CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – SEEKING
Though the scattered chalk lines on the open field were cleaned up in no time at all, news soon traveled like wildfire across Hope's Peak regarding the "attack of the line markers," as some witnesses called it. Most of those who were not on the field on the day of the incident were understandably skeptical at first, but when students showed up later that weekend with the injuries to prove it, and when word got out that Mahiru Koizumi had taken pictures of the incident, opinions were soon changed. Some laughed at the notion of watching line-marking machines coming to life and zooming around with sentience, while others scoffed with disapproval at the idea of putting engines on them, citing how dangerous and unnecessary it was.
In the aftermath of that day, Kirumi found herself reliving her recollections of that morning over and over. Far from being resentful about what happened, she was thankful that no one got seriously hurt, and that she had lingered on the field long enough to save Kokichi from certain harm. Even when Class 77-B's Kazuichi Soda came over to their table at lunchtime that same day to apologize—most especially to her, given her injury—she could not find it in herself to be angry or even annoyed. Miu and Himiko were understandably upset about being scared half to death, and Tenko insinuated that a beatdown of Kazuichi in the dojo would make up for what happened. Still, the others were more forgiving and told Kazuichi to simply be more careful next time, while some chose not to react much.
And then, there was the other side of the incident as well.
Kirumi knew she would not soon forget the notion that Ryoma had risked his own safety and wellbeing to save her on the open field. The entire scene played out in her mind as if in slow motion. Her standing in the open, right in the path of one of the charging machines; Ryoma darting towards her with an unnatural burst of speed and tackling her to the ground; the two of them running to safety on the sidelines, with his hand holding on tightly to her wrist; and of course, the concern and panic on his face as he checked her for any other signs of hurt. Long after the heat of the moment had subsided, Kirumi dwelt on those things, mulling over them as she gauged Ryoma's intentions then. He could have left, but he came back to help me. There was no doubt that their classmates noticed just how Ryoma had saved her, though most of them were still busy recounting and discussing their own experiences and memories of the incident. On Kirumi's part, the sprained arm that she had as an unfortunate souvenir would also serve as a remembrance of Ryoma's care and concern even long after it had healed.
However, that was not to say that her injury left her with an undesirable side effect. Kirumi had gone back to the clinic earlier, intending to ask if she was physically capable of working again. Mikan Tsumiki, however, was not about to let her have her way, even though the Ultimate Nurse looked fearful within the confines of her own territory as she shared her sentiments to her.
"I'm afraid y-you can't," she told her then, wringing her hands as if she was afraid that Kirumi might shout at her. "Your arm needs to recover fully b-before you can work again. I've already written n-notices to the professors before, so that y-you can just rest for today. Injuries t-take time to heal, and it'll only take longer if y-you don't rest."
"I must work, though," Kirumi had said. "As the Ultimate Maid, I am compelled to keep working. Many of our schoolmates have need of my services, and I would be remiss in my duties if I stop."
Mikan swallowed fretfully. "I understand, b-but your arm will only drag you down if you try. Y-You won't be able to work at the pace that you're used to."
"I might be able to manage," Kirumi declared. Admittedly, it had taken her a slightly longer time to shower and get dressed with her arm in such a state, and she could not tell just how much it would affect her duties, but working with such inconveniences was a sacrifice she was willing to endure for the sake of productivity.
"Miss Tsumiki is right. Working hurt won't get you anywhere, Miss Tojo," another voice intoned. When Kirumi turned to look, she saw Professor Koichi Kizakura exiting the clinic's office, looking slightly disheveled in his usual suit. A weary look was on his handsome face, framed by ragged blonde hair and topped by a worn fedora, but he smiled all the same at the two of them. "You should rest up. I'm sure your schoolmates will do just fine for now without your services."
Kirumi hesitated then, unwilling to argue with a superior in spite of her own insistence. "Don't feel too bad about missing out on a couple of days, or if you don't attend your classes at least for today," Professor Kizakura told her. "Your work ethic is nothing short of amazing, even for an Ultimate's standards. You'd put even some professors around here to shame, myself included," he added with a laugh. "You deserve a break."
"Perhaps, but I'd rather be productive instead of taking days off, sir," Kirumi had responded. "Although . . . I am also in no place to refuse your advice or Mikan's, especially with her knowledge as the Ultimate Nurse."
"Mikan does know her stuff," said Professor Kizakura, smiling at the Ultimate Nurse. "A lot brighter than she makes herself out to be. Whatever she suggests to you, it'll surely help your recovery."
Mikan had twitched a little at that, looking both thrilled and embarrassed at their compliments. "D-Don't worry, Kirumi, I'll come to your dorm e-every now and then to check on your condition. I'll make sure that you get w-whatever you need to recover faster!"
Knowing that there was no other way to go about it, Kirumi conceded with a bow. "Very well, Mikan. Thank you."
Professor Kizakura tipped the brim of his fedora at them. "Good. I'll see you two around, then. Keep up the good work."
And so, taking a bottle of vitamins that Mikan had supplied for her as well as some pain relievers for stronger aches, Kirumi soon found herself languishing inside her dorm room. She let out a quiet sigh as she stared down once more at her right arm, wrapped in a light cast and dangling from a sling that was wound around her neck and shoulder. Thus far, she could only recall two instances when she had been forced to take a break from her duties and routines; once when she came down with the flu during winter season at Milky Way High School, and once when one of her former employers gave her a mandatory day off as a reward for her service. The rest were mostly minor setbacks and discomforts—aching fingers, tired feet, a spot of hunger when she tried to skip a meal just to get as much work done as she could. In that regard, Kirumi recalled the maids that had served the Tojo household when she was still a little girl, and remembered how they showed no signs of faltering in their duty in spite of how tiring their work was; clearing the dining table, keeping the floors spotless, changing the covers on the upholstery, nothing was skipped, and everything was always in place. Kirumi never forgot their work ethic during her days at Milky Way, and she always prided herself on the fact that she managed to emulate her family's maids in their devotion and diligence in spite of the inconveniences that came her way. But also, she remembered the more serious duties she had fulfilled for some of her employers; duties that earned her their extreme gratitude and shining commendation for future work, duties that no ordinary maid would undertake. Kirumi remembered how difficult things had been during those times, how surprised she was of the fact that her considerable capabilities had seen her through—and how jarring it had been at first to step into the grittier side of the professional world where elite businessmen were involved. In such an environment, it had been necessary to use force a few times, and Kirumi had the credentials in her résumé to prove those instances. A pretty little rose with thorns. Regardless, though, it was all part of the sacrifices and hardships one had to endure in a career of dignified, professional servitude, and though she sometimes wondered what differences her vocation would have if she had not taken on those duties, Kirumi knew the wisdom and experience she gained from them helped her principles all the same.
Lunchtime wore on. To alleviate the lonely atmosphere, she tried to play some classical music while reading one of her favorite books, but the urge to find something to clean, wash, sweep or scrub soon began to overwhelm her. It did not help that she chose to keep wearing her maid uniform for the day, in case she did get the green light to carry out her duties in spite of her arm. I can clean my room, she mused, though there was nothing in it that needed any sort of cleaning, not when she made sure to keep it spotless and put everything in place before going out to fulfill her duties as a maid. Such was the routine that she carried out on a daily basis without fail.
Unable to focus on her book anymore, she walked over to the nearby window, looking down upon the open field and part of the courtyard that sat just beneath the shadow of the Ultimates' quarter. A walk might be nice, she thought to herself as she watched the other students meandering on the field, where virtually no trace of the rampaging line markers remained. Even so, Kirumi knew she would soon be plagued by more thoughts on being productive upon seeing both her schoolmates and things that she can do to be productive—fallen leaves that needed sweeping, books that have not been returned to their proper shelves, some clutter outside the classrooms, hedges that have yet to be trimmed. Her injured arm itched to move, and for a moment she almost removed it from her sling to try and see if she could work with it, but a twitch of discomfort caused her to stop. This is more cumbersome than I bargained for, she thought as she relaxed her arm.
Outside, the school's bell tower chimed half past twelve, reminding students that lunchtime was halfway done. Kirumi, however, was too restless to feel hungry, and she knew that a visit to the cafeteria would only make her even more inclined to seek out productivity once she saw all the dirty dishes and the students who had yet to eat. The cooks will be needing help in making tonight's dinner, and Teruteru may want some feedback for today's menu. Perhaps—
A sudden knock brought her thoughts to a halt. Kirumi paused momentarily, wondering if she had misheard, but a second knock soon drew her eyes to her door. Part of her grew puzzled at that; apart from the day when she had been requested to come to the headmaster's office in relation to the small incident with Toko Fukawa and Genocide Jack, no student had come to her dorm room before. Any and all requests that her schoolmates made regarding her services, they made outside, where she could be found either at the cafeteria, the library, or in one of the offices as she helped students and professors alike.
When a third knock rang out, Kirumi straightened up. "Who is it?" she called out tentatively.
"It's me."
Kirumi's eyes widened as she recognized that deep voice. She hurried over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Ryoma was standing before her, his eyes veiled by the shadow of his beanie. A small paper bag was cradled in his right arm, and he was looking around as if he was trying to see if someone else was present. The sight of him immediately made Kirumi feel at ease, though his sudden appearance puzzled her as well.
"Ryoma? What is it?"
Ryoma looked up at her, his round eyes tinged with seriousness. "You weren't at the cafeteria," he stated.
"Ah, no. I've been in here for most of the morning," Kirumi told him. "Were you looking for me, or does someone require my services?"
"It's more of the former," replied Ryoma. "Is it okay if I come in?"
"Oh, of course. My apologies." Remembering her manners, Kirumi stepped aside to let him enter. A queer feeling welled up inside her as she knew that this was the first time she let Ryoma in her room. For obvious reasons, male students having female visitors in their dorms and vice versa was discouraged, and only Kirumi's duties as a maid spared her from scrutiny whenever she paid her schoolmates a visit to clean up their rooms or take their dirty laundry. Then again, she doubted that anyone was keeping a constant, vigilant watch over dorm visitors, and a quick explanation would quell any untoward musings.
Outside her window, a cat meowed. Ryoma froze in his tracks all of a sudden and glanced around, a startled look on his face. "What is it?" Kirumi asked.
"Are there . . . cats here?" Ryoma inquired in return, his tone reluctant for some reason.
"Ah, yes. There are strays that wander inside the campus from time to time. Sometimes they linger on the overhangs outside."
"I see. . ." For a moment, Ryoma looked as if he wanted to walk over to the nearby window to check. Kirumi felt puzzled at his sudden change in demeanor, wondering if he was agitated somehow. No more meowing followed, however, as the cat outside seemingly wandered off to a new spot. Only then did Ryoma relax.
"So what brings you here, Ryoma?" Kirumi asked him as they sat down at the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the cleanliness of her room.
If Ryoma was taking this time to secretly observe her quarters, he was doing a good job hiding it. After a brief pause, he leaned over and deposited his paper bag on the table. "I wondered if you haven't eaten yet, since I didn't see you around with the others at the cafeteria, so I . . . I brought you something to eat."
Kirumi sat there, momentarily speechless. The slight tension in Ryoma's demeanor made it obvious to her that he had done this on his own accord, and not without reservations. Even so, that did nothing to change how startled—and thrilled—she felt. Fleetingly, she recalled all the times he had gifted her with snacks from the school's convenience store, and how happy she had been with every single one of them. This time, however, felt different for some reason. Perhaps it was the way their roles were reversed after many days of her being the one bringing him food for lunch.
"Don't worry, it's not stuff from the convenience store this time," Ryoma assured her. "I went to the kitchens and asked around. They had chicken cordon bleu, carbonara, pork roast with mixed veggies, and soup. Cream of asparagus, I think. I didn't know what you'd prefer, so I . . . I got all four. I couldn't carry it all on one tray, so I requested that they just put it all in some containers for easier carrying. I forgot to bring some tea, though."
Kirumi could only nod, feeling slightly overwhelmed by something other than the food. "That's okay. But what about—?"
"Don't worry, I've eaten already," Ryoma told her before she could finish her question. "I did get some extra soup, though. Figured I'd have another helping, since it was a tasty batch."
"Yes, that . . . that does sound good," said Kirumi, smiling.
Ryoma nodded. "Hang on, I'll help you prepare," he said, standing up.
"Ah, there's no need, I can manage!" Kirumi tried to stand up in spite of herself, but Ryoma waved his hand to stop her.
"No, I've got it," he told her firmly. "Do you need some extra utensils? I can go get some."
"N-No, it's okay." Kirumi looked at him helplessly. "Ryoma, you don't have to do this."
"It's alright," said Ryoma. "You're injured, so you shouldn't strain your arm too much."
"I'll be fine," Kirumi pressed. "Really, you shouldn't be troubling yourself like this. You've been inconvenienced enough."
"It's not a problem to me." The look Ryoma gave her had a nervous air again, but there was concern there as well, and the sight of it stopped her. "I'm not trying to patronize you just because of your injury, so if it seems like that, I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay." Kirumi sat back down, feeling self-conscious all over again as she bowed her head and avoided Ryoma's gaze. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to sound impolite or ungrateful. I'm just not . . . not used to something like this."
Ryoma nodded. "I understand," he said. For a long moment, no one said a word, and Kirumi found herself wishing that she had kept her maid instincts under better control. She half-expected Ryoma to leave, but instead he cleared his throat and spoke up again.
"You should eat. Your food's getting cold," he told her. With that, he opened the paper bag and carefully took out the food he brought. Everything was put in disposable containers with plastic utensils to go with them, making it easy to eat without worrying about any dirty dishes. Their smells enticed Kirumi in spite of herself.
Ryoma sat back down across her, mixing the bowl of soup that he had gotten for himself. "I hope I got enough food," he remarked. "I can go back and get some more if you want."
"This is more than enough, thank you." Kirumi savored the aroma of creamy asparagus before trying out a spoonful of soup herself, exhaling with contentment as warmth and flavor coursed through her. She tried the carbonara next, chewing on a mouthful and realizing that she was hungrier than she initially thought. Thankfully, her uninjured arm was up to the task as she picked at the pasta, chicken and pork before her, taking adequate but nourishing bites. In between, Ryoma kept her up to date about what happened during lunchtime, and whether she missed out on anything during the morning periods.
When the carbonara was gone and only half of the pork and chicken remained, Ryoma asked, "How's your arm holding up?"
"It's doing well enough," replied Kirumi. "Getting dressed proved trickier than I expected, but other than that, there are no problems."
"Just remember the RICE method," said Ryoma. "Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. It's a simple routine, but it worked well in helping us players recover when we had minor sprains."
"Yes, thank you. Mikan suggested similar things as well."
"Good. Kaede's been asking around too, checking who might be available to take your place in the festival if you're not cleared to participate by then."
The revelation made Kirumi feel anxious. "Please tell her that I'll make it. No one has to take over for me. I'll do my best to recover faster."
"Just let your healing progress naturally," Ryoma reminded her. "There's no harm in spending a bit more time recovering when it comes to injuries. The others won't mind, I'm sure."
"Even so, I'll do my best to ensure a speedy recovery. It'd be unfair to have someone else take over the duties I've been asked to do in the first place. And there is also your practice for la—"
"It'll be fine, alright? Don't push yourself."
The forcefulness in Ryoma's tone was only there for a brief moment, but Kirumi was surprised by it nonetheless. Ostensibly becoming aware of how he raised his voice a little, Ryoma looked away and set down his cup of soup. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound aggravated," he said in a gentler manner, even though his previous tone was nowhere near as jarring as he was making it out to be. "I'm just thinking about . . . about a few things."
Though he meant to sound discreet, Kirumi already had some speculation about what exactly Ryoma might be thinking about. "I apologize as well. I didn't mean to sound officious like that," she said. "But . . . Ryoma, you're not doing this to make up for what happened at the field, are you?"
Ryoma sighed, giving her the confirmation she needed. "Well, that's one thing," he confessed. "I mean, I did cause you to sprain your arm."
"While you were saving me from one of the line markers," Kirumi reminded him. "We talked about this before, right? If you weren't there, I would've been hurt a lot worse."
"I know, I know. I'm just . . ." Ryoma hesitated, flexing his fingers anxiously. He took a deep breath and leaned back against his chair. "Remember what I said during the night when we ran into Genocide Jack? When I was getting worked up because of what happened? I said back then, just like I said yesterday, that I don't want to see you getting hurt. Well, there's a reason I was so riled up."
At that moment, time seemed to stand still within the walls of Kirumi's room. Before Kirumi could say anything, however, Ryoma winced and waved his hand. "It's not the best time to bring it up, I'll admit. I don't want to bother you while you're still eating."
"I'll be fine. I'm just about done anyway, since I don't think I can finish all this in one sitting," said Kirumi. As curious as she felt, though, she did not want to prod any further lest she sour Ryoma's first visit to her quarters. Before her, the corners of Ryoma's lips twitched into a grimace, and she could only wonder what kind of mental battle he was waging as he looked steeped in serious thought. She waited, busying herself by repacking the leftover food and giving him the space he needed, and assuring herself that whatever he would say next, she would be content with simply listening.
At last, Ryoma spoke again, his voice heavy. "I've seen many people get hurt. It's a common thing during the time I was still playing. You see people getting hurt during practice or even in competitions, cramping horribly or hyperextending their arms or spraining their ankles. I've had my fair share of injuries as well. Even so, I shrugged them all off. I knew that it's all part of the training and the competition, that it's unavoidable sometimes. It helped me come to terms with how normal it was, and I knew it won't ever stop me from trying again. That's why I can respect your dedication to your work as a maid in spite of your injury.
"But pain isn't exactly just about exhaustion or injured limbs or that kind of stuff. I learned that the hard way when I tangoed in the underworld, though I doubt anyone in my shoes would've been prepared for something like that. But it wasn't just about dealing with pain alone that makes it so bad. It's about seeing others get hurt far worse."
At that, Ryoma's voice quivered a little, but he recovered quickly enough. "In tennis, in sports, it was normal. I couldn't care much because it happens to anyone and everyone. There's little you can do at that point. We stood back up, dusted ourselves off, recovered and kept going. No need to check on others or even yourself, so I just walked it off and watched my fellow athletes do the same. I guess part of that came from the fact that no one among our batch suffered any career-enders, so we thought we were invincible. But in real life, when the world starts caving in around you and you're running out of breath in fear, when the dark reality of a situation draws closer and closer . . . it's terrifying. It forces you to face things that you never dreamt of facing, makes you realize that you're anything but invincible. It shows you just how quickly everything can go downhill without any sign of recovery, and all the while it makes you wonder how it came to that. It's bad enough when other people close to you get involved, and even worse when you know that you brought it on them and yourself."
He leaned back against his chair, a heavy look on his round eyes. "I lost my family, and Isabella too. I couldn't do anything about it. The pain from that hurt a lot worse than all the wounds and injuries I ever took. I kept asking myself why it ended that way, even though I knew the answer all along. They died because of what I did, and what I failed to do. That's when the reality hit me like a train: that there's always a chance to protect the ones you love before it's too late. I always had a choice, but I was too reckless to make the right one, and my loved ones died because of it. If only I'd done something differently, my family and Isabella would still be alive. But it was too late, and I knew that it won't matter how many times I think about that in prison. Regret won't bring any of them back, and it'd only be a matter of time before my turn came—that is, until things changed and I ended up coming here, and that made me revisit these thoughts all over again." Ryoma looked across the table, straight into Kirumi's eyes. "That day on the field, when I saw what was happening, I thought I acted on mere instinct, but I knew it was more than that."
Words failed Kirumi as Ryoma's gaze continued to pierce straight through her being. She could feel the seriousness in his deep voice, lending his words an air of unmistakable sincerity. She took a deep, silent breath, trying to think of something to say in return, but her heart kept beating loudly and forestalling her thoughts. Unbidden, the sentiments she had uttered to Peko came floating back to her.
"It was something you would have done for anyone," she managed to say after a while. "You are kinder than you think, Ryoma. You would surely help anyone in need if you can, and they'd deserve it. I am but a maid. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for what you did, but if maids like me get in trouble, I don't think it'll be of much concern to anyone."
"It's a concern to me," Ryoma insisted, "and to anyone who sees you as a friend. We've been here before, Kirumi. Just because you're a maid doesn't mean you deserve any less than that. And seeing you almost get hurt like that . . . it reminded me of what happened to Isabella and my family. I failed to help and protect them before, and I'm not about to let that happen again, especially with you." He sighed and looked away. "I might sound like I'm trying to be overly gallant, but I don't think there's any other way for me to say that. I'm not doing this just because you're helping me. I'm doing this because I . . . I care about you."
Kirumi swallowed, wondering if the lump in her throat and the way her heart leapt were connected. Indeed, the sentiment that Ryoma was showing—the concern, the openness, the affection—made her feel more overwhelmed than she had ever felt on the field in the face of those rampaging line markers. She still recalled the time when her own family had stopped communicating with her following her career choice, solidifying her notion that being a maid also meant being only secondary to other people, regardless of her skill or work ethic. From out of nowhere, she remembered part of what her father had said to her back then, words that she thought she had moved on from when she left their household in Nara to pursue her goals. "You think people will respect you if you debase yourself that way? You will only obtain respect for as long as you are useful to them." During her years at Milky Way, when the days took their toll and mistakes seemed frequent, there were a few times when Kirumi found herself wondering if her father had the right of it. After all, people never really looked twice upon a maid at work, and in spite of her employers' benevolence, she knew that everything depended on her service and usefulness to them, elsewise she would be dismissed and left to find a new employer. I was always just a maid to most of them, she knew. And yet here was a person who shunned such notions and chose to befriend, help and care for someone like her in that strangely expressive way he had, in spite of his own demons and the embittered life he had been left in, in spite of him having even far less than what she had.
Ryoma shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I . . . I might have said too much there."
"No, Ryoma," Kirumi quickly said. She could feel her face giving off heat, and she wondered if he noticed how flushed she had become. "I'm not offended, don't worry. I'm just . . . at a loss for words, to be honest. You are too kind." She swallowed her oncoming nervousness, buying herself some time to think of more to say. "There are many things that I am not used to, I'm afraid. And hearing such concern and kindness from someone I look up to, it's quite an uplifting experience."
Now it was Ryoma's turn to blush as he turned away, and the sight of it made Kirumi's heart feel light. "You're not the only one who's not used to hearing stuff like that," he said. "And it's a wonder that I can be as uplifting as you say."
"You are more admirable than you make yourself to be, I've told you so before. You fight against your own insecurities and doubts, and show compassion to those around you in spite of the scars you bear, and the suffering you have gone through. Even though some might not see it, even though you say otherwise, you have a knack for showing your heart. I . . . I admire that about you."
Kirumi realized too late how soft her voice had become, as if her tone betrayed just how much intimacy there seemed to be between her and Ryoma at the moment. She drew her gaze away from him, feeling just as self-conscious as he looked, and soon she espied his left hand resting on the table. For one ludicrous instance, Kirumi felt an urge to reach out and take it, the fingers of her uninjured hand stretching out on the table—
Suddenly, a bell began to ring outside, its shrill sound signaling to the rest of the school that lunchtime was about to conclude. Kirumi drew back, startled out of her reverie. Unaware of her previous thoughts, Ryoma glanced at the nearby window.
"I guess that's my cue to go back," he said. "You're excused from any afternoon classes, right?"
"Yes," said Kirumi, pulling her hand away. "Mikan has already informed our professors about it. Tomorrow, I should be able to come back to class."
Ryoma nodded, stood up and went over to the door, with her following behind to see him off. "If there's anything important that you'll miss out on, I'll make sure to tell you," he said as they went.
"Thank you, Ryoma. I appreciate that."
"No problem. How about dinner? If you're unable to come to the cafeteria, I can bring you some food again before my practice tonight."
"Ah, there's no need for that. There is still some food left over here. It should be enough to get me by for tonight. I don't eat that much during nighttime anyway."
Ryoma sighed. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"
"Yes." Kirumi inclined her head. "I truly appreciate your concern, Ryoma, but I'll be fine for the most part. It's the waiting that I'm worried about. I guess I'll just have to figure out something else that I can do while my arm heals."
"Well, if you need company, I'll make sure to visit from time to time," said Ryoma. "Just remember what I told you, alright? RICE method."
Kirumi smiled. "Don't worry, it won't ever slip my mind." Along with everything else that we said to each other. With that, Ryoma bade her goodbye and left her room, and for all her thoughts of going outside and being productive instead of staying in, she found herself wishing that he could stay for a little while longer.
The evening gave off a colder chill than normal inside Hope's Peak Academy, but Ryoma was sweating all the same as he chased after his last serve. The sound of his shoes and chains hitting the floor rang out almost deafeningly amidst the cavernous expanse of the gymnasium. Practicing alone was not exactly a foreign activity to him, but Kirumi's absence did make the atmosphere feel less dynamic for some reason, even as he moved and served and struck ball after ball upon the gymnasium's wall. Then again, Ryoma felt that it might be for the best, considering how awkward he felt with the things he had said to her earlier. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut, he told himself grudgingly, though he knew that keeping things in would have taken their toll sooner or later. In the aftermath of the incident on the open field, when he had finally gone back to his own quarters to rest and digest what happened, Ryoma had found that he was unable to move on from the encounter with Kirumi. A part of him had wanted to laugh at how overly worried he had seemed, but seeing Kirumi come out of the clinic with her left arm in a sling had told him he was right to be anxious. Later that same day, he had wanted to visit her in her room, if only to check on her and keep her company for a short while, but the potentially intrusive nature of such a move had stopped him. In the end, he spent the rest of the night going over his thoughts—and his feelings. And now, after his most recent meeting with her, things seemed to come to a head. Grimacing, he served anew, sending the ball flying back to the wall and reengaging in a rally with his own self.
On the one hand, his memories of Isabella were starting to resurface more frequently, memories so distant that Ryoma always thought he had forgotten them already. Then again, how could one ever forget what was previously shared between two souls? She loved me, and I loved her. The rush and pangs of youth may have contributed to their relationship then, but he could not deny what he had felt with Isabella. She loved me, and died for it, he thought bitterly as he smashed the ball towards the wall again. She made me the happiest guy alive, and in return I let her die. Kirumi would disagree, he knew; after all, it had not been his hands that held the guns and pulled the triggers, but Ryoma could never escape the fact that everything was his fault, whether it involved Isabella's death or his family's. All of a sudden, playing tennis felt bitter all over again, and he caught the ball in his hands as it returned only to send it sailing across the gymnasium in frustration. It rebounded upon the bleachers and bounced across the floor with dull thuds as he watched it go. Shaking his head, he turned and sat down on the spot where he had placed his gear earlier, throwing his racket aside and sitting in brooding silence for a few minutes.
That brought him back to Kirumi. She's my friend. That's all there is to it. But the mere fact that Ryoma had to tell himself so meant that there was already more to it than that. He tried shrugging the idea aside, musing that his mind must be working too hard on putting things into perspective to the point where he was starting to imagine things, but there was no mistaking what he was feeling. Spending month after month in a cold jail cell enduring bitter highs and nihilistic lows had left him completely devoid of joy and hope, to the point where his recollections of his family and Isabella felt like forgotten fairy tales instead of actual memories. As such, any change in his being, from the way his heart would perk up with excitement to the way he would feel at peace with the world, felt so new that there was no way he could not notice it—and he noticed as well just how many times he had felt so in Kirumi's company. Digging deeper in his reminiscences, there was only one other instance in his life when he felt such profound serenity, and that had been when Isabella was still alive. Does that mean anything? In spite of the question he posed to himself, somewhere inside him he felt that he knew the answer already, though things did not end there. Whenever he reflected on the two, Ryoma always saw that they had their similarities. Both were compassionate, determined, kindhearted and future-oriented; always ready to cheer him on, always ready to help him and others, and always the kind of person who would stay by someone's side when they need it. Back then, Ryoma dismissed the thought with the idea that people always had similarities with one another, but what about those who made a person feel a certain way?Again, he remembered the open field, when he had been seized with panic upon seeing Kirumi in danger. "It was something you would have done for anyone," she had said regarding his efforts to save her then. That much was true, Ryoma conceded. If anyone else had been within his reach on the field, he knew that he would have made time in order to save them from the line markers. But where everything else was concerned, none of his classmates made him feel the same way that he felt with Kirumi. Of course, that was not to say his classmates made for poor company; indeed, in spite of their many eccentricities, they were a colorful bunch that most people could get along with easily, as Ryoma slowly found out. With Kirumi, on the other hand, it was . . . different.
Sighing, he stood up at last and went over to pick up his racket, having had enough of his warring feelings for now. I can't let this distract me too much, not with the evaluations coming closer. Anxiety snaked its cold tendrils through his veins, and immediately he knew that he had to ground himself. Walking over to his spot on the floor and readying a fresh ball from his gear, Ryoma could only wonder what was in store in the next few days—or indeed, in the following years of his stay in the school. As inane as it felt to assume that his conversation with Kirumi would lead to something that would reach that far, something in him already sensed that he may have put certain things in motion. Regardless, there was at least one point that he was absolutely sure of. As long as she's okay, it'll be fine. That's what matters. No matter what I said earlier, no matter what I'm thinking about now, I won't change how I treat her. I'll keep doing my best to help her, to be there for her in the same way she has been there for me.
All manner of thought went flying out of his mind as the door to the gymnasium opened. Has it already been that long? Ryoma had no watch at hand, and the intensity of his training—and, indeed, his thoughts—had made him lose track of turned, expecting to see someone telling him that the gymnasium would be closing, but he stopped as he saw Kirumi standing at the gym's entrance. He blinked, wondering for one bewildered second if he was staring at a mirage. It was far from that, however, as Kirumi stepped forward, closing the door carefully behind her and walking over to him. Her shoes tapped softly on the floor as she went. She was still in her maid uniform, her arm still held by a sling, but she looked as beautiful as ever.
"H-Hey," Ryoma said without thinking.
Kirumi inclined her head. "I hope I'm not interrupting you," she said.
"Not really," he replied. "It's just that . . . well, I wasn't expecting you." He shifted where he stood, looking around nervously for a moment before glancing back at her. "You're not here to assist me, are you? I mean, you're still—"
"I know. Don't worry, I'm not here for that." Kirumi brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, smiling almost shyly. "I was reading in my room when I figured that . . . that I needed some company."
Such simple words, and yet Ryoma felt his heart leap from out of the blue upon hearing them. A feeling of contentment and security welled up in him, lending more credence to his previous musings. At the back of his mind, his earlier doubts reared their heads, but Kirumi's presence seemed to chase them away. In that instant, everything just felt right.
"Same here," he said, managing to smile back.
A/N: Another month, another update, another slight delay. My apologies, dear readers. Stuff just keeps happening, and I've been feeling quite anxious after applying for a new job only recently after a long time being unemployed. I cannot say what'll happen next, or how much my writing will be affected if I get hired, but as always I shall do my very best to keep writing for you all, and I'm very grateful for your patience and understanding. Take care of yourselves, see you in the next update!