Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay on this, proofreading it I waffled between being okay with it and being unsatisfied. After some corrections I think I'm satisfied with it, hopefully you guys enjoy it! If you end with more questions than answers it's because the answers are coming, I promise!
As always, thank you guys so much for the amazing reviews, I really appreciate all the wonderful feedback. I hope to update early at least one more time next week if Uni will give me the opportunity to do so. Until next time!
Quick Note: When Tomoe says she brought Hanamiya (ergo brought flowers), she's referring to the fact that his last name has the character (花 - hana) for flower in it.
the thinning line between
you and my sanity
is quickly fading
chapter ten
"This is the place you had to come before we left for training?"
"You didn't have to come," Tomoe says somberly, peering over her shoulder at the person climbing up the flight of stairs behind her. It's still early morning, and although the peak of summer is upon them, a mist has wrapped around the city. It's particularly thick on this incline up to the cemetery.
Hanamiya does not answer her. He has his hands shoved firmly in his pockets, a scowl on his face as he follows her from a minimal distance. He probably followed her to begin with because he suspected she was going to meet Kiyoshi.
"You didn't bring flowers," he points out.
That empty remark is surprising if only because she has come to expect only scathing, sadistic comments from him. Nonetheless, she smiles bitterly, "Didn't I? I brought you."
"What a crappy sense of humor."
Unfazed by his disparaging reply, she continues to clamber up the stairs until finally reaching the top. Taking a sharp right turn, she starts down a narrow row of unkempt graves. At the far end, she pauses in front of one surrounded by overgrown grass. Thick vines are wrapped around the stone, obscuring the name. Frowning, Tomoe reaches her hands toward it, tearing weeds away.
"I came to visit," she says quietly as she continues to pluck the weeds surrounding the grave.
Hanamiya lingers behind her wearing a look of disinterest. He continues to watch her in silence, offering neither words nor a helping hand—though the latter is not something that Tomoe would dare expect anyways.
The air feels a little awkward, and it's not because there's an unwanted onlooker. Tomoe has always been awkward in front of her mother—maybe because she is an awkward person in general. She feels even more tense when she has cleared the grave and has no more busywork to distract her.
When there's nothing else to do, she settles down in front of the grave, her legs folded beneath her. She wrings her hands nervously in her lap. "I brought someone to visit," she says finally, giving a glance back at Hanamiya. He avoids her gaze, turning his head away. In fact, he seems to sense that he is impeding on something important and personal, so he starts back toward the stairs, leaving Tomoe behind.
In his absence, she does feel that the atmosphere is less oppressive. She looks back to the name marked on the grave. Fujiwara Ayako. Suddenly outstretching her hand, she traces each character as she speaks, "You saw, right? That person saved me. When I was drowning in self-hatred—when I wanted to just disappear... he's the one who pulled me out.
"There's someone else who is important to me, too. He's really bright. Like... the sun." Thinking about Kiyoshi stirs a feeling of nostalgia in her—memories of their first meeting, and their subsequent talks. She smiles without thinking. "He made me want to be a better person."
Silence is the only response she receives—alongside a gentle breeze that caresses her cheeks, tousling her hair. For a moment, although she is sure it is only her imagination, it feels like her mother stroking her head. It takes her back to the happier moments of her childhood, although there were not many of them, and she scarcely remembers much about it in the first place.
A feeling of loneliness washes over her, and Tomoe struggles to choke back the tears. It's strange to become so emotional now. In the past, she just felt numb to the absence of her mother. But now Tomoe feels a void in her chest when she thinks about her.
"I keep getting saved," she whispers, bowing her head down to hide the tears brimming over. "By the nice family who adopted me, by Hanamiya, by Teppei-san... Mom, I'm so lucky. But I feel so ugly."
The sound of her sniffling echoes in the emptiness of the cemetery. With no one to witness the display, she quickly wipes her face with her sleeve—feeling ashamed to be crying to a gravestone.
"I won't be visiting for a while," she says, feeling a little guilty about how many times she has made empty promises in the past, swearing to "visit more often" and never fulfilling them. "But when I do, I will bring you flowers." Almost affectionately, she strokes the top of the gravestone.
After a long moment of silence, Tomoe stands. She wears a look of resolve on her face as she starts down the narrow stone path leading back to the staircase. When she gets there, she finds Hanamiya loitering, his back turned to her. He seems to hear her approach however, and turns to get a glimpse at her face.
"Finished?" His brows arch as he cocks his head back. It's the usual mannerism that precedes one of those snide comments she has grown so used to hear from him.
"Yeah," she says, preparing herself for whatever nasty thing he is about to say.
Yet contrary to her expectations, he drops the conversation and starts down the stairs, pausing only when he realizes she is not following. At which point she receives an expectant, impatient glare.
"I-I'm coming..."
—
It is a short yet uncomfortable ride to the training site. The bus is packed full of gruff looking basketball players that she has spent only the past two weeks in a gym with. They're almost like strangers to her; she has never really communicated with any of them—at least outside of the regulars. Their questioning leers in her direction make her utterly uncomfortable. It feels as though she's an unwanted presence among them.
There is, however, something ironic about the fact that she actually feels reassured sitting beside Hanamiya during the ride, as though no one would dare say anything to her or approach her as long as he is around. Perhaps that's not even true in the first place—he is hardly like her bodyguard. If anything, he is just as poisonous as the rest of his team.
At the site itself, Tomoe finds herself swept up in busywork while the rest of the team actually engages in a training regimen set up by Hanamiya. It isn't until early evening that they return from practice, drenched in sweat and heading straight for the showers. This consequently leaves her saddled with the task of dealing with their dirty laundry—a less than desirable duty.
She sighs to herself as she gathers all of the clothes in a basket and heads down to the laundry room. In the back of her mind, she considers whether or not this is even a normal function for a manager—or whether this is something that Hanamiya pawned off on her to make her suffer. The latter, she thinks, seems the most likely.
Once everything has been stuffed into a washer, she settles down in an empty seat and glances at her phone. She has been checking it more frequently than before—ever since she met Kiyoshi.
One wistful sigh later, and she realizes that there is someone standing in front of her. Startled, she jerks her head and looks up—surprised to see that rather than Hanamiya, it is actually... "F-Furuhashi-kun," she greets nervously with a tremor in her voice.
The dead, glazed look in those brown eyes of his always unnerves her. But he seems to regard her with little interest. "The team wants you to get drinks," he informs in an even tone, absent of any emotion.
"D-drinks?" she echoes back, confused. But she quickly backtracks, not wanting to pursue the matter with him. He creeps her out enough that she wants to keep their conversation brief. "Okay, I got it... um... is there any particular flavors or...?"
He shrugs his shoulders, indicating that he doesn't know. Or otherwise does not care. The former seems just as likely as the latter.
"R-right, then I'll just... get a variety." Standing abruptly, she sidesteps him and hurries out of the room, not wanting to spend another second near him. It strikes her as a little odd that he, of all people, was sent to deliver such a message to her.
Sighing to herself, she steps out of the building, walking at a brisk pace. At least until she gets a glimpse of the sky—which is smeared an eerie gray, with storm clouds impending above and threatening at any moment to erupt with pouring rain.
Her lips thin and she picks up her speed, heading for the nearest convenience store. Fortunately it's a short walk, just one block over. As soon as she enters, she reaches for a basket before heading for the drinks. She hesitates when she gets there, because she still has no idea what exactly she is picking out. This is actually the first time she has been asked to perform such a task—menial as it may be.
When she gets up to the cash register, she hastily fishes out her wallet, yanking out a few bills and passing them over to the man behind the counter. It is when she returns her billfold that she realizes that her cell phone is not in any of her pockets. For a moment she panics—wondering where it could be. But then she realizes that she must have left it behind in the laundry room earlier.
"Miss? Your change."
She breathes a shaky sigh as she takes the proffered coins and receipt, stuffing them into her pocket. Taking the two sacks of drinks into her hands, she grits her teeth from the heavy burden of weight and starts out the door. Yet as soon as she is outside, she realizes—from the protection of the awning she is still standing under—that it has already started raining.
Inwardly, she wants to curse herself for not grabbing an umbrella—not that she had one in the first place. But she can still duck back into the convenience store and buy one. Yet when she considers it, balancing the two sacks will be even more difficult if she's trying to hold up an umbrella.
Ultimately, she dismisses the idea. Better to run out into the rain and just hurry back. If she runs fast enough, she won't be too drenched. There are showers back at their residence anyways, and a warm change of clothes waiting.
That coaxes her out onto the sidewalk, and she hurries through the narrow streets. The rain is pouring down, droplets hammering right into her face. The visibility is terrible, but at least the rain itself isn't too cold.
Just as she is rounding a corner, the bottom of one of the sacks gives out and suddenly all of the cans go rolling in every direction. A part of her thinks to abandon them, but she did pay for them. Moreover, she might not even have enough for the whole team if she doesn't collect them all.
Frowning, she sets the intact sack aside and chases after each individual can, scooping them up into her arms. With nowhere better to put them, she ends up balancing them in the crook of her shirt, grabbing the hem with one hand. It exposes the base of her stomach to lift and cradle the fabric in makeshift basket for all the cans she's collecting, but there's little other alternatives for her to use.
"Kurosawa!"
The voice sounds so distant that at first she thinks her ears are just playing tricks on her. At least until she hears the cacophony of footsteps through the blaring sound of rain hitting concrete, followed by a hand that roughly seizes her by the shoulders, nearly knocking her off-balance and almost sending the gathered cans flying from the cradle of her shirt. She barely manages to steady them before she realizes that she's no longer being hit by the rain.
"What are you doing out here?" a voice demands from above, sounding absolutely livid.
She is a little startled by his tone, and nervously peers up at Hanamiya. Those thick brows are set against his narrowed eyes as he glares at her. "I'm bringing the drinks back," she tells him obliviously, unsure as to the reason for his anger.
He opens his mouth to respond, but a crack of thunder drowns out the sound of his voice, followed by a blinding strike of lightning just overhead. The ground even seems to tremble.
The moment she hears the noise, her mind immediately starts reeling—and it's happening again. As it always does whenever there is a storm. The darkness starts to seep in, all of the color draining from her surroundings—until she cannot even see Hanamiya's face. And she's back there in that closet again, huddled amongst the junk inside, willing herself not to be found.
It's the thunder—it sounds just like those footsteps, growing louder and louder as they approach. She can feel the terror seize her. Please don't open the door. Please don't find me. Like a broken reel of film in her mind, it plays out all over again.
They're coming... they're coming closer.
Her hands instinctively release the hem of her shirt, letting the cans drop to the ground. Tomoe slaps her palms over her ears to try to block out the sound, although she knows it is futile. It's already too late. Her lashes flutter as her breathing grows shallow, and her knees begin to buckle.
Just as she feels her surroundings starting to fade, she feels something warm against her wrists. Hanamiya is trying to pry her hands away from her ears. At first she tries to struggle, but she cannot overpower his strength. He succeeds with little effort, but when he does, she feels him insert something into one of her ears.
It takes a moment for that to register, until she hears the sound of soft music cutting through the rain and the thunder—loud enough to drown it all out. Her body starts to slump a little, especially once he has managed to insert the earphone into the other ear.
Those warm hands are suddenly gripping either side of her cheeks, and through the sheet of darkness that has settled over her vision, she can dimly see Hanamiya's lips. He is saying something, but she cannot hear it over the music. So instead she tries to mouth out what he's saying.
Look... at... me?
Just as she is about to sink down onto the cold pavement, he momentarily disappears from her vision, only to reappear a second later after his arm wraps around the underside of her knees and lifts her off her feet. Being suspend in the air gives her a sense of vertigo that is almost nauseating at first. She snaps her eyes shut for a moment, especially because she can feel the rain pelting her in the face again. It's momentary, though, and when she opens her eyes again, she realizes Hanamiya is carrying her while precariously balancing the umbrella between his chin and shoulder in an effort to shield them from the rain.
A strange feeling overcomes her as she looks up at him, a look of intense concentration on his face. For a moment she thinks this cannot possibly be Hanamiya. Why is he saving her? This person is at once her tormentor and her savior.