#feignedhero

(fuck gotta send it on this blog dont ya)

“Ya dont say, pretty boy? Me an’ the 15 bruises on my feet didn’t notice,” She takes a moment, stepping away from her partner so she can run her hands through her hair with a long sigh

“There’s a sayin’ fer people like you in the Philippines. Goes somethin’ like ‘God got other children’.” She was going to leave it at that but the confused look on his face told her a little elaborating had to be done “Means, He cant be goin’ ‘round givin’ all his gifts to one kid. If ya want the short version, I’m sayin’ it’s a damn good thing ya got yer looks cause lemme jus’ tell ya now. Unlike, me, ya weren’t blessed with good looks an’ a good intellect to match” she presses her palm against his forehead and knocks him back a couple steps, all the while grinning.

She gets a laugh out of watching him stumble backwards but beckons him back towards her once he’s got his footing “C’mon, Pretty Boy lets give this another try,” A gentle hand guides his own to her hip before she wraps her arms around his neck. It’s not really her style to be led but for the purpose of teaching him she supposes she could play a girls part if only for a bit.

Ayano had no idea why her father did this to her. He killed her, brought her back to life, and threw her in the midst of the internet with only her intuition to guide her…was she really so worthless? Without her mother, was Ayano nothing to him? She didn’t understand. It came from out of the blue – she couldn’t have foreseen it. 

Who could possibly foresee something so fictional?

She had no idea where to go. Normally she’d consider her family first, but she knew her presence would only be a hindrance. She wanted to see if the others were okay, yet…she had no idea how to get there.

But Ayano wouldn’t give up, even if it got tough – ! That’s what she instilled in her siblings, so she should follow the same philosophy!

Even if her stupidity lead to her entering the computer of a random stranger.

…she could already tell by her surroundings – this was nothing like her hometown.

But…even if the stranger didn’t have any answers, she had nothing to lose. 

He didn't mind people going in and out of the art room, as long as they were quiet. There was only so much a single man could take.

Of all the people to ask him, it had to be Shigure – the one who had experienced his self-fallout firsthand, but who hadn’t realized the torment never really ended; even if he was in a different school, even if the rumors weren’t as painful, his mind always pulled him back to those days, protecting him from getting hurt again, but reminding him of wounds that never would heal. 

Wounds that he reopened – wounds that he saw every day in the visions of his old classmates, in the visions of Shigure, visions that tore him to pieces when no one was around.

«It’s our little secret,» his trash brain whispered.

To any onlookers she was just a girl leisurely juggling a soccer ball to kill time, completely unaware of the rage and frustration she was battling beneath the surface. She had been dealing with her sudden loss of her favorite past time pretty well at first but it seemed to be getting harder and harder everyday.

Usually she tried to avoid it but that day she found herself reminiscing of the days she could run. Run faster than anyone and everyone. Her legs could easily remember the sensation of pushing off pavement at top speed. The memory sends another jolt of frustration through her and without thinking she sends the soccer ball up as high as she can.

“Oh great...,” A long exhale before she wraps her arm around the trunk. “No use complainin’ I suppose,” With that she began to pull herself up against the bark. It’s a little hard, her legs were plenty strong, made obvious from the very visible muscle bulging beneath her skin, though her arms had gotten little to no exercise. It’s a tough task indeed but she somehow managed to make it to the top branch where her precious soccer ball rested.