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Kasumi wasn’t used to announcing herself when she went places anymore. So, after Sumire fractured her leg and she went home with her girlfriend, Kasumi just drifted right into the house without paying any attention to who else might be there. Then, she noticed the woman with the black bob floating near the kitchen, and Kasumi froze in mid-air.
“Oh,” she said, racking her brains for the right words. “Pardon the intrusion, ma'am! I was just following my sister—is it okay that I’m here?”
The other ghost smiled. “What do you expect me to do about you trespassing? We’re both dead.”
Kasumi giggled a little, still nervous for some reason. “Either way… It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kasumi Yoshizawa, Sumire’s sister.”
“Call me Wakaba-san. I’m Futaba’s mother.”
While Futaba set up Sumire’s hurt leg on her couch and scoured the house for extra pillows, Kasumi and Wakaba talked. Kasumi’s own death was a tragedy, but Wakaba’s was ten times worse: conspiracy, assassination, leaving her only daughter an orphan.
“You’re actually really calm about this,” Kasumi noticed. “Is that because you’ve made peace with everything that happened?”
“I knew it was coming; there was writing on my walls, in a way,” Wakaba explained. “And I suppose I’ve accepted that there will never be anything I can do to make up for how my life ended, and how it hurt Futaba. But that’s about it. I’m not at peace with the rest of it.”
Kasumi nodded. “I don’t think I’m at peace with… what Sumire did after I died.”
“I saw some of that, when she joined with Futaba’s Phantom Thieves,” Wakaba noticed. “And I never could have imagined someone performing such similar research to mine would go as far as he did. He used your sister as his test subject.”
“You’re right,” Kasumi said, a bit more grudging. She had no reason to lie to a fellow ghost.
"But you're angrier than that, for some reason. Care to explain why?"
"Oh, I'm not really mad anymore!" Kasumi tried to protest. "Nope, I've put all of that behind me."
Wakaba didn’t say anything. She just raised an eyebrow.
“I mean—okay, I am mad. I’m really mad. When I died, I felt the pull to move on, but I couldn’t, because I felt like I still needed to protect Sumire. But then I watched her steal my entire life. And I know that she was suffering so much, and she didn’t just do it because she was jealous or selfish. Dr. Maruki was manipulating her, and she honestly thought the world was better off with me than her."
"Is that all you're mad about? Pinning all the blame on her?"
"No. I think I'm still mad because… it proved how wrong I had been, when I was alive.”
“Wrong about what?”
“I just thought Sumire needed cheering up.” Kasumi’s shoulders drooped. “Maybe there was writing on my walls, too, about how unhappy Sumire was. I just didn’t see it, because I was being a bad sister. But once I realized my mistake, it was hard not to feel like Sumire stole my life to get back at me for ignoring her.”
Wakaba hummed. “I’m very glad you told me that, Kasumi-chan. I should do everything in my power to make sure Futaba can’t keep dating your bitter, vengeful sister.”
“You can’t break up Sumire and Futaba! I won’t let you!” Kasumi declared, before a second thought occurred to her. “…Wait, what would you even be able to do?”
“You feel faster than you think,” Wakaba said, laughing a little.. “I bet you were really popular, being kind like that.”
“Sumire thought I was really popular,” Kasumi deflected, caught between an unwillingness to lie and brag all at once.
“Is that something you’re willing to let go of? That anger?”
Kasumi hesitated. “I’m scared that if I stop being mad at Sumire, I’ll… disappear. And I won’t get to see the rest of her life.”
Looking at Sumire, this was not her finest moment. Futaba had left the room to find some books for them to share, and Sumire started to restlessly shift toward the edge of the couch. Surely she was overdue for some stretches, and she intended to do them, cast and all.
“If it helps, I know for a fact you’ll stay right where you are if you forgive her,” Wakaba said. “Just wanting to see the rest of her life is enough. That’s how I feel about Futaba right now. There’s no way I can move on when I have a chance to see how her first romance plays out.”
“That’s really reassuring,” Kasumi said. “And the anger isn’t as big as it used to be. Ever since Sumire and her friends put the world right, I know that Sumire would say sorry if she could see me. And…”
Wakaba raised her eyebrow again. She was really good at that.
This one felt a little more embarrassing to admit. “Being Cendrillon with her, just for a few weeks… I had never felt more alive.”
“Atta girl,” Wakaba said.
In the land of the living, Futaba returned to the living room to see Sumire’s attempt at a stretching routine, flying off the handle with righteous concern for Sumire’s broken leg. Kasumi had no idea which side to agree with—because on the one hand, she didn’t want Sumire to be in pain at all, but on the other, three weeks without moving her body sounded like torture to her, too.
But thankfully, Futaba came up with a suggestion that Kasumi loved.
“They’re going to watch all of Featherman!” Kasumi twirled in the vacant space behind the couch then settled her non-existent weight on the back. “Wakaba-san, you’re going to love this! Featherman is so good!”
“Of course I know it’s good. My Featherman obsession started in middle school—with the original series,” Wakaba bragged, joining on Futaba’s other side—the one not cuddling up against Sumire.
Kasumi stared in wonder at her fellow ghost. “Honored sensei, teach me your history!”
“Sure. Any time you don’t want to follow your sister around, come find me. I’ll tell you all about the ancient ways.”
The Featherman theme started to play, so the two—well, four—of them fell silent, ready to enjoy the show and the joy it brought the ones they loved.