So, I just realized this isn't really what I promised you guys, because it's kinda tense and really doesn't have the same adorable, sweet vibe the scene in the anime has, but I like it the way it is. So I'm leaving it like this, and we'll see how it goes. Short chapter, sorry. I'm thinking one more. Maybe I'll write a sequel, if people aren't satisfied with that. We'll see! This chapter is dedicated (again) to BookRaven24, and special thanks go to Violet in Wonderland (again). Thanks so much, you guys. Extra love!
You know that feeling when you wake up and you know there's something important, but you can't remember what it is? I had one of those moments when I woke to see a pale blue ceiling that was nothing like the color of my hotel room. Then I tried sitting up by bracing myself with one hand, and I remembered all too clearly.
"Damn it!" I swore, flopping back on the bed and glaring at my hand. It was wrapped in clean white bandages and looked more like a weapon than a body part. I thought back to last night, searching though my memories slowly and methodically for the reason behind this mysterious injury. I hadn't gotten any farther back than shaking hands with Ayano when she burst into the room excitedly.
"Kazuma!" she said, much too brightly for my mood. "You're awake! I knew I heard you say something." She came in farther and sat in a chair next to the bed. "How's your hand?" I scooted up, using my uninjured hand as a prop and looked over at her. She was blushing and shifting in her seat and she looked...guilty.
"It's fine," I said slowly. "Doesn't hurt a bit." That was a lie. It hurt like hell, and I was resisting the urge to voice, loudly, the string of swears on a loop in my head. Instead, I offered Ayano a loose relaxed smile. I should've been an actor instead of a Contractor. Maybe then I wouldn't have to deal with things like out-of-control fire spirit-users and injured limbs.
Ayano smiled back, but hers didn't hide nearly as much as mine. She was upset about something, and her tight close-lipped smile did nothing to disprove this theory. My eyes caught movement in her lap, and I looked down to see her hands twisting together anxiously. I could feel her spirits leaping around excitedly and flickering hotter and cooler. "Do you..." she started, trailing off. Then she sighed. Straightened. Looked me in the eye, head held high. "Do you know why your hand is injured? Do you remember?" I shrugged.
"Not really. I was just thinking back, but I didn't get very far." She nodded and held out her hand. I looked at it and then met her calm gaze, confused. "What?" She beckoned with the tips of her fingers.
"Give me your wounded hand. I want to show you something." I held it out to her, a little unsure. Ayano took it gently and slid her fingers under the topmost layer, twitching out the end of the bandage. I watched as the white bandage fluttered slowly to the floor, revealing my hand.
Only it wasn't really my hand anymore.
Red cracked skin was stretched too tightly over swollen flesh. Pus oozed from popped blisters and thin lines of blood welled all over the puffy, slimy, charred chunk of meat. I tried flexing my fingers – big mistake. The pain was instant and intense, spreading through my entire body. I winced and relaxed my muscles as much as possible. I almost yelled when something soft and cold touched my skin, creating a new kind of burning, stinging sensation. It hurt even worse, if that was possible. I tore my eyes from my injury and stared at Ayano, who was staring at her own unharmed fingers as she cleaned my wounds. I couldn't see her eyes clearly. I couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Is this..." I asked softly, not needing to finish the question. Ayano didn't look up. Her voice was flat.
"That's the hand you grabbed me with last night. It was burned badly, and it's like that now." She still wouldn't look at me. I tilted my head in an attempt to see under the curtain her bangs created, but it was no use.
"Ayano–"
"It's my fault," she said abruptly, her chair scraping on the floor as she stood. Before I could say anything, she spun on her heel and practically ran to the doorway. Just as she took a step over the threshold, she stopped. Gone was the proud, fearless set of her shoulders and tilt to her chin. Now she slumped, her head bent so her chin nearly touched her chest. For just a second, she turned to look at me. "I'm sorry, Kazuma," Ayano choked out, and then disappeared around the corner. I sighed, frustrated, and flopped back on the pillow. Honestly, what an idiot.
I couldn't get her tears out of my head. I knew an idiot like her would be off crying somewhere, all alone. And she was blaming herself, too, when it really was my own fault. I sat there and steamed for a minute, until finally I couldn't take it anymore. I slid out of the bed, relieved to see no one had changed my clothes.
Once in the hallway, I realized I was in Ayano's house. I recognized the hallway – it led the yard with the pond Ayano and I had talked at not too long ago. (A/N: you know, the one in the last episode when Kazuma pats Ayano's butt and she jumps in the pond.) I followed it outside, thinking Ayano might have taken refuge there.
I didn't see her at first.
I was scanning the scenery for Ayano's distinctive hair when I spotted some guy with dark hair standing by the pond. I started toward him, thinking I would ask him if he'd seen Ayano, when I noticed he wasn't alone. He was holding a girl, who was sobbing into his shirt. A girl with blinding red hair.
I walked faster. The soft sympathetic smile he was bestowing on her was twisting my stomach into pretzels. But when I heard what Ayano said next, I stopped dead. My body went numb.
"Kazuto, I'm sorry." she sobbed. It took all of one second to process that this was the asshole she had been so glad to talk to on the phone. Everything took on a new light. This was who she wanted, in the end. She was just humoring me. "It seems I really do love–"
I felt oddly detached from my body, like I was watching this happen to another person. White noise blocked out what she was saying. I got the feeling that if I heard what she said, my world would explode around, embedding me with shards of my stupid hopes.
In the end, finding someone to stay with me was impossible.
"Ayano," said Kazuma, walking up to her. Ayano gasped and let go of Kazuto. Her cheeks burned redder than her hair and tears beaded in her eyelashes. It occurred to Kazuma that he had never seen Ayano look more desperately beautiful. He ignored the thought – it made him sad.
"Kazuma, that was just–" Kazuma turned away.
"It really doesn't matter to me what you do, Ayano. I'm leaving now. Thanks for your help." Ayano bit her lip and moved toward Kazuma, her hand outstretched.
"Wait, Kazuma!" It was too late – he had already summoned a wind to whisk him away into oblivion. Ayano watched the sky, tears flowing freely again. "Kazuma!" she shouted, but he was gone already. He couldn't hear her cries for him to come back.
Or so he told himself.
In case you're confused, the last part is third person because Kazuma, trying to deal with the "trauma," (for lack of a better word) is pretending it's not actually happening to him. I'm 95% sure this is an actual thing. If you want, look it up and let me know. As always, review, favorite, and follow! Love you guys!