When you travel somewhere for the first time you always have these expectations. Extravagant or dirt poor? Elegant and high class, or slouchy and simply not classy. I'd never been to India before, and I had little to no expectations about India except the fact it would be hot.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Japan in the winter was much more bearable than that.

Akira had of course taken the time to make sure the heat would be on well before we got there.

To this day Akira's house is still... odd to me. He lives practically in the middle of no where. There aren't houses or anything for miles in the distance. Just out in the mountains. And for a house isolated in the mountains it was a pretty damn stunning house. Not over the top, just... really nice to live in. High ceilings, not cluttered, many rooms... too many rooms. Akira says the majority of them belong to Tapioca... but it's hard to buy that.

Speaking of Tapioca, it was her who greeted us in our way into the house.

"I was wondering where you had hidden her." I said not having seen her when Akira came after Yuki died, and then again when we were in the hospital. Akira was eager then to pick her up, cuddling her in his arms, absolutely encircling every feather. I couldn't help but smile then, he was muttering something under his breath to her...just for her. I couldn't help but think of Boss then, the only pet that I really ever had any sort of bond with. But it wasn't like them.

"Can..I?" Before I started to seem hesitant Tapioca was gently shuffled into my arms, laying on the cast on my left arm. She quacked a few times once she settled herself. "W-what did she say?" My eyes shot up curiously.

"Nothing, Don't worry about it." There was a small grin on his lips, just begging for me to ask again but I decided not to bother him about it.

"Akira?"

"Mmm?" He was already slipping his shoes off and carelessly throwing them on the floor. I hadn't even thought about taking my shoes off being the the wheelchair.

"What is that thing you've been carrying around with you?"

"Oh, this." It was a journal. "Well...ah..." Akira crouched on the floor to be eye level with me. "I bought it for you."

He slipped it into my lap. "I'm left handed." And my left hand is shattered.

"I know..."

"Then what is it for?"

"I read something online that said writing down your thoughts... when you're suicidal... it helps."

Was he trying to help me? Akira really cared so much... "Plus," He patted my right hand. "I know you can write with your right hand as well."

"I don't need to write stuff down. If I have something to say, I can just talk to you." But Akira wasn't satisfied with that answer.

"You never called when you tried to kill yourself. How can I trust you to talk to me... Natsuki?" There it was again. His hand was falling into mine.

"I'm sorry." That was all I could say. "I'll write..." Before Akira could intertwine our fingers this time, Tapioca quacked abruptly.

"No one asked you, Tapioca." He shot a glare towards her before letting my hand free and walking into the kitchen.

A pen. I thought.

I need a pen.