disclaimer: ane © kazue katō
349.
reset the track
every memory comes on when I hear that old song
;
The smacks of so-so clumsy steps ring familiar on the pavement, snapping her from the train of thought going nowhere. The steps stop right in front of her, tagged with the heavy breathing of someone who has ran—quite clumsily, she might add—all the way from their class to front of the cram school, in hopes of finding a moody mauve haired girl, staring into the air with a bored, if not irritable, expression.
Yes, they definitely sound like such, almost music to her ears.
Paku runs every so often ( At least three times a week ) from her class to the cram school. Having dropped out from the exorcist class, it is a strain that they see each other. Though Izumo offers to meet her halfway, Paku declines, telling her she'd rather run all the way.
It's like finally reaching the end of a marathon, you know? Energizing. Fun. Rewarding. That sort of thing.
(In all truth, Izumo really doesn't understand Paku's reasoning, but complies anyways because Paku is Paku and that's the end of that.)
Brown hair bobbing with every sprint, Paku makes her way from across campus to meet Izumo, every Monday, Wenesday and Friday afternoon. Sometimes they meet, Paku all hearty breaths and crooked smiles, and sometimes they don't.
(Izumo doesn't know how Paku looks or sounds then - she's off on a mission somewhere, but she feels a pang of disappointment nevertheless.)
It's one of those days she runs and hits her mark, and as predicted, Paku is all smiles and breaths and Hey Izumo! like they just go to different schools, not different worlds, everyday.
Izumo graces her with one of her rare smiles, though not really rare for Paku because she always smiles for Paku, always. Izumo realizes it's become her duty as of late, seeing as there is so much to frown about (The demons, Satan, the impending doom that lurks beneath the horizon ), yet she's damned if she'd let it show.
She leaps up from the bench with a sort of forced vigor and hopes Paku doesn't notice the slight bags under her eyes or her chipped nails. Shrugging her back onto her shoulder she glances at the brunette, a silent Let's go, sealed with a tired wink.
;
a/n2: trying to get back into the groove of things