Chapter 3 - Tsubaki

T/N: Chapter 1 and 2 can be found in Novel Wars.

A large, single-story, traditional Japanese house...

A garden so spacious and serene, you’d never believe it was in the heart of the city.

While listening to the chirping of the little birds gathering nearby, I swept the garden with an old, well-worn bamboo broom.

With every movement I made, the black fabric of my clothes fluttered gently.

A modest black sailor uniform, embroidered with white stitching.

A crisp, black pleated skirt, free of even a single wrinkle.

Black high socks embroidered with the school crest, and polished black leather loafers.

Dressed entirely in black from head to toe, and yet... somehow, I liked it that way.

I thought to myself—The world today is overflowing with “cute” things, but none of that suits me. Not with this dull, iron-like hair color. Not someone like me, who can’t even manage a proper smile.

Once I finished sweeping the garden, the next step was to tend to the trees.

Though, in truth, the only one I ever touched was a single camellia tree. Even then, I only trimmed it bit by bit, guided by the elderly gardener who visited now and then.

I’d snap off withering branches with my fingers. Cut the ones that had grown too long with scissors. Remove the excess, and the remaining branches would bloom with beautiful flowers.

This wasn’t bonsai, where you shaped the entire tree into perfection.

I just wanted it to bloom beautifully.

“What should I do...?”

There was a branch I’d been worried about for some time.

I’d left it alone for too long, and now it had grown so thick that scissors wouldn’t do.

A pole saw could probably handle it, but since the gardener usually did the pruning, we didn’t have anything like that at home.

I think… there might be a saw in the shed. But I'm still a little afraid of sharp tools. I’d gotten used to scissors, but something like a saw, with all those teeth... it scared me.

Just then a white butterfly fluttered across the edge of my vision.

“Want me to cut it for you?”

“Hyah!?”

The sudden whisper startled me, and I instinctively clapped my hand over my mouth to stop the sound.

The scissors I dropped were effortlessly caught by the hand of the boy in front of me, almost like he’d predicted it.

“A-Akino-nii...”

“Morning, Tsubaki.”

Tsubaki. That’s my name.

Three years ago on that cold, rainy day my grandfather, Fukami Senjou, took me in and gave me that name.

I had no memory. Nothing at all. He took in a child who had nothing, not even a name, and named her “Tsubaki” after the camellia flowers blooming that day.

Akino Fukami, my brother now, gently placed the handle of the scissors back into my hand.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“N-No…”

I answered quietly. Akino-nii liked to tease. He seemed amused by my reactions.

He’s three years older than me, so a second-year in high school, but his mannerisms are elegant, almost like those of an adult. He smiled mischievously as he leaned close, his handsome face teasing me. Even though I knew he was just playing, my ears still flushed with heat.

But even his teasing was probably just his way of helping me feel more at home.

The Fukami family treated me, someone who couldn’t even remember her own name, as if I were truly family.

Even though… I’ve given them nothing in return.

“I like it when you call me ‘nii-san,’ but don’t you ever feel like calling me ‘onii-chan’?”

“Uh, …I-I’m sorry.”

Sometimes, Akino-nii would say things like that. When we first met, he even asked me to call him “onii-chama.”

But I couldn’t. I was just a child who’d been taken in. It felt wrong to get too comfortable.

Besides, someone like me couldn’t pull off something that cute. My voice doesn’t suit it.

Three years ago, I was found screaming so loud it tore my throat. These days, my voice is normal, but when I get emotional, it gets low—too low.

So I don’t talk much.

As I lowered my head and apologized, Akino-nii gently patted it.

“Let’s go have breakfast. If we don’t eat soon, we’ll be late.”

“Okay.”

My name is Tsubaki.Other than that, I don’t know anything about myself.

School was boring. But every day, the lessons taught me something new.

They were supposed to be important, giving you knowledge for the future. But for someone like me, who couldn’t imagine a future, they were just numbers on a test.

I did have people who might be called “friends.” A few.

We greeted each other in the morning and after school. They talked to me. Sometimes we ate lunch together.

But… were they really friends?

How was that different from a work colleague relaying tasks?

We didn’t talk on the phone late into the night. We didn’t go shopping on weekends. We didn’t share our problems.

There was nothing inside me. Nothing to talk about. No reason to go out together. No problem I thought anyone would understand.

Pom, pom. I tapped the inverted trash bin to shake out the last scraps and carried it slowly back to the classroom.

No one was there.

Clubs, cram school, lessons, unavoidable “appointments”… The others on cleaning duty always had something urgent, so they left.

Not that I would’ve had anything to talk to them about, even if they’d stayed.

“…Ah.”

One of my twin braids had come undone. I must have caught it on something.

Strings come loose so easily. Hair ties would be enough to hold them, but Grandpa insisted on ribbons or decorative ties only.

Our school allowed modest accessories, even though it was a prestigious girls' academy founded in the Taisho era.

These days, it wasn’t only “true ladies” attending. Many students were from regular families. Hair accessories weren’t a big deal anymore.

Since one braid had come undone, I just untied the other one as well.

It was after school so surely no one would scold me.

Running my fingers through my hair to neaten it, I let it flow in the breeze. In three years, it had grown quite long.

Short hair would be easier to manage. But when my relatives praised it, saying it was beautiful, mature, I couldn’t bring myself to cut it.

The sun was setting, and shadows from the school building fell over the trash collection area behind the school.

I didn’t like places like this.

Because… they appeared in places like this.

Places where plants grow but no sunlight reaches. Places where people pass but no one stays. Necessary places that no one likes.

Something always feels present. But if I look, nothing’s there. A faint, sour smell. The sense that something is stagnant.

Places like this… are where they dwell.

Fleeting shadows at the edge of my vision. I’d swat at one, thinking it was trash or a bug, but nothing would be left.

I couldn’t find them. But I knew they were there.

Wherever something stagnates… they exist.

When people recognize them, they manifest.

They’re overjoyed to be acknowledged. But they’re saddened by how ugly they appear.

They want to be recognized even more. They envy beings with hearts—yearn for them, hate them, cling to them.

Whssht.

A small, black “thing” leapt at me from behind. Without turning, I grabbed and crushed it in my hand.

"..."

Nothing remained in my palm. So ephemeral it vanished with a single touch.

That’s why I hated them.

Because… They reminded me of myself.

The academy had both middle and high school divisions. Next door, there was an affiliated boys’ school where Akino-nii went.

Why they didn’t just make it co-ed, I didn’t know. Probably some “adult reason.”

Even after a year, I wasn’t used to seeing flocks of students in black uniforms and sailor outfits crowding the stations and buses.

I walked home from school.

Sometimes I’d shop for dinner with Akino-nii, but most days I walked alone.

It took 40 minutes. I could take the bus, but the crowded ride felt suffocating.

There was a shopping district along the way, which made others jealous when I told them. But we weren’t allowed to stop by after school, so it meant nothing.

So I always walked the same road, straight home.

The city changed subtly with the seasons, but I had no interest in such things.

Three years ago, before I lost my memory, who was I?

With no memory… no self… no heart… Maybe that’s why nothing feels important to me.

“…Why am I even here…?”

The words slipped out. And I scared myself. My pace quickened.

“…Huh?”

I looked around and found myself on an unfamiliar street.

It looked like the usual route… but something was off. Like getting off on the wrong floor in a building where every hallway looks the same.

No people. Yet it felt like someone was there.

Places like this… are where they dwell.

Beneath the leaves. Between poles and walls. Under parked cars.

Countless writhing black things.

And in the distance far ahead a single black butterfly fluttered its wings as if inviting me.

This feeling… what is it?

Something deep inside me… was smoldering.

That “flame” erased by screams and cold rain three years ago was now searing my heart.

This isn’t fear. This is…

Before I realized it, I was running.

At the same time, every writhing shadow surged in the same direction.

Could I always run this far? This fast?

The black butterfly vanished… but still, I kept chasing. Along with the “writhing black things.”

And where I arrived—

“…Ah… Ahh…”

An abandoned construction yard. Now, filled, no, overflowing, with writhing black creatures. Millions. Maybe billions.

And in the center of it all, a small figure lay motionless in an open space.

Who…?

The black things swarmed around them protectively, fearfully. The glimmering black hair flowing gently stirred within me.

Color drained from the world. Everything turned silver.

At that moment, as I stepped forward, the writhing shadows parted, as if trembling before me.

A petite girl with beautiful black hair.

As I knelt beside her unmoving body, the black things dissolved into the air.

She was alive…

And I… I couldn’t stop crying.

Tears spilled endlessly from my eyes and would not stop.