselessly, while trying to follow her instructions.

When my breathing was irregular and my vision blurred, Aoi didn’t look at me.

She walked away from me.

The next day, I didn’t try to hug her. I didn’t try to reach out at all.

I still didn’t understand what she was thinking. Whether she hated me or not. Whether she was punishing herself or me. Whether this distance was for my sake or hers.

But she kept her promise.

And I had doubts over my ability to keep going like this.

This was torture.

Facing her cold eyes at the end of every day after being ignored all day wore me down in ways bruises never could. Each correction landed harder than a strike. Each glance that passed over me was devoid of warmth, want, feeling deliberate and surgical.

Some days, I went home shaking.

Some days, I wondered if this was her way of making me give up.

But part of me refused.

A stubborn, aching part of me believed that if I could endure this… if I could stand in front of her without breaking, without begging… then maybe the wall between us wasn’t meant to last forever.

Maybe she was waiting for me to grow strong enough to reach her.

She corrected my form with sharp words and nothing else. She barked instructions and made me fix myself. She watched closely, critically… but never touched me.

She was making me strong.

And I couldn’t understand why someone who apparently hated me so much… would still stay.

Why?

Practice unfolded in the usual rhythm, our footfalls striking the concrete and grass, our breaths measured, focusing entirely on the clean snap of our bodies motion. Aoi-chan moved with quiet control, always correcting me with clipped words and sharp gestures.

When her gaze landed on me, it never softened.

One day she was there before me, for reasons I didn’t understand.

“You’re late.” she said flatly. “Get warmed up,” 

I started stretching immediately, heat rushing to my face. “Y-yes.”

I followed along, copying the drills from memory and observation. When my stance wavered, I waited instinctively for her to step in. For her hand at my hip to guide me. For the pressure at my shoulder that quietly told me… put it here.

It never came.

“Your center is drifting,” Aoi-chan said from a distance, her eyes serious. “Correct it.”

I swallowed and tried again.

“No, not like that,” she snapped. “Again.”

I adjusted. And got it wrong again.

“Your weight’s too far forward. Fix it.”

She never crossed the space between us. Never touched me. She kept on like that, correcting me that cold, detached way, guiding me by voice alone, by expectation.

It hurt more than I thought it would.

I still loved her. My feelings didn’t fade just because she chose to maintain the distance between us. Every movement she made was precise, almost mercilessly so. 

Riko started watching from the side again, as though she’d expected this.

At first, she said and did nothing. Then, with a sharp inhalation of breath, she stepped forward.

“Your footing’s off, Sumire-chan,” she muttered, her voice tight. “You’re collapsing inward.”

I blinked at her in surprise. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done this before, but it had been a while since the last time.

She hesitated, her jaw clenched, then added more firmly, “Here—look.”

She placed her hands where Aoi-chan’s used to go. Not confidently, nor smoothly. Her gestures were careful and respectful, like she was afraid of doing it wrong, misguiding me, but she was more afraid of letting me struggle alone.

It wasn’t the same with Riko-chan doing it...

I felt it before I saw it, Aoi-chan’s attention sharpening whenever Riko did it. There was a brief pause in her movement. She glanced over once, her eyes hard, assessing. She didn’t stop Riko, nor did she correct her.

She turned away and moved on with our lesson as if she didn’t care.

Riko shot Aoi-chan quick looks now and again, unmistakably hostile.

Aoi-chan ignored her.

Something in my chest loosened and tightened all at once.

After class, I stayed behind to take care of Pon-chan, filling the time I used to spend waiting for Aoi-chan. Waiting behind the gym too long alone hurt too much.

If I stood still for too long, my thoughts would drift back to her, and sometimes the tears would come before I even realized I was thinking about her. I hated that, how brittle and fragile I became when there was nothing to distract me.

So I kept myself busy.

I brushed Pon-chan carefully, refilled his water and food, and cleaned his space meticulously. He watched me with quiet eyes as I worked, tilting his head as if he sensed the weight I was carrying in my heart. When my hands trembled, he nudged them gently with his nose.

It helped. A little.

As long as I was moving, as long as I had something to do, I could keep myself together.

That part didn’t change.

I brushed him, fed him, talked to him, quietly while the others filtered away. He pressed his small body against my neck more than usual, chirping softly. When I sighed, he chirped back, tilting his head as if he understood.

Maybe he did.

Some days, Yuna-chan and Riko walked me part of the way home and sometimes to school.

Some days they couldn’t. On those days, I walked from my gate to the same intersection alone, waiting until Megumi-chan and Hinata-chan arrived from the cross street each morning. We fell into step together, chatting lightly.

I wasn’t entirely alone.

But something important was missing.

My bike stayed where it was, tucked safely out of the weather. I didn’t touch it. I couldn’t use it anymore. It had become part of life with Aoi-chan. I just… couldn’t bear it.

The play took shape.

Megumi finished writing the script one afternoon and passed out copies with a proud smile. When I read it, my breath caught.

The prince had become a princess, exactly as she teased.

I wasn’t sure if that was better than before.

Megumi had a fixation on yuri… from a distance.

I was Prince Filia, the ruler of a country where most of the population was female. Where romance between girls wasn’t whispered, joked about, or banned. It was the norm.

My hands trembled slightly as I turned the pages of her script, reading.

We practiced everywhere, in classrooms, hallways, in our own homes. Sometimes together, sometimes apart. I learned my lines by heart, little by little, even when my chest still felt hollow. I never hated Aoi-chan. I never even tried to.

The distance just… ached.

My parents watched me carefully at first.

They could tell something was wrong with me, that I was changing in another way.

They asked gentle questions over breakfast sometimes. Ones that touched Aoi-chan, I evaded. They lingered in my presence a little longer than usual sometimes, asking me to watch movies with them in the living room whenever I didn’t have to do homework. It was almost like they were afraid I might vanish the moment they looked away. They asked me whether I had strange, dark thoughts. I realized that they might worry that I’d become suicidal.

I gradually perfected my fake smile, how to make it reach my eyes just enough, even though I didn’t actually heal. The wound stayed open under the surface, gaping and raw. I got better at answering their questions lightly, changing the subject when things edged too close to things that I didn’t want to think about. I managed to laugh at the right moments.

I hid my feelings better and trained harder.

I was becoming an actress, just trying to live like everything was normal. Gradually, they stopped asking questions. Mom made me eat properly whenever I picked at my food or tried to excuse myself from the table without eating.

Each day, I came home a little more tired in my body and a little quieter in my heart, and that seemed to reassure them more than anything else.

I started helping mom more in the kitchen and cleaning the house like I used to. Each time I cooked with mom felt like I was refreshing my memories of her recipes and sharpening my skills.

“You’ll go to college in a few more years. You need to be able to take care of yourself and a family,” Mom would say.

I nodded my head along smiling, but the thought of settling down and starting a family of my own bothered me. I wasn’t ready for that and I didn’t think that I could ever like a man like Aoi. And I still had no idea what I wanted for a career.

Eventually, they relaxed as time passed.

I let them believe I was fine.

Daichi organized everything with his usual relentless efficiency.

And Aoi-chan continued to avoid me, but she worked constantly. She joined the non-actors building sets, painting backdrops, carrying lumber with quiet determination. She didn’t look at me any time she passed me in a hallway or in the classroom.

Hinata took measurements for costumes for us, her fingers deft, her face pink at having to touch others. She brought updates every few days, making numerous adjustments and revisions.

My costume changed three times.

In the end, it was perfect.

She designed a fitted bodice in deep forest green, trimmed with gold thread with a flowing skirt split for movement and soft boots. A mantle clasped at my shoulder. It looked regal, but was very practical. Fitting for someone who ruled and fought both.

I worked to perfect my part in the play, Prince Filia, putting emotions into my acting. Though I knew the lines, it took time before dry recitations turned into sounding more meaningful and genuine.

Riko and Yuna helped me with that, correcting me gently, giving me advice.

Riko practiced her role obsessively. She tripped over her lines and sometimes mixed them up, moving too fast or too stiff, but she never stopped putting effort into learning her lines. She blushed every time the kiss came up in rehearsal. She wasn’t able to hide her anticipation very well.

Yuna, on the other hand, was unreal from the start.

Every time she practiced Maleficent’s lines, people stopped to watch and listen. Her voice filled the room effortlessly, sounding meticulously controlled, coming across as dangerous and beautiful.

Applause followed her like a shadow.

One night, Pon-chan escaped.

I heard the noise too late. By the time I ran outside, he was already gone.

Someone else found him that time.

The one who did talked about having felt an eerie presence… about how Pon-chan had been reacting strangely. She said Pon-chan wouldn’t stop staring at empty air, bristling and whining like something invisible was standing right in front of him.

She mentioned seeing floating elephants for a moment.

Everyone laughed at that part. They joked that she was probably drinking alcohol on the sly.

The nurse examined her and found no evidence that she’d been drinking or consuming anything inappropriate.

Time passed and Aoi-chan and I began sparring formally.

She was serious now and she didn’t hold back.

She didn’t soften her strikes. She didn’t show anything on her face the whole time.

I met her blows anyway. She won, time after time, barking corrections as she pressed me back.

Riko watched from the sidelines, shouting tips whenever she spotted an opening, and between her shouted advice and Aoi-chan’s relentless admonishments, I improved, just a little, each day.

I still wasn’t fast enough but she never let up.

Whenever I failed to perform, she drilled me on the basics without mercy. Footwork. Balance. Guard. Again. Again. Again.

A lot of the days, I limped home.

Late summer bled quietly into early fall.

The heat softened first, not entirely gone, just feeling less oppressive. Mornings carried a hint of coolness that clung to my skin when I stepped outside. The tree leaves along the walk to school dulled at the edges, the vibrant green giving way to yellows, then to faint traces of red. Cicadas thinned out. The air felt clearer, but sharper, like something was going to happen.

Around campus, bright colored posters went up one by one, advertising the festival and our play. There were depictions of the smiling faces of students in yukata with fireworks going off above them, festival lanterns strung behind and above them. Handwritten notices were pinned crookedly to bulletin boards.

Cultural Festival — One Week Away

2-B’s Sleeping Beauty Performance

Live Music, Food, Games and Fun!

Fireworks After Sunset

Everywhere I looked, time was closing in.

Just one week remained before it.

And somewhere inside that narrowing stretch of days, something in me shifted.

I still hurt. The ache hadn’t vanished... it lived in my chest almost constantly, in the quiet moments when I reached for someone who wasn’t there for me anymore. I still loved her. That hadn’t changed, no matter how much distance she kept between us.

But I was still alive, still working to improve myself, because something in me demanded it. A new hope bloomed in me. Eventually, I would be good enough for her.

I stood a little straighter and breathed a little steadier, keeping that goal in mind and close to my heart.

Moving forward even when it hurts.

Late summer was ending.

And so, quietly, was the part of me that thought I might break before I reached the other side. 

Prince Filia and Hinata