Written by a confused, confused ginny
three: stranded
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When she heard the door open, her eyes snapped open. She still felt groggy and pains still ached all over her body. Yet despite the great tiredness that she was submerged in, she was not sleepy at all. She felt as alert as she could have, though her head still felt some nausea, which she expected from a probable fever.
She heard light, well-paced footsteps to her bedside. The noise was barely audible even in the bleak silence. She turned to her unwanted savior and her features transformed into a countenance that clearly expressed her utter bewilderment.
"You!" Akari gasped, falling into a coughing fit afterwards. Akira immediately patted her on the back with concern but she pushed him away weakly, her mind feeling delirious. She was miserable enough with the fact that she was not yet dead, but that the one who saved her was someone she was acquainted with was even more distressing.
She had heard that people had once wished themselves dead. Akari wished she could do the same.
"Why are you here?" Akari managed to ask after she stopped coughing, glancing at the young man who sat on a chair next to her bed.
Akira gave a wry smile before answering.
"You're in my home."
"Oh."
Akari shied away from his intense gaze, straining her neck up to glance outside the window as best as she could. The sun did not shine. Instead, it chose to hide behind the winter clouds. The outside looked crisp and beautiful; the almost-blue snow that blanketed the ground was obviously new. It looked cold outside but the inside of the house remained a toasty warm.
Akari finally let down her head when she couldn't hold it up any longer. The pangs of pain that had started to sting the back of neck disappeared instantly when her head met support against the pillow.
She turned to her silent host and questioned, "May I leave then?"
Akari hoped he would say yes. Akira had never struck her as a social person, and she was sure he'd be more than happy to get her out of his hair.
To her disconcertment, the corner of Akira's mouth quirked up and he answered in the utmost polite manner, "I think it is best you get better first, Fujisaki-san."
His politeness masked a command.
A quick burst of anger flamed in her. She was furious with him. He had no right to keep her hostage in his home and he had no right to any of her business. She wondered why he bothered to save her at all. There was no point—she'd just take her life later anyway. She immediately put Touya Akira on a hate list in her head and wished he'd go away and stop bothering her.
A nasty frown formed on her mouth, marking her evident displeasure to the dark-haired boy.
"You can't keep me here!" Akari snapped angrily, managing not to fall into a coughing fit after speaking. She turned her body over on the side away from Akira, rustling the blankets and making as much noise as she could while she did so. She wished she could stand up, or at least sit up to further her defiance, but her body wouldn't let her. She knew she probably couldn't get herself out of the damned house even if he'd let her, but she hated him nonetheless.
Akira stood and walked to the door. He turned the gold doorknob and opened the door. Akari noted that it didn't make a creaking noise like the doors at her old apartment. As he left the room, he spoke softly.
"You should rest, Fujisaki-san."
He closed the door quietly.
When Akari was sure he was gone, she turned over on her back and stared at the ceiling.
Rationality slowly slipped back in her mind and Akari had to admit to herself that no sane person with at least an ounce of compassion would actually let someone in her condition just leave. In all honesty, Akari wouldn't have let Akira leave her home if their positions were reversed.
But their positions were not reversed. Akari was still the prisoner, and he was still the dungeon-master.
Reason left her again.
Akari remembered the life she was living.
She did not want to live.
She did not deserve to live.
She was determined not to live.
Touya Akira prevented her from doing what she most desired.
He was her enemy.
She hated him again.
Akari screamed but the angry shriek came out as a strangled sob, tears burning down her cheeks.
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He wasn't sure what to do with her.
Space wasn't a problem. Akira had made plenty of money from being a professional go player, and he came from a wealthy family anyway. He had inherited the go salon when his father passed away, and he still tutored when time permitted. With his money, he had purchased a beautiful house with more rooms than he could use.
It was the whole manner of how to treat her that was mind-boggling.
Akira did not expect her to thank him when she met him, and he did not begrudge her obviously furious emotions. He knew she probably hated him at the moment, and he knew she wanted to die.
He did not know what he should say her. He did not know how to treat her. He did not know how he should act. He just had no idea what to do with her at all.
He had no experience with this sort of situation whatsoever. Akira did not have many friends, and the few friends he did have were all mostly optimistic, young men who acted a lot younger than they actually were.
He was not well acquainted with socializing with people on personal terms in general.
Especially women.
Akira would have liked to lay the responsibility of Akari onto someone else, Hikaru perhaps. But he already knew that was out of the question.
Akira sighed.
One thing he did know was that he was determined not to let her die.
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A/N: And they finally interact! Woohoo. And this is very curious. Readers have seriously requested Akari/Akira? Where? When? Who? I'm still so astounded by that.