don't doubt.

@tatatarata replied to your post: ayano as your best friend i’m begging you please…

I CAN AND WILL DON’T MAKE ME HOLD YOUR HAND DON’T @ ME

    all according to— ( um, what was the word shuuya said… ) k… keikaku!

      she’s been alone for so long. so lonely, so lonely, with only her thoughts and screams echoing in her mind as if that’s all she’s ever known ( whose screams were they? azami’s? her own? she doesn’t know anymore ). but it hurts, it’s painful, her heart swallowed by countless negatives previously kept bay by forced smiles and a foolish plan. but she’s alone now. ( how long has she been alone? ) there’s no point in a facade. she’s cried so many tears, as if pouring her broken heart out to the world.

   but what does it matter? no one’s here. her comrades are no where to be found… but it’s not as though she ever behaved as if she did have comrades in the first place. lone little hero, how foolish could she be? lone little hero, forever surrounded in a funeral for her death had been pointless, as heroes die needlessly.

   dull eyes burn a bright crimson, her thoughts flying to the void engulfing her. stupid… dummy… should have… i could have… and it becomes too much again, dainty hands not meant for war shielding her visage from view. it hurts, it hurts, someone, anyone— her body trembles with something akin to a sob, and ayano misses it. she misses her family, her friends, her simple, normal life. too soon had a girl of only fifteen been forced to give up her world. too soon had a girl of only fifteen had her life ripped to shreds.

                                                ( by whose hands? whose hands ripped all that apart? )

   the impact of an embrace does not register at first. she’s felt ghosts of familiar warmth as she lost herself in delirium. and she thinks this is the same. thinks this is her heart playing tricks on her because she’s desperate, needy, craves that warmth of those she held dear. but the name that leaves this warmth is loud in her ear, the tears soaking her clothes sticking to her skin.

                    whose voice? whose voice? come on, you remember. you missed this voice.

   hands that had once hid her face like a mask lower. her lips do not move, but they tremble in fear. is this real? or is this another trick? even with this physical contact, ayano still does not believe. ( for she has lost all hope, and she is nothing more than a shell for this snake within her.) her voice does not ring out like the one that called her name had. no, instead it speaks to her long gone friend’s mind, for her eyes are still a bright crimson red wallowing in grief and despair, her voice echoing and soft, afraid and bare for her friend to hear.

   ‘t… takane…san…?’

       That’s... my name. My real name. You—you know my name.

       For an entity capable of neither touch nor the ability to breathe, she found herself helplessly obedient under the dictation of both. Keeping up with the tears streaming down her face felt as impossible as catching the sunset, forever fleeting from her non-existent touch. But she dared not let go, or even loosen her grip. She didn’t quite realize it, but she wasn’t giving anyone else the chance to slip away. Especially not her.

       “Is this real?” Is this real? Is this real? God, is this real? 

       “Is it really you—?!”

       It certainly felt so—it felt more real than anything from the past two years. Her words no longer echoed through the cotton-like filter of a machine, the tears streaming down her face had a distinct pixelated reality to them. Sobs. Loud sobs. Ugly, unstifled. In regret? Or relief? A little of both? Who knew. All she could be certain of was the very real shoulder she dug her face into—the promised shoulder she’d missed so much.

       She keeps remembering, she keeps remembering, her heart has no pity on her, in neither reality nor falsehood. Regardless of whether this was fake or true, she had to question... when was the last time she cried so hard? (...She wonders, though she’d certainly not forgotten.) It hurt so much—and she didn’t want it to stop. She had, in the past, been her rock, and laying on top of the her now, too—such seemed true as ever.  My first… female friend. And the best.

       There were... so many faces she’d never thought she’d see again, much less with these eyes. These eyes, red, too, beneath a blue screen of livelihood (however online no longer.) Her grip grew tighter, tighter, perhaps, a little too tight. If there was air here, in this very strange place, the other girl was undoubtedly longing for such at the moment.

       But this hold—she knew it couldn’t last, or if it even should. Compromising, if only with herself, she let’s her “loose” enough to look her in the eye. Her face, no doubt laden and disheveled with droplets and longing, now rested a few inches above the other girls, but she didn’t bother to get up. A tear slid down the metal-fiber plate stuck to her cheek, dropping onto the pallid skin of her company. She looked the same, just the same, exactly as she, so very often, remembered.

       The only difference was those red, red eyes.

       This place… reminded her of somewhere.

       Much like the cyber word she’d been dumped out to upon receiving her “eternal” form, it was far gone and lost from reality. Incidentally, she was first greeted with the sight of a single television, set on the pallid floor, surrounded only by textbooks. Naturally, she took such to be her queue; hacking into the small structure, she found herself here on the other side.

       High school desks hung unnatural from the ceiling—like an upside down classroom. What was, strangely, more unnerving, was the seemingly orthodox field of flowers beneath her feet. There were typical in color, yet their crimson shade looked more like blood than pigment… and she dared not touch a single petal. Lucky for her, divine levitation was exploitable.

       A chill ran down her spine, as if kicking her speed into a higher gear. “Hnng…” Floating along was endless. It was also… very warm. It was a lot of things, and yet—the atmosphere felt more attuned to “regret” than anything. Incidentally, the farther along she went, the stronger that sensation became.

       And, suddenly… she had a feeling she knew why. She realized, this place didn’t remind her of somewhere, but rather—someone.

       In a shade of red not unlike the orchids below their feet, tassels drifted at the end of a long, red scarf—the ends of which drifted in a seemingly nonexistent wind. Was she… an illusion? A trick of her subconscious? That distinct feeling of “regret” exerting itself out of her mind?

       She didn’t know. And she didn’t care.

       As in control of her heart as she’d ever been—she was unable to restrain herself from jolting forward towards the girl. Into the girl. She wrapped her long, flappy sleeves tight around the other’s form—she practically leeched onto her. The force was strong enough to send them both falling into the flower field below. Bluish tears stained the otherwise crimson dimension.

Should she have been surprised? Ah, well. Perhaps, but considering situations as this were the day-to-day regular two years ago, she really couldn’t bring forth what most people would call the “accurate” reaction to the moment.

She heaved a sigh, a heavy one, staring at his flailing hand for a few seconds more. In some cynical part of her heart (A.K.A., nearly anywhere,) Takane hoped he felt as dumb as he looked. It’d only be fair, considering how often he’d made her feel—of course, unintentionally—humiliated in their lives. She always endured a little second-hand embarrassment seeing him, well... exist, albeit mixed with a smidgen of hilarity too. For such a tall and lanky person to manage something like this? That was next-level incompetent... and oddly, endearing.

She only gives herself a moment of mental preparation, not allowing him as much. Despite the fact, her cheeks flared up regardless as she placed both her palms around his. Ignoring the sensation, she didn’t give him forewarning before pulling him up without his help, using only her own weight. Letting go as soon as possible, she allows him to fall to freedom on the back-swing. 

There, done.

「 @hahaharuha​—!! ☼ 」

         “C-Can… Can you believe that guy?!” A deep shade of crimson cloaked her cheeks; she put a hand to her face, hoping to disguise the fact. While they’d since left their previous company, her embarrassment continued to prevail. How the hell did Shintaro think he could get away with something like that and not get punched in the soda can gut?

“So, have you two...? You know, kissed yet?”

        “Stupid... thirsty, virgin NEET! It’s none of his damn business!” she exclaimed, clenching her fist—as irate in posture as she was in tone. Her heart had been racing from the moment she’d heard the purposed question, and in addition, she’d yet to so much as glance Haruka’s way, fearing his reaction to the situation most.

        If I had to guess, even now... you probably don’t want to kiss me.

        She crossed her arms over her stomach defensively, looking away, hoping her discomfort would drift away in a moment. “Tch… Us,” she muttered to herself, feeling increasingly more disheartened with her own discouragement, “…kissing.”

  Well, here she is again. Not that this is an old tournament that she’s gone to before, but the atmosphere of previous events floods back into her without mercy. Nanami blinks, rubbing her eyes to brush away the sleepiness as quickly as possible. Her teacher gives words of wisdom, only barely heard over the roar of the attendees.

   Same old, same old. It’s nostalgic as she hears a call for her screenname, perking up at the mention. A goodbye towards her chaperone leads her to meet her opponent, kind eyes scanning her as she takes her seat.

   “ … … I hope so, ” she answers after a moment of contemplation. “ It’ll be embarrassing if I ended up in the wrong area, I think. … This is for Dead Bullet, right? ”

        Not just one eyebrow was raised in response, but two—accurately reflecting the surprise she felt in this very odd situation. Again, Takane looked around towards the spectators, wondering if anyone else was as confused as she. (Had any of these boys even seen two women this close before...?)

        “A-ah...” she muttered, letting out an awkward laugh to follow. “It sure is?” Takane confirmed, though it sounded more as though she was questioning her own situation. Regardless, she gave a slight shrug, rolling with it regardless.