II - A Momentary Fix

She prayed with every fiber in her being that last night never happened. Just a dream, she tried to convince herself, or a very strange drug-induced hallucination. Staying curled up in bed wouldn't tell her one way or the other, however. Truthfully, not knowing at all seemed like a better option.

Atosaki rolled out of bed, still reluctant, throwing open the curtains to allow as much sunlight in as possible, like that would ward off danger. With great hesitation she poked her head outside into the hallway, and she paled immediately after.

The gaping hole in the floor remained, its jagged edges most undesirably recalling her near-death experience. Upon further investigation, Atosaki found that the hole reached soil, straight through the house's foundation. Had the spear reached its intended target, there wouldn't be much left for anyone to find. That was what one might call "massive overkill."

Head clouded with concerns, Atosaki eventually stumbled into the kitchen and sat at the dinner table, breakfast not yet prepared. Her stomach was far too knotted to even think about food. Last night, Atosaki couldn't believe it was real. That man in blue, he'd really been here, really tried to kill her, really spared her life. None of it made sense, and she considered herself a very rational person under normal circumstances. Now, she felt like she was running in circles trying to find answers.

Why, why did he want to kill her? She only ever saw him in passing, and it hadn't seemed that he noticed her. From what he said about the church, Atosaki was almost led to believe that Father Kotomine was somehow involved, but perhaps that was only a coincidence. After all, what kind of ties would he have needed with that spearman anyway?

With a sigh, Atosaki folded her arms on the table and put her head down a moment, and then looked up to see the pile of unread newspapers sitting across from her. She quickly snatched the most recent issue on top, just to distract herself for the time being. The cover story only further reiterated her fears.

Just days earlier a family from this exact same area had been violently murdered under mysterious circumstances. The only survivor out of the four was a young child, the parents and older sister found dead on the scene. They'd all been stabbed cleanly through the heart, reportedly by a sharp unknown weapon.

It scared Atosaki to believe that the same man who almost killed her was also the one responsible for these killings. An entire family—that was too cruel. The reason behind their deaths was still under investigation, though police reports suggested it had been a random act of violence. Atosaki found that hard to believe. If she'd been discovered dead following last night, what would they have called it?

Tossing the paper back with the others, Atosaki began to deeply regret secluding herself so much. If she hadn't been living under a rock for the past few weeks, she could have known about the potential hazard. She wouldn't have ventured out at all. She'd stay where it was safe. Yet, she admitted it, that wasn't any way to live.

At the rate she was going now, things didn't look terribly optimistic. Her heart felt broken, her chest riddled with holes where her loved ones once were. The hollow, empty feeling dragged her down like a weight, further and further until she could barely stand. Doctors said she suffered emotional trauma, although the grief counselors treated it like a small matter, something easily overcome. It wasn't the actual event that made something traumatic though, but rather the triggered emotions and lasting effects which followed.

Atosaki would eventually fall back into her normal routine—however normal one considered her routine—and forget about last night's events. On this rare occassion she fixed a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs with toast, sadly recalling the way her mother always served it with heated coffee milk. Luckily she remembered her morning medication and fetched it from the bathroom cabinet. After all, she'd been looking for the meds immediately before her brush with death.

Back in bed, she kept thinking about that man, no matter how hard she tried to forget. She wouldn't say she hated him but he had instilled a gut-wrenching pain into her soul, forcing her to live even more on edge than before, and she disliked it. His eyes though, his eyes held regret, as if he never wanted to kill her in the first place. And in the end he didn't. So close, he'd come so close.

The thoughts of him kept her awake, perhaps out of fear that he might return and finish the job. Finally Atosaki got out of bed and, still in her day clothing, cleaned up a bit in preparation to leave. She chose the florist shop as the first destination since she figured, after a few weeks, the old arrangement at her parents' memorial needed replacing.

Mums, the cultivated chrysanthemum, those were their favorite flower. Not the small ones either, the petals needed to be full, the center bright and healthy. Atosaki selected a few cuttings of yellow and magenta, ready to purchase when she found herself short on change.

"Shoot, I was sure I brought more," she mumbled, rummaging through her purse. The elderly florist showed sympathy for her plight, but being a penny-pincher offered no discount. "…I only have money for one bunch, sorry."

The memorial under the gingko tree was looking somewhat sad, somewhat lonely, like Atosaki didn't visit enough. She straightened out the glass-framed portraits of her mother and father, placed down the flowers and lit a few candles around them, the flames of which were immediately blown out by a brisk winter wind. Even when the sun shone brightly, Atosaki shivered.

"Hey, guys, something weird happened yesterday," she whispered as she hunkered down near the tree's trunk. "I think I almost died. Aha, I'm okay, don't worry. I just… I almost gave up. I'm so lost nowadays, and going forward is hard. I feel like I'm losing everything. The earthquake took enough from us, now this… We moved so suddenly, and I don't have anyone here for me."

Atosaki paused as the wind blew again and ruffled her long, dark hair. Somehow, this time, it felt warmer, almost in a consolatory way, and somehow it made her feel a little less alone. She smiled a bit, though she still felt chilled, more than usual.

"Sorry I couldn't get more flowers. I guess I should work harder and buy you tons of them later. So… I'll try."

She stood and brushed off her navy jeans, turning back once to look at the faces of her parents.

The walk home was tiring; Atosaki wasn't used to being out for this duration of time. By the time she returned, evening was already upon her, but even in the growing darkness she spotted something colorful on the front porch.

A small bouquet composed of a few flowers. Not just any flowers, the chrysanthemums. She raised a brow as she lifted the tied bundle, inspecting it for any notes or hints as to the identity of the sender. None. Perhaps the old florist had finally come around.

Atosaki filled a tall glass with water and placed the flowers inside, setting it on the kitchen table so she could admire their colors. Vivid pinks and yellows were accompanied by lilac and dark red shades, colors that lit up Atosaki's world. She rested her elbows on the wooden tabletop and set her head down, dizzy for no apparent reason. Her mind eventually drifted off into the haze.

A loud thud outside snapped Atosaki from sleep, setting her back ramrod straight and her hairs on end. She hurried to the door to check for the source of the noise.

What she found almost stopped her heart.

It was that man in blue from last night. He lay face-down on the porch like he had stumbled and fallen there, and fresh blood leaked from his side on the wood. Atosaki was for a moment rendered speechless. Part of her was furious to see him again, yet at the same time she felt sorrow about his pain. She stepped forward cautiously and knelt down, close enough to touch the man's head.

One hand reached out and barely brushed his hair when he flinched, startled. Atosaki couldn't see his face and couldn't imagine the expression. She reached out once more and rested her hand gently atop his head.

"What happened?" she murmured beneath her breath.

"Why… should you… even care?" he asked in return, struggling to form words.

"You're the one bleeding on my doorstep."

Atosaki waited for a response but received none. She wondered if he thought it was safe here, at the house of the girl he tried to kill. Maybe he considered her indebted to him for sparing her life. She'd never know unless he addressed it.

"I-I'll make sure… no one hurts you."

Realizing her hand was subconciously stroking his hair, she wondered why she said that. This man probably damaged her more than anything, psychologically, yet she couldn't leave him in such a state—her conscience wouldn't allow it.

Atosaki bent forward and looped her arms under his, encouraging him to stand. When he rose up, she moved to his side and let him lean against her for support, though his shoulder armor made him awfully heavy. For the first time she got a good glimpse of his features. He was undoubtedly good-looking, with a high brow and strands of hair hanging over his forehead in a devil-may-care style. She blinked a few times, seeing him stare back at her. Her gaze flew downward after a short pause and a moment of sustained eye contact.

"O-okay, let's get you inside," she said quietly, not panicking too hard, or trying to convince herself she wasn't.

Leading him down the hall to the bathroom, around the hole in the floor he'd made, Atosaki flipped on the light and helped prop him against the tub before she searched for a first-aid kit. He was bleeding from the side, so she'd need something that would stanch the blood flow.

"No magic? I'm not important enough, huh," he said in a flippant tone, leaning his head back, wearing a ghost of a smile.

Atosaki paused mid-search and raised an eyebrow.

"Magic…?"

He glanced up at her, the grin faltering.

"You're a magus, just like the last one. I sensed it."

There were now about a hundred questions in Atosaki's mind, bur she didn't bother asking.

"I think you've got the wrong idea," she said, continuing to rummage through the drawers. "I'm not magical or anything, trust me."

Bandages found in a kit under the sink, Atosaki sat down next to the man and began to unwind strips from the roll.

Suddenly he seized her wrist, turned the hand palm-side up and traced something there with a forefinger. He then pressed her hand to his side, whereupon Atosaki felt what seemed like a rush of blood cycle to the fingertips. When he released her hand, she saw that his wound looked completely dry.

"…What…?"

The man laughed humorlessly at her confusion. "Heh, untapped potential I guess. Not bad at all. I'm almost surprised he wanted you dead…"

"Wait, who wanted me d—?"

Atosaki stopped short, nausea overtaking her in a swift tide of progression, like her consciousness was being sapped out through a straw. Her vision darkened and the last thing she remembered was a blur of blue and two arms around her shoulders.