Ichigo 100%: Into the Sun
After so much chaos, so much tumult, so much strife, he was calm. Cool. Collected.
Just like the night around him. The air was still and chilled yet bracing, scarcely ruffling the leaves as it wound through the streets. It encompassed him, enveloped him, making him one with the night and the wind itself.
But it wasn't night. Not really. The sun was shining and the day was young-just like life. And him. This was just the beginning, the sunrise of a new day ripe with possibilites, and opportunities, and love.
It wasn't cold. It wasn't dark and silent and alone. The sun promised it. The sunrise guaranteed it-the event in itself was a reflection of youth, and new, and warmth.
It wasn't cold. It could never be cold, not during sunrise. And this was the sunrise of his life, his new life, his new dream of possibilities.
It wasn't cold, he told himself with a smile. It was warm, and hopeful, and young. And he was warm, and hopeful, and young.
Nishino was warm and young and inviting, a pretty young girl with fair hair and a slim build. And she wanted him-she accepted him. He didn't need to vie for her with promotions and money and alcohol. She wanted him as he was, for who he was.
And she would never be cold to him. Never cruel. Not in the sunrise, in the warmth, during youth.
So many possibilities. So much hope. And if one door closed, a dozen opened. So even if Nishino sneered at the mention of his name, there was Kitaouji. Satsuki.
She still had warmth for him, and hope, and youth. She wasn't off and away, living her life and her adventures. She was still there, right there in town, waiting for him, wanting for him.
So much life. So much warmth. So much youth. And if she didn't want him, then Aya did. Tojo Aya, the one who had wanted him all along, the queen of strawberries.
So young. So warm. So full of hope, and light, and opportunity.
And if one door shut and there were no more left, then there was still the sun, and the sunrise, and its warmth and its light.
So many opportunities. So many possibilities. And now he was too old to turn up his nose to them. He had to take what was offered, when he could, and he couldn't hesitate. Not now-not anymore-not after all other doors had closed.
He had no time. And he was tired, and cold. He had no want to try and reset and restart-not without the sunlight.
Funny, though, to make that step here, where it had all once begun. His old school, up the stairs, past the chain, overlooking the city, looking into the light.
He might have smiled. He doubted it. Too cold, too old, too tired. Too fixated on his goal, too focused on the sun, and the sunrise, and the light.
Couldn't stop now. No more turning back. No more second guessing himself, or his fate, or the only door still open to him.
Time to move forward, into the light, into the sun.
He climbed onto the rail, overlooking the city. He stood up straight and tall, gazing unblinking into the night.
And then he took one step forward, into the light, into the sun.