:: Attempt 02 | A Beautiful Indifference ::

"Cause there is hate and there is love and there is loss,
But there is light and there is dark, then there is us.
And whether this world burns, is none of your concern,
Caught up in a ticker-tape parade.

"I have learned to stand up and just to walk away,
Sometimes the cold hearts aren't worth the love or the hate.
Learn to let go, learn to walk away.
Up from the shadows I'm seduced by the light of the flame,
But this time I'm here to stay."

-"A Beautiful Indifference" by Rise Against

x + x

< ? >

The world slows, turns, moving faster and faster, as rapidly as I have ever seen it. It tilts to the side, spinning, tumbling again and again, over and over until I can't tell which is the sky and the earth, and all I can feel is the ground, all I'm holding on to.

All I see are shades of red and gold, blending into one, a hazy blur. I want to close my eyes, to shut it all out, but I can't-- I can't look away.

I can't look away from the destruction.

I can't deny that everything I've known is gone,

Gone,

Gone.

No parents, no three o'clock meriendas right on the dot, no nothing.

Yet the world keeps turning, spinning faster and faster until I can't help but wish it doesn't stop. Until all I see - all I know - is the endless yellow, the stupidly bright light.

I can't look away.

Because if I do - I'll lose everything I've believed in all over again.

x + x

"Never show any weakness, Aoi. Do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, let your emotions get the best of you; they shall be your catalyst of destruction. Do you understand?"

'Treis' words echo in my head as I repeatedly slam my right leg against the rubber dummy's neck. I lower the limb, before shifting my balance to my left foot, throwing out my right elbow into a strike towards its sternum. It briefly collides with my intended target, and I subsequently whirl around on one leg, executing a poorly attempted kick to its cheek. Off-balanced, I tumble to the thick training mats in a distracted heap.

"Damn it all.." I hiss, swiping a hand across my sweat-drenched brow.

I'm still too weak, too volatile for this mission. I let myself get easily thrown off-guard when that conniving bastard (otherwise known as Asano Gakushu) easily overpowered me. Were all the years I spent training out of his sight useless? Were they? Or was it my fault all over again?

Never again, I inwardly seethe, slamming a white-knuckled fist onto my trembling legs. Shaking from exhaustion, I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself as I tuck myself into a tiny ball; secluded from the rest of the world in this training room.

If I failed..

Well, there wasn't exactly a future I'm willing to look forward to.

As such, I have to be the one to kill that abomination. Otherwise I'll never be proven worthy, that still have a purpose in this cruel world.

Even if it means hurting others in the process.

x + x

"They are too young, Sousuke; Aoi is only ten years old! Surely this can--"

"Ten is never too young to know the truth, Mina," Father replies calmly as he stares placidly at her. I dig my fingernails deeper into the wood, watching as Mother shakes her head wildly, clutching at her handkerchief, wringing her hands. That's how she's always been when agitated; a mass of frenzied energy coursing through her limbs. She frowns, pursing her lips as a rebuttal takes shape upon the very tip of her tongue.

"Aoi is a smart child; she can take this well enough for her age."

Mother shakes her head again, tenaciously holding back tears. "But the boy - Gakushu - he is merely nine years of age! Now, are you telling me that he can handle this... This 'truth' of yours?"

A grim smile - peculiar even in this tension-filled scenario - curls Father's pale lips upward; a calloused hand reaching up to place itself upon my mother's shoulder.

"They will be fine, Mina. This may turn out to be one of the fairy tales you love most, after all.

"Only the roles are reversed - she as the knight for her prince."

x + x

I wake from such an unwanted dream.

A gasp slips through my lips as a familiar burn traces its way across my chest, starting from an approximate area near my left collarbone. Hissing in pain, I sit up; gingerly fingering the old scar beneath my clothing.

It has already been seven, nearly eight years since I received this wound. Yet why? Why did it still hurt?

Perhaps it was a faint reminder that I will never forget. Even now, in the dim light of this training room, I can see faint trickles of blood marring my pale skin; imaginary streams of crimson tainting my hands. A shudder passes through my body, my shoulders drawing closer to my chin as I pull my knees to my chest, breathing shallowly with my best efforts.

A sharp stab of pain.

A constricting disturbance in my lungs.

My vision immediately becomes unfocused, hand clutching at my shirt as I bend over, gasping for air. Bile crawls its way up my throat, a disgusting burn prickling at the very back of my mouth as I try - desperately - to blink back the tears.

I can't afford to be weak; not now, not ever.

"A-Aoi-sama?!"

Tsubaki's panicked voice greets me amidst the pain I feel - a fragile anchor to the bitter reality I don't want to face. Her hands rub circles upon my sweat-drenched back as she carefully set me upright. I cough, wheezing for air - for the precious oxygen my lungs crave despite the agony it wracked upon my body.

Tears still stream down my cheeks, even as I futilely reach up to wipe them away. I can't be vulnerable. These were weaknesses; obstacles to my goal. I can't fail again.

The consequences are too steep.

"Are-are you alright, Aoi-sama?"

"How.. many... times," I gasp, tightening my grip on my shirt as I try to meet her worried eyes; unwanted tears obscuring my vision. "..have I reminded you to just call me 'Aoi'?"

Her brows furrow as her hand settles against the small of my back; the other holding a fresh towel. "I don't know.." She whispers tentatively. "Once?"

I let out a garbled chuckle, only to cough seconds later. Immediately, she hands the towel over to me. I take it from her trembling fingers, pressing it against my forehead. Taking deep breaths, I try my best to calm myself down. Once I decide I'm fine (or at least a vague semblance of it, as I'm evidently far from being 'fine'), I start to stand, much to her worried exclamations. I wave them away, wobbling only slightly.

I shouldn't rely on someone else. They will only leave me in the dust soon enough; he had proven that to me years ago.

"Is there.. anything you need to tell me?"

I raise an inquisitive brow at Tsubaki, who merely averts her gaze, fiddling with her trembling fingers as she attempts to speak. The drenched towel dangling loosely from my fingers, I rock back on my heels, blowing a stray strand of my unruly hair out of my eyes. It had long since fallen out of the intricate braid I usually kept it in, and was now framing my face in sweat-soaked locks.

"Tsubaki," I call her name, earning a startled jolt passing through her tense figure. I sigh, shaking my head - and ending up barely able to restrain myself from letting loose a barrage of foul obscenities as my disheveled tresses obscured my vision once more. "You don't need to be so nervous. I'm just... myself, not my father."

She blinks incredulously, as though unable to believe that a Hanazono was able to condescend to speak with someone 'of lower rank', as my father might have said.

"But Aoi-sama--"

"No need for the '-sama' suffix," I cut off her stuttering, smiling a little awkwardly as I wave off her incoming protests. "As I've said earlier, I'm but myself, Aoi, and not my father. You don't need to address me in such a formal manner.

"Now," I adjust the hem of my shirt, frowning slightly as it barely reaches my waist. It's uncomfortable. I guessed I'd have to speak with Fujimoto about several conditions on my attire. "Did you need to speak to me about something?"

Propping up her crooked glasses with a hand, Tsubaki flushes an obvious scarlet - a very, very noticeable sign that something had gone awry. Fiddling with her fingers once more, she lowers her head, whispering almost inaudibly: "A-Asano-dono is waiting for you downstairs."

Predictably, as soon as the dreaded words left her lips, the sheepish smile vanished from my face, to be replaced with the rigid set of my jaw as I clench my fists at my side. That imbecile has the nerve to come here this early? Oh, he will soon wish he is already six feet under by the time I head down the stairs.

Forcing a polite smile, I thank Tsubaki for telling me beforehand. Then I turn on my heel; tiny trickles of blood already dripping from my fingers as my fingernails dig into my palms.

x + x

"What, exactly, are you doing here?"

A smug smile curls his lips, even as I level a murderous glare at his lax form. No doubt he finds this sort of scenario unbearably amusing - a petite girl staring extra-sharpened daggers at his high-and-mighty figure. Really, it's all I can do to refrain from slitting his throat right then and there in my living room.

I'm honestly considering it right now; it'll be so damn easy: I always keep several throwing knives hidden in different places in my clothing. If I can just keep him distracted for a few seconds at best..

I almost shake my head. No, it wasn't possible, unfortunately.

"Your father asked me to accompany you to Kunugigaoka." He says simply, as though it isn't a big deal. Father.. As much as I want to comply to your orders, this one is beyond the line.

"I don't need a ride." I reply flatly, shouldering past him. Momo sits by the olive green couch; his tail wagging enthusiastically as I whistle for him to come to me. He obeys immediately, leaping into my arms as soon as I'm within his range.

"You don't know the way to your class yet, do you, Aoi?" Asano Gakushu questions, as I pointedly turn on my heel, heading towards the dining room. Momo paws at my arm, his big brown eyes gazing up at me as though pleading for food.

I sigh, glancing back at him for the sake of courtesy. "I can manage, thank you very much. I'm no invalid, nor do I need your assistance. I'm perfectly capable of finding my way around the school."

He shrugs, nonchalantly striding over towards me and taking Momo from my arms. He growls in disapproval, wriggling free from his hold and taking off towards the kitchen; a parting bark of irritation left in his wake. I turn to the boy, a wry smile on my lips.

"Even my dog doesn't like you. I suggest you leave beforehand."

He ignores me, instead running a hand through my crimson curls. I fight - rather futilely, to be brutally honest - to keep my expression blank, to act as though this close proximity didn't bother me. Yet in truth, it did. More so than what I like to admit.

"I will never leave you behind, Aoi," He utters calmly.

That's it. Something seems to break within me. I can't keep up with his charade any longer.

"Will you, now?" I ask, sarcasm lacing my voice. Reaching up, I swat his hand away from me; the stinging slap resounding in the silent house. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you already did so three years ago. You left me when I needed you most. Oh, and let's not forget your final insults, shall we? What were they again?" I tap my chin for emphasis, looking away as I try to restrain the tumult of emotions threatening to overcome me.

He flinches - albeit imperceptibly.

"That's right," I hiss, despite the tiny, almost insignificant shred of patience I have left. "'Monster.' 'Someone fit only to kill, never to be loved.'" I let out a bitter laugh as I dust off my brand new uniform. "At the very least, you know how to describe yourself, Shu."

And with that, I whirl around, determined to never look back - even if I want to.

-To be continued.

[Word count: 2,165. Originally written: November 13th, 2015 (?). Edited: July 5th, 2016.]