C L O C K S
A N D
T U R N S
It's a beautiful thing — time.
Constant. Always moving, always present, always there. It's cruel, at the same time, but that's what makes it more beautiful. It's what makes it truly real in a world full of plastic.
Time's like fire sometimes, and in some ways also as much as it wasn't. Fire's almost never-ending. It almost never stops growing and consuming and burning. Time burns down, and you're left with the ashes but it doesn't stop there. A forestfire, when put out, goes in a blackened fashion — but time? You can't stop it. You can't stop the clock. You can't stop the ticking. You can't keep it from burning out — from burning you. And in the end, your remains won't be ashes. It'll be smoke. Like an uncovering mist.
(Tick tock, tick tock.)
Time runs out, but doesn't stop.
Perhaps, Kaya knows that now. Her time in the place she once (and still) considered home, has run out in a way she couldn't have fathomed — but that's only one of many. There's plenty of time left. You have to accept that when things go, something new always replaces it. In that way you can live with knowing that everything is, as ironic as it sounds, permanently temporary.
Perpetually ephemeral.
Always changing, always phasing, always not the same.
Always leaving you behind to carry the ashes.
And Kaya finds that tragically beautiful. Because time will and always hurt you. It will always disappoint you. You will always loathe it from the bottom of your heart. But no matter how much you hate it, you can't live without it.
Kaya hears a whistling crack from a distance, that night. It's faint at first, and the sound grows and grows and grows— until it's the only thing she hears. It's the fire. It's come for her, she knows it. It has emerged from the crack of her shallow flower pot, because right now there weren't any violets planted on it; the wilted flowers were gone — they're now with someone else (with him) and Kaya knows they will grow so much better there than it did with her.
(There. The new sky. The new light. The new meaning of hope. Him.)
The fire comes, and Kaya thought she was ready for it. And she was. She really, really was. Because the fire, after all — was only the smoke. The nicotine. The cigar. The reason why the roses and violets blooming inside Kaya's lungs were all dead.
She knows she's ready for the fire to go out.
"Kaya-san, Yuuhei-sensei told me you have an addiction for cigarettes. Is this true?"
Of course it's true.
Can't you see how tired she is?
"You do know this is unhealthy, right?"
Shut up.
She knows that.
"You need to stop.""This is a clinic."
Oh, please.
Who cares?
"Yuuhei-sensei wanted you to be an apprentice counselor. You can't be one if you have problems dealing with your issues."
Who said she wanted to be here?
Who said she had to be like one of you?
"You did. You want this, don't you, Kaya-san?"
Want what?
"A change."
Ah.
The woman was right, wasn't she?
Kaya wanted this.
She's here— she's here because she wants out. Out of the life back there. Out of the life that cages her to everything that breaks her little by little, one by one.
And.. and Kaya's not there now. She's here. She's taking on the challenge of change.
This is only one small step towards it.
(She takes it.)
"This is where you'll be living in for a long duration of time, Kaya-san. We hope you enjoy your stay. 0800 am tomorrow, Yuuhei-sensei's waiting for you."
Kaya accepts the key to the house.
It wasn't small, but it wasn't big either. Like her house before. But somehow this one was different — it wasn't dark around here. Not.. not like the bunker. Here, her new neighbors were frantically waving and greeting her, whilst the bunker was always, always silent and lonely and suffocating.
This wasn't the same.
Everything wasn't empty — barren — cold.
Cold.
She needs the fire for that, doesn't she?
Ah.
Does she?
Yes; time's like fire sometimes. But unlike the fire (which can be put out which can vanish which can go) time heals, if you learn to live with acceptance.
Time's eternal. The fire is not.
Kaya knows it will take the flames away.
—
Katsuki was tired.
Not physically, no. Perhaps he was tired of waiting. He considered that once. That maybe it takes too much of an effort to stand by and just painfully, agonizingly, wait.
But in the end he laughed it the hell off.
It's ridiculous.
How can he be the top hero if he can't even do this?
Stupid, mediocre, half-assed thing. He can do it. He'll wait for the time when she comes back home. He knows they'll see each other soon, if the building in front of him says anything, it's that.
When Katsuki looks at the place where a certain bright, glowing, obnoxious store once was a year ago, he couldn't see anything but a sign. A sign that no matter where that insufferable woman was, they will cross paths again. He knows it. He fucking knows it.
'Yuuhei Clinics' my fucking ass.
Stupid, idiotic, bastardous Yuuei. Thinking puuting the character 'h' on their clinic's name would make any difference.
With a crooked grin, Katsuki put another flower of white violet on the building's pavement.
He's waiting too.
(And that's a year down now.)
—
Kaya's house is almost void of cigarettes.
Almost.
The nicotine isn't completely gone. Kaya thinks it'll never, ever be truly gone. But she still wanted to try. Wanted to let herself know that she did what she could. That behind all of this, she was just human. Was just another person who held on to something too tightly that the only thing that can be done for her to let go was to think that she had.
Kaya holds the familiar jet black ring close to her chest and she hums.
("You're improving. Yuuhei-sensei is really happy."
She is, too.
"He says you can be moved under a different wing now."
"You're doing great.")
All in the sake of a wait.
—
A year later, there was once again a white violet left on the pavement.
—
Kaya met a child at the clinic one day.
He wasn't there for any therapies or courses the clinic was known for, as it turns out he was one of the interns there and Kaya couldn't help but notice that the clinic offers the unlikeliest people chances. Or maybe they were a little knocked in the head.
The boy was vibrant.
His name is Teji.
Aside from vibrant, Teji was also odd.
He always carries around a pack of candies with different flavors, and then he gives the candies away everytime. He gave Kaya one the first time they met, and Kaya could vividly remember the grape flavour of the candy. He continues giving Kaya one whenever they see each other. He does it to everybody else. When he runs out of candy, he just kisses everyone's hand instead.
The act is sweet, like the candies, he said.
But Kaya never saw him eat a single candy in all the time she's saw him. The other people at the clinic notices it, too. Teji only gives, and gives, and gives.
Few months later Teji talked to her.
("Do you know why I keep giving candies, Kaya-nee?"
Kaya doesn't.
"Because people only treat you nicely if you're nice. If you're sweet."
Kaya can't help but think that it's true.
"The candies are always covered in plastic. It's fake, Kaya-nee. And I feel like that. I'm like that."
Kaya tells him it's okay.
It's okay to pretend.
But he was a kid. And he's broken.
"It's pathetic, the way things are. And I'm in the middle of it."
Kaya tells him that it was okay for the second time.)
Kaya noticed Teji a lot more afterwards.
The candies started to taste bitter.
—
Another year.
Another white violet on the pavement.
—
Kaya was surprised to see Pogako as a client in the clinic.
She almost didn't recognize him with how long his brown hair has gotten. It was painfully obvious that they were unkempt, along with his facial hair. If Kaya didn't ever see his eyes, she wouldn't have known it was him.
But, she wasn't the only one who was surprised.
"Kaya," she tried to smile at Pogako's greeting, though it was more of a shocked utterance than a conscious thought.
"Pogako-san," Kaya returned, the formality of it burning through her tongue, "You're here because of.." she looked down at his file, "drug addiction."
Kaya swallowed and closed the folder.
"You guys are really trouble magnets."
Pogako smiled faintly at the insinuation, "What can we do? We're sort of like you."
"That's neat," Kaya rolled her eyes, "but I'm not a counselor. I won't handle your sessions, I guess."
The brunette seemed to frown.
"But I'll be present at the sessions. You'll need a familiar face for those, I think."
Pogako responded with a grin that made him look like the person he was before.
Kaya told herself it was another step taken.
—
Beneath the new year's fireworks was a lone fresh white violet dancing to the hum of the wind on a pavement.
—
The flames are almost gone.
They still linger in her house, swirling the place in the form of memories and smoke. It's alright, Kaya tells herself. She needed those things to help her remember. To remember how exactly she got here. To remember what made the nights easier to go through. To remember what made her sleeps go dreamless.
She waits.
In the clinic, in the corners, in the streets, in the alleyways, she waits. Everywhere, everyday.
She waits for the time she'll see them again. For the time she'll know his answer.
For the time when she'll know if he took the chance.
Because Kaya did. She did; because she knows it's worth the wait, the pain, the suffering. She knows he's the person that keeps her on her toes, still hoping, still believing — and Kaya finds that beautiful. So, so beautiful it holds everything she's ever taken faith in.
Katsuki is the one who made her dream. Who made her want to change when she has always thought she'll never know how to. He was the one who saw a galaxy in the night sky. The one who made everything more incredible than they already are. He gives hope though he never knows he does; and Kaya bets he makes the rivers go dry with only his sheer magnificent existence painting, obscuring the world because he's larger than life. He's the one that gives light to the moon Kaya always found fascinating. He's the song the storm sings and the force the tides tell.
Kaya's never found anyone to be more beautiful and incredible and worth it.
—
And a year goes. A pavement gets decorated with a white violet.
They're still waiting.
—
possible chapters left before epilogue: 2 – 3
[ an. ] why r u guys still even reading this akskksjsjs
DreamsOfTheDamn : glad u find them cute *inserts hearts*
CocoaFirefly : although i have given thought to her quirk, idk if i'll reveal it since, as you said, it isn't the main focus. maybe i'll insert it to the faqs section after the story? thank you too!
Savage Kill : ah, as u see, they'll be meeting soon. didn't really intend it to be a long timeskip/wait, so. and yep, here's the update. im feeling productive. thanks!
Heaven's First Winter : thank you sm!! ive had the idea for this story for some time now, and it's not epic-length or very action-centered, so im happy you like it as much as you do!
thank u all for the responses and reviews! it makes my heart v warm.