Remember children, encouraging the writer ensures story survival!
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Inspiration is a wonderful and fleeting concept, unfortunately. I do find that empathy is a great tool in enjoying a tale, and so spawns the background for the following yarn. While the protagonist is original, there is purpose. No one likes to hear about other people's lives... so why not pretend that ours can be great too? Why not pretend that our lives have an escape from the mundane monotony of this one? That's the point, and there you go.
Chapter One
Strangers
Perpetual sunset covered the sky, casting a quiet ambiance throughout the entire town. It seemed silence itself could even drift past the intangible as it settled thick on the empty streets. The cramped buildings were quiet monoliths to loneliness. Everything was either waiting for its chance to emerge, or just gone. It wasn't an uncommon observation. Since the rise in heartless nearly all the denizens of this feeble place were sent huddling in their homes for safety. Bricks diluted into warm colors aided in the serenity, or only in its falseness. It was the perfect small town on the surface, unassuming in every way.
And they both picked it for exactly this reason.
His boots clapped the pavement as he walked the empty tram path, sounding small echoes to the town's quiet square. The black coat hung a weight heavy on his shoulders. The fabric clung to his skin. It was Responsibility. It was Redemption.
Calm orange rays speared past the surrounding structures, casting the air on fire. The curtain of light brought with it a certain warmth that clung to the atmosphere. It was different than usual. It was peaceful, real and safe.
He paused, bringing a sudden cease to the only sound the desolate town seemed to know.
She was standing there in the shadow of the bridge over the way oh-so nonchalantly. Her eyes lifted as she noticed his presence, but her posture remained relaxed, tilted slightly so that she rest on the adjacent wall. Curls cascaded to her shoulders, but a single piece of hair fell, lying just across her face. She didn't move; only stared him down as he stared back, keeping her hands clasped together in front of her. Curiosity pursed her lips.
It must have been the way she looked at him… A faint memory, just below the surface.
"Hey," she said.
He jumped, broken from his concentration. He had half-convinced himself to turn back the way he'd came, but something kept him immobile. What was wrong with him? How did he even let himself get spotted?
Her hands separated as she pushed herself off the wall, five fingers curled around a small wooden ball. Her head tilted to the side, confusion furrowing her brow.
"What?" she said. "You looking at this?" She held up the object in question. "It's a yo-yo." Her fingers uncurled, dropping the ball to the ground. It immediately rebounded back, drawn by a white string back snug into her palm.
What a weird guy, she thought to herself. You think he'd never seen a yo-yo. Now that she really paid attention, she noticed that his appearance did give off some weird vibes. All black attire with an ankle-length coat did well to give him that "creeper" look. His hair was even platinum, pin-straight but all scruffy looking. It kind of concealed his face but her eyes still caught the incongruous blindfold.
Awkwardness floated in the silence, much too noticeable.
"You can try," she said, waving her hand towards him. "Come here."
They were doe eyes. Brows slightly downturned, it was the picture of innocent pleading. Even the frown had its effect, dispelling his apprehension. The rest just didn't seem to bother him anymore. Caution just disintegrated under that stare.
He finally walked to her, closing the unnecessarily huge gap between them as they first talked. Still, he didn't say anything, just bit his lip in a funny way as his hands hovered in the air uncertainly.
Right now would be a great time for some heartless to show up, he thought.
She couldn't help it, expelling a laugh at his awkwardness. One would think such an eccentrically dressed fellow would have his social priorities in order. Plus, she had to do something about the overbearing silence.
"Sorry, sorry," she apologized. "It's just… funny." Her hands waved dismissively, a nervous gesture that she just couldn't break. "Here you go, Stevie Wonder."
He didn't get the joke, of course, but she handed him the toy nonetheless.
"H-How do I use it?" he asked, wavering a bit.
Finally a sound escaped his lips, she thought. His voice suited him though, she observed. It was deep, but kind of sad. He probably didn't have many friends. It might have arose from his fashion sense, she figured. But, she kept her mouth shut on this aspect.
"Here," she said, grabbing his hand. She pulled out his index finger, slipping the looped strand of string around it.
"Uh," he said, more like a grunt of surprise. Her touch wasn't expected, nor the warmth that radiated from her fingers. The "yo-yo" too was a strange item. The wood was old, simple, and unfinished. The string wrapped around his finger was colored with age as well. She must have had it a while.
"You hold it like this-" she instructed, turning the yo-yo so that the string ran away from him. "Then let it roll and pull it up with a flick of the wrist." She let him go and held up one finger. "Just one flick. Now try it."
She backed up a step, grabbing her hands behind her back. Her eyes watched him expectantly.
He stared at his hand for a second, the wooden ball resting in his palm. This whole episode was… strange. When was the last time he even did anything like this? The coat felt heavier than ever.
The ball tilted, plummeting towards the ground, but at the last second pulled up, returning to his hand.
"You're a natural!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I would have thought the spiffy eyewear would mess up your depth perception or something." She waved her finger over her eyes.
His own hand trailed up to his blindfold, gently touching it. Yeah, he had almost forgotten about that too.
"Yeah," he said, handing the yo-yo back to her.
"Thanks," she said, grabbing it with hands. Carefully putting the toy in her pocket, she paused, pouting. "I think I forgot to ask your name, stranger."
Air hissed through his teeth involuntarily. He was really pushing the boundaries now. Still, he relinquished it. "Riku," he said.
"Melanie," she said back, her arm outstretched.
After a moment, he took it. One shake.
"Nice to meet you, Riku." Melanie said. She smiled, rolling her eyes skyward. "So… What are you doing, Riku?"
He didn't answer, hesitant of what to say. Interaction with the townspeople was not encouraged; he probably even screwed himself over giving out his name. No one was supposed to know he was here.
"Oh," she said, breaking his thought process again. "Sounds important. Guess I'll get out of your way then. See you around?" She gave a small smile accompanied by a wave, sidling around him in the direction from which Riku had just came.
He watched her go, catching a quick "Bye" as she disappeared into a sidestreet.
He shook his head, not what to make of the whole encounter. Still, he was here for a reason, and one slip-up didn't alter his mission.
He had a friend to save.
~
What, did he just come back from a flashers' piñata party or something? Lost a bet? Joined a cult? She almost felt guilty for mocking the guy so much, but really. It was too easy.
She couldn't remove the smile from her face as she strolled the alley. Wind whistled through the rooftops, just barely reaching the ground. The rushing air tousled her hair, swinging it around her face in a playful manner. Today just seemed like a good day.
Then it all stopped.
Heaviness corroded the air, like a dry humidity that just sits on the skin. Her hair fell slack against her face as she stopped walking, staring straight ahead.
She felt it.
She heard it.
She saw it.
A smirk crept upon her lips, but this one was different. She was different.
"You guys are late."
