Chapter 26: Comrades-in-Arms

The night was deep, and the lights in the Toyokawa residence were gradually fading.

"Are you asleep?" Sakiko asked softly, staring at the ceiling.

"Not yet. I'm not very tired," the person beside her, also staring at the ceiling, replied. Her quilt was pulled up to her shoulders, and her hands were tucked neatly inside. "I slept too much this afternoon."

"That wasn't sleeping, Mutsumi, that was passing out," Sakiko said, turning on her side to meet Mutsumi Wakaba’s bright, steady gaze. "I can’t sleep either."

The room was dark, and the sheer curtains were drawn tight, allowing only specks of faint light to filter in and rest upon her soft bangs.

As of today, Mutsumi Wakaba would be staying at the Toyokawa house. The duration was undetermined, but she imagined it would be for quite a while. As a guest, she should have stayed in one of the many spare rooms in the vast, empty mansion—that was what Mutsumi had expected, too. But Sakiko had insisted that they sleep together.

For most girls, this would be perfectly normal; best friends often prefer sharing a bed when having sleepovers. But for them, it was unusual. Despite growing up together, they had never shared a bed; even when they were children and worn out from play, they would always return to their own homes, only to meet up again early the next morning. This was a first.

It was only natural that they couldn't sleep. The proximity felt overwhelming, making Sakiko’s heart race. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could hear was the steady, gentle breathing of the other girl.

It was a strange sensation, one she couldn't quite put into words. She should have been incredibly familiar with Mutsumi, yet this situation felt like a classic trope from a girl’s manga—the kind where the leads end up in the same room, bickering, stumbling, and landing in a pile, only to lock eyes, hearts pounding, before looking away with a stuttered apology.

*That’s not right, is it?* Sakiko shook her head, trying to banish the bizarre thoughts.

They were friends—the best of friends. What kind of friend would sit idly by while someone they cared about was in trouble? If she made a promise, she had to keep it, regardless of the cost—even if it meant standing against the entire world. That was simply who she was.

"I can tell you a story," Mutsumi whispered.

"You can tell stories?" Sakiko was surprised; the statement itself sounded like a joke.

"Yes. I will tell you a story about a hero."

Sakiko paused. Seeing the way Mutsumi’s eyes sparkled, she immediately understood what she meant.

"I never intended to be a hero," Sakiko said.

"Then what do you want to become?"

"I... I don't know." Sakiko thought for a while, but found no answer. "I never thought about my future. I used to think I could play in a band for the rest of my life, but after what happened, I realized that 'forever' isn't a word you can say so easily. I have to be responsible for myself, and for everyone around me."

"Then why quit CryChic?" Mutsumi blinked, curious. "You were the one who formed the band."

"It was precisely because I wanted to be responsible that I quit. Life is the most precious thing anyone has. Only by staying alive can we do the things we want to do. I don't want to drag everyone else into this. The world of the Dragon Race is too dangerous."

As she spoke, a wave of profound sorrow and intense bitterness surged in her chest. The images of her parents filled her mind, leaving her no room to resist or escape. Even after all this time, she still followed her old habits; every morning after washing up, she would instinctively head toward her parents' room to say good morning, only to realize her mistake.

Everything there remained exactly as it had been. The quilt was still tossed aside, half a glass of water sat on the table, a dress was caught in the closet door, and the bathroom faucet was dripping, hitting the tub with a rhythmic, echoing sound.

It felt as if they had just woken up early and left in a hurry, and that by evening, they would be back, sitting at the dining table, laughing and calling out that they had cooked her favorite meal. Standing there, she would feel as if it were all still real, a flicker of hope rising in her heart—until the evening came, the house lit up, and she realized that one room would remain dark forever.

She still hadn't fully accepted the reality. It had all happened so fast; both of them gone within a year. For so long, her heart had been in turmoil, and she had to focus on other things to keep the grief at bay. Studying kendo wasn't just for self-defense or revenge; it was a way to forget the pain.

Tears welled up silently. Grief was such a hateful thing; just when you thought you had grown up and moved on, a small trigger could pull you right back to the day you lost everything.

Mutsumi was stunned. She didn't know what was wrong with Sakiko. The tears came without warning, silent and soundless, but she could feel the sorrow radiating from her like a cold tide. She wanted to do something—she didn't want to be just a princess waiting to be saved by a hero—but she didn't know how. She wasn't good with words, and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Sakiko covered her face with her hands, biting her lip to stop the sobs from escaping. She felt pathetic. Why was she crying like this? This wasn't the time for sadness. She should bear her own burdens; sharing them only made everyone suffer. Crying in front of someone else was no different than begging for pity.

"I'm sorry... I just..." She tried to scramble out of the bed to head to the washroom. The only places she could cry were the bathroom or her father's arms, and those were all she had left.

A faint fragrance suddenly enveloped her. Just as she sat up, someone pulled her into a tight embrace. The hug wasn't gentle; it was firm, like an emperor clutching his consort, refusing to let her escape. Yet, it was also incredibly soft, soft enough to melt into her very being. Mutsumi knew Sakiko didn't want to be seen crying, so she buried her face in Sakiko’s chest, refusing to look up.

"Saki... cry. Just let it out. I'm here... I'll cry with you," Mutsumi whispered.

Her face was usually devoid of emotion. Even when playing the guitar—the thing she loved most—she rarely smiled. She felt like a doll: perfect, yet lifeless. Dolls don't feel sadness, so people assumed Mutsumi didn't either. No one ever asked if she was okay, and no one ever wanted to share their time with her or listen to her, not even her own family.

But the doll had a heart, and a heart could ache. Even if she couldn't speak, when she watched her mother betray her, she had desperately wanted to hide somewhere and wail. But she never did. The world was vast, filled with poetry, songs, and flowers, but it had no place for her to call home.

Sakiko reached out, her hands trembling. As if pulled by a magnet, she placed her hands on Mutsumi’s back. The long-suppressed sorrow broke through, and her tears fell silently, landing in Mutsumi’s pale green hair.

Only those who have experienced loss know the depth of that pain. CryChic had been Sakiko's harbor, helping her briefly forget the pain of losing her mother, until Odin’s attack dragged her back into the abyss. She didn't want to see anyone else suffer. If she couldn't change the past, she would change the future. Even if the path was filled with thorns, even if every step was heavy with grief, it didn't matter. If one person’s misfortune could trade for everyone else’s happiness, then she would be that god!

After a long while, the suppressed sobs faded, and the room returned to silence.

"Thank you, Mutsumi. I feel better now." Sakiko patted Mutsumi’s back, a tear-stained smile appearing on her face. To Mutsumi, Sakiko had never looked more beautiful.

Mutsumi reached out and gently wiped the tears from Sakiko’s eyes. "What should we do from now on? Everyone in CryChic is a half-breed."

"Odin and the Dead Servants will find me eventually. I don't know how to deal with things like that," Sakiko said, sparks of iron-willed determination flashing in her eyes. "But I won't sit here waiting to die. I won't go back to CryChic. I don't want to drag them into this."

"Then I'll quit CryChic, too."

"No," Sakiko said firmly, cutting off the idea. "A five-person band can survive without a keyboardist, but you’re the lead guitarist. If the guitarist leaves, the band really can't continue."

"I don't want you to carry this all by yourself," Mutsumi said, looking straight into Sakiko’s eyes. Her gaze had never been this steady. She had always been someone who didn't know how to resist or express her inner thoughts, which was why she was so often ignored. But this time, she chose to stand up for herself.

"You said it yourself: we’re best friends. Best friends trust each other no matter what and stay together no matter what. You’re the only best friend I have. If you die because of Odin, what am I supposed to do? I don't want that ending. A future without Sakiko is not a future I want."

She gripped Sakiko’s wrist tightly. Even now, the aftereffects of the tenth-stage *刹那* (Setsuna) she had unleashed earlier left her weak, but she used every ounce of her strength, as if terrified of losing her.

"Take me with you, okay? I want to be with you. There are things one person can't do alone, but with two, it's different. You can tell me anything. I’ll always be on your side."

She spoke faster and faster, her eyes searching Sakiko’s, then dimming as she lowered her head, fearing rejection.

Sakiko felt something inside her melt, like a stream flowing over rocks, carrying fallen cherry blossoms into the deepest depths of her heart. She couldn't help but smile. She knew how much courage and resolve it took for Mutsumi to say those words. How could she stubbornly refuse the kindness of someone who had never known how to express herself, yet was now willing to stake everything on her?

The term "best friend" carried immense weight. It wasn't just a label; Sakiko was willing to fight the world for Mutsumi, and Mutsumi was willing to bet her life for Sakiko.

*If you leave, I shall not live alone.*

"Alright then," Sakiko said, raising her hand. "From now on, we are a community of fate, protecting everyone together. We are comrades who will live and die together."

Mutsumi paused, her worried eyes brightening. She raised her hand, and a crisp sound echoed in the bedroom as they slapped their palms together.

"I’m studying at Haneoka now, and I’ll continue high school there. I don't plan on returning to Tsukinomori," Sakiko said.

"Why? Tsukinomori has much better facilities." Mutsumi didn't understand. Sakiko had gone to Haneoka after leaving the Toyokawa house, but now that she was back, she should logically return to Tsukinomori, where a young lady of her status belonged.

"Because Tomori is still at Haneoka." Sakiko’s expression turned worried. She couldn't forget the sight of Tomori Takamatsu’s golden eyes—so intense and radiant. "I’m more worried about her than I am about Soyo. If I stay at Haneoka, I can stay close to her and keep an eye on her at school, just in case. So, I want to ask you—I’ll cover your tuition and daily expenses—can you stay at Tsukinomori?"

"You want me to stay by Soyo’s side, don't you?" Mutsumi understood. Soyo Nagasaki also attended Tsukinomori; the three of them had been classmates.

"Yes," Sakiko nodded. "That way, we can each protect someone. No matter what happens, there will always be someone who can react."

"I understand."

"Then get some sleep. I hope you feel better soon." Sakiko stroked Mutsumi’s hair; it was soft and smooth, almost addictive to touch.

Sakiko suddenly felt that she and Mutsumi were more like sisters than just friends. As the barriers vanished, they returned to the intimacy they had shared as children.

Mutsumi didn't resist at all, obediently letting Sakiko stroke her head like a cat used to being petted. She was tired, so she closed her eyes, leaned forward, and fell asleep against Sakiko’s shoulder. Sakiko pulled her close onto the pillow, and a wave of exhaustion washed over them both.