06 – The Color of Kindness

It had started to rain. Slowly and ploddingly at first, then gradually it picked up intensity. Sorata turned on the flashlights in his car and constantly wiped the windows as he drove. He had a problem. Whenever he drove to a new address for the first time – especially at night – he usually got lost. Pelts of rain slid down the window and the puddles sloshed against his car's tyres. But Sorata merely clenched his teeth together and focused entirely on the road in front of him. He would not let his discomforts deter him.

Beside him, Mashiro sat in the passenger seat. She asked no questions. "I'm sorry, Shiina," he apologised to her once again. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I'm fine with it."

"Heh." He smiled, albeit a little grimly, for he was concentrating on his driving. It wasn't the furious chase scene he had envisioned, but even with his slow, deliberate pace, it required all of his attention. He could hear the rain pattering against his car repetitively as if it were trying to obstruct them. With careful precision, Sorata turned the corner into a dark, unpopulated neighbourhood, identical to the one he had just driven through.

Damn it, what was going on with Jin and Misaki? A vague part of him wondered why he was doing all this for two people he barely knew anymore, but now really wasn't the time to think anymore. He just knew that if he didn't do this now, something he had always been searching for would slip through his fingers forever. Jin had spoken to him for a reason. They had reunited for a reason. Even if Sorata did not know why, it was enough.

The rain had picked up, whipped around by a relentless wind. He could barely see what was in front of him. He cursed, slowing down the car even further. It would be foolish of him to rush in this kind of weather. There would be absolutely no one walking about outside at this hour-

He stopped his car altogether at that point, staring outside the window.

"Sorata…?" Mashiro spoke his name questioningly.

"I don't believe it," Sorata muttered to himself.

All he could hear was the rain and the sound of the wipers on his window at work.

He had stopped outside of a park, complete with a slide, swing and seesaw. Everything was clouded with darkness and grimy wetness. The swing was moving back and forth – someone was sitting on it.

It was hard to make out the person's figure from this distance, but it was clearly someone too big for swings.

It couldn't be…

"Misaki-senpai…?"

Whoever it was didn't hear him, of course. The rain drowned out whatever noise he could make. Whoever was sitting on that swing was looking more and more like a drowned dog by the second. Without pausing for further thought, Sorata climbed out of the car. "Stay here," he called back at Mashiro, before stepping headfirst into the rain.

He was pelted from all sides. Inadvertently, he stepped into a sizable puddle and felt the water and mud ooze into his shoes. His clothes were drenched. Sorata covered his head with arms and kept his gaze on the swings. "Misaki-senpai!" he called out. "Is that you?!"

He couldn't even make out the person's gender, even as he got closer. Whoever it was kept their head down and didn't seem to hear him. He finally got within an arm's length of the person. A fresh assault of rain shook him and chilled his very bones.

"It is you, isn't it?" he said. He was now looking straight at the person's downturned head.

In his memory, Misaki Kamiigusa had always been so… bright. He could see her in his mind's eye: cheerful, upturned smile; a boyish crop of brown hair; eyes that sparkled with manic energy. This person he was looking at had something of the same hairstyle and body figure as he had remembered Misaki having, but everything else was gone. Fizzled out.

At last, she seemed to hear him. Slowly, her head tilted up, revealing hollow eyes and a drenched face.

"Who… are you?" she asked him hesitantly.

"It's me, Sorata Kanda. I… used to live in the same dorm as you back in high school."

"Oh, really." She spoke with no interest. It was clear she didn't remember him in the slightest.

For a moment, Sorata looked away, down at his sodden feet. The coldness of the weather touched him to his very core. He could only shiver.

After a moment of this, he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care if Misaki remembered him or not. Now wasn't the time to get reacquainted.

"I think it's better if you get out of the rain," he said. "You'll catch cold."

She said nothing.

In desperation he grabbed her by the shoulder. "At least come with me. My car's parked right over there. It's not much but-"

"I'm not an idiot," she said suddenly.

He was taken aback. "Huh?"

"Look, sir, I don't even know you. Why would I get in a car with you? Are you some molester or something?"

He could only blink, feeling the force of the rain slapping against his eyelids. This wasn't the Misaki-senpai he used to know. The way she spoke so tonelessly chilled him far more than the rain could. All this time he had envisioned how a reunion between him and Misaki would go. She would smile and tackle hug him energetically like she did back when they lived together and things would just click, kind of how it did with Jin.

It hit him like a slap in the face – this wasn't high school anymore. They could never go back to those days. He was just a stranger to her. He could never get her to come with him.

"But…" He tried again anyway. "You're so drenched and-"

"Just go away," she said flatly. "It's none of your business."

"Misaki-senpai…!"

As soon as he uttered her name, she was frowning. "How do you know my name? Are you some kind of creepy stalker?" She stood up. "Don't follow me!"

It was as if all the good feelings and intentions within him were being shredded apart with those words. He felt physically winded, unable even to speak.

She was stomping off. Sorata opened his mouth and closed it. It was all so futile. Finally, though, while the back of her was still in his sight, he managed to gasp something out: "I'm Jin-san's friend!"

But either she hadn't heard him or she was simply ignoring him, because she didn't turn around or even hesitate. Soon, she was gone, and the rain obliterated all tracks of her ever being there. All that remained was simply the unceasing rain and a gaping sense of loneliness.

Sorata swore under his breath.

"Damn it, damn it!" Where had all his resolve gone? Was this too much for him? What the hell had Jin even done? For the Misaki he remembered to be so non-existent…

He shivered. The cold was getting to him. He could barely even form coherent thoughts right now.

It took all of his energy to drag his feet back to the car. When he got there, Mashiro was still sitting in the passenger seat waiting for him.

"Sorata, you're wet."

He grimaced, feeling his wet clothes stick to his skin. His suit was probably ruined. It was the least of his concerns. "Don't worry about me, Shiina," he said through gritted teeth as he firmly shut the door. "It's time to find Jin-san."

He turned on the car engine and set off once again.

Everywhere, his thoughts were in a mess, criss-crossing in jagged angles. Oh, Misaki-senpai. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"Damn it!" he yelled aloud.

"…Sorata?" It was clear from her reaction Mashiro had never seen him this angry before.

He was trying to breathe slowly, but he couldn't stop his own aggravation from escalating. "I couldn't think to do anything! I'm such a fool! Why couldn't I stop her?"

Mashiro said nothing, retreating into silence. It was better that way.

It turned out the park had been close to Jin's house. After about ten more minutes of careful driving and referring to his GPS, Sorata found the address he was looking for. It was one of those fairly well-to-do Western-style houses that did not especially stand out among others in the street, though that could have been because of the rain. Sorata did his best to shield Mashiro from the downpour as he made himself over the front door and rang the doorbell.

Jin opened the door almost immediately, looking slightly bedraggled. His eyebrows arched when he caught sight of Mashiro but he had the sense not to keep them waiting by asking questions. "For God's sake, get inside," he told them. "I can't believe you came here in this weather." His tone was half incredulous, half reprimanding.

Sorata and Mashiro walked inside the front hall. Jin closed the door behind them. Then Sorata turned around and punched Jin in the face.

"Wh-What was that for?" Jin demanded, more in shock than in anger.

"She was out there in the rain! I saw her! I bet you made her cry, you bastard!"

Jin froze. He whipped his face towards Sorata, a strange gleam coming into his eyes. "Is that true?" he said quietly.

Sorata quickly explained the incident with Misaki in the park. Jin walked a few paces and then collapsed in a nearby armchair, holding his forehead in his hands. He closed his eyes and simply groaned.

Just like that, the anger faded out of Sorata. He instantly got the feeling that he was out of his depth here, that Jin and Misaki had a history he could not even begin to fathom. A whole eternity of stories with no beginning or ending. It just… was.

"Jin-san… I…"

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Jin said simply and calmly. Even now, he was restraining himself. "I'm sorry to involve you in any of this."

"What happened?" Sorata croaked out. He felt so inexplicably weary and tired, even sitting in the living room with a fire on.

Jin shrugged slightly, sending Sorata a meaningful glance. "Why don't you change out of those wet clothes first? I'll lend you a shirt. Shiina-san too."

… Right.

The pauses stretched out. Sorata and Mashiro went into separate rooms to change. Jin's house was plain and tidy, dotted with antiques and a few paintings here and there, but mostly it was filled with silence and a vague kind of emptiness. When Sorata emerged from Jin's room wearing his shirt (it was one size too big for him) he found Jin sitting next to the fire with his fingers and his eyebrows knitted together. Sorata sat opposite from him and together they simply sat there, the need for words having seemingly evaporated. Sorata thought of all the missed opportunities and regrets and wondered what would happen if Misaki were here to break the silence. There couldn't be a Sakurasou without her.

Finally, Jin started to speak. "The day I came to see you, I came home and found her on my doorstep. She was waiting for me. God knows how long. Probably all day. No, longer than that, maybe her whole life."

Sorata was silent. Jin continued:

"I invited her in. We talked. She said she wanted us to be friends again, just like the old days. I said sure, okay, fine. I wanted to try. Maybe after seeing you, I was just in the mood for nostalgia, I don't know. Anyway, it was a mistake."

"How so?" Sorata asked, not fully understanding.

"Because it's something we've tried before and it didn't work. Going back to the old days? We've changed too much for that. She keeps expecting me to be someone I'm not and I keep expecting her to be someone she's not. We know it but we just can't help it. Being childhood friends with someone isn't all it's cracked out to be."

"But… don't you love her?" Sorata looked away, wondering if he was probing too deeply or if this was how it was meant to be. "It's just… I kind of remember Misaki-senpai once saying something like it doesn't matter how far apart you are, as long as you have those feelings…"

He expected Jin to laugh like he did in the phone – that cold, cool chuckle. But he didn't. He kept his face totally even.

"I do love her," Jin said matter-of-factly. "And she loves me. But the way we are now, we bring out the worst in each other. I guess that's what you'd call an incompatible couple.

"It was the little things that broke us. Not any big arguments. She kept seeing little things in me she didn't like and it was the same for me. Little things that made you think, 'that wasn't how things used to be.' It's hard to explain, but you get it, don't you?

"A couple of hours ago, she said she'd had enough and we were civil enough about it. I didn't think she'd go out and stay in the rain. I was feeling pretty bitter myself. I just wished we didn't have any of these expectations, that I didn't let those little things pile up over the years. It's never the one thing. That's what I meant when I told you I fucked up. I let it go too far without meaning too. I don't think we can ever be fixed, Sorata. Please don't take it on yourself to try."

"But… But…!"

Jin shook his head. "I appreciate your good will, but there are some regrets that you can't ever change."

Of course, Sorata knew all about that. He glanced over his shoulder at Mashiro, who was standing at the doorway with a blank expression on her face. She evidently didn't understand this conversation. Sorata was thankful for that; all she was doing was peering at him.

"It's just like in your story," Sorata said, turning back to Jin. "You were thinking about Misaki-senpai when you wrote Mushoku no Midori-iro, didn't you?"

Jin closed his eyes. "How did you know?"

"I didn't think anything when I saw it with my sister. But after I met you again and then read the book… I realised. The story was a tragedy. I hated that."

Jin's expression was resigned. "I know you did, Sorata."

This time, it was Sorata's turn to shake his head. "It felt like you had given up," he said. "The whole story was just one huge regret. That's why…" He gulped. "That's why it spoke to me," he admitted.

He thought back to that day he had read Jin's novel for the first time and how it had kept him awake that whole night. That day, something in him had changed. He found himself more aware of the mistakes he had made in the past. Maybe the honest truth was that he didn't hate the story; he just simply could never bring himself to enjoy it. What was the point in reading stories if one didn't enjoy them?

"I think that's how Misaki-senpai must have felt too, reading that," Sorata went on. "She must have thought you had given up too."

Jin seemed to consider that.

"I think you're right," he said frankly. "As for me, I always thought her works were an escape for her. A desperate clinging to her youth through her imagination. I read the same message in her anime that she read in my writing."

It was because they were so close to each other that they could see that, Sorata realised. Just how many strangers would have gotten the same message? Not that many, because Sorata himself hadn't even noticed until the gears were set in motion.

"But you know, Sorata," Jin said suddenly, "even though you're right, it's not that simple. Feeling jealous of the person you love is the worst feeling in the world. You want to tear them down and keep them close to you, forever. Misaki is happier being free. I honestly believe that." He looked directly at Sorata. "I think you'll understand that feeling one day."

A part of Sorata thought that he already did understand and he tried, desperately, to bury that knowledge. "Even so…!"

"Ha," said Jin, smiling, "I do feel better now, though. I couldn't talk to Soichiro about this. But you, Sorata… you're as much of a romantic as you've always been."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sorata asked suspiciously.

"Take it as a compliment," Jin answered with a laugh. "Well, I think you've done enough for an old friend for this one night. Why don't you and Shiina-san stay the night? It's getting late."

Sorata peered at Jin. It struck him as – well, not entirely strange, but certainly questionable – that Jin would smile and laugh and talk wryly, and all the while be secretly acknowledging the darkness he had long ago resigned himself to. He probably thought it was no use getting so caught up in emotions. It just didn't feel right to Sorata, like a chord played on an off-key piano.

Thinking about it, Sorata supposed Jin was right – he was a romantic.

"I'm not staying," he declared. "I'm going to find Misaki-senpai."

Jin stared at him. So did Mashiro.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Jin.

"I'm not," Sorata insisted. As he spoke, he realised only then how firm he was on the matter. "I'm not going to just let this go. You're incompatible, you say? Screw that! If the two of you love each other, then what's to stop you being together? All your talk just made it out as if it was just something in your head! You can't change the past, but you can move forward! Together!"

Sorata stared defiantly back at Jin.

From the looks of it, Jin was honestly taken aback. He blinked several times. Then, after a pregnant pause, he burst out laughing.

It wasn't just his usual wry, self-deprecating chuckles. It was a real, hearty laughter, the likes of which Sorata had never heard from him before. He even doubled over and clutched his sides helplessly.

"Okay, now you're embarrassing me," Sorata mumbled.

"Sorry," said Jin, wiping a tear from his eyes. "I don't know what to say. I'm not sure if I even want to discourage you. It's just… you told me she doesn't even remember you."

"Oh, right," said Sorata. He had forgotten about that. It wasn't like he wanted Misaki to be so out of character. Even with Jin's story as explanation, it just didn't seem right. He certainly couldn't leave her alone, knowing what he knew.

Jin was still chuckling a little, his mouth upturned in a genuine smile. "You'd really try and do all that, Sorata? Really?"

"Well, yeah," said Sorata. "You're my friend, Jin-san."

Jin finally finished laughing. His mirth slowly faded and he looked Sorata in the eyes. "Then find her," he said seriously. "Bring her back to me."

"I will, Jin-san."

Sorata made his way towards the door. Fortunately enough for him, it seemed as if it had stopped raining for now.

"You know, Sorata," Jin said quietly, standing up. "Back in Sakurasou, you always said we were the crazy ones… but now I see in a way you're the nuttiest of the lot."

"Is that how you talk to someone doing you a favour?!"

"Don't you think so too, Shiina-san?" Jin turned to Mashiro.

Mashiro nodded solemnly.

"That's a fine sentiment coming from you," said Sorata. "But whatever, I don't even care anymore."

Turning swiftly around, he walked out the door with his head held high and the resolve written across his face. Moments later, he was back to get his car keys, which he had left in his coat pocket, and to sheepishly ask Jin for Misaki's phone number.

He was out on a quest to find Misaki. Much as Sorata cared deeply about his old friends, he knew that he was really doing it for himself. To prove that it was possible to move forward. If he couldn't even achieve this, then what hope did he have of ever making his own life work? He wouldn't be worthy of standing with someone like Mashiro – she would never let the past get in the way of what she truly wanted.

First, he checked the park. As he expected, she hadn't returned. It had stopped raining by now, but the wind blew coldly outside and Sorata found himself sneezing and sniffing a little as he searched outside.

It was time to ring up Misaki, he decided. She probably wouldn't answer his call but it was worth a shot…

He was surprised when she actually responded to his voice.

"You're Kouhai-kun, aren't you?"

Her tone was still rather toneless, but the recognition was in it. Sorata blinked in surprise, clutching the phone to his ear. "How did you…?"

"Jin rang me and told me you'd be calling." Misaki's voice sounded vague and thoughtful. "Kouhai-kun…"

The memories played back in Sorata's mind's eye, like a reel. Misaki ambushing him in his bed and spouting nonsense stories, her decorating the dorm with cabbages, her random semi-nudity. Oh god she was such a weirdo.

"Come back, Misaki-senpai," he said, feeling the desperation in his voice.

"Geez Louise," said Misaki. The more she spoke, the more of her old self she seemed to regain. "I'm sorry, Kouhai-kun. I was really out of it! I didn't recognise you at all, hahahaha! Not till Jin told me it was you!"

Sorata thought it said something that even after leaving Jin, she would still respond to his calls.

"You're really good friends, huh?" He smiled; there was still hope.

"Me and Jin? Of course," said Misaki, though some of her enthusiasm seemed to dry up a little as she spoke. "Doesn't matter how much we change, we'll always be friends…" Her voice trailed off.

"Then come back," Sorata told her.

"First matter of business, Kouhai-kun! Come find me! Let's play hide and seek!"

He spluttered. "Wh-what?!"

"Jin said you're looking for me! If you want to fix our relationship, you have to find me first!"

"That's logical, I suppose… Wait, hang on, we're not in kindergarten heeeeeere!"

"Close your eyes and count to ten! You're 'it'!"

"Where am I supposed to find you in this huge neighbourhood?! And why am I even playing along with you?!"

Abruptly, the tone of Misaki's voice changed. "Do it for me, Kouhai-kun. The truth is, I'm afraid to be found."

Then she hung up.

Sorata tried ringing her again a few times after that, but she didn't respond. She was serious about this game they were playing. What did she mean about not wanting to be found? She was probably afraid of what would happen next... of facing the truth.

Right, he thought. Two could play at this. The first thing Sorata did was drive off to the nearest convenience store and buy a flashlight. Then he returned to the park and started his search from there. He searched around the bushes, he searched under the slides, he even checked the sandpit, but Misaki was nowhere to be found around here. From there, he started to spread out his search, leaving no corner unchecked.

He was cold. The night was absolutely miserable. Why was Misaki subjecting him to this? Yet for some reason, with each step he took his feet felt lighter. He was stepping past all the heavy things that had once coated his mind and heart. He felt free. Whatever chains still held Jin and Misaki to the ground, he would untie them.

"Misaki-senpai! Misaki-senpaiiiiiiiii!"

Even though she didn't respond to his calls, he smiled. She was just hiding from him. He would find her – he would most definitely find her. The minutes ticked away. Sorata settled more and more into search mode.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

As he ran and looked around himself fervently, his feet stepped into the puddles that were left from the rain. He didn't care if his socks were wet. He threw up his head and laughed into the cold, empty night sky.

He found Misaki crouching behind a street lamp about a kilometre away from the park. As Sorata walked by, casting his gaze this way and that, she crept up behind him. "Boo!"

He screamed, dropping the flashlight.

As for Misaki, she just laughed helplessly and clung to his back. Sorata didn't even bother reaching for his torch. He just stood still and smiled, letting Misaki hold onto him for a little while longer. The night was still young, still promising so many things when the morning came.

She laughed and laughed and laughed, so hard that she cried. Or maybe she was crying so hard that she laughed. As the moment drew on longer, Sorata found that he was unable to tell the difference.

He reached one hand for her and patted her gently on the shoulder. "Misaki-senpai, are you all right?"

She drew back slowly and he turned around. Misaki's hair was still frazzled from the recent downpour. She was beaming brilliantly as glistening tears rolled down her face.

"I've never had so much fun," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "Thanks, Kouhai-kun. It's been a blast."

Oh, Misaki-senpai.

He stepped forward and grabbed hold of her arms. "You are coming back to Jin-san's place, aren't you?" he asked her.

She was still smiling, blinking the tears out of her eyes. "I don't think so, Kouhai-kun. Once was enough."

The game had come to an end. Sorata stepped back, feeling a familiar stab of hesitancy in his heart. He shook his head. He had come too far to let his indecisiveness carry him now.

"I always thought you were weird," he admitted. "But Misaki-senpai, you were my friend, too."

He meant what he said. He really did. Even if he had said he hated Sakurasou, Jin and Misaki had always brought colour to his life. Leaving them behind and no longer acknowledging them was just another one of his deep-seated regrets. But they were still people and they still existed. Friends. It had been such a long time since he had ever felt that word to be appropriate.

"Oh, same!" Misaki chirped. "I'm so sorry I forgot you. Maybe if you came at a better time, things would've been different. But it's okay now. I really, really think so."

"Then why don't you…?"

"Because something like this, it's just one chance, isn't it?" Misaki stared up at the night sky. In Tokyo, it was impossible to see the stars. "To be honest, I don't think I'd have the energy to do this again. I've… gotten too old, Kouhai-kun."

He'd always thought that Misaki was a creature beyond the influence of aging, but it turned out she was human too. She'd seemed so energetic through what she created, but then it was possible for creators to be distant from the works they made too, to pull it out from the far-off tendrils in their minds and to hide behind it. A story wasn't real.

What mattered more to Sorata was the living, breathing woman who in front of him. He wondered desperately how he could change her mind. If he let things go here, then the strings that bound them all together would remain tangled forever, and nothing would ever have any meaning.

He had to make Misaki come back. Not just for Jin's sake, but for his own. He realised that.

"Well, yeah," he admitted with a wistful smile. "But I guess it's kind of fun, isn't it? Even to do it just once…"

"Yeah," she said, smiling too. "I know I can't go back to Jin expecting everything to be like before. It'd be like we're just living in the past."

"But it's okay," he said, taking her hand. "It's okay, Misaki-senpai. I'm older, you're older – but we're fine, aren't we?"

He had no idea how else to phrase it. His heart was pounding relentlessly as he held her hand tightly. Please get through. Please get through.

She looked at him, her expression curiously blank and impossible to read. What was she going to say? His heart was in his mouth. He didn't want her to leave. No more. No more. This was his only chance, right here and now.

She opened her mouth and said this:

"Kouhai-kun, have you gotten superpowers since I last met you?"

Okay, that took him off guard.

"What's with the random nonsensical question?! It's completely out of context!"

Misaki just grinned. "You've got this cool, determined look in your eyes! It's like you're a hero from a shonen manga!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's your imagination," said Sorata, not feeling very impressed.

"Tell you what," said Misaki with a laugh. "I think I will come with you, Kouhai-kun. Maybe you're what we needed to shake us out of the habits we've fallen into. To be honest, I barely even recognise your looks anymore. If Jin hadn't told me…"

He was distant enough not to have fallen into the same status quo his old friends had found themselves in, but close enough to still make a difference.

His heart leaped at her words. He had done it. He had done it.

Sorata smiled and felt like laughing and crying too, all at once.

"I think you're the only one who could have done this for us," Misaki said to him. She squeezed him in a tight bear hug. "Thank you, Kouhai-kun!"

"I'd feel happy too if I weren't dying from suffocation here!"

Eventually, she let go, and this time, she did say yes to getting in the car with him. As soon they were inside, they sneezed in unison. They glanced at each other and laughed. They were definitely going to have a cold once all of this was said and done. Sorata couldn't say he was looking forward to getting sick, but he was too busy living the moment to care. He would regret it later. That was fine.

When they got back to Jin's house, Jin was waiting for them at the front. He smiled and waved as he caught sight of the car driving into the driveway.

"You did it," he said to Sorata, sounding impressed.

Sorata glanced sideways at Misaki. She was looking at Jin, looking hesitant. Jin's eyes flickered towards her and Sorata watched on as their gazes locked. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Jin smiled, and so did Misaki.

"I missed you, Misaki."

"Same here, Jin."

Jin laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Do you want a cup of tea?" Then he smiled slyly. "No, how about some hotpot?"

It wasn't the emotional reunion Sorata had expected, but those simple words said enough. They were smiling genuine smiles, if a little tentatively. But it was only to be expected. The two of them looked towards Sorata, as if expecting him to say something now.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind," said Sorata with a sigh. "I'm buggered now."

He felt drained yet satisfied.

Misaki strode up to Jin with her hands on her hips and a wide, excited grin plastered across her features. "Three cheers for Kouhai-kun for sticking his nose in! A true man among men, like Attila the Hun!"

"That's not a very pleasant comparison!" Sorata retorted.

They laughed and went inside. Everything was coming full circle now, slowing down as it reached the finish. Mashiro was inside sitting on the armchair beside the fire, sketching something in a notebook. When Sorata came in, she blinked once and looked at him.

It was all really thanks to her, Sorata thought, feeling something in him soften. He would never have started moving past his own regrets if he hadn't had the opportunity to help Mashiro Shiina.

"C'mon, Shiina, have some tea with us," he offered to her, reaching out a hand to her.

"Call me Mashiro," she said.

"Er, well…"

"Kouhai-kun is popular with the ladies!" Misaki called out behind him. "Wait, Jin, why is there a girl in your house?! Have I lost the ultimate battle between women?! Oh woe is me!"

"Ignore her, Mashiro," Sorata said, rolling his eyes.

He only realised that he had spoken her given name after she stood up and wordlessly took his hand. A kaleidoscope of colours whirled through his mind and he smiled. He led her over to the table where Jin and Misaki were preparing the tea and sat her down next to him before letting go.

"You're one of us," he told her. He turned to Jin and Misaki. "This is Mashiro Shiina. I bet if we met her years ago, she would have fit right into Sakurasou."

"Speaking of which," said Jin, "it's not really the same without Akasaka, don't you think?"

"Poor Dragon, he's missing out!" Misaki exclaimed.

Then again, it wasn't like anyone ever saw Ryuunosuke back in the old days. What did he look like again? Sorata couldn't even remember.

"I wonder what he's doing right now…"

"He is with us in spirit," Misaki declared.

Sorata chuckled at that. It was good enough for now.

Being like this was different from their teenage years. Not like it mattered all that much, though. The warmth filled Sorata's chest, totally distinct from the heat of the tea he was drinking or the feeling of being indoors, away from the cold outside and everything else that was dark and lonely.

He was back with Jin and Misaki. And Mashiro was at his side too. It was everything he could ask for. The talk was lively, feeling very much like pure joy encapsulated.

"I reckon out of the three of us, you've changed the least," Jin remarked to Sorata.

"Huh?" he said, putting down his tea cup. "Really?"

"Kouhai-kun always took things way too seriously," said Misaki with a snort.

"Yeah, you were a real drama queen," said Jin.

"Nah, you're just exaggerating things," Sorata insisted.

"Honestly, Sorata," said Jin, "you were like a teenage girl."

"And you're saying I haven't changed?!"

"And Jin!" Misaki interjected. "You were always dating around! Jerk! You'd hump anything with a skirt! Hahaha!"

Sorata leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and smiled. Yeah, they were different. They'd all mellowed out over the years. He hadn't even realised how different he was from who he had been as a teenager until he had sat with his old friends and laughed about it. It was a conversation they could only have in hindsight.

But it was funny how life went. The more he thought he was different, the more he realised he was really quite the same. He had become more like himself.

After that reunion, Jin and Misaki still didn't live together.

They decided to keep living their separate lives but to make time to see each other frequently and not to let the knowledge of their own past consume them. From then on, whenever they met, they decided to invite Sorata along too.

At that stage, everything was still fragile and tender. The connections they had could have burst at the seams at any point, but maybe that was kind of the point, and maybe that was why they kept trying. The only way to move past regrets was to stop being afraid of creating them.

As for Sorata, he was bedridden with a cold, just as expected. He sniffled and writhed about under the covers with a fever and decided that he thoroughly hated life. Defying all odds, Misaki had completely bypassed all such symptoms. She really was an alien.

About two days after the incident with Jin and Misaki, Sorata received a postcard from Yuuko in Vienna. It had a picture of the Danube River on it. On the back, Yuuko had written in her typical messy scrawl: "I got a job. Tadashi's been playing great music. Keep running towards the future, onii-chan."

Despite his sickness, Sorata smiled. If his sister were here with him, there were plenty of things he would have said to her.

After he recovered, he continued to stay with Mashiro, diligently caring for her and assisting with her paintings without complaint. He had made up his mind not to let himself be bogged down with worries about all of this. As the days continued to trickle by, he settled more and more into this asymmetrical life.

Mashiro was quiet as always. She never spoke about what happened that night, but ever since then, he noticed she went about her painting with a sense of quiet yet intense pleasure. Her paintings of him continued to be opalescent no matter what he did, shining with their utter colourlessness. Some part of him wondered why she would keep insisting on drawing him like that, for he knew the answer would probably depress him. Mashiro was fascinated with him because there was that much difference between them.

It was one day when he mentioned this to Jin that he said, "That's interesting."

"Huh? What is?"

"Sorata, what do you think the colour of kindness is?"

"White, I guess," said Sorata.

"I think you're wrong," answered Jin. "I think kindness, pure kindness, is colourless. It's not blank like the colour white is. I think it's opalescent."

Sorata was taken aback. He had honestly never even conceived it through that perspective. With those words, it felt like a whole new world was opening up before his eyes. He turned around and in front of them stood Mashiro, with the pure white canvas spread out before her and her eyes regarding him as if they took in every part of him.

"Sorata," she said his name quietly. She had no problem referring to him so intimately. (Of course, he still had trouble referring to her by her given name, even in private.)

As he peered straight back at her, he noticed something strange. Mashiro Shiina was smiling at him.

It was a tentative smile, like a half-finished stroke from a master's brush, but it was most definitely there. Mashiro Shiina was many things – a genius, an eccentric woman, an artist – but in that moment, Sorata Kanda could only see her as another human being, as alive as he surely was.

"You inspire me," she said as the smile persisted on her face, as beautiful as any work of art she had ever created.

And she set her brush against the canvas, painting, as she always did, from deep within her heart.

fin

Author's note: You know it's a Sakurasou fanfiction when the dramatic emo moment takes place in the rain.

All jokes aside, I hope you enjoyed the story! I originally intended to write more of this, but then I realised I couldn't sustain this type of writing for much longer than I did here.

A quick note about the title: Mushoku no Midori-iro and Mouretsu ni Nemuru make up part of the phrase Mushoku no Midori-iro no Kangae ga Mouretsu ni Nemuru. It's the Japanese translation of 'Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously', a famous phrase coined by Noam Chomsky in 1957. Despite making no logical sense, it is perfectly grammatical. There is nothing to stop anyone from putting those words together. It's a line that speaks enormously about the infinite creativity humans can express out of finite things.