Nico is arrogant.

Nico is brave.

Nico never backs down from a fight.

That is why, one fateful morning, you are less than doubtful when you are told that she was killed resisting a robber.

The principal's tone during the announcements is regretful and hesitant. She provides the news as transparently as possible. Maybe she wanted to cut down on rumors speculation. Nico Yazawa has died. The school has been deprived of a diligent student and a wondrous person with her departure. You quietly zone out, hands balling into shaking fists. None of it was true.

Grief counselors are on site, she continues, ready to provide care for all seeking it. Around you, your classmates look around at each other with confused looks. The more boisterous of them act as if they're distressed. Pretending to mourn. Cry. Nico was nothing more to them than the black haired girl in that group that they pretended to like to remain relevant. Nico is nothing more to them than a way to remain popular.

Several students' voices now replace Principal Minami's. You don't recognize two of them, the ones that lay out how "much" Nico meant to them and what a quality "companion" she was. But you do recognize the third. Honoka. Finally, someone that Nico actually knows. Had known, you correct yourself.

She reassures the school, saying that the loss of Nico was terrible, but µ's will not be affected. A ninth member will be found. It's endurable. µ's will survive. It will recover.

But you won't.

Your grades suffer. You have lost your desire for learning. You come to class, but you don't take notes, and you don't pay attention. Today, Rin is clearly trying to grab your attention, passing you notes and leaning over to prod you whenever the teacher isn't looking. You don't give it to her.

Your teacher asks you to stay after class. At least he is understanding. Under these special conditions, he'll nullify any possible poor grades to come. You don't care about those anymore. He tells you that he is glad that you still bother coming to school. Maybe those weren't the exact words he used.

When you leave the classroom, you are filled with a sudden, inexplicable feeling of being lost. You stride down the halls, as apathetic and aloof, as always, of others. Some of your classmates call out your name. You walk right past them, eyes straight. One step at a time. You go past your locker; you didn't even bring your books to school. Your chest tightens when you reach the staircase.

Nico always waited here for you. Always leaning against the railing, legs crossed. You could always tell how her day went, even without her saying a single word. She always wore it clearly on her face. But no matter how poorly her studies were going, how complicated her life was becoming, she always smiled for you. We'll always be together, she had said. Always, always, always. Always, always, always.

You close your eyes and breathe. Focusing hard, you suddenly become aware of a strawberry scent. Nico's favorite fruit. And cream. Her perfume still lingers, days since the last time she's stood here. She's not here, but still here. Intangible. At least, that's what you pretend. There is no strawberries and cream scent. All you smell are aged wood and polished tiles.

Rin finds you loitering at the staircase, still reluctant to leave. She brings you to the club room. Reconnect with your friends, she said. Reconnect with your life, she implied.

It is a lot quieter without Nico's presence. Barely anyone has spoken to you since the "incident". The whispers stop – everyone turns to look at you, then immediately averts their eyes, once you open the door. Rin follows you in. She used to give you an energetic hug every morning, ignoring your complaints each time. Her invitation today was the first time she had spoken to you in days.

Even your classmate Hanayo, who used to greet you daily with timid hello's, does not acknowledge your presence. You do not know why you agreed to come here. No one meets your eyes. They talk to your neck. Your ears. Practice has long stopped. µ's could never survive without nine members.

They don't know what to do with you. How to treat you. How to talk to you. How to deal with you. They tiptoe around you. You heard their words when you first walked in.

You turn to leave. This was a mistake.

Your stomach growls. Honoka rises to stand between you and the door. She gets in your face, asking, demanding, when you've last eaten.

Not since you've heard the news. Every time you try to put food into your mouth, you just think of Nico. You thrived on her stellar cooking. She used to bring two sets of meals to school everyday. And you never will enjoy her special food ever again. You don't respond. It's not worth opening your mouth.

Honoka grabs your hand and forces it open. She shoves a roll into your open palm. Then, she says that you aren't allowed to leave until you eat it. She cares about your wellbeing. Or does your leader and senior simply feel some sort of flawed responsibility towards your health? She has good intentions, but all the wrong words.

You comment on her being in your way. Detached, as you were known to be.

"I'm not moving until you've eaten that entire thing."

You try to push past her. She shoves you back, harshly. The rest of µ's just watches. None of them intervene, yet.

"Is this what Nico would have wanted?" Her voice slowly rises until she's yelling at you. Dumping her own stress and anxiety onto you. "You to starve yourself, make all your friends worry? Eat the fucking bread, and we all can move on."

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is stand there. The comment about Nico infuriates you. How dare she tell you about her wants. She knows nothing about her. But you don't allow yourself to respond.

Immediately, your "friends" Eli and Kotori are up and holding you still, restraining you. Within seconds, your arms are held against your back. Blithely, you remember the instance where you were the only one that stopped Nico from attacking Honoka. That time, everyone else was frozen with shock. Not this time. Your friends have learned, you think with contempt. You weren't even going to do anything to Honoka. But no one is stopping her.

She steps forward and slams her fist into your face. Your vision dims, and your knees buckle under the pain. Your hands cup where she hit you. A second impact hits you in your side, sending you crashing to the floor.

Suddenly there is yelling. You hear obscenities thrown as Honoka vents her frustration onto you. The strike to your face has only partially deafened you. But, you refuse to listen, concentrating instead only on the feeling of blood rushing to your face. There is sudden silence. You steal a glance upwards. The eyes of your center and leader slowly widen as she realizes what she's just done. Umi pins her against the wall, screams in her face.

Someone is trying to help you to your feet. But all you want to do is lie there and clutch at your face and stomach and wake up from this nightmare.

Your mother inquires about your bruised eye. You just say you fell down the stairs at school. She accepts that lofty explanation without pause. Then she turns back to the work on her laptop, shutting you out once again.

Rin and Hanayo call. They invite you to spend time with them tomorrow, catch lunch and hang out. You decline. Tomorrow is a school day, you respond. They say that they're both willing to ditch classes to spend the entire day with you. You make an excuse. You're not a good liar as you think you are. Rin becomes serious. She tells you she's coming to your house. Right now. Regardless of what you say. You tell her not to. She doesn't budge, even when your demanding deteriorates into begging. She hangs up, and that's the end of that.

You don't want her to come and make you face the truth. You're safe in your bubble. It's all about you. Yet, deep within your mind, there is a small part of you that recognizes that this is beneficial for you.

Ten minutes pass. Or twenty. Thirty, even. Time flies and crawls past you of its own accord. You've drifted off, brought back to reality by your doorbell's ringing. Actually, it's more accurate to say that it was your gate's bell. You announce loudly that you'll answer it. Your mother is somewhere, in one of your mansion's many rooms. Not like she cares, anyway. You walk over to the interface and see Rin, huffing and puffing, bike discarded on the road.

Leave, you say through the speakers.

"Dammit, Maki, I'm going to get through to you!" And with that, to your horror, she begins to climb your fence.

She wins. You unlock the gate for her, producing an audible beep that catches Rin's attention.

You sit and wait. Your will broke first.

That night, you have trouble sleeping, as usual. You haven't slept soundly ever since Nico died. It is only after you flick on your phone after hours of tossing and turning do you understand why. With a pang, you realize you were waiting for a good night text from her all these nights. You don't allow yourself to browse through the long history of texts sent between you and her. But you do call her number. Ringing. Then, finally:

"Hello! You've reached Nico's voicemail! Please leave your message after the beep! Nico Nico Smile!" You wail like a wounded animal when you hear her voice again, a plethora of memories shared between you two rushing through your mind. But you don't cry. Tentatively, you talk about how much you miss her, how much you want her back, how much you'd give to see her again. Then, reluctantly, you put the phone away. What was the last thing you said to her? You agonize. Were you two having another petty argument? Did you tell her how much she meant to you? Or did you call her an idiot?

Your phone buzzes whilst you are placing it onto your desk. Your heart skips a beat. A text. No, it's an email. Could it be, your pulse races as you hope for the impossible.

No. It's from Honoka. Please, the subject line begins. You don't bother. With a shout, you throw your phone against the wall opposite. Your legs are rooted, refusing to follow your commands. Fine, you just lie on the floor and wait until you lose consciousness.

On the weekend, you visit the local police station alone. Milling about at the entrance is a group of several officers on break, coffee in hand. They stop laughing when you get close. One of them asks if you're okay. Perfectly fine, you respond. Luckily, no one tries to redirect you. Pushing through the front doors, you unsteadily approach the desk officer. He takes a look at your face and asks if you came to file for assault. You shake your head, asking instead for the report on Nico Yazawa. The motion hurts.

Foolish, arrogant girl, you tell yourself. Why are you here? To seek some faulty closure?

The policeman takes a harder look at you. Wonders who you are. You stand firm. Your school uniform does the talking. After a pause, he gestures at you to come behind the desk. Reports are all digitalized nowadays, and he's pulled up the object of your desire on his desktop screen.

You want to stop. You don't want to continue. You know you need to. Nico. Found in the morning in the park you two used to frequent. One stab wound. Possessions found at the scene: purse, identity pass, money, picture of a teenager redhead. You pause to open the attached scan of the picture. It's you at the arcade, hunched over a claw machine, face scrunched in concentration.

You recall the context instantly. You lost a weekly allowance's worth on that stupid machine to win that stupid elephant plush. You remember how terrible you felt when you failed time and time again. A small smirk appears on your face. How petty things seem now. And then Nico came to your rescue. She won that plush for you on her first try.

In the corner of your eye, you notice the desk sergeant looking back and forth at you and the picture. He's making connections, but he doesn't ask you to stay for questioning. You find out why once you close the picture and continue with the report. Estimated deceased at midnight. The thought of her lying out in the cold slams you in the gut. The killer turned himself in the following morning. His name means nothing to you. You don't know who he is. He's already in custody, with a confession and admission of guilt, and awaiting trial.

That's it. The closure you so desperately wanted. You pull away from the screen, a quiet oh escaping your lips. The police officer doesn't know what to do. He just stands and silently offers a hug. You take it, moving into his arms. It relaxes you considerably. You genuinely thank him before leaving.

You wonder what Nico's last thoughts were. Were they of anger, at her attacker? Were they of fear for the unknown that lay ahead of her? Or were they entirely of you?

You attend Nico's funeral the next day. Her family isn't wealthy, but that was never a point of concern for you. It's held in her apartment. You weren't invited. Her mother despises you. You don't care.

You deftly knock on the door, three short, boring taps, as you always have. Boring as your personality, Nico used to jest. You press your elephant plush tightly to your chest for confidence.

Her mother opens the door. Her looks are accusatory enough – you took her daughter from her. She begins to close the door, thinks, then opens it fully and steps aside, allowing you in. You two make eye contact, and a world's worth of pain passes between you both.

Nico's apartment is filled with people you don't know. Old, middle aged people exclusively. Probably the mother's associates. None of the other µ's members are here. None of Nico's friends.

You excuse yourself through the clusters of people in respectful silence. Make your way straight to Nico's room. You feel awkward going to her personal sanctuary without her alongside you. But you don't slow, don't stop, as you twist the knob and enter her room. Return the elephant toy to its rightful home, you think, and get out.

There are already people in here. Nico's siblings: her two sisters and brother. They are huddled in a corner, crying together, neglected. The eldest of them turns at the sound of the door. Despite everything, she smiles at the sight of you. She calls you by name and runs to you. The other two follow. They wrap their small arms around you wherever they can. Your stomach. Your thighs. They hold you, the only tether they have to sanity.

You slowly realize two things. One, over the course of several months and many visits, these children began to view you as family. And two, you're the only family that will care for them right now.

You lower yourself to their level, dropping to your knees. You embrace them all. The eldest cries the hardest, the one most developed. You hand your plush to her. Tears soak your blouse. You planned to be a source of support for them, but then you find yourself also hotly crying. She is dead. She is not coming back. All that you have are they, and they, you. Drowning, you hold onto them, united in your loss.