Work Text:
shuuichi stared at the two in front of him, the two having an animated conversation about... whatever. piano, maybe, or perhaps the best time of year to travel to certain spots in europe or any other place. perhaps they were exchanging pleasantries, but they were acting as if they'd known each other for longer than that. maybe she was listing her favorite pieces by debussy (was clair de lune included?), always unable to choose a singular answer to the simple question of "what's the best, in your opinion?". maybe he was listing the places where he searched for his sisters, to no avail, his tone mournful despite his easygoing smile and laidback attitude. or maybe... just maybe... they were happy to see each other again, the last time they'd seen each other... he was a corpse, limply spread on the library floor, with his blood pooling beneath his head... she did her best to break up an argument, but he simply walked away, claiming that he'd end their suffering. how unfortunate that he only seemed to start it, in the end.
"--saihara-kun?" he looked up. they were staring at him. he had an easygoing smile on his face, and she looked worried.
"hm?"
his face furrowed at shuuichi's response. "she asked if you were okay, saihara." he crossed his arms.
"y-yeah, i'm fine. sorry." shuuichi did his best to smile at them. the two exchanged a glance (they'd done that a few times, back then, the two of them were always doing their best to outsmart her, to outsmart them, to break free of that situation) before smiling at him for a moment and returning to their conversation. shuuichi almost immediately returned to his thoughts. they were talking about their days, what they'd done that week, what assignments were due next week.
they didn't remember.
they didn't remember the game, but shuuichi could still see it. the way that she grabbed the straps of her backpack as if it was many pounds heavier than usual, the way that he crossed his arms in front of him, the first line of defense for a boy who knew far too much for his own good, the way that the two glanced around every now and then, as if preparing for someone to attack them.
he could see it. the blood pouring from the wound in his head, the way her face was shadowed by her blonde hair, rope still squeezing her neck painfully tight, fatally tight...
they didn't remember.
but shuuichi did.