Archive of Our Own ^beta

In every world, Shisui is the first to leave. 

In every world, Maomao is powerless to stop her. 

There is not really a first time it happens. Universes are concurrent, a simultaneous act rather than one after the other. Sometimes, though, they share the same events, and their paths merge. This is what they call certainties.

For example, Maomao and Shisui will always cross paths. That is a certainty. Some call it fate, others, a curse. But however it happens, whether they’re on the same side or not, they will catch each other’s eyes from a distance. 

Perhaps that is the key to their downfall. Meeting was the first mistake. 

But is it better to have known and lost each other, than to have never had each other at all?

“Maomao! There you are!”

Maomao doesn’t flinch. She expected this to happen, like she expects the sun to rise every day and set every night. A shadow looms in front of her, coming closer, until they’re replaced with a pair of shoes, which prompts her to finally look up. 

“I was searching all over for you,” Shisui says with a beam. She squats down, meeting Maomao at eye level. “You’re not coming for the party?”

The party, as Shisui calls it, is their high school graduation ceremony. Maomao received her diploma on stage and snuck off immediately after, not wanting to stay for the aftermath. She should’ve known, though, that if it was the one person who would find her, it would be Shisui. 

“I didn’t see the need to,” Maomao replies. Then, after a beat, wonders, “Why are you here?”

“To spend time with you, obviously!” 

“You could be doing better things.”

“Don’t be like that,” Shisui laughs. She joins Maomao on the floor, crossing her legs. They’re currently on the school’s rooftop, and Maomao has her back against the railings, feeling the breeze ruffling through her hair. 

Their shoulders brush as Shisui settles down, and Maomao watches her from the corner of her eye. She’s known Shisui for years now, having run into each other in the library in their first year, but Maomao still finds there’s something new to discover about Shisui every day. 

Today, she discovers that Shisui looks wonderful in the dark blue of her academic gown. 

“What’s your plan after this, Maomao?” Shisui asks, crossing her ankles. “Are you going to study medicine?”

There are some questions that don’t need to be asked, the answer as obvious as any. Maomao replies anyway. “Yes. I’ve already applied for university. In the meantime, I’ll continue studying with my Pa.”

“That’s nice.” There’s an odd note in Shisui’s voice when she says it. Maomao frowns, unable to place what exactly it is. 

“What about you, Shisui?” she asks. “You’re going to university too, right? You said you wanted to study entomology.”

“Yeah, well…” 

Maomao turns her head. She finds Shisui staring at her own hands, fingers messing with the fabric of her gown. It’s not like her to be so fidgety. Quite the opposite—sometimes, Shisui stays so still that Maomao finds her reminiscent of a doll. Something must be bothering her. 

“Maomao,” she starts, making her jump. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

The guilty tone is not lost on Maomao. “What is it?”

“…I’m not going to university. I’ll be moving overseas to work.”

Maomao’s throat dries. 

“Overseas?” she repeats, struggling to get the syllables out. “When will you be back?”

Shisui’s silence is the answer. Never, as far as she knows, anyway. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, Maomao, I really did want to tell you earlier, but—”

“It’s okay,” Maomao interrupts. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound cruel or disheartening. It’s true. No matter when Shisui decided to break the news to her, whether it was before their graduation or right on the day she had to leave, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Maomao knows it just from the way Shisui confessed that this is something she’s unable to stop. 

“Is it for your family?” Maomao asks, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. She’s not sure why it’s there. 

Shisui hesitates, then nods. “Mhm. I… I have to go.”

She doesn’t have any ability to say no, then. If Maomao were more determined, maybe she would have tried to find an alternative. 

Instead, she sits, defeated. It’s a bit pathetic. 

Unconsciously, like she was guided by the spirits, Maomao reaches out and curls her hand around Shisui’s wrist. Shisui’s breath hitches, but after a beat, she adjusts so that their palms slide together, interlacing their fingers. 

It’s so warm. Maomao’s chest aches. 

“I’ll see you off on your last day,” Maomao murmurs, her hair falling over her shoulder as she leans forward, as if trying to hide her face from Shisui’s gaze. “Just tell me when.”

Shisui laughs again. Maomao didn’t know a supposedly joyful noise could sound so sorrowful. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

Maomao barely makes it to the front door before Shisui disappears from her sight. 

“Shisui,” she gasps, ragged and breathless. Her hair is still a mess—she just woke up, after all, rudely so, in the middle of the night with a bad gut feeling. Said feeling was correct. “Where are you going?”

Shisui’s shoulders stiffen, clearly not meaning to be caught. She turns around, eyes filled with guilt. 

They met not too long ago, just about a week back, and before the heavy storms began. Maomao lives alone in this base she’s made for herself, keeping herself away from civilization—or its lack thereof ever since the apocalypse began, but when Shisui stumbled up to her one night in tattered clothes and a meek request for some shelter, Maomao let her in. 

“It’s so late,” Maomao continues. “It’s not safe to head out. There are zombies roaming around, and—”

“I know,” Shisui interrupts. She shifts, and Maomao finally sees what she’s holding in her hands. 

Her tracker device, the one she shares with her sister, and its light glowing red. 

Maomao feels her heart drop to her stomach. 

“You can barely see,” Maomao protests, gesturing to the abyssal sky. It’s pitch black, and even with the limited light that a flashlight could provide, the storm would render it useless. Its light would make her an easy target for enemies, rather than give her the advantage of sight. If Shisui makes one wrong move, she’d have her skull ripped apart. 

“This is the first time the device has lit up since I’ve come here, Maomao,” Shisui replies. Her voice is terribly even for such a drastic situation. Maomao resents it. “It means Suirei is nearby. I need to find her, you know how important this is to me.”

“But you’ve been staying here all this time. It’s— your injuries are still healing, and I can make proper medicine for you. It’s safer here.”

“It’s not where I’m supposed to be,” Shisui replies fiercely. Maomao falters, and her features soften. “You know I only stopped here temporarily. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, Maomao, but it’s time for me to go.”

She takes a step out. Maomao races forward, desperation in her veins, and grabs Shisui’s wrist. 

Shisui isn’t looking at her anymore. Maomao stares at the back of her head like it would somehow convince her to stay anyway. 

“Maomao,” Shisui says, the delicate tune of her voice dropping low. “Let me go.”

“No,” Maomao refuses. “You’ll die.”

“I’ll be okay. I’ve survived out there for months before coming to you. I know what I’m doing.”

Even so, Maomao can’t trust her. She hasn’t had much time to spend with Shisui, but as the world falls into deeper chaos every second, she can’t risk letting her re-enter it. 

“Maomao,” Shisui repeats, quieter this time, and barely audible over the howling wind outside. “Please. I have to find Suirei.”

Her hand slips. Maomao stands, frozen like there’s ice in her veins, and watches her go. 

She never returns. 

They are not always humans, unlike what one would assume. 

In one universe, they are a lone cat and an excitable dog. Both strays, but banded together after a few chance meetings. Eventually, the dog loses its life in an unfortunate car crash. The cat stares at its bloody stains on the road for weeks. 

In another universe, they’re a pair of dainty, mismatched earrings. Their colours do go well together, but the owner is so careless, dropping and losing one to the ocean. 

In yet another, they’re a plum fruit and the dark leaves of its flowering tree. Of course, the plum gets picked during its prime, ripe summer season, while the leaves only flutter to the ground and decay when the colder seasons arrive. 

It is inevitable. No matter who they are, or what they are. Whether they’re two birds on a wire (one flies away first), a jade and a garnet stone (garnet is more fragile, silly, weren’t you aware?), or a maid and a concubine (but you already know how that story goes)—

—Shisui will leave first. And Maomao will let her slip through her fingers. 

“Do you regret it?”

Maomao pauses what she’s doing. She knows she’s alone right now—barely anyone bothers her in her shed anymore. But the voice rang loud and clear.

“Maybe I’ve tested too many poisons today,” she mutters to herself when she looks over, unable to help it. Tons of poisons are, in fact, hallucinogenic. She wouldn’t be surprised if this was a side effect. 

In the corner of the shed, with her hands clasped behind her back, Shisui stands, still as a doll and inconspicuous as a ghost. She’s smiling, the way Maomao always remembers her to be doing, and there’s dirty soot on her cheeks, and a silver hairpin rests on her chest, glinting. It’s almost mocking. 

She looks exactly like how she did when she left Maomao. 

But she’s not really there. Maomao should just ignore her—

“Do you regret me?” Shisui continues, oblivious to Maomao’s attempts. Or perhaps she’s aware, and just doesn’t care. 

Maomao doesn’t realise her fingers are trembling until she almost drops her pestle, still in the midst of grinding down some herbs. 

“I don’t,” Maomao answers, clipped. There’s no point in lying. 

Shisui hums like it doesn’t satisfy her. Maomao almost tells her to leave her alone, but the words burn when they try to crawl up her throat, and she stops herself before she can spit them out. 

“You’re angry at me,” Shisui observes. She’s always been more shrewd than people assumed, Maomao included. “Is it because I tricked you?”

Maomao presses her fingers to her temple, rubbing. She needs to get it together. 

“I’m not angry. I understood why you had to leave,” Maomao says, recalling an old conversation by a frosted window. “And I understand that never seeing you again is for the best.”

It makes sense. Shisui’s plan, her goals, the way things played out—it all makes sense. Maomao understands.

(What she doesn’t understand, though, and what she can’t bring herself to confront, is why it still makes her heart ache this bad.)

“Logic and emotions don’t often go hand-in-hand,” Shisui says, as if answering her question for her. Her ghost flickers. Maybe Maomao’s hallucination is finally coming to an end. “Sorry, Maomao. I won’t bother you again.”

Shisui, or rather the vision of her, disappears. It’s almost like the universe is mocking Maomao, letting her witness Shisui leaving again.

With a quiet sigh that rattles her ribcage, Maomao picks up her pestle and continues with her work.