I am pleased to present the second Poor You story. : ) Something struck me to write this yesterday, and here it is. Hope you'll like this!
First chapter
The gloomy weather perfectly matched Akima's sombre mood as she blankly stared at the passing coffin. Everybody around her was silent, out of respect for the grieving family, but Akima found it more than oppressing. Somebody say something! She felt like screaming. Don't just stare at me like that! I don't need those pitiful looks! Somebody talk to me!
As if answering her prayers, her stepbrother stepped in behind her and took a firm hold of her arm. "It's going to be all right." Akira murmured quietly, but confidently.
Akima closed her eyes. "Say that again."
He obliged her. "It's going to be all right."
Akima nodded half-heartedly. "Thanks." Her voice shook, the first sign of a breakdown. The coffin drifted off for the burial service and out of their sight. Akima's lips shook visibly, but she managed to restrain herself from running after it.
Her father, face ashen and pale, approached her gravely and took her face in his wide hands, his new wife close behind. Together with Akira, they stood around her in a protective circle. "You okay, Akima?" her father inquired anxiously. "Are you in shock? Can you hear me?"
"I'm not in shock," Akima replied dully. "I knew this was going to happen. I knew ages ago. I'm not shocked." She paused, fighting back the tears. "I don't feel anything. I only see pictures in my head. I think I'm going crazy."
Her stepmother placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "We all loved your mother, Akima. Her death will affect all of us in more ways than one, but we know she'll always be there."
"She won't," Akima said bluntly. "Don't tell me fairy tales for children. I know what dying is, and I know what 'dead' means." She blinked. "Sorry, Risako. I didn't mean to be rude."
The new Mrs. Hanashi, however, was looking at her with an intent expression. She sent her husband a look and they stepped away. "She's being uncharacteristically practical and realistic." She murmured anxiously.
Mr. Hanashi frowned. "She's psychologically affected," he concluded. "She's trying to shrug it off. She's trying to force herself not to care. But she can't, and I know she's damaged inside."
"She has to let it out, Mizano. If she bottles it up, it might lead to something worse."
Mr. Hanashi looked around helplessly. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, angry with himself. "I'm not experienced in this. I need help."
Mrs. Hanashi sighed and looked around pensively. She sincerely cared for Akima, and the blank, uncomprehending look on the girl's face troubled her. There was no human emotion there, just a vast emptiness and an unerring determination not to crumble in public. It was … unnatural. Then, she saw a flicker of black. "I think help is here," she murmured to her husband.
Kaede Rukawa was mussed from his dash to the funeral. His school uniform was slightly dropping over his left side, and he was panting heavily as he stepped inside. Eyes darted towards him, but then mournfully moved back to stare at the ground.
He saw Akima, standing erect with an unreadable expression on her face with Akira hovering like a guard beside her. Akira saw him, and then turned up to the sky to thank God. Kaede hurried up to them, and realised that Akima was standing a little too straight than usual and that her lips were clamped together tightly, as if they were glued together. Her entire stance sent warnings that something was wrong, and he found it terrified him more than a little.
Akima's eyes flickered and she finally noticed him. Her facial expression wavered, in between changes. For one moment, she remained stiff, looking at him with a dull gaze; her proud side asserting itself not to break apart and cry like a baby. Then, gradually, as he came nearer and nearer, her lips trembled open, and her hands involuntarily reached out. "Kaede."
Then she was weeping over his right shoulder, sinking her face in the material of his uniform and wetting it. He'd seen her cry before, but this time he was rocked back by the intensity of her sorrow. He was baffled and wondered desperately what to do. The pleading look he sent to Akira was returned with a relieved smile.
Let her, Akira mouthed to him. It's her first show of grief. It's a good sign.
What are you talking about? He mouthed back, almost angrily. She's crying! I don't want to see her like this!
Akira smiled ruefully. Believe me, Kaede. You wouldn't want to see her when she's NOT crying. It'll hurt you even more.
He glared at Akira and then focused all his attentions on Akima, lamely holding her and quite unable to aid her in any other way.
It was her third week in Ryonan High.
The transfer had been quick and unproblematic. Her father and stepmother had seen to it that she moved in with them, leaving the house she shared with her mother dreadfully empty, and that she was schooling with Akira, where it was easier to keep an eye on her – other than the convenience of it all.
She had been too absent-minded and far off in some other obscure world to object. She dimly remembered a few short discussions between her and her father, a number of speeches made by Akira about the wonders of his school and a list of the benefits of her moving by her stepmother.
And of course, there was Kaede's reaction – the stiff, incredulous look he'd given her when she offhandedly told him. That look had changed into one of slight anger and resentment, and changed back again to the cool, unforgiving stare when he asked if it was her choice and she had answered 'yes' almost absently.
"All right," he'd told her. "Whatever you want."
She didn't catch the tone in is voice and continued on to tell him she'd try to see him after school. When he didn't answer her, she raised an eyebrow in bafflement at the cold fury, and then forgot all about it.
Now, however, as she sat staring out the window, she missed him terribly.
A small ball of paper landed in her face. Akima groaned quietly and unfolded it. A picture of herself being stuffed into a boiling cauldron by two fierce cannibals greeted her. At the bottom, in bold red capital letters: WHICH PART OF YOUR BODY DO YOU THINK THEY'LL EAT FIRST??
It was from Suki, the wheel-chair bound girl who had pockmarks scattered over her face that sometimes made her look as if she had peeled her skin off in a pattern. Akima had met her when she first came, and was instantly horrified and disgusted at Suki's condition.
It was something she would always be embarrassed to admit.
In shame at her childish and unfair prejudices, she vowed to be as nice as possible to Suki. True beauty does lie underneath the skin, after all.
It turned out to be a mistake.
Suki was, if she were to be described, unpredictable. Her mood swings vary from time to time. One never knew what she would do or say next. One minute, she'd be smiling at you, and the next, glaring. She spoke her mind, and the things she said were rarely flattering or close to polite. Akima, at certain points, intensely disliked Suki, but often found herself pulled back to Suki whenever the disabled girl was in need, which is most of the time. Suki also had a weird sense of humour, which she generously demonstrated in the pieces of paper she frequently passed to Akima.
Akima fumbled for her pen. In reply, she scribbled: None. They would be too full after eating you.
The paper was passed back, and Akima saw Suki's eyes light in mirth. She wondered briefly how long she would be able to sustain that calm composed manner around Suki.
Akima's patience had never been her strongest point.
Recess time arrived and sighing with relief, Akima gathered her books and started for the door only to find Suki fumbling to push herself over the short ramp leading up. As Akima approached, Suki glared at her. "Don't help me."
Akima raised an eyebrow. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she replied primly. "I'd sooner help that wall over there. At least it'll offer me more gratitude than you ever can."
"I hate you," Suki snarled at her.
Akima narrowed her eyes. Funny, I was just about to say that to you. But she kept her cheerful face in place. "That's what you said last week."
Suki ignored that and struggled some more. Then she leaned back in defeat, and with a startlingly charming look, she smiled sweetly at Akima. "Will you help me?"
Akima smiled wryly. She always fell under that little spell. No matter how hateful Suki made herself to be, she always charmed Akima back with that helpless, little girl's smile. Akima pushed Suki over the ramp, and was rewarded with a flying kiss. "I love you," Suki declared.
Akima rolled her eyes. "I wish you'd make up your mind."
Suki chuckled gleefully and whipped out a hand to shove Akima playfully away. She missed, and instead caused Akima's pile of books to fall. "Whoops!" Suki bent over her wheelchair to help gather the fallen possession when she caught sight of an enlarged picture. "Who's this??" it was asked rather snappily.
Akima looked up. "Oh." She wondered why she was blushing. "That's um… my, uh,…"
Suki studied the picture intently. "I know who he is," she announced. "Shohoku's super rookie, isn't he?"
Akima laughed. "He's not exactly a rookie anymore. That was last year."
Suki, however, didn't find it laughable. "He's the one you've been talking about to me for the past ten days, isn't he? The one and only sun in your miserable life."
Akima raised an eyebrow. "Are you practicing your insulting skills or something? Because you seem to be trying very hard to annoy me."
"I hate him."
"Suki, you don't even know him."
"I hate you too."
Akima groaned. "Here we go again." She snatched back the picture and firmly slipped it where others wouldn't likely find it. "We'll discuss your feelings towards me later, all right? I'm hungry."
Suki, however, was still staring grimly at the book which Akima had kept the picture. Her grey eyes were hard and cold, and she snarled quietly as Akima pushed her towards the canteen.
What do you know?? A new protagonist! Ha ha ha!