Saya pushed her sunglasses closer to her eyes, silently cursing the sun, though little sunlight escaped from behind the thick layer of clouds that moseyed by with the slight breeze. Finding it pointless, she exhaled a quick, short breath that also brought a small, nearly inaudible growl with it as she took off her glasses, slamming them into the purse that rested on her right hip, opposite to the shoulder the strap hung over.
Saya didn't know why she'd come to the market anyway; she was getting weaker every day as it was, and it wasn't like her refrigerator was empty. Determined to make the useless trip worth it, she trudged forward, watching out for the random psychos that rushed around as if they'd die unless they found the perfect kumquat. God forbid someone buy an unripe fucking kumquat.
Saya settled on a bag of strawberries, perfect for the smoothies she'd been fixing recently in hopes of regaining her strength. As she was leaving, she noticed someone had been watching her. He was gorgeous; his long, dark hair shone in the lack of sunlight as his deep, midnight blue eyes sparkled, an unrecognizable emotion glazing them. Their eyes met but for a second before he turned away, hurrying off beyond her sight. She sighed, half hoping he would've spoken to her. It wasn't the first time Saya had seen the beautiful stranger, for she had seen him around the market a few times lately, but today was the first of which her eyes had met his directly. It was very tempting to find him, maybe start a conversation with him, but something told Saya that she shouldn't. Practicing mind over matter, she continued on to the car, her heart beat slightly increased for the moment.
In attempts to calm herself, Saya leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. Suddenly, an image flashed in her mind. She and the stranger were on a dark beach, the waves gently undulating. She was in his arms, her lips against his.
"Damn it," she nearly yelled, hitting the steering wheel. Instead of calming herself, she had only caused her heart to race, making it even harder to concentrate on important things, like driving. She forced a strong sense of reality to cease her imagination, somewhat helping her focus again. …She still wished it was a memory, though….
That night, Saya was rushing to finish her assignments. Her tutor would be coming tomorrow, just like he did every Tuesday. Being home schooled was a privilege she should've appreciated more, she knew, but none of the work ever interested her. Honestly, she didn't even need the tutor very much; all he had to do was give her a brief overview of the lessons and she could easily finish the work with above average grades. Saya attempted to explain this to Mr. Worzenhauf, but he exploded on her, giving her twice as much work this week. However, all she got out of the assignments this week was to just ignore your tutor if he goes into too much detail and don't procrastinate unless you want a crazy old German guy yelling at you in different languages that your sure he doesn't even really know.
Nevertheless, she finished by eleven, finding time to take a walk. There was a slight sprinkle of rain when she stepped outside, but it felt nice so she didn't even take a jacket.
She walked through the dense forest, her path like a single thread in an intricate weaving that pulled a piece of art together. The forest itself was beautiful, with its large, lush trees and polychromatic disarrayed areas of flowers. Of course, that was jut in the broad daylight. At night was when the forest was a true piece of art. The moon in its half missing self could only light could only light certain areas of the forest, especially through the clouds. She walked where the moon managed to come through below the silver upper layers of leaves, contrasting the dark ones on the lower branches, finally fading into ink shaded trunks. The flowers were pale if visible at all as though they had been once been colored brilliantly but were partially erased, leaving such ghostly colors on the petals.
Saya walked on, stopping when she reached a small lake, no doubt the product of all the rain lately. The moon moderately lit the lake, making the a pallid marine retrocede into a darkness, making it nearly impossible to distinguish water from land.
Saya knew it'd be dried up by the end of summer, though, half encouraging her to come back.
She went to the water, creating a small ripple in it as she touched the reflection of a wan yet still beautiful face staring back at her.
Her thoughts faded from chaotic at once to calm. At some point, she recognized Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata playing; how she knew, she wasn't exactly sure, but that wasn't important at the moment. At first, she thought she was imagining it until she realized it wasn't a piano playing the song but an instrument that she couldn't quite name. Even so, it was beautiful, as well as quiet like it was being playing from a distance. Saya looked around, desperately searching for the performer but found nothing but the vegetation.
After a minute, Saya gave up, accepting that she couldn't find who was making such a beautiful sound, and just listened, letting the sweet sound return her to her tranquil state of mind. She sat down against one of the trees, taking in the soft lullaby.
Saya opened her eyes, unaware of her surroundings at first. She nearly screamed as she realized she was no longer near the lake but on her bed, a beautiful crimson rose laid across her chest. She almost threw the rose in terror but stopped herself, instead holding it close to her, admiring its beauty and sent. She longed to know who'd done this, since they had to have been the same person that played Moonlight Sonata.
She looked to the window, finding it still dark. Her racing heart slowed as she closed her eyes, only to find it speeding up again at the image of the stunning stranger from the market handing her a rose. This time, however, she didn't get upset. It's not like she had to drive now and it was perfectly fine if he filled her dreams. Hell, it'd be nice if she had any kind of dream lately to keep her from more nightmares.
And ream of him she did.
She was in front of a fire, a blanket wrapped tightly around her, making up for the scanty night gown underneath. A door opened and her heart jumped; she turned her head to find the stranger in seemingly nothing more than a towel. Their eyes met, and Saya blushed bright red.
"Aren't you cold, Hagi?" she head herself ask, surprised as she gave him a name; Saya turned back to look at him again and noticed something: a bandage covered from the tip of his fingers to his shoulder on his right arm. Again, she was surprised of her imagination.
"Always," he smirked, pouring two cups of tea. He handed her one before grabbing another blanket to throw over himself and joined her.
"Thank you," she said, trying not to stare at him for fear that her heart would jump from her chest.
He remained silent, only glancing at her before staring back at the fire.
The cups were small, so both finished their tea quickly. She was about to place the cup beside her, but Hagi saw it was empty and took it to the kitchen..
"Would you like more tea?"
"No, thank you," she replied, forcing herself not to watch him.
"Are you feeling well, Saya?" Hagi inquired, returning to her side.
"Yes," she answered. "Why do you ask?"
"You're cheeks are redder than I've ever seen them, and I believe your heart beat has increased drastically."
"Oh."
Hagi thought for a minute and surprised Saya when he abruptly spoke again.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he questioned, moving half an inch away from her.
"No," Saya blushed, debating whether or not she'd say what was on her mind or not. She chose to tell him. "You're doing quite the opposite."
She looked over at him, grabbing his hand. He held her hand in his tightly, pulling her so close to him that she was almost in his lap. He pulled her blanket down just enough to show her shoulders. Hagi's arms were loosely wrapped around her waist as his fangs gently ran across her left shoulder, his warm breath a nice contrast to the sudden chill from exposing her shoulders. She shuddered, slightly overlapping his arms with hers.
"Saya," he whispered against her skin.
"Hagi," she breathed.
"Saya," he repeated, this time his voice was louder, annoyance lining his tone.
"Hagi?" she asked, taken off guard by his tone.
"Saya!" he screamed.
Saya's eyes popped open. A ugly old guy was right in her face, aggravation outlining his angered expression.
"Ah, you're finally awake, I see," he said loudly, backing away.
"Mr. Worzenhauf?" Saya questioned, absolutely disappointment and disbelief clear in her voice.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, walking closer to her door. "You crazy girl! Why the fuck were you calling me Hagi? I hope he's not a boyfriend of yours. You know pimpf are verboten! I needn't warn Mr. Ichimaki about this pimpf you mention, correct?"
"Correct," Saya nodded, further disliking Mr. I-Obviously-Need-To-Get-A-Hobby.
"Good, now get up and hurry downstairs!" he rushed, moving his hand in a thousand different crazy ways through the air. "You had better finished your work!"
With that, he was gone down the stairs, yelling in some language that sounded nothing like German or any other official language, for that matter; that is, of course, unless Crazy-Words-Old-Men-Randomly-Yell was an official language now.
Too tired to actually change her clothes, she simply changed into a comfortable pair of pajama pants and put a rob on, brushing her teeth before rushing to the living room when Baldy sat, still calling out in his ludicrous language.
"How'd I do?" Saya yawned, seeing as how Mr. Worzenhauf was looking over one of her essays.
"Eh," he snorted, putting it back down on the table, signaling she'd made an A+.
