Yachi had always been rather jittery, although she sometimes wondered whether it was normal.
Sometimes, when her mother placed a hand on her shoulder, she would find herself recoiling on instinct. Instinct that she didn't know she possessed.
"A-Ah, you scared me!" she laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head as she apologized to her very confused mother. All would be well—except for the lingering churning of her stomach that told her: No, it's not all well.
Her mother never hurt her, but the shadow in her memories did.
Kiyoko knew the moment she saw Five in a dream.
The white-haired woman had laughed at her, asking whether she remembered—to which Kiyoko turned her back and walked swiftly away. Away from the visions of white, away from the flames, away from the her that was only a memory.
I remember.
Five never asked her to come back. Maybe she didn't want her to.
I remember all too well.
Kiyoko never needed alarm clocks; she would awaken to the ringing of a long ago tragedy.
Loneliness was not unfamiliar to Yachi. She was so shy that it was hard for her to make friends.
Yet, whenever she walked down the streets of her neighborhood alone, she found her mind drifting. A sharp pang resonated in her chest, then; a faint melody made itself be heard within her head. Someone called to her, from far away, holding out an earbud for her to take.
There was no one there, of course, so Yachi took it upon herself to download some songs later that day.
"What language is that?" her mother asked, peering at her iPod.
"Icelandic," she replied.
With every little thing that Kiyoko did, Five's presence was not far behind.
She grew out her raven locks so that they flowed past her shoulders. She chose to keep her glasses instead of wearing contacts. She had no interest in white clothing, finding comfort in the Karasuno's black uniform. She wore no makeup, no lipstick, no earrings. She—
What are you trying to run from?
Kiyoko flinched back as the ringing increased in volume, but she kept her head held high as she strode forward. Her friends later asked if she was interested in painting her nails.
She politely declined.
At times, Yachi wondered who she was or who she was supposed to be.
Will I do okay in high school? Will I ever see Nine and Twelve again? Will I make new friends? Why am I remembering this now? The questions were all muddled up in her tired little head as she tugged at her blonde locks and chewed on her lip. It was Lisa all over again and the thought only brought a sensation of emptiness.
But for now, she had other things to worry about.
Fly high! Yachi told herself as she entered the kingdom of crows.
When the new first-years appeared at the volleyball club, the normally level-headed Kiyoko found herself in a state of mild panic.
Why are they here?
Surely Five must be rejoicing in her stroke of bad luck; even the thought of her name sent a spark of pain right through her cranium. But she prayed that perhaps they didn't remember—didn't remember Five—and spared them merely a fleeting glance. It was here that she was glad her personality had become one of cold indifference.
When they did not call out to her, she was pleasantly surprised to find that Five had stayed silent, and willed it to stay that way.
The ache remained, though.
"Five…?"
The name left her mouth before she could stop it. As if the embarrassment wasn't enough, the stiffening of the pretty third-year's posture and sharpening of her eyes sent alarm bells ringing in Yachi's head. Ringing and ringing and ringing.
The bombs strapped to her body.
Ringing and ringing and ringing…
The ferris wheel's slow turning.
Ringing and ringing and ringing…
The ticking of the timer.
Ringing and ringing and ringing…
Twelve—!
Ringing and ringing and ringing—
"…I'm here to ask if you're interested in becoming a temporary manager for the volleyball club." The soft voice neatly brushed away what Yachi had blurted out. But the way her eyes were opened too wide and the way her lips were pressed too tight said all the words that needed to be said.
"…Okay," she spoke at last. "I-I'd love to!"
When the older girl's expression did not change, she faltered a bit, before inhaling and holding out a hand.
"I'm Li—Yachi. Y-Yachi Hitoka."
A pause. Yachi held her breath.
"…Shimizu. Shimizu Kiyoko."
She let the air rush out in laughter as Kiyoko took her hand.
