Shinichi Izumi.
She's known him a long time, ever since they entered high school. She knows all his habits, all his little idiosyncrasies, how he stumbles over his words, how he blushes when he's nervous, how he squirms so adorably when she teases him. She knows his favourite food, his favourite colour, his favourite music, his favourite books. She knows how he'd never hurt a fly, how he'd never break a rule, how he can't stay mad even if he tried, how he'd always jump up and all but yell when he saw a bug. And how he's absolutely, hopelessly, endearingly, clueless.
Yes, in the six years she's known him, she's come to know him pretty well. So why is it, that whenever she looks at him these days, she sees someone completely different?
There they are, again.
They're walking home together, as they've been doing for a while now. This time of year, the trees are beautiful, lit aflame with bright colour, their leaves of gold and orange strewn across the pavement like fallen confetti, almost glowing in the light of the setting sun. In the twilight between the end of school and the start of the evening rush hour, it's quiet and tranquil, and they're alone, blessedly alone but for the company of each other. So in the stillness, broken only by their conjoined footsteps, she can't resist sneaking a look at him. One thought immediately comes to mind, the same one she's been having for a while now.
He's changed a lot, ever since he came back to school.
Even in appearances alone, she can't help but notice the striking changes. Maybe the most obvious is that he's not wearing glasses anymore. He's got his hair spiked up, the way he's always got it this days, not like before when it was neatly combed down. Small changes, maybe, but they have a striking effect – whereas he used to look more like a nerd than anything, the Izumi beside her now looks like anything but. If she didn't know better, she would have called him a gangster.
There seems to be something different about how he carries himself, too. The old Izumi was always nervous, excitable, easily nettled and easily gentled. The new Izumi's, well – calmer, more confident, more self-assured, more relaxed, more serious. In some ways he's more mature than he was before. But she's not sure if it's entirely a good thing.
She's been seeing it a lot recently, the distant look in his eyes, as if he's brooding on something unknown to her. The old Izumi would have jumped whenever she looked at him. The Izumi beside her doesn't even seem to notice her looking, the way he's got his eyes trained on something far away, one hand casually gripping the strap of his schoolbag, the other folded behind his head.
He seems so different from the Izumi she used to know – the shy, nervous, awkward, cute boy is gone, replaced by the cool, calm, strong adolescent walking beside her. Really, the differences are quite startling, to the point where she sometimes wonders whether he's really the same Izumi she's known for so long. It sounds absurd, she knows, but can a person really change so much in the span of just a few weeks?
Whenever she asks Yuko or Akiho about it, though, they just laugh and tell her not to worry. Izumi's just a late bloomer, they say, and he's finally starting to grow into a real keeper. Beneath their playful banter, she sometimes hears tinges of envy, as if they wanted a boyfriend like Izumi. After all, he's easygoing, gentle, cool, loyal – what more could she ask for, right?
It just goes to show that they're just as clueless as everyone else. Nobody seems to see it, the ways in which he's changed so much. The way there always seems to be a shadow hanging over him, these days, the way he always seems troubled by something so horrible it's going to tear him to pieces. To be sure, he hides it well, but it's at the edges where his mask is chipped that she sees through to his tortured soul. There's something weighing him down, and he won't be his old self until he lets it go.
She's about to ask him about it, the question well and fully formed, the words poised on the tip of her tongue, when he suddenly flings an arm out in front of her. She slams into him, coming to a stop just before the edge of the pavement.
A single car zips past, right in front of her, going straight through the space she would have been in if she'd crossed the road like she was going to. The wind from its passage buffets her, a brief gust in the wake of the passing vehicle, before it dies down. For a moment, she stares at the asphalt. Then, and only then, does she look at him.
He's gazing off into the distance, watching the rapidly shrinking car, his body still and unmoving. Only when it disappears round the corner does he relax, the tension leaving his eyes.
"It's safe now, Murano."
An arm lands around her shoulder, and they start crossing the road. Somehow she's acutely aware of the places where he's touching her, the way his arm's wrapped protectively around her, the way he's subtly positioned himself on the side of oncoming traffic, even though the road's empty as far as she can see, and a new thought comes to mind. For some reason, she feels safe near him, like he's always looking out for her, ready to help her at a moment's notice. And she has to wonder: would the old Izumi have been able to do that?
She won't ask him about it, not today at least. Maybe he's just confused, maybe he needs to sort out his own thoughts too. She's sure that he'll tell her when he's ready. Until then, she'll just have to keep faith, and keep waiting.
A/N: I decided to write this after finishing the anime. Hope you liked it, read and review!
More to come in the future if people like this one.