Summary: It was a cloudy day. It was a rainy day. It was a cold day. And it was a happy day — because it was the day Sora met Shiro.
Everything was dull.
From the bland sky, to the sad orphanage, to the weary faces of the children. There seemed to be no colour at all.
Sora felt no excitement. In fact, he felt as dull as everything around him. He could indubitably see, despite his naïvety, the beams on his parents' faces were plastered there, not natural.
The orphanage seemed deserted, despite the (admittedly enervated) murmurings of the children.
"Mummy..." Sora whispered, standing in front of the playpen, tugged on the woman's sleeve. "Can we do this quickly? I don't think there's anyone here."
He was, of course, referring to the sibling his parents seemed insistent of getting him. They had always wanted to adopt, they said. Sora's parents both shared a strong sense of righteousness, and they would love to help an orphan grow up happily (but they didn't know they would be gone long before that).
"No, Sora. I promise, I'll let you go talk to the kids this time more, alright? Just don't say anything mean."
Tch. Sora sighed, and crossed his arms huffily. "But all these kids are gonna be lame!" He almost added, just like last time, and the time before that, but thoughts better of it.
His mother scolded him, which he stuck his tongue out at.
He rolled his eyes, and his mother, frowning, pushed him into the carpeted play area. Twenty-four (Sora had estimated twenty from seeing the size of the building overall, but he was off by around five — as expected) pairs of eyes turned to briefly stare as he stumbled and sprawled himself gracelessly over the floor.
But after a few moments, the silence was again filled with the children's idle chatter, slowly filtering back into the room, but not filling the bleakness of the building.
Sora thought that probably nothing could do that.
Some distance away, his mother left, talking with (presumably) a matron from the orphanage. Their voices drifted down the hallway then disappeared.
Although the children were absorbed in their own worlds again, Sora still felt a gaze burning seemingly through his back, following him relentlessly. Every breath he took seemed to be observed closely. The feeling was intense and uncomfortable, making him want to squirm. He felt disgustingly exposed. Finally he grew tired of it and twisted around, scowling, glaring and searching at the same time, and found himself making eye contact with a young girl on the back of the room.
And then it happened.
It was indescribable — like a lighting strike, hitting you squarely in the chest, or a sudden burst of unexpected flavour in your mouth, spreading evenly and perfectly. Or, colour: yes, like colour. Like colour flooding in, after the breaking of the dam, changing and filling and morphing the stark — despairingly stark — edifice (now it appeared as one, although it once looked weary and almost dilapidated).
It didn't matter what it was like, though, because it was in this moment that Sora found something.
He could almost taste her unnerving intelligence, displayed subtly in her gaze.
It existed.
In that spilt moment, he found her.
He found a sister. He found a best friend. He found an equal.
He found the something missing.
Sora smiled, and an epiphany blossomed in his mind. With her, and her large, complex, disturbingly mysterious, blank eyes, and him — everything was going to change. He could feel it.
Because she existed.
"You really are empty."
I know that this is really bad. Forgive me?
In case anyone just happens to have stumbled upon this fic randomly, go watch No Game No Life. A friend of mine recommended it to me. It's a good anime. :)