English Kanji

by wjames260

RurixShuu. Written a few years ago, prior to the end of the manga. Takes place in their final year of high school, over the course of a week or so. Shuu and Ruri are left in Bonyari while the others have gone back to the place they met as kids. They are alone together, in the last week or so of school, preparing for college, trying to grapple with the concept of that end of things.

10. Chapter 10

In a nearly empty classroom, the cloudy light of afternoon casts thin, angled shadows through the windowpanes. Sitting at a desk near the door, Ruri writes in English. The writing is slow and somewhat choppy, but she does not need to think too much. The words just appear on the page as if by magic. To her, that is the only sound in the classroom, the sound of pen scratching paper. She does not notice the hum of the computer, or the shouts of the baseball game outside, or the footsteps of someone passing by the door. She just writes. English appears in her mind, travels to her hands and through the conduit of the pen onto the paper, taking form in lines of black ink.

In time, she feels a shift in her brain, a setting in of knowledge, and she does not notice when he appears in the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches her write, the way her head is bent forward, the way her hair is wet with pool-water and smells like chlorine. Grinning, he looks up at the ceiling and hears the hum of air vents behind the tiles. There is something about the hidden, working systems behind walls and ceilings and people and institutions, there is something both scary and comforting about that.

All around him, things move. Systems function in the odd, gear-like, grinding, unflattering way they do. Nations jostle for position. People get on and off the train. The sky darkens and fattens and drops it's rain and clears up again.

Ruri's hand moves quickly. The sound of scribbling, the occasional licking of the pen-tip, her small knuckles working and the tendons shifting beneath her skin. Time moves, she stops, becomes still, staring at the paper, holding the pen against the page and then lifting it away. He grins, and she coughs into her fist, looks at him, her expression devoid of anything except an unsubtle annoyance.

"Whatchoo writing, a love letter? You writin' 'bout looooove?!," he asks, smiling his sheep's smile. He sees the corner of her lip twitch.

"No."

He doesn't say anything back, and for a moment they just watch each-other. Then, she stands up, slinging her bag against her torso, the strap cutting into her clavicle, the bag itself bulging and rock-like against her small waist. In it, she deposits the notebook and the pen and closes the flap. Then, she looks at him.

"They're probably waiting," she says as she strides past him, her shoulder brushing against his elbow. Pausing a moment, he smiles at the doorframe, noticing the color of the paint and the steady grain of the wood. Her footsteps recede down the hallway, clacking against the tiles. Hearing them go silent, he glances back at the empty classroom before jogging to catch up.