Ayame gasped at the interior of the house. The wooden floors were cherry stained, and the walls were a cream. The base boards that matched the floors ran along the top and bottom, also lining the doors. The entry hall couldn't even be considered a hall. There was a small coat closet to her left, and a small, thin table to her right and a mirror above it. A few step forwards to sudden expanse of living area. A cream sofa with a matching chair sat in front of a wide screen television, sitting atop of a short movie case in the corner. There was even a gray stone fireplace. The living area paned right to a bar, or basically an arching hole in the wall to see into the kitchen. Around the side, facing her was an archway, the baseboards around it was a traditional Japanese style arch to make the simple arch more beautiful. It was a modest kitchen, nice counter tops, nice cabinets, and a well sized island, complete with bar stools. It was anything better than she ever had, and she liked it too.
Kakashi smiled, looking back at her. "Can you carry that upstairs?"
She looked at him, her purple eyes that had once a moment ago shown emotion now hardened and turned to ice. The man smiled and shrugged, picking up the bags with ease, carrying it up the stairs and disappearing down the hall. With a set determination, she heaved the bag, supporting it against her shoulder, carrying it up the stairs. Upstairs looked the same as it did downstairs. It was a long hall, with three white doors on the left and two at the right, a smaller door at the very end that looked like it could be a linen closet. Kakashi waited for her in the middle, looking relaxed as ever and leaning against the suitcase, as if he'd been there for ages, waiting.
"First door on your left I use as a common room or whatever. Door to your right is my room," he was pointing to each voice as he spoke monotonously. He lazily pointed towards his right. "This door is the bathroom, and the one next to it is a bedroom. On the other side here is another one, a bit bigger than that other one, I think. It may even have it's own bathroom. . .or that's mine. . ." He frowned, scratching his head with a finger. Ayame raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. "In any case, choose a bedroom, the other can be a guest room, or whatever." He raised a dismissive hand, getting up from the suitcase. "You're furniture should arrive around 7 or so-" he was interrupted by a knock from downstairs. He sighed, put his hands in his pockets and started to make his way downstairs, mumbling something about a clock. "Better choose your room, movers are here!" he called.
As Kakashi talked to the movers, she went into the two empty rooms he had mentioned. Why did one man even need three bedrooms? The first one, on the left, was a simple bedroom, it was bare and a little dusty, with a small closet and only one window. Though it had nothing in it, had a lush carpet instead of a wooden floor. She immediately decided that this was not the room she wanted.
The other room was a lot better. Though it's walls were an empty white, along with the baseboards, it had a mattress in the corner and thin curtains on the wall that looked like bed sheets. The doors to the closet were pretty, traditional sliding Japanese paper doors. It was spacious, but it didn't have a bathroom like her brother said. It had two windows, one looking out to a giant tree. This room looked like it was used recently, maybe last week or so, but it didn't look like it was used regularly, on account of only a stripped mattress thrown into the corner. With a final nod, Ayame rolled her suitcases into the closet, so they'd be out of the way of the movers.
As if on cue, her brother knocked on the door, the movers behind him. "So, is this the room you chose then?" he smiled. He entered, his smile a raging force against her cold face as he picked up the mattress from the floor, letting the movers set her disassembled bed frame down with a solid thud. "I'll help you rearrange later. Once the movers bring up everything, we're going out for dinner. Sound like fun?" He gave a short laugh, and left with his hands in his pockets.
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Ayame flopped on her bed with an elongated sigh. They had gone out to a fancy Hibachi restaurant, where the chef had called her pretty and tried to impress her like he did with all the girls. The only words she had spoken the whole time was her order and nothing else, rejecting every chance her brother tried to be nice with a cold look. Guess that's how she feels about this all. At least he helped set up her room. Her bed was in the back corner where the mattress had previously been, big enough to fit two people comfortably, there's just enough space between the wall and the bed for someone to walk through. Her lamp sat on the simple bed stand beside her, and a looming bookshelf next to it. On the opposite wall, her desk sat, as empty as it ever been. Various boxes of books and smallish furniture were piled in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. She didn't like the white walls that surrounded her, and her brother said they could look for paint her room that weekend.
Ayame sighed and crawled under the covers. She couldn't believe this was real. . .that this was happening. . .at least she wasn't back at home. "This is my home now. . ." she whispered. She hugged her pillow, curling around it. Despite all of her belongings here, despite being in her favorite pajamas and doing her nightly routine, she still felt so out of place. It all felt so unreal. She had been looking over her shoulder the whole day, dreading to see a glimpse of silver hair or a gleam of lilac eyes. She thought she almost saw them, once today. She had stopped dead in her tracks, her heart thumping in her chest. Her brother knocked her out of it with a hand on her shoulder, casting a worried glance. Thankfully, he didn't push the matter, and simply gone on with his conversation earlier.
Ayame shook, those faces seared behind her eyelids. Everything. . .everything there. Racing through her mind. With every passing moment she waited for that door to open, for the light to shatter the darkness and illuminate her petrified face. She waited for the melodic voices to whisper false proclaims of love and security, for the hands to grab her. . .
Kakashi stood at Ayame's door, his hand frozen in a knock. She could hear her crying and turning about the sheets. She was having a nightmare. Her social worker claimed these may occur, and that she should be given a counselor if she showed any signs of depression. But the problem was, he didn't know his little sister well enough to know if she was acting strange. His other fist was clenched, his nails digging into his skin. He didn't know how to help her. She hated him. She couldn't even look at him unless she had to. Four years he hadn't spoken to her. "Four years. . ." he whispered. Finally, his hand dropped and he walked away, shutting the door quietly to his room. Could she ever forgive him?
