Out in the chills of winter, the air is saturated with a strong scent of festivity that repels the bitter elements. Though biting, it does not dissuade the jovial crowds from partaking in the excitement of community spirits.
Yet on a different spectrum, she is alone again, not out of deliberation, but involuntarily forced to the side without a reason.
Shisui and Nanami did not return, and for reasons beyond her understanding, the gloominess settles at the thought of their 'disappearance.'
The rest of the group, on Yuki's persistence, have all returned to the Council's Mission celebration. But Honoka does not have a valid ticket for entry. Her entire savings for this month went into the very expensive dress she is wearing. And uncomfortable as it is on her, she resists the incessant chafing that angrily presses against her sensitive skin.
Honoka is not use to the feelings of uncomfortable clothing. Never has she thought to remove herself from the comfort of her basic wardrobe to something so extravagant.
But in recent weeks, she found herself staring obsessively between the mirror and her wardrobe, desperately seeking an answer to her dressing conundrum.
Unsure of its origin, she was able to narrow it down to a manifestation of discomfort and resentment. These feelings, she found, exacerbated when Shisui gave that praising comment to Nanami's dress. Honoka does not understand why something so mediocre as a dress would warrant such a pleasing remark.
Perhaps it was attributed to her lack of social understanding, but she discovered the wardrobe fussing escalated post incident.
Confused and apprehensive, Honoka spent numerous hours in the library. She scanned through copious amounts of books, only to hit dead ends when these newly spawned emotions and actions are concerned.
And through trial and error, she thought purchasing a similar dress to Nanami's would resolve the inner turmoil.
But the beginning was difficult. For hours on end, she wandered through the village stores and observed the people.
As if they knew exactly what they wanted, or what they were looking for, Honoka struggled. She would stare haphazardly at the clothes, and watched the women and girls - mothers and daughters, girls with their friends - whisper, laugh and swapped ideas.
A part of Honoka wished she had assistance with such matters. Only when she decided to resign from her search did the sounds of familiar voices catch her attention.
She did not mean to pry, but Izumi and two other girls were discussing wardrobe options. Absent-mindedly, Honoka chose the dress Yuki and Nanami left behind. Regardless of what they selected, it would be better than what she would have picked. And with unacknowledged hope, Honoka remained wishful that Shisui would give her the same comment he did with Nanami.
Fast-forward a day and a half later and she has not heard him speak praise.
Her mind is now dazed and troubled by his absence, yet she follows her instincts to the gates of Konoha's Atheneum.
And just like that, she sees Shisui.
His watch is oddly transfixed on a rapidly speaking Nanami, who is staring back at him as if the world around her has ceased to exist.
Honoka's gaze does not falter. It lingers uneasily on the hand that Nanami has wrapped around Shisui's arm.
For the first time, there is a surge of animosity that transpires, followed by a strong pressing feeling that wrenches brutally against her chest.
Bewildered, Honoka steps back and disappears from the crowd. The painful sensation hovers ever so heavily against her as she makes for her apartment.
Quiet and lonely, she sits there in dead silence. Her mind disengages from the babble of conversations and music from the outside.
Afraid of these feelings, she does not dare move from her position. Even after the unconscious world settles, her body remains anxious, wary of intruders that only exist within her mind.