"I'm glad you like it."
The response is genuine enough, but you get the idea that Makoto, for all her idealism, must understand that she struck a nerve on some level. Perhaps that's why she seems to settle into the same silence that her son was so very content in. Better not to say anything at all, than to say the wrong thing, you imagine. Of course, that in and of itself is almost as bad. Maybe that was just how things were meant to be. You'd all have to walk on eggshells for a while until some kind of new normal could be established. It wasn't like there was all that much to talk about, to begin with.
Much of dinner passes by the same way, with the occasional bits of small talk here or there. And once everyone has finished, Makoto offers to take care of the dishes so that you and Akiko can get an early night. It's certainly something Akiko does not reject; predictably, the sooner he can get away from the oppressively bleak air, he takes his chance, regardless of how much of that very bleakness he is responsible for. Given you spent much of the day either traveling or stressing about the circumstances that led you
to travel in the first place, an early night sounds like a blessing. Your room greets you much the same as you left it, somewhat impersonal but comfortable all the same, and you eventually find solace in freshly washed sheets and the quiet of suburbia. The last blessing of the day comes in the form of silence from your phone, which you scroll through until sleep takes you. No messages from home, either from your parents or more pressingly, your tormentor.
_
It feels like you've been wandering for hours on end, and yet you're no closer to any kind of exit. You can't remember how you even found yourself in the endless maze of dank, depressing tunnels. You can't even remember just where those tunnels
are. But the longer you wander, through near pitch-blackness, the more you begin to understand that there may be no escape from your dismal fate. You're lost to the darkness of the tunnels, forced to wander in a fugue state of your misery, solitude your only companion. Or... perhaps not. Every so often, whenever you turn another corner or find yourself at another crossroads between two identical stony columns, you can hear it. An occasional skittering. The odd vocalization, albeit muffled and inhuman.
The dread of endlessly wandering through the depths of the underground all by your lonesome in the darkness can only be matched by the knowledge that you
aren't alone, and whatever keeps your company... isn't something liable to welcome you. Your only hope is that whatever it is, it is more oblivious to your presence than you are to it.
Time seems to blend as you continue exploring the darkness, your feet carrying you one in front of the other. Eventually, a break. A light. Far, far off in the distance. You find yourself hurrying toward it out of instinct, desperate for the safety of the light. Whatever lurks in the dark won't be able to follow you into it. If you just get there, if you just get to the light, then, you can finally be free of the darkness. Of the misery. Of everything—
_
Your eyes seem to snap over just as you reach out for the light in your bizarre dream, and in its place, the sun. A stream of particularly mischievous light beams through your curtains, right into your face, and your instinct to block it out causes your hand to mirror the very one that had so hopefully reached out in the dream. It's morning, and you're... well, not home, but at the closest thing to it. The clock on your phone reads just after seven in the morning, giving you enough time to shake off the daze left by your nightmare and get ready with time to spare.
Breakfast with Makoto and Akiko goes about as well as dinner the night prior. Nothing particularly offensive, but still a least a little awkward, as Makoto struggles to find things to talk to you about, and Akiko keeps to himself for the majority of the meal. At least it's a more filling fare than you're used to: your aunt went through the trouble of grilling some fish to go with your rice and eggs, and a bowl of miso soup goes well in washing it all down. It's hard to say how much of a gourmand she is, but having homecooked food is a hell of a lot better than being at the mercy of whoever worked the graveyard shift at the local konbini.
"I wish I had had time to put you together something for lunch today, Fumi-chan," Your aunt offers as she clears the table, her brows furrowed in apology, "But Aki-chan doesn't like it when I make him lunch, so I don't bother stocking the fridge for it. It completely skipped my mind that you might like to bring something from home."
You certainly hadn't had something as decadent as a homemade lunch for many, many years, living in Tokyo though you had. It almost sounds nice... but then again, how comfortable were you in taking more of your aunt's hospitality? At least she made an effort without being asked: that much was worthy of acknowledging. If nothing else, she offers you some pocket money to buy a meal at the school, and you could always sort those affairs once you were a little more settled in.
It's a little after eight o'clock by the time Makoto sees you and your cousin off, and Akiko takes the head, albeit with his hands crammed in his pockets and his eyes off to the side, as if not wanting to acknowledge you. It's hard to say with him, given his... apparent difficulties, socially, but he probably isn't the sort to like attention, and you? Well, you tend to draw a
lot of attention as a rule. Something all the more proven by the sound of a sharp whistling not too long after the two of you set off toward the school, just out of sight from your home.
"Wow, Adachi-san! I kinda figured you were cutting class for
something, but who'da guessed it was because you got yourself a girlfriend?"
The source of the voice comes from a conjoining street, and when you peak over at it, you're met with quite an attention-grabbing sight of your own. He's of pretty middling height, but the boy who seems to grab your cousin's ire seems to make up for it with a boisterous presence and a shock of messy, auburn-colored hair. He grins wide at the two of you, something which grows especially wide once he gives you a good once over.
"And she's a real looker, too. How'd a gloomy guy like you score such a babe? You hiding your true personality? Or are the brooding, sensitive types in right now?"
"She
isn't my girlfriend. She... ugh... Just go away, Fujiwara, I'm not in the mood."
If Akiko was a sulking shadow of a boy, then the beam of sunshine who hurries along to catch up to the two of you must be his natural enemy. Something proven by the way he seems ready to slink away the moment you take an eye off him. Not that it stops 'Fujiwara'.
"She isn't? Don't suppose that means she's available then, is she? Name's Fujiwara Hirofumi! Nice to meet ya."
_
Fujiwara Hirofumi
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