"Watashi no mama. . . Kimi wo. . ."
They both sang in unison, their voices harmonizing perfectly while the last, slow strum of the guitar indicated the ending of the song. But there was an ending to something else as well – or rather, someone.
The raven-haired teen stared blankly toward the source of a lingering spotlight. His sapphire eyes no longer held a vengeful expression but an odd mixture of lost, carefree, and content. He knew what was happening. He knew he was going to disappear.
"Shinn?" A voice spoke, trying to get his attention.
He acknowledged the voice, but the alluring radiance emanating from the light kept him under its trance. "Iwasawa." He said barely above a whisper.
It surprised her that she actually heard his inaudible murmur above the screaming NPCs and Yui, but she kept quiet, hoping the bad feeling inside her was wrong.
"I feel it." He dropped his guitar pick, still blinding his eyes within the light. "I-I feel…" He paused to stare into the vermillion eyes he had become so infatuated with.
They looked lost but not in the sense of being unable to locate something or even oneself – more like a puppy pleading its master to let it roam in restricted freedom. He smiled, understanding that familiar look. After all, he lived with it plastered on his face for so long.
"Alive." He watched her eyes close and shift towards the ground. "I know. It sounds stupid, but… I…" Another pause, then a whisper. "I found it."
"What about the fight against God? Are just going to quit?" She scowled, not liking the course of the conversation.
His lips curved downward, but he forced them into a smile. He stepped toward her, closing the small gap between them and placing a hand a top her head.
A sigh escaped his lips. His time was nearly up, and as much as he hated long goodbyes, he would defy time itself if it meant making that moment. He rested his forehead on hers, letting his body be slowly taken away. Eyelids covered his own sapphire orbs, attempting to escape the harsh ascension.
"Shinn." She stopped her voice from breaking, but she could not stop her heart.
A shiver ran down her spine – in a split second her entire being. And in that moment, she felt him disappear, vanish as is he had never been there, as if he had never existed in the first place. She picked up the last remnant of his existence, holding on to his guitar pick as if it too would just disappear.
They all kept the promise they made to each other – that one day, whenever that may be, they would meet again in God's Second Chance. Because their souls were connected, bound by fate and tied by destiny. Everyone should have fulfilled that promise by now, but there was one person in particular whom Masami Iwasawa knew did not keep that promise.
"Hey, Iwasawa?" Hisako catches the vocalist's attention, squeezing in a small conversation minutes before class starts.
"Hmm?" Iwasawa turns toward her friend, whose expression is consumed by clear confusion.
"I was just thinking… about the SSS and GirlDeMo and stuff and…" The brunette pauses, carefully choosing her next words. "We've all met. GirlDeMo played a concert together and Yuri and the others were even there to see it."
Iwasawa holds her tongue, aware of the course this conversation may take – is taking. So, she prepares herself for whatever ache her heart will feel, reinforcing the barrier around the mending area in order to prevent any more possible damage.
"But what about Shinn?"
But the armor still cracks, the question piercing through its chink like an apparent bulls-eye, fracturing the supposed protection as well as scattering the pieces of her soul. She hides it though. She hides the anguish in her heart. Even if it somewhat opposes her beliefs, even if it causes the imperfect human inside her to close off to concealment, even if it forces her to practice and plaster a fake smile on her face, to ignore the urge to express her true sentiments, she hides just how much her entire being is breaking.
"I don't know." She forces away the sobs threatening her throat, making sure to keep her shattering heart shrouded.
Hisako cautiously eyes her friend, as if analyzing Iwasawa's expression and seeing through the expertly-crafted façade. Her mouth opens, but an outside voice interrupts her.
"Hisako! Iwasawa!" Did you hear!?" GirlDeMo's bassist, Sekine, bursts through the classroom's door and hastily locates her victims, Irie in tow.
"What now?" Hisako rolls her eyes before resting her head in her palm, annoyance clear in her tone.
"There's supposed to be a new student transferring here today." Irie explains. "The rumors say they were kicked out of their last school for missing class so much. Others say that they flunked out."
Hisako lets out a light snort. "Doesn't sound too impressive."
"Yeah, well. We just wanted to check in with you and Iwasawa." The blonde shoots the red-head a mischievous grin, carelessly jumping to conclusions. "Because ya know… It could be-"
"Okay class." Ms. Nakano, class 2A's homeroom teacher, positions herself in the front of the class, interfering in Sekine's speculation and calling for her students' attention.
"My sources say the transfer's got some talent in the Musical Arts." Sekine whispers hurriedly.
Both younger band members take the initiative to sneak out while the teacher's speech bores the adolescent youths, but as usual, Hisako's attention diverts while Iwasawa's eyes cloud gaze, her mind registering the newly-acquired information about the recently-transferred student. One phrase in particular stands out to her.
Others say that they flunked out
Her heart cannot help but feel an iota of hope, and her stomach cannot help but twist with butterflies. She thinks of one person in particular, the same person who shared her love of music, shared the same feelings with Sad Machine, who shared the same feelings with her in general. This person understood her – a life challenged by overwhelming obstacles, a hope rekindling the dying spirit to simply get up off the ground, and an unjust God tormenting, even taunting them, playing them as if they were fools and taking away the very thing that gave them happiness. But that's all in the past now.
A small smile creeps onto her lips when her mind settles on the thought of that person, her eyes still glancing from cloud to another and occasionally at her raven-haired teacher.
The smile turns into a bitter frown though, the same phrase that lifted her heart now anchoring the feather-like weight.
Others say that they flunked out
She should have never gotten her hopes up in the first place. A lot of students flunked out of school, especially those around her age, working a low pay job and living a dead beat life – no ambition nor aspirations worth striving for. Just passing, day by day, year by year, until the seemingly boundless stream of time finally runs dry.
Plus, who is to say that the transfer student is even a guy!?
She sighs. Hisako notices the saddened yet sour expression buried under her cool exterior, her eyes reading every unspoken thought in the vocalist's mind.
"Who knows who it could be?" Hisako's words somewhat ease Iwasawa. "Tell ya what, during lunch we'll scope out for this transfer student. We'll search every class." She smiles sincerely yet playfully.
Iwasawa slowly nods, trying desperately to quell the flames of optimism refusing to burn out and the goofy smile forcing its way out of confinement.
He does not know where he is, but he has to find a way out, his adolescent figure laying, floating in a sea of light. The plain, white nothingness envelopes him – so daunting and discouraging, intimidating every ounce of confidence in his wavering heart. But the plain, white nothingness comforts him – soothing the trembling soul quivering in his body. He manages to stand, though it looks as if he is hovering above the pale oblivion surrounding him.
"Ahh, you're up, I see. You have been sleeping for so long, sleeping for months." A masculine voice resounds with auspicious authority, causing the youth to shrink back.
Wherever the owner of the voice is, Shinn Yukimura could not find him. His cryptic, cobalt eyes darting left and right, up and down, are merely greeted by the boundless white that has imprisoned him.
"Tell me, Shinn. What is it you are searching for?" The tranquil booms of the voice echo throughout the snow-colored area.
Shinn, disregarding the surplus of knowledge this being may have, answers with controlled audacity. "You." His voice loses its volume. "Who are you? And how do I get out of here?" No care nor concern pertaining to his whereabouts, he solely wants a way out.
"My name is all but important. For across the world, I have many titles. You may call me what you wish." There is no mockery, no trickery, in the omnipotent voice. It is calm, aged with wisdom, sounding with years, maybe even centuries, of experience. "Why is it you wish to find a way out?"
Because he needs to find someone. Because he feels his heart pounding against his chest, his soul bursting against his skin. Because it is something he simply must do. Whether or not the reason is an obligation of duty or a desire for freedom, Shinn draws the strength swelling within his unbreakable soul. He takes a deep breath, conviction clear in his eyes and soon, his words.
"Because-" His voice stops, turning to nothing but a pitiful whimper, all aspects of confidence – lost, as if they had never existed. He looks down shamefully, his obsidian, raven-like hair shielding his eyes. "B-Because…" He stutters, no longer trusting his words, his voice, or even his 'unbreakable' soul.
"Why is it you wish to find a way out?" The voice repeats in such a tone to pressure him. It urges him to answer despite his sudden lack of knowledge.
The atmosphere turns heavy but only to the boy desperately wanting to remember. He knows that he needs to find a way out, but the reason for freedom escapes him. He closes his eyes in an attempt to search his mind, observing every empty crevice of thought consuming his voided memories.
His memories – nothing but a drought, a wasteland. Nothing but hollow nostalgia shadowing his soul, darkness surrounding. But through the obsidian obscurity, a grinding light pierces into view, and in that light, a small recollection.
A boy, blinded by an alluring spotlight, stood on a stage, a girl holding an acoustic guitar situated beside him. Her cool eyes locking with his confident ones was enough of a gesture to tell him how broken he would soon make her, the tacit conversation heard above the thunderous screaming and the overly-audible cheering of their audience. She hid her eyes, breaking the stare and closing her eyelids. Something slipped from in-between his fingers, a silent crash that only the girl heard: a guitar pick.
The subtle sound made her heart stop, but the roaring of their fans continued. Although she closed her eyes to what she did not want to see, she could not close her heart to what she did not want to feel – the sore throbbing searing into her veins. The moment she felt a warmth cover her forehead was the moment she felt a shiver chill her entire body, the moment she reluctantly opened her eyes to see the unbearable truth.
He was gone, and she was still there, left with nothing but a mere remnant of his existence in her world. But even though the curve of her lips leaned downward, she urges them up.
His eyes open, gazing into the white distance. One word escapes his mouth, one memory lingering after the flood of amnesia. He whispers that word, and his lips cannot help but curve upward.
"Iwasawa. . ."
A/N:
So, I don't own Angel Beats.
That is all.