Written ginny who is ready to graduate high school
six: finding the smallest rock
Akira laid down another piece of the universe, his pale fingers dipping into the black nothingness whilst putting into place a gleaming star. As the game between Hikaru and Akira continued, one by one, the stars would come to light.
"Mm," Akira tipped his head in thought at Hikaru's next move.
"Huh," Akira's fingers gently tapped against one of the cold stones waiting to be brought to light.
"Hn," Akira gazed at the universe before stealing a quick glance at his opponent.
"What is it?" Hikaru finally demanded impatiently, knowing full well that Akira had something on his mind. He had let it slide before, but it seemed recently that Akira's mind was strangely preoccupied—which may have been quite normal for regular people, but was something very unusual for his rival. And what was stranger was that it seemed to Hikaru that Akira's mind was only getting more preoccupied, not less.
"It isn't really anything," Akira brushed away Hikaru's query, but Hikaru arched an imperious eyebrow. There was no need for Hikaru to push Akira to talk any further; Akira already knew Hikaru wouldn't let it go at this point.
"Didn't you have a friend named Akari?" Akira finally brought up the subject he had longed to discuss with his rival for a while now.
Hikaru looked surprised. This was not a question he was expecting. He looked up thoughtfully before replying; "I haven't seen her in the longest time. It's been ages… not since the funeral, actually."
"Funeral?" Akira was clearly surprised. He hadn't heard any news of a funeral before.
"Her daughter and husband's funeral."
After the game, Akira walked especially fast that night instead of taking his time and paying any attention to the still beauty of the night. He opened the gate to his house and unusually clumsy fingers fumbled with his keys. Managing to get the door open, he laid down his bags and removed his coat, hanging it onto one of the brass hooks that lined up beside his door.
His throat was parched. A feeling welled up in his stomach and he felt the deepest pain when he thought of his guest. From the instant he had brought Akari into his home, Akira had not known how to react at all. And after he realized that the Akari he now saw was incredibly unlike the one he had met before, Akira hoped that maybe if he found the reason for her depression he'd be able to help her.
"Her husband and daughter died in a car crash a while back—about a year ago," Hikaru said, his eyes clearly showing sympathy towards his childhood friend.
Akira shook his head as he dwelled back on Hikaru's words. Now that Akira knew the cause, he was even more lost.
The back of his throat itched and Akira swallowed, his mouth dry. He walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. The kitchen was not lit, but the few rays of the moon dimly transpired the room with light. Akira stood at the doorway; a sinking feeling of knowing something was misplaced was swimming in his stomach.
The first thing he noticed was a knife with the slightest streak of blood on it casually lying on the wooden floor a few feet away from him. Panic rose inside of him and he rushed towards the crumpled girl sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth.
He heard her heaving sobs and she finally turned around and moaned pathetically.
"I couldn't do it…"
His eyes zeroed in on the tiny cut that she had started on her arm—before, he assumed, she tossed the knife away. A part of him wanted to shake her for trying to end her life. A part of him wanted to squeeze her to death for not succeeding. But most of him stood there, a few feet away from her, looking but not moving and staying a great distance away from her.
Akira continued. He still did not know anything, and it was so very uncomfortable to him. Everything was moving without him and he was staying in place, confused. Life was strange when the one laying down the stars was not him.
"I couldn't do it…" Akari mumbled again, her tear streaked face looked at her arm with disdain.
And Akira wondered—did she think she was weak because she could not do it?
His feet moved. One by one, he took steps towards Akari and it was almost surreal for Akira didn't feel like he was commanding the steps at all. It felt almost like he had the tiniest amount of control over his body; it reacted while his mind dumbly tried to rationalize and react and think and try not to be stuck in the perpetual confusion that was consuming him.
Akira went to her and arms placed themselves around her body in an awkward position. His body was moving, and he wasn't sure what to do, but there was a pang in him that he was not familiar with but was compelling him to make her feel better. In an almost magnetic way, Akira felt drawn to her body. She seemed not to notice his touch at all, and Akira continued to move his arms until they settled around her less awkwardly and more comfortably.
Still, her touch was cold but the awkwardness began to settle comfortably between them.
His mouth opened and he spoke.
"Fujisaki-san," he started. "It's okay, Fujisaki-san."
She continued to sob.
A/N: I updated! Finally. I just got back from backpacking and had been quite busy with high school grad. At least its over. YES! Anyway, I shall be quite busy with college now, but I will still try to update. And yesss, we finally find out why Akari's all messed up in the head. I really didn't want her to be totally aching over Hikaru and wanting to kill herself over something so cliché and unrealistic—that was a goal of this before I even started writing. I really wanted to write depressed, suicidal Akari, but one with a legitimate reason.