Talent show day. Saturday, November 5, 1887.
The Assembly Hall was essentially packed. There were not only students and teachers from all three years, but also parents, family, alumni and other prominent dignitaries present in the hall—recall that many parents of the children of Korolev Senior were influential members of society in their own right. As one of the few yearly events open to half the public, it invited a high degree of perfection from the student body, hence the extremely strict screening process for its participants.
The main attraction was, of course, the drama department’s rendition of Auxirian Idiot. After it, there were many talented individual entries, from stand-up comedy to curious displays of magic tricks or physical prowess. And finally, there were a few bands scheduled to perform, including Kato’s.
Instead of having the rooted theatre seats raised from their moulding inside the floor, the AC and SLO opted to fill the arena with classroom and lawn chairs. It gave the programme more of a casual, grounded feel to reflect the working class popular culture performance that would soon be on display. The grand stage was wholly prepared for the scale of Auxirian Idiot they were about to put on—as it should, since the musical was technically a mid-to-low tier production that could easily be replicated on a much smaller stage. It was because of this that some in the drama department, including Cecilia, pushed for an ambitious spectacle.
On the second floor were private boxes where distinguished VIPs of the school were seated. One such box seated a couple of third-year homeroom teachers who, like most of the other teachers, were entirely hands-off with the execution of the programme. Of course, there were several teachers on the lower floor who were co-operating with the SLO in it, especially with handling the out-of-school guests, but they weren’t in charge.
Watching the busy scene of the Assembly Hall being guided and seated before the start of a performance, Mr Guilford-Fong, a large imposing man, spoke.
“Everything seems to be coming along alright. Personally, I do not like Mr Verne’s choice of theatre, but then again, I’m neither a theatre-goer nor an enthusiast. What do you think, Ms Kadowaki?”
“Oh, Alan, of course you would have no good opinion on theatre. You were never an arts kind of guy, nor did you ever have any appreciation for this sort of thing. I’m surprised you’ve even showed up here.”
“As I say every year, attendance of events is mandatory for third-year teachers, especially the main events on the yearly schedule.”
“What a stickler for tradition you are, Alan-boy. I honestly didn’t expect that, coming from someone who basically has control of my class and Class C, and then trying to manipulate the other classes as well. Not too far into the future, you’ll have Class D under your control, yes?”
“Watch your mouth, woman. I can’t force your pea-brain to stop adding ‘boy’ to my name, but at least do not say things that can be overheard by unwanted parties.”
“Oho, is it top-secret? I was under the impression that it was public knowledge! I mean, it’s so obvious that you’re trying to bring the school under the grips of the faculty, duping the students and teachers all at the same time.”
“If it was public knowledge, you wouldn’t be as so co-operative as you are right now.”
“You might be right, Alan-boy, but remember that I have no choice but to assist you in this matter. I’m not here of my own free will.”
The two homeroom teachers of the highest-ranked classes of the school continued this barbed exchange as they sat in their private cubicle. Like all teachers at this school, they were alumni of it. Not only that, but they came from the same graduating year and class.
“Was it necessary to bring that troublemaker back from the outside? Roman must hate your guts right now.”
“Mr Zorro will have to deal with it. I admit it’s a heavy-handed move, but Mirabelle is smarter than she’s letting on. We’d be dancing to her tune if there isn’t anything to check her.”
“Class D must also feel the fear, now that they know he’s coming back. You think you can control that monster of a student? His crimes, especially against Mirabelle, are real. Remember that.”
“Of course I’ve taken that into consideration. That’s exactly why I brought him back. Against his immediate peers, he’s practically impossible to overcome, but he’s surprisingly easy to read as an outsider.”
“I see…you’re expecting him to get himself expelled, yes?”
He didn’t reply, so she added nonchalantly.
“After another heinous crime is committed?”
Mr Guilford-Fong finally turned to face his colleague, giving her a stone-cold glare.
“Ms Kadowaki, it’s the only way to convince everyone to remove this wretched system we have at this school. You know as well as I do that it’s a curse upon the students in this school.”
“And it’s not a power grab to defend your economic interests? Cordial relations with the Auxirians seem to be very profitable, don’t you think? To maintain these relations, a stable and authoritarian regime is needed to re-educate the next generation for that purpose, correct?”
“Don’t waste your time with nonsensical questions. You know as well as I do that it there’s no profit for me in upturning the current order.”
“But you duped the other faculty members with this promise, haven’t you? They’ll definitely profit from it. Probably not today, but in five or ten years’ time.”
“If that’s what it takes to get hold of their support, then I’ll freely use it.”
“You even have my support, if only because you are the only one who has any overlap with my objectives. Look at you, Alan-boy. Never in my life would I’ve thought I’d be working for you.”
“The past is in the past. We’re done having this conversation years ago.”
“C’mon, people can still be butthurt about what happened, right? Including myself.”
“Then don’t rope me in your self-serving daydreams of a past long gone.”
“Wow. Harsh, Alan-boy.”
Ms Kadowaki leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes contently, her smirk never leaving her face.
“My bullying you has, in the end, caused nothing but grief for everyone, hasn’t it?”
“…for what it’s worth, our relationship came to an end and went our separate ways, Ms Kadowaki. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Now, now, you can’t word it like that. That’ll cause misunderstandings, y’know? And call me Mai like you used to. You know I hate it when my peers use my family name. Or is this your childish way of getting back at me?”
“If you want meaningless reminiscing of the past, do it elsewhere.”
This time, he definitively closed the topic on this conversation, no longer entertaining his old classmate’s complaints. Ms Kadowaki shrugged, finding her companion’s infinite seriousness quite amusing.
“Then let’s enjoy what your class has organized for us this year’s talent show, hmm? Mr Theatre Newbie?”
Caius stood tall in the intricate and radiant lighting of the final scene, uttering soberly the lyrics of the last song in Auxirian Idiot. He never thought he would be singing it to the girl he used to know—so much had changed since then. In some respects, their relationship never changed—their passions have not changed since childhood. It was their desires for things unattainable and their resolute insistence on their own versions of happiness that drove the change to the situation around them, and ultimately, no one attained happiness.
I made a point to burn all of the photographs
She went away, and then I took a different path
I remember the face, but I can’t recall the name
Now I wonder how Whatzshecalled has been.
As the instrumental break arrived, they transitioned into their closing choreography sequence of the musical. The blazing light show mimicking the city nightlife lit up the awed faces of the audience. With the entirety of Class C’s cast behind him in the finale’s hurrah, Caius twisted and turned his limbs with a numbing chill that made him forget all of his classmates, the music, the lighting, and even the audience in front of him. He made it through the motions of the dance almost in an out-of-body experience. His expression, while glazed, did not betray his talent for singing as the bridge approached.
Remember, whatever
It seems like forever ago
The regrets are useless in my mind
She’s in my head, I must confess.
The words continued to drop from his mouth, as were the tears from his eyes. No matter how much he wanted to let go of everything, the thoughts and misgivings always returned. There was no escape from within his head. The song cut through to his very heart, almost tripping him over. Fully aware Mayumi would be watching from behind the stage alongside the tiny number of the cast whose characters didn’t make it to the end of the story, including Cecilia’s, he thought to himself: there was no way she couldn’t hear the painful cries of his heart.
And in the darkest night
If my memory serves me right
I’ll never turn back time
Forgetting you but not the time.
And with the final swing of his arms, the song and dance came to an end. From this moment forward, he vowed to lock away these hard-felt feelings from long ago. It had done him nothing but harm back then, and it was no good in the present day either. There was no future holding onto this pipe dream. Deep down, he knew it all along. Mayumi’s heart was never his to attain.
Perhaps he just wanted a chance to send this message of closure to her so that he could walk away from their messed-up web of feelings and lies. Facing forward and moving on meant admitting defeat. For the lies that piled up over the years, including the lies he told himself, he would have to assume responsibility for it. He could do it. He had to do it. If he didn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to the people around him, and it wouldn’t be fair to himself, either. He finally realized that he deserved better than this.
While he would feel a sharp pain in his chest every time he saw Mayumi, he would keep it to himself, and endure it. She couldn’t be his, and that was that. There had to be something else in this world to repair the hole in his heart that Mayumi left there with a hand grenade. If he lost faith in even that, then he would really be an idiot. It wasn’t as if he really was born with ‘idiot’ written on his birth certificate. His love, his rage, and his life were, in the end, his and his alone.
Once all the stage lights went out to end the show and the regular lights returned, the audience erupted in applause. The clatter was deafening even in the wide expanse of the Assembly Hall, eliciting smiles and cheers from the cast, the students and the teachers alike. All around him, all of the drama department joyfully celebrated the success of their performance as they, including those on the support staff, piled themselves onto the front of the stage.
Caius, however, was still caught in a trance. There was something surreal about this performance that he couldn’t get over. The impermanence of the class of 87-88’s rendition of the show, the meaning behind the story in Auxirian Idiot, and his own feelings toward all of this, were so unique that he couldn’t help but stare in awe of the scene.
Suddenly, a certain someone filled his vision. Her voice seemed to ring in his ears like from the end of a tunnel—just like all of the noise around him—but at least he saw that she was genuinely happy, a departure from her usual expressions. She was saying something to the likes of a congratulation, smiled broadly, and then hugged him tightly.
“…did it! It was so much fun!”
As Caius’ consciousness returned to Earth, he finally caught the last bit of Cecilia’s voice clearly in his ear. He instantly recognized what had happened to him—a lead-up into a mild seizure, due to his unstable emotional state and his weak neurological constitution. It wasn’t his first, and it wouldn’t be his last. It was just something he lived with, along with his occasional panic attacks.
“You did great, too. I know you loved this story, so I’m glad you and everyone else were able to pull this off.”
He returned the hug good-naturedly. Because they were the same height, their words reached their ears easily across from each other, even with all the noise around them.
“Thank you so much. I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”
Cecilia finally let go of him, gave him the sweetest smile that she had ever made, and skipped off to meet the few others in the drama department she was close to, no doubt to express her heartfelt gratitude to them as well. Caius watched her go, completely back in control of himself, and turned to the others from the drama department. Passing by them one by one, they came up freely to the main character and hugged or otherwise congratulated him like a celebrity award winner. Despite their class differences, most of them were just regular folk who enjoyed their extracurricular activities.
The sea of students and guests were still on their feet in applause, and it wasn’t for another solid five minutes that the drama department gave one final unanimous bow that they exited the stage and the programme prepared for the next section of the talent show.
Not long after they made their ways backstage, among the hustle and bustle of the teardown work, Caius managed to catch Mayumi and tucked themselves away in a rather private and small corner of the backstage. They were still in their Auxirian Idiot getup, complete with makeup and hair gel.
“So? What’s up?”
Mayumi laid the floor open to him as she leaned back into the wall behind her. Caius, facing her, too had his hand on the wall and leaned into it a little as support; the tight space between them in this particular crevice made them feel more like fitting themselves into a magician’s trick box.
“Do you have anything to say to me?”
“What, you’re calling me out here just to tell me to start talking? What kind of BS is this?”
She laughed lightly, joking with a bright smile on her face that was left over from the end-of-show euphoria.
“Is now not the time to say anything? Our part in Auxirian Idiot is over, and we’re gonna be listening to whatever Kato has to say to us.”
He was right, as usual. If they didn’t make any effort to sort out things now, then they would just be caught up in the next drama that could imminently unfold. It was time to break the cycle, he implied.
“And didn’t you say you were gonna be straight with us from now on? So give it to me straight: what you weren’t able to give to me straight back then.”
Mayumi’s exposed eye widened, carefully watching her childhood friend’s changing expression. She was met with a determination that was so different from the Caius she once knew, that it momentarily froze her. They all came a long way in the last seven years.
“You don’t wanna keep this up anymore, huh?”
“No, I don’t. We don’t have to stay in this pitiful situation we got ourselves into.”
“You think I could get what I want, if I tried any harder?”
Caius raised an eyebrow at the tangent she was going on, but he entertained her anyway.
“Speaking objectively, no. You already know. The seven years you were gone, that really hurt your chances. By the time we get to the present day, it was too late. He has feelings for somebody else now.”
“I still can’t believe I lost to Bia. What really happened in the seven years I was gone?”
Mayumi slumped her shoulders and broke eye contact with Caius.
“It’s not just Bia, of course. Mira’s in the picture here somewhere. At the start of all this, when you came back, you thought that just like how everything changed in the seven years you were gone, you can begin changing things back. And if you really wanted to change his heart, there was a good chance I’ll go all-in to help you, because it’s a win-win for me either way. That’s what you originally thought, right?”
She nodded firmly, not denying the implication of the win-win he lightly referenced.
“But you underestimated how much his feelings had changed, both towards them and towards you. You didn’t know how he felt about how you left us. To be fair, I wasn’t totally aware either until recently. I was absent during that time, after all.
“However, even if you two reconciled on that, it leaves the other impossible problem up. In my opinion, while either of them is still around, you’ll never make it in time. We have only until graduation before our memories are taken away.”
“And that’s why you helped me. You hid Kato’s distrust of me, so that you can set me up to fail, right?”
“I can’t deny that it wasn’t part of my line of thinking. While I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure of it, I knew something to that effect must have been going on through his head when I saw how wishy-washy he was with you after you returned.”
Caius said unrepentantly. He continued when Mayumi gave him a helpless shrug.
“If I did warn you of that ahead of time, would you have done anything different?”
“Of course I would have. The game plan would have been different.”
“And you think you’d win against Bia and Mira in time?”
“…”
Mayumi bit her lip. It was an unknown that she couldn’t assess at all, especially with Mirabelle and her continued absence from school. If anything was to be done about it, it would have likely required Mirabelle to return first, and if she made any moves before then without resolving it, she was essentially taking a chance, just as what had transpired. On the other hand, if she took it slow and steady, there was just not enough time to turn the tables quite enough to her victory. Their relationships with Kato had a definitive, temporal end.
“And would you have believed it if it came from me? If I told you that your chances are slim to none compared to your opponents, Bia and Mira?”
She trained her eye back onto Caius, who continued to stare at her gravely. The faint guilt was just discernible in her weak smile under the poor lighting of the backstage.
“You’re every bit of a drama king that you turned out to be infamous for. A lowkey one.”
“Don’t be absurd. Everyone here’s a drama king or queen. I just happen to draw the short straw every single time.”
“I get it, I get it. You’re right, you got me. I give.”
She closed her eye for a moment to take a deep breath in. When she opened them again, she reached for his face with both her hands, and frowned.
“I’m sorry I got you involved with me again. I don’t have anything else to give you other than what we always had between us—the bond of the Elites. That was how far it went, and it’s still how far it can go. That said, being my Elite means you’re important to me, even if not romantically. You can still cherish that, as I do. However, that particular qualification—romance—I can unequivocally say again, cannot be the case between the two of us.”
Slowly, Caius took her hands off his face, gently giving them back to her.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but it is what it is. It’s better than silence like last time, at least.”
The distance in his eyes was telling. It betrayed the immeasurable pain and suffering that he subjected himself to for the past seven years. It wasn’t only his feelings for Mayumi that were maligned by it, but his relationship with the other Elites too, especially Kato.
“I couldn’t do anything but stay silent. You were too afraid to ask me because—”
“—because you would side with Kato. Deep down, I already knew that, when you were silent like that the whole way through that fight. I didn’t push it because I didn’t want to hear it, and I didn’t want to lose whatever was left between us. That’s all.”
Peculiarly, a faint sneer surfaced on his face.
“But despite that, I wished you were as assertive as you normally were. If you did, I wouldn’t have needed to walk this pointless, winding path for seven years. For that, I’ll hold this resentment against you, for all time.”
Mayumi nodded. This was Caius’ way of accepting her sins for what they were, and she was grateful for it. She could only meet it with her own earnestness.
“I’ve done you wrong. That’s perfectly reasonable. I’ll carry that burden, then, for all time.”
Caius extricated himself from the narrow space and popped himself back into the lit open space.
“Then let’s head out and get the teardown finished. We’re supposed to see what Kato and Eon cooked up for us, huh?”
Mayumi was momentarily blindsided by the abrupt change, but she was immediately relieved by the subject drop. In fact, she was so relieved that her knees almost buckled. She didn’t even realize she was so taut with anxiety until it was over.
This was way more than she deserved and she knew it; she was relieved that by him calling out to her like this, Caius decided to remain an Elite. Everything didn’t have to end. She could pick up the fragments of their relationship and move forward with it.
She pulled herself out of the crevice and followed behind him, no longer as the bombastic leader of the Elites, but merely a reformed member who humbly came out of retirement. The old Mayumi was almost dead. There was one final hurdle left.
“Of course. Let’s go.”
The last section of the talent show featured the independent bands of the general student body. Incidentally, the last of the bands to play was also Alice’s entourage, meaning that they would close out the whole show.
Fortunately, the whole of the talent show programme had run as scheduled. There were no unexpected twists or contingencies, nor did the expected risks roll high. It was a resounding success, especially for Mona and the AC leadership.
While the teardown of the drama department’s use of the stage was finished quickly for the things onstage, cleaning up offstage was quite the hassle—for example, actually taking the onstage props and everything out of the Assembly Hall. It took quite some time to completely clean out their junk and have their facilities fresh and pristine again for use next time. And when they did, they were already an hour and a half into the rest of the talent show— or in other words, it was about to conclude.
Caius and Mayumi finally made their way into the general audience sector of the Assembly Hall, being two of the last of the drama department people to join the audience. As lead roles, they also handled a lot of grunt work: obligatory duties and responsibilities of the talented who simultaneously served as role models, a hallmark of Yue culture.
“Can you see the front?”
“Yeah. Damn, the Assembly Hall is a real good place. You can do any kind of show in a facility like this.”
They muttered to each other at a volume that would normally be considered loud conversational, perhaps almost shouting, but that went to show how well the sounding was done by the Assembly Hall’s structure—much of the sound from the front stage was amplified and noise not from the stage was reduced.
“Look, they’re about to play. We made it just in time.”
“No cap, we barely made it. Imagine how mad Eon would be if we didn’t.”
And there they were, on the grand stage of the Assembly Hall. Kato and Eon both stood at the front and forward, each on their guitars. Alice was seated behind Kato on keyboard, while Franco was sitting behind Eon on drums. Yui was standing adjacent to Alice on the side, in control of the percussion and the audio equipment like a sound engineer.
Kato waved to the audience, eliciting a welcoming response. As an Eternian destined for the organization’s top job, he was like a sore thumb sticking out, and on top of his connection to the Jupiter sisters, he was known across all the classes of their year. To most of the populous, he never maintained a high profile in part due to his infrequency attending school, so his wider reputation was rather average, and thus the lukewarm reception.
He stood proudly in front of the microphone, as if he was prepared to die on the hill he was on. Though they couldn’t see the steely determination in his eyes from this distance, they could hear it in his voice all the same.
“Good afternoon, everybody. As you all know from our lunchtime gigs, we’re the Class F Elites. We’re so glad that we’re able to perform on this stage today, as a valued part of this prestigious school.”
Instead of being sidelined by the authorities and forced to perform haphazardly at lunch, the anti-neutrality students in the audience interpreted and completed the thought with. For those out of the loop, they were of course oblivious to the underlying message.
“Of course, as a part of this esteemed programme, today we’ll just be delivering a clean performance from the bottom of our hearts—nothing funny, nothing sketchy.”
Some in the crowd cheered while others sneered, amused by the pronouncement from the instigators of the recent political unrest. Even so, the students didn’t make a fuss—the anti-neutrality side had already lost the vote in the Assembly last week with Mirabelle’s return, and the new anti-sedition law was about to be promulgated.
“As you might have noticed, our line-up is slightly different from our usual. There’s a reason for that, related to some individuals who are important to me, and I implore those particular individuals to listen to what I have to say, and what we have to show you here, right now.”
Instantly, the lighting changed to spotlight the band and shuttered on the audience. The music, too, instantly began playing, as did the lyrics in Kato’s voice.
Friend, the moment we became friends
Friend, you’re forevermore my friend
Strangely, our past is painful to recall
But sometimes, the memories resurface all the same.
The song was in Old Yue, a tonal language that made regular speech almost musical if one put the effort in pacing out the rhythms. As a result, almost anyone could sing in Old Yue if they knew the language; if you couldn’t, you were hopelessly maladroit at music. On the other hand, it raised the quality floor, so Old Yue songs were always easy to perform. With Kato’s natural gift and his affection for Yue culture that lent to his astonishing performance, the AC had no choice but to include him in the talent show.
And here, it totally paid off to have him and the Elites to perform last. The audience was utterly captivated by his clear and crisp voice, overflowing with emotion. It was as if the entire hall stood still just to listen to Kato’s aching voice echo from the stage. Even the programme’s staffers were absorbed by the impeccable show of his talent.
Friend, you had once protected me
Friend, you had once fought against me
Sadly, we can no longer share joys and sorrows together
That’s why, you’re my one and only best damned friend.
While Mayumi was quite in tune with popular contemporary music, she wasn’t an all-seeing being in that sense. She knew of EC, but not many of his songs. As Kato recited the sombre poem in its original Old Yue, tears began to well in both her eyes. Estranged and damned, she was indeed. She was abundantly aware of the angle taken by this song. Kato had already answered her on the question of their romance; it was time to answer her on the question of their friendship in its aftermath. Moreover, she noticed, this was also his answer to Caius.
Next to her, Caius’ face was frozen in ice. As an Elite who grew up listening to EC together, he knew exactly what this song was all about. He had to hand it to Eon, who insisted that he at least give this a chance. He was being torn up inside, aggrieved by a maelstrom of anger, guilt and powerlessness. Caius was the bad guy and he knew it, and despite that, Kato would be a saint of a friend until the very end.
If you ask me, no, I have no excuses, but no hard feelings either
Why can’t old friends remain old friends in the end?
Whether you’re friend or foe, I can no longer tell, being swept up by the march of time
Yesterday’s closest friend will become tomorrow’s stranger.
Sweating and staring, Eon had already forgotten his part and played on muscle-memory repeat, watching in amazement his best friend next to him sing. While he had literally practiced with them many times, Kato’s performance today was beyond exceptional. He couldn’t help but stop in place to the hypnotic tune to the end of a lifelong friendship.
It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized our friendship was precious
How I wish for just another moment with you, drinking away and singing life’s songs together
But with every encounter and at every crossroad
To be friends or to be enemies, there’s no choice but to make our bets.
As the chorus merged into the bridge, Mayumi crouched down with her face in her hands. She didn’t need to look at the stage, nor did she have the heart to continue to do so. All she needed was to listen to Kato’s words. The crowd waved their glow sticks in the air to the beat of the music, though barely illuminating their surroundings such that no one could notice the awestricken duo at the back.
Though I knew we would go our separate ways
The thing that struck me is I somehow made peace with it
When there’s no one else but you who can make me cry
As deep as one would when on the verge of a breakup.
Kato’s hands trembled, but it didn’t make any difference. The notes still struck correctly, and Alice and Yui were prepared to back him and Eon up if necessary, the former anticipating this contingency. He concentrated solely on the emotion that his voice carried, enthralling the entire hall. He thought of those two earnestly as the final chorus arrived.
No, I have no excuses, no hard feelings
Why can’t old friends remain old friends in the end?
I wonder if you miss this old friend of yours, or if you’ve already figured out
That yesterday’s friend becoming tomorrow’s stranger
Is still better than never having been friends at all.
Applause as great as the end of Auxirian Idiot erupted with emphatic passion. The regular lights turned back on as the Assembly Hall’s infrastructure returned itself to normal, signalling the end of the show. The Class F Elites, while shaken by their own unsteady performance, still pulled themselves together and gave the audience their final bow.
The programme MCs, Terrance and Ophelia, closed off the talent show with short and sweet concluding remarks. Another round of applause thundered throughout the Assembly Hall as everyone was dismissed, and the AC’s own teardown crew took to the floor to begin their cleanup. While some of the audience trickled out, there were plenty that stuck around for the afterparty: performers received praise and congratulations from their friends and family as they hung out in the open audience space; society’s elites lingered like at a dinner party to discuss a variety of snobby topics that elites normally would, from the talent show to their upper-class vested economic interests.
To Mayumi and Caius, these worldly things melted around them in a smear of kaleidoscopic colour. The melody still rang in their ears even after the show had concluded, and its emotions had torn them in pieces. They had yet to move from their little corner, still reeling from the reality that had unfolded before them.
“…do you think this is the last we’ll see of Kato? He basically said goodbye to us.”
Of course, Caius knew Mayumi meant that figuratively. It was, as Kato said, the end of their friendship, and of the Elites as they knew it. They were going their separate ways and there was no returning to the past. The five-member core of Elites from their primary school days was gone forever.
“Even Kato has had enough of us. We’re intolerable gits, after all.”
For Mayumi, logically, there was nothing strange about this result. Her lingering feelings for Kato were not to be underestimated, and like all romantic gambles, there was always a non-insignificant chance that trying to make that leap would crash the entire relationship. But it didn’t make the separation any less painful. She was probably correct in avoiding him for the last few weeks, and being sent away to another class was a godsend. Otherwise, every single day at school would’ve been immeasurably unbearable for her.
Caius was rather numbed by the experience. One thing led to another, and somewhere along the way he had already forgotten where his resentment had all started. It was totally reasonable to allow himself to let go of this animosity, but as a grudge-holder of the highest order, he couldn’t do it, especially as a wimpy fourth-grade child. When you were that young, friends and school was your whole world. It went without saying that the strength of his emotions for it would be commensurate to its perceived significance.
And so, seven years later, this was the result of the clash of their feelings. They didn’t make any excuses nor bemoan the sad state of affairs they ended up in. They could only pick up the pieces of the shattered mirror, and while they could put it back together, the cracks would remain. If they left now, it would be better for all of them—there was nothing else left to say.
“Let’s go.”
As they got up to leave, they spared a glance back at the front of the stage where Kato’s Elites were still set up and ready. They were suddenly surprised when they began playing again—albeit without any sound setup connected to the hall’s facilities. It was more like how they performed in the atrium: there was no assisted projection of sound into the open expanse, and only their own mobile speakers were connected to the microphone, so to the people further away from the stage—like they were—the music rang and echoed unevenly.
I can’t believe what you said to me last night we were alone
You threw your hands up
Baby, you gave up, you gave up.
This time, it was Eon who began to sing, in Standard Candoran, a familiar and popular ballad from the Auxirian fatherland. While the lyrics themselves were somewhat vague, those who were aware of its origins would know that the artist who wrote this song had dedicated it to her terminally ill father, and in it she illustrated her experiences dealing with the stubbornness of a patient who was your closest family.
I can’t believe how you looked at me with your James Dean glossy eyes
In your tight jeans with your long hair and your cigarette stained lies
Could we fix you if you broke?
And is your punchline just a joke?
“Hah, I get it now.”
Caius pointed to a certain someone at the front facing the Elites on the stage, a conspicuous someone in a very specialized wheelchair. Mayumi quickly spotted the familiar silhouette, and she smiled wryly.
“Eon finally has a chance to give all the attitude back to Katia-je, huh?”
At the front, Katia stared bemusedly at her younger brother in his post-show encore. Perhaps it was only something understood between siblings, but her expression was one of annoyance and scorn. Eon wore the same bellicose expression, staring daggers right back at his elder sister.
I’ll never talk again
Oh, girl, you’ve left me speechless, you’ve left me speechless, so speechless
And I’ll never love again
Oh, sis, you’ve left me speechless, you’ve left me speechless, so speechless
Eon jumped off the stage with the microphone in hand and walked right up to his sister. He reached down and got all up in her face, all the while without breaking eye contact with her. Similarly, Katia’s glare did not waver, standing up from her wheelchair in response. Of course, she was still significantly shorter than him so he was still looking down at her, but it made all the difference to their auras. As incredulous as it seemed, though Eon continued to sing as if nothing was wrong, it was obvious they were about to duke it out.
They did, and Katia made the first move.
And after all the drinks and bars that we’ve been to
Would you give it all up, could I give it all up for you?
And after all the boys and the girls that we’ve been through
Would you give it all up, could you give it all up if I promise, boy, to you?
Katia had snatched the microphone from Eon’s hand in a surprising show of movement from a not-very-mobile patient such as herself. She began to sing the bridge as if everything was according to plan, surprising everyone around her, including the Elites who were still on the stage.
Alice in particular was confused out of her mind, as someone who was still relatively new to this school and this group of kids. Everyone was absorbed by Katia, whose singing was rather brilliant given the lack of practice. Eon especially grimaced, almost furious that he was interrupted in delivering his bitter message to her.
But of course, even as he allowed Katia to continue singing through the final chorus, he already formulated his sweet counterattack in his head.
Some sisters follow me
But you choose death and company
Why you so speechless?
Oh-oh
Eon stole the microphone back, and let his voice loose on the concluding outro. Once the music ended, another round of applause rose from the audience in their vicinity, as if they were just watching a minor street performance in that particular corner of an intersection. Kato and Alice waved courteously as the fanfare died down and business returned to normal.
Katia tried to take control of the situation by grabbing and peeling at Eon’s cheeks, to which he merely continued to glare angrily back at her. It was the strangest way for siblings to butt heads, but they did nonetheless.
Only a few paces away from them were the grudge match duo’s younger sisters, ostensibly attending the talent show alongside the eldest one. It was Saturday, so there should be a day off for junior high and primary school—in fact, only Korolev Senior ran a regular school day on Saturday. They watched their older siblings quarrel with looks of abject horror on their faces, utterly flummoxed.
Sistina and Frederica were three and six years younger than Eon respectively. As children, Sistina occasionally tagged along because Katia used to be tasked to babysit all of them, so she was well acquainted with the Elites. Frederica was still a baby and then a toddler during that time, so her memory of the Elites was less concrete and more fantastical, considering they were an exceptionally energetic group of children. Out of the four, Sistina was the odd one out who didn’t resemble the other three.
“You deserve this, y’know. You never listen to me or any of us.”
“And I accept the consequences of my own actions. What’s wrong with that?”
“Just because you’re willing to throw your life away, doesn’t mean I’ll let you.”
“Yet, you were doing the same thing just a couple of weeks ago. Hello, pot. My name is kettle.”
“Unlike you, I know my limits. I’m not the one in a chair, now, am I?”
“…”
Without a clap-back, Katia scrunched her expression even more childishly, strengthening however little more the pitifully weak grip of her hands.
“Okay, we’re cut from the same cloth, I admit, but at least spare us a thought first before jumping.”
Finally fed up with the feeble resistance, Eon wrested Katia’s hands from his face, and grabbed her tightly in a bear hug. He buried her head in his chest, and just like that, they both began sobbing.
In that simple moment, Kato realized that it wasn’t only Caius and Mayumi who held onto such hard-felt emotions from seven years ago. Sure, none of them were directly involved in something that was essentially for Eon’s family to figure out, but Eon was their friend all the same. Watching them, he felt like another void had opened up in his chest, as if a corrosive virus was eating at his flesh. As Eon’s mate, Kato had known of this vaguely, but the extent of it he couldn’t measure until now—and now that he learned it probably ran as deep as Mayumi’s feelings for him, and as Caius’ for Mayumi, his hopes were shattered once more. The Elites were really broken beyond repair.
“I beg, Katia-je. Don’t die on me.”
“Mm.”
“Katia-je!” “Kattie-je!”
The younger sisters joined their older siblings in their embrace, both still clearly distraught by the rather sudden yet pathetic altercation. Frederica was saddened for a simple reason—seeing her family cry made her dejected too. Sistina though, who was more aware of the extent of the disharmony, made a more nuanced and meaningful expression of grief.
When Katia was first taken down by the condition, there were of course mixed reactions from her family members. Their parents were first and foremost mortified that their eldest child would be, essentially, disabled for life; next came indignation at Katia’s recklessness in using powers that clearly shouldn’t be used lightly; and finally, a numbed resignation that no matter what they did as a parent now, wouldn’t change Katia’s condition for the better. In short, they regretted their failures as parents and were badly heartbroken about what happened to their daughter.
Frederica was only a little more than a toddler when this happened, so she was only left with a vague sense of distress when the rest of her family was so shook by the event. It wasn’t until she was a little older that she realized what it meant for Katia to be in a continuous, unending health crisis.
Sistina was well aware of what had happened, and as someone who idolized Katia as a perfect role model, seeing Katia broken and then some as she struggled through her condition, turned Sistina into the foul-mouthed, cynical little brat she was today. At first, she stubbornly refused to accept reality, even turning verbal arguments with Katia into physical ones—ones that would, of course, worsen Katia’s condition and shorten their parents’ patience. It wasn’t until a lot later, after Katia moved out of their home when she graduated, that Sistina learned to acquiesce to this reality and accepted Katia’s new normal.
Eon was, peculiarly, on the opposite trajectory as Sistina. As he and Katia were peas in a pod, he was as much a loose cannon as she was, and while he was horrified at the state she left herself in, he initially accepted her forceful will for what it was. However, as time went on and Katia struggled with adjusting to her condition, he couldn’t help but feel guiltier and guiltier that he was the enabler of his sister’s reckless actions. Not to mention, the struggle had significantly altered Katia’s demeanour; she was much more gloomy, detached, and generally despondent, as if she herself was subconsciously unable to come to terms with her own predicament.
It didn’t help that Eon was a sarcastic asshole, so as Sistina’s outbursts slowly subsided, began Eon’s steadily escalating clashes with Katia where one was always exasperated with the other. Unlike Sistina’s blind idolizing, which was more of a childish delusion that was appropriate for her age than anything else, Eon’s case was much more deep and complex in that while he consciously tried to accept and accommodate the changes in his sister, he couldn’t do it subconsciously and it would surface in the most inconvenient times. Eon was immensely wrought with regrets, and it manifested in abrasive behaviour backed by an ugly but unconscious desire to see Katia’s condition magically wished away. For a while, it even got to a point where they couldn’t see eye to eye, and sitting in the same room together was bound for disaster. It didn’t help that Katia’s depression did nothing to moderate her recklessness. On the contrary, it emboldened her to be even more careless with her words and behaviour, hence the endless fights with Eon.
Luckily, after Katia moved away for post-secondary education, Eon was able to find it in himself to reconcile, if only halfway, with Katia, which formed the basis of their relationship ever since. Maturity came with growing up, and as her poor health became better managed, her self-destructive tendencies too abated. Fortunately, it became something they could all live with.
Of course, the Elites who remained knew of the difficulties within Eon’s family. Katia could no longer babysit them, though they were reaching the age where supervision was less necessary, and Sistina wasn’t willing to tag along anymore. While Eon hadn’t intended to show his unsightly side to Kato or Caius, it nevertheless surfaced once in a while whenever the topic of Mayumi or his family came up. That was how they sensed a faint aura of antipathy from Eon with respect to Mayumi’s incident and her departure.
Seeing the crushed spirit in Kato’s stony expression, Alice put a hand to Kato’s shoulder in a vain attempt to reassure him. The original Elites’ past was well outside of her, Franco’s and Yui’s purview, but even they saw their dramatic breakdown as something wholly awful. They could only look on silently, bearing witness to a microcosm of the irrevocable transformation in their relationship.
On the opposite side, Caius and Mayumi had waded a little further into the space to get a clearer view, and when they saw Eon and Katia’s visibly trembling embrace alongside Kato’s rigid shock, they were also struck with the same epiphany. Though they too had an inkling of this before, it didn’t take away any of the weight of Eon’s feelings now that she was seeing it play out in real time.
“So that’s why Eon was adamant on getting you to see their show. It wasn’t just Kato’s side of the story that you’re guilty of, Mayumi.”
“You’re right, Caius. I owe everyone and everything for what I’ve done.”
She could barely bring herself to smile, and even then it was a self-loathing one. Sure, Mayumi was relieved that Eon could finally close the awkwardly misplaced distance between him and his elder sister ever since she became infirm. However, Mayumi was duly aware that she was the one who caused all of these distasteful second- and third-order effects, and hence the helplessness in her smile.
“I can’t believe he’s on our side, if he really felt this way about all of this—wait, where are you going?”
Mayumi had already turned around and started to make her way out, catching Caius a little off guard, who had to jog a little to catch up with her.
“If this is how things are, then so be it. I can’t change what’s happened.”
“Well, you’re right, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. Eon’s coming with us for sure. But this ain’t a place for me to be right now, that’s all.”
“…gotchu.”
With just that, they vacated the Assembly Hall. Mayumi made a point to not turn back, leaving her regrets behind with her best damned friends.