On the final night of summer vacation, August 31st, Tsubasa falls asleep feeling a little sad that the fun is ending. But when he wakes up, his sister Riel tells him something impossible: 'Today is August 32nd.' His brothers, sister, and even his brother's girlfriend all accept this non-existent date as perfectly normal.
At first, Tsubasa is thrilled that summer vacation has been extended. But soon, he's the only one who notices the strange changes creeping into his home. Riel's cooking gradual
August 32nd - The End of August — The Calendar of Sin and the Lost Family
August 39th.
Tsubasa awoke to the sensation of a cold floor.
His body ached. With his cheek still pressed against the hard floor, he couldn't move for a while. It seemed he had fallen asleep last night after collapsing in the hallway in tears. His memory was patchy, with gaps here and there.
(Where...)
The hallway. A dim hallway. Every single window was painted over in gray, making it impossible to tell if it was morning or noon.
Slowly, he raised his body.
Every bone in his body creaked and groaned. A coldness clung to him from the back of his neck down to his waist.
"...It'll work out somehow."
He tried saying it aloud, but his voice was hoarse, so small he could barely hear it himself.
There was no way it would work out.
He already knew. Knew that he was the one destroying this world, his family. The weight of that sin felt like it was crushing his heart.
Tsubasa stood up unsteadily.
Placing a hand on the wall, he headed toward the living room, one step at a time. The soles of his feet were cold, as if frozen.
He pushed the door open.
And then, Tsubasa gasped.
It was as if all the air in his lungs had frozen solid.
The wall had vanished.
No, it hadn't vanished. The entire south wall of the living room—the one where the TV and family photos had been displayed—had become a calendar.
A gigantic sheet of paper.
An old, yellowed calendar covering the entire wall, from floor to ceiling.
The date was August.
August 39th.
It was handwritten.
Inside square grids, trembling, distorted numbers were written in black ink. The 40th. The 41st. The 42nd. The 43rd. The 44th. The 45th. The 46th. The 47th.
Beyond that, the numbers were blurred.
Black ink dripped down like tears, blotting out the square for August 48th. Past that, there was only a dirty blank space.
Tsubasa's knees began to tremble.
They shook violently, independent of his will.
(What is this?)
(What the hell is this?!)
An alarm blared inside his head. The fine hairs all over his body stood on end, and cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. A sight that didn't seem of this world filled his entire field of vision.
"Sis! Sis!!"
Tsubasa screamed. She should be in the kitchen. The kitchen.
He turned around and, with a feeling of desperation, flung open the kitchen door.
"Rieru-nee!"
Rieru was there.
She was standing in front of the stove. Her bangs were neatly held back by a yellow headband. She wore a white apron. The same as always, the back view of the ideal older sister.
But.
The gas stove wasn't lit.
In Rieru's hand, she held cooking chopsticks. With those chopsticks, she continued to slowly stir the bottom of an empty pot.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Only the dry sound of metal striking metal echoed in the kitchen.
No steam, no smell, nothing.
"...Sis."
Rieru turned around.
Light brown eyes.
"Oh my, Tsubasa. Good morning."
She was smiling.
Her lips formed an arc; she was definitely smiling.
But.
While stirring an empty pot.
"It's a fun summer vacation, isn't it, Tsubasa? It goes on... forever and ever."
Tsubasa's heart ached as if it were being crushed.
The light had vanished from Rieru's eyes.
Those gentle, light brown eyes held not a shred of emotion, just like glass marbles. A doll's face, where only the mouth was smiling.
"Stop it... Sis, please stop...!"
Tsubasa grabbed Rieru's shoulders and shook her.
Her body was surprisingly light, and—cold. He couldn't feel any human warmth.
"Rieru-nee! It's me, Tsubasa! Get a hold of yourself, please!"
"It's a fun summer vacation, isn't it, Tsubasa."
Rieru repeated the same words.
"It's a fun summer vacation, isn't it."
"It goes on forever and ever."
Like a broken record.
Over and over. While stirring the empty pot.
Tsubasa released his hands from Rieru.
He staggered backward, two, three steps.
"...No, I hate this, Sis..."
Rieru was no longer anywhere.
What stood before him was an empty shell in the shape of Rieru. A mirror doll that eternally reflected only Tsubasa's happy smile.
(Fuuto...)
(Fuuto!)
Tsubasa dashed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. His heart pounded as if about to burst. He missed a step on the way and slammed his shin hard, but he felt no pain.
He forcefully threw open the door to their room on the second floor.
The smell of paint.
And the smell of iron.
Fuuto was sitting in front of a canvas.
On the wall, six paintings of sunflowers.
The first one had seventeen petals. The second had seven. The third also had seven. The fourth had three. The fifth had no petals left, only a stalk drawn in black.
And the sixth.
The painting Fuuto was working on now.
Nothing was drawn on the canvas.
Only blood.
Reddish-black blood seeped from Fuuto's fingertips, ran down the brush, and dripped onto the white canvas. The skin on his fingers was worn raw, and the red of flesh peeked from a wide, split wound.
"Fuuto... your hand..."
Fuuto didn't turn around.
"...I have to paint."
A hoarse voice was heard.
"A painting... to end it..."
Tsubasa grabbed Fuuto's hand.
"That's enough! Stop it, Fuuto! Your hand will be ruined!"
He grabbed Fuuto's hand with all his might, trying to take the brush away.
At that moment, Fuuto slowly raised his face.
Blue eyes looked at Tsubasa.
Eyes that seemed to be appealing for something, yet reflected nothing. Even though Tsubasa's figure was reflected in those blue eyes, Fuuto wasn't looking at Tsubasa.
"...Whatever."
Saying just that, Fuuto weakly gripped the brush again and began drawing empty lines once more on the blood-dripping canvas.
(Fuuto was fighting this world all along.)
(He noticed it sooner than anyone, and tried to resist by painting.)
(To protect me.)
Something hot welled up from deep behind his eyes.
That's when it happened.
"...Tsuba-nii...chan..."
A voice filled the house.
From the walls. From the ceiling. From under the floor.
Hanyii's crying voice shook the air throughout the house, enveloping everything.
"End it... please..."
Tsubasa burst out of the room. He ran down the hallway. This time, he jumped down the stairs three steps at a time. He threw open the door to Hanyii's room with all his might.
Hanyii was curled up small on the bed.
Her blonde twintails were tangled messily on the pillow. The flame ribbon on the left flickered faintly and weakly, as if about to go out at any moment.
She was asleep, yet her mouth wasn't moving.
Despite that, her voice resounded.
"Tsuba-nii-chan's wish... is binding... the world..."
"I... could see it... all along..."
"It's painful... everyone... seems like they're fading away..."
The voice passed through Hanyii's body; it was as if the very air in the room was crying.
Tsubasa fell to his knees on the spot.
Only Hanyii had known. Only this small, most fragile little sister had sensed the whole truth, deeper than anyone else. And she had been blaming herself, crying night after night.
"End it... Tsuba-nii-chan... please... the world... is breaking..."
Hanyii's voice pierced directly into the depths of Tsubasa's heart.
(I...)
(It's all my fault.)
Staggering to his feet, Tsubasa returned to the living room.
The gigantic calendar, the array of distorted numbers covering the wall, looked down on Tsubasa.
August 39th. 40th. 41st. 42nd. 43rd. 44th. 45th. 46th. 47th.
A countdown marking the end of the world.
(All of this is because of my wish.)
Tsubasa rushed to the window.
He tore the curtains of the sliding glass door open with all his strength.
Outside was gray.
The sunflowers in the garden, Fuuto's easel, the marigolds in Rieru's flower bed. Everything had melted away, vanished, leaving only a gray void spreading out.
He ran to the front door.
He opened it.
Nothingness.
There was nothing. An endless gray, empty space continued forever.
An endless, finality, where taking one step seemed like it would mean falling into this void for eternity.
Tsubasa closed the door.
The sound echoed unnaturally loud.
There was no longer any place to run.
His steps back to the living room were heavy as lead.
Rieru was still in the kitchen, stirring the empty pot. Fuuto was upstairs, bleeding, facing a canvas he couldn't paint anything on. Hanyii's crying continued to shake the entire house.
Tsubasa stood still before the gigantic calendar.
That's when it happened.
Deep in his head, something snapped with a sound.
A flashback.
The summer when he was ten.
It smelled of rain. A dark Japanese-style room at night. Tsubasa was trembling in his futon. He thought he heard the sound of a door closing in the distance. He couldn't hear his father and mother arguing anymore. Even as a child, he understood they weren't coming back.
He just cried and wished.
—I wish summer vacation would last forever.
—I hope our family doesn't fall apart.
That small, selfish prayer, almost like a scream at that time.
That was the beginning of this world.
"Ah..."
A voice leaked from Tsubasa's mouth.
"Ahh... Aaahhh..."
He collapsed from his knees onto the floor.
He couldn't support himself anymore. All the strength drained from his body.
(I was the one trapping them.)
(Everyone, in this never-ending summer.)
Rieru's vacant smile. Fuuto's blood-stained fingers. Hanyii's crying echoing throughout the room. All of it, all of it, was the form of family that Tsubasa had wished for.
"I'm sorry."
The words spilled out naturally.
"I'm so sorry."
He pressed his forehead against the floor. The cold sensation of the flooring was the only reality. With a trembling voice, he muttered over and over.
"Sorry, Sis... I'm sorry..."
From the kitchen, as always, came the dry sound of a pot being stirred and Rieru's broken voice.
"It's a fun summer vacation, isn't it."
"Sorry, Fuuto, for your hands getting like that... It's my fault..."
"...I have to paint."
"Sorry, Hanyii... for making you cry alone... I'm sorry..."
"End it... Tsuba-nii-chan... please..."
Tsubasa raised his face.
Beyond his tear-distorted vision, the calendar covering the wall looked down on him.
August 47th.
A trembling number. The last day, desperately scribbled in by someone.
Everything ends here. He had to end it.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It's my fault! Everything... everything is my fault!!"
Tsubasa screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, until his throat felt like it would tear.
"I was the one who trapped everyone! Because of my... my... my... my ego!!"
But no one answered him.
Rieru stirred the empty pot, Fuuto stained the canvas with blood, and only Hanyii's crying continued to echo in the empty space.
Tsubasa collapsed face-down on the floor again.
Tears overflowed endlessly, forming a small puddle on the flooring.
He couldn't run anymore.
The seeds he had sown had devoured his family in the worst possible way.
A dark, murky feeling of guilt spread throughout his chest, freezing him to his core.
(I have to end it.)
(This sin of trapping this summer.)
Lying prostrate on the floor, Tsubasa continued to shed tears profusely. In the silence that felt like the end of the world, he still needed just a little more time in the deep, deep darkness before he could find something and stand up.
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