"Some things stay with you. Dumping the body / deep in the woods, like a gangster. The dent / in your nose. All your life, the trail of ruin you lead."
- Deer Hit, Jon Loomis
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The ending of Once Upon never changes no matter how much you scroll through the scans. Hinata’s death was always foreshadowed carefully since chapter one, and the slow progression of her and Natsuki’s relationship always gained another level with every reread.
Hinata, brought to her knees, sprawled helplessly across the ground. Only closed her eyes and smiled, and slowly the world came to an end. Unable to continue onto third year with Natsuki, softly lamenting that she had to leave him after they finally seemed to be getting somewhere with their relationship…
Every single time you reached her dying monologue you cried. Everything was so poignant, the hefty bittersweet of the final panels with Natsuki standing at the gates of high school and imagining Hinata there just like the first time they met, the final quote he said, boxed cleanly amidst the nicely drawn cherry blossom background…
You broke into tears again, sobbing into your hands.
“Oh, my babies…” Each sniffle was drawn out longer, and when you were finally tired of lamenting the ending you clicked out of the manga’s tab to go read some canon divergent fanfiction. The best cure was always a fan-made happy ending, and you weren’t enough of a masochist to go on without tricking yourself into believing something better.
And it wasn’t as if you could stay mad at the mangaka, not when the ending so was so clearly foreshadowed. The first read-through only sparked a slowly growing suspicion, but the second and subsequent reads always revealed a new piece of information and seemed so inevitable in hindsight.The amazing writing was practically tangible.
At some point day had become night, and quite tragically, you only then realized you had spent the entire day reading fanfiction. With a sigh, you decided a midnight snack was in order, and reaching the fridge of your house, you realized that there was no food again.
Your parents were asleep, and you didn’t feel like waking them, so you shrugged, grabbed your wallet, and strolled right out, your phone lighting the way.
However you died is up to you. It was a simple death, brought on by lust (for food) and idiocy (for lack of food). But what happened afterwards was nothing but.
You opened your eyes, not to the afterlife, but the warm yellows of the first day of third year. To the fluttering pink of cherry blossoms, the bustling chatter of students quiet enough to become background ambiance, and the lone figure of a single third year standing by himself, staring into a space between two trees.
So maybe you were an idiot, but you weren’t ignorant. Hinata would’ve run up to him and asked him what his expression was all about, but you weren’t Hinata, and this body wasn’t even yours. You flexed your fingers, took in everything with a quickly dulling gaze, and closed your eyes.
When you opened them, you became Hanae Umi. A background character at best, a lighthearted idiot with talents that bypassed her unfortunate reasoning abilities.
Your senses seemed to spark, and everything around you felt dizzying for a moment; synesthesia. Those parts remained clear, starkly ingrained in your mind and your person now, standing amidst the cherry blossoms, half-present. But Umi had little of a role, though fleshed out enough in her sparse dialogue for you to form some sort of idea around her.
Slowly, you moved your shoulders forward, hunching a little. You looked forwards, but flickered your eyes down every now and then, and you made your way forward, with deliberate steps. Umi was slow in her words, movements, and mannerisms; only when painting or playing an instrument did she roll back her shoulders and lose herself in her actions, blocking out everything else.
Though it was mostly an act you put on as you pulled out your schedule from Umi’s jumble of a bag to check where to go, that other part of you made it feel natural. You knew, with some certainty, that class 3-A was around that direction: that the pitch of the song some second year was playing had the tones of A C G C in that order, exploding into colors that never stayed long. Umi was a genius, the kind one couldn't help but be jealous of. She didn’t have to try or practice—everything clicked into place for her, like the universe aligning its planets in an attempt to please her.
But the world revolved around Hinata, and thinking of her, your lips tightened and your chest folded in on itself. Umi was the distant, bare-minded genius who became relevant in an early arc, whose element roots barely met the minimum standard to even make it into Ruthenford. Hinata was a martyr, from birth destined to expend her mana and her life before she could turn eighteen.
And everyone in her harem was an idiot for not seeing the signs and pushing past her willingness to die for a “greater good”. Your footsteps quickened, before you forced your new body to slow down. Umi’s presence wasn’t tangible, but her mannerisms and brain function stayed.
It would be a stretch to say you were her, now, when you were just yourself with extra features and habits. You’d still have to watch your words and actions, but her talents carried no memories nor studying to build it up. She had never practiced in her life, not unless she wanted to.
Umi had gone up those steps every day for two years. Umi had walked those hallways once or twice before in her first and second year. Umi had lived like this for two years, breathed in the same air, but you only felt both a keen sense of nostalgia physically, and alienation when you stopped to drink it in.
"Are you going in?" You turned around to see another girl, typing something on her phone. She looked up with a scowl. "Hurry it up, Hanae."
"Mm." You nodded once, then ghosted your fingers over the touch-pad, and the door slid open without any hassle. You couldn't help but stare at the door as the girl rolled her eyes, and stepped around you to go in, greeted by her gaggle of friends.
"Come on, Saki, don't be so mean." Saki rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. Not like they're going to kick out one of their Quads." One of her friends, ponytailed, slapped Saki playfully as you stepped around their group to settle into your old seat in the back of the class, pressing the side of your head against the desk. You caught the tail end of Saki's group's conversation.
"...not like you're a Paragon. Face it, Hanae's got way more merit to be here." Saki scowled, slapping her friend back.
"Shut up, Rise, you're just a Tri! You think just 'cause those Paragons got one more element root than I do means I'm not as good?"
"You're just being this rowdy because Ryota isn't here. Let's see how conceited you get over missing one element when he comes over to kick your ass."
"No way!" Saki and Rise began fighting again, and were you less versed in Once Upon knowledge, you would've been concerned for their friendship. As it stood, they were both just tsunderes that cared enough for each other to a life-death extent. Though, speaking of the only Paragon in your class, the man Ryota Natsuki himself stepped through the automatic door and drew the near-shouting of the Saki-Rise group into silence.
"Oh, hey, Paragon." Saki peered around him, and made an exaggerated expression of surprise when no one was there. "Where's Kanase? She hasn't texted me back, so I thought her boyfriend might know."
His face chilled over, not unlike a grieving widow, and you closed your eyes to avoid bursting into tears. "We weren't dating." When you opened your eyes just a crack to peek, Saki had an almost scared look on her face that she quickly replaced into her normal nonchalance.
"Weren't? What's with this past tense, did you break up or something?" You couldn't help but feel especially connected to Natsuki at that point, taking a deep breath and pretending you were zoning out.
"...something like that." When Natsuki turned to gracefully walk to his seat, Rise slapped Saki upside the head.
"Dumbass!" she hissed, which you could only catch because of Umi's enhanced hearing. "Obviously he looks like how he used to before Kanase showed up. She's a Mono-Life, there's got to be no end to better people who want to date her."
Saki hit Rise back, but continued whispering. "Ryota's no slouch, he's the best Paragon in ages. Five whole elemental roots! And she hasn't texted me back, even though I normally get a read receipt as soon as I send something."
You tuned out the rest of their conversation, pulling a sketchbook from Umi's schoolbag. You had never been talented in drawing or music, so hopefully Umi's talent carried over and you wouldn't get kicked from Ruthenford. You rummaged around until you found a decently sharp pencil, and opened up to a blank sheet.
There was one scene you loved in the manga. Hinata had fallen asleep, smile on her face. There was a jacket draped around her shoulders, and the white curtain of the classroom window obscured all but her face. Across from her, Natsuki sat, book in hand, jacket missing from his shoulders. Touching as it was, you later realized the curtains blocking her off was a symbol for her eventual passing, and the smile on her asleep face was drawn the exact same as the smile on her dying face. Natsuki would find her dead ten minutes too late.
It was only when the boy sitting next to you gently tapped your shoulder did you pause, and finally see your drawing. The exact scene captured in a sketch, messy but conveying the melancholy of that single moment. You almost gaped in awe, having been zoned out for the entire thing, but then the teacher stepped in, and you realized why the boy bothered breaking you out of your haze.
"Welcome back," Ms. Fujimaru said, brushing a stray strand of brilliant red hair behind her ear. "Have a good summer?"
It was common knowledge Ms. Fujimaru was a not-so-subtle reference by the Once Upon mangaka. Hailing from the well known research facility Chaldea, she volunteered to be the homeroom teacher of class 3-A. She was one of the few staff members who knew about what really happened to Kanase Hinata.
After a few responses, she chuckled and tapped her fingers on the lectern, waiting for the chatter to settle down. "Alright. As always, it's time for the seating shuffle." A few groans and whistles erupted from the class, as Ms. Fujimura kneeled down to pull out a colorful box from a shelf in the lectern.
She closed her eyes and let the colorful marbles from inside the box leave, one by one, and they swirled in the air. Though she was a Tri with three elements, she still preferred air over everything else. The spinning marbles came to a stop, and one by one they landed in the open hands of your classmates.
You rubbed a thumb over yours, eyes focusing on the glint of the number 26. Beside you, the boy gently spoke. "C'mon, Hanae, you're just across this row. I'm twenty-one, I'll be in front of you." You felt a twinge of guilt that Umi never remembered his name, and obediently let him lead you to your new seat, gentle as can be. Umi only had memories of him being patient, and with your superior shoujo knowledge, you deduced that if she were to ever have a love interest, it would be the boy.
After you and the boy settled down, to your surprise Natsuki sat in the seat next to yours, looking aloof as ever. If Hinata were here, you were sure he'd unconsciously softly smile in her direction, but as it was, she was dead. So he just didn't smile at all.
"If it's Hanae sitting next to him..." you heard.
"Hanae or not, he's still obviously into Kanase. No one has a chance. Did you forget that?"
You turned to look at Natsuki, who only looked ahead. Despite his perfect posture and neutral expression, you could see the hints of something glazed over in his eyes, and you followed their trail to seat 3, where Hinata used to sit, smack dab in the middle of the first row. Like a heroine.
You remembered the sketch in your schoolbag, and you set aside all thoughts of self-preservation to tilt your head up to look at Natsuki.
"Ryota?" He politely turned to you, and you wished Umi talked a little more, because as it was, her voice was quiet from disuse.
"What is it?" He was polite, certainly, but still cold.
"Where's Kanase?" He could've said none of your business, just like he did for Saki. If he was rude, well, it wasn't like Umi would hold a grudge or get mad. She'd only nod in her quiet, dim way, and return to staring at the front.
He seemed to debate his options, and at last, he took on a cordial, almost bitter tone. "She went abroad. She's just busy."
"... 'm glad." You nodded once at him, and then returned your attention to the front, eyes half-lidded and expression blank. You were ashamed to admit that was all you ever did. Despite becoming a manga character and not having a meltdown, despite meeting the estranged male lead, his something of a lover dead, despite finding yourself in some sort of convoluted isekai, you let Umi wash over you and trudged on without a second thought.
Today was an art day, you thought, and picked up your schoolbag to shuffle over to the art room. You got there without any trouble, and there were a couple of dedicated students who saw you and couldn't help but hold back a universal grimace. Only the club leader seemed excited to see you, and she bounced over to gently take your arm.
"Umi! So glad to see you! Have you come to draw? I'd love to see what you draw. Are you drawing?"
"Mm." The club leader backed off soon enough, only sneaking a peek at you once in a while. It was like this in the different music clubs too, and Umi was usually passed around the orchestra and band clubs. Her talents were enviable, perhaps the best of this generation—she was just not articulate enough to be charismatic, and her low emotional and academic intelligence made her pitiful.
You were a decently intelligent person, but talentless. It made for a sort of symbiotic relationship, at least. You picked up a canvas, loaded up with acrylic just because it was the first thing in sight, and after a moment of hesitation you picked up the gold and silver foil.
After pulling out the sketchbook and setting up the paints, you picked up a paintbrush and—
"—excuse me, it's late. What year are you in? I'll take you to your dorm." You looked up to see one of the night patrol guards, and he stepped into the room to stand by you.
"Third year." You turned back to your painting, and held your breath for a moment. The guard seemed to do the same, but with much less fervor than you.
Completed, it was nearly realistic, save for the gentle blurring, as if it was a scene from a dream or a memory. The only thing crystal clear was Hinata's smile, and your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to it. Then the soft white translucency of the curtains, the fondness in Natsuki's small smile, which he directed at the book.
"That's Kanase Hinata, isn't it?" the guard asked, leaning in just a little closer. "Nice girl. Wonder why I haven't seen her this year. You're that art and music genius, right? I guess curfew rules can be bent just this once for you."
You nodded at him, before gently lifting your painting with your air element, sliding a satin cover over it. The guard blinked at you.
"Don't those usually take a week?" He eyed your casual handling of the painting suspiciously. On one hand, you yourself didn't know how paintings worked. On the other hand, Umi did. Somewhat.
"I'm a Tri. Air, water, fire."
"Did you...dry it with fire and drain out the moisture or something?" He stared at you, before chuckling nervously. "No, that sounds like something no artist would ever do."
Umi would. "I did."
"Oh. Okay." He quickly turned away, coughing into a fist. "No problem. Let's just get going, Miss, it's already ten at night." He picked up your bag and walked beside you as you focused on carrying the painting, though he had to take over after a minute or so of walking. You took your bag back and counted footsteps, though you always ended up losing count after fifty.
At some point you reached the third year girl's dorm, and blinked goodbye at the guard, who seemed unperturbed. You lifted the painting with your air element again, and carefully stepped into your room with it, settling it down on an empty rack near the door.
Though each dorm room was usually made for three or four students, Umi got her own. She had wasted no time clearing out the extra beds to make room for her paints and instruments. Tomorrow you'd bring the violin to play in the club room during lunch.
The completed painting drew your attention again and you shrugged off all pretense of being Umi to scurry over and stare again, tracing gentle colors with your eyes. It couldn't be helped that Umi was single-minded in her interests and focused to the point of seemingly spacing out. Maybe it was Umi, rejecting your presence in something that was completely hers.
It was weird, keeping a portrait of a dead girl and her widow in your room. You'd give it to Natsuki tomorrow. It was weird to give someone a painting of themselves, but not for Umi, so it'd be fine. This wasn't your other life, where it was normal to paint pictures of a favorite moment. It was a memory, and the sane, emotionally intelligent part of you knew that.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'd cart it to class and give it to Natsuki after school, when there was no one to clown you.
