Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Breathe ❯ Past Wounds ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Okay, so I haven't updated since… June. I'm trying, really. What's really cool is that today is the one year anniversary of the day I started this fic. Chew on that.
Am I the only one who wonders, if Keiko and Hokuto are brother and sister, why don't they have the same last name?
Chapter Four: Past Wounds
Keiko stomped into the room, flinging the door open. Her face was twisted in anger, an expression that Hokuto was used to. He waved his hands at her, making an obvious gesture to the body on the table. Keiko's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth, hiding the small gasp.
“You didn't, did you?”
“This is certainly not the time, Keiko,” he said in an impassive tone.
“But… I saw… There was…”
She bit down on her lip. Yes, she could see he was still bleeding. Mitsuru had reached unconsciousness when she'd found him, a pool of his own blood forming wider and wider. She'd run for Hokuto, to tell him. What had happened?
“I do not know what happened,” Hokuto continued coldly, a clear sign she should leave. She ignored it, deciding that her payback for what he'd done yesterday was to be as defiant as possible. “It has something to do with his memories.”
That's right, she thought. She had glanced at his files. He had died in a fight, being cut open with a knife. Had something triggered a reaction in his body, reopening wounds?
“But I thought…” She swallowed, trying to turn away from the body. “I thought you wiped them clean. I was supposed to… I mean I did… I mean…”
“Not now, Keiko. Make sure the other one is ready.” He turned to her. “You are able, aren't you? A scare like this could disturb your powers.”
She nodded shakily. He sighed, moving forward, placing a hand on her arm. He lightly brushed her lips, his expression and voice warming.
“Just once more, and then you can do as you like.”
She nodded again, turning. Tears had started forming in her eyes, but she didn't want him to see those. These tears were for one person, the same person she was going to see just now.
Because Akira Yamabuki was leaving today, and she wasn't sure when she would see him again.
“You really shouldn't be here.”
“I know, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because what?”
“…It's just that… I don't like… him.”
“You wouldn't.”
“It's not just that. I just think… Is he… Is he hurting you?”
“I don't want to accuse him of anything, but…”
“But what? Why would you even ask that?!”
“Because… He seems…”
“He's not. I don't even know why you would think-”
“Because you're always so… depressed now.”
Depressed?! No, I'm not depressed. I'm angry. Why do you even stick around? Why don't you just leave? Why don't you just get out of my life?”
“Because I still love you, Mahiru, no matter what you think.”
“That hurt.”
Mahiru looked up. Nozomu was in her doorway, rubbing his nose.
“Oh. You're here.”
There was distaste in her voice. He almost winced.
“You didn't have to slam the door in my face.”
“Yes, actually I did. Do you still have my key?”
He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.”
She held out her hand expectantly, motioning for him to give up the key. He sighed, taking it out of his pocket and placing it in her palm.
“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked, turning back to what she had been doing: cleaning up the living room. She hadn't been this active in a while, and she had a grudging thanks to Nozomu for that.
He stood back, an uncomfortable stance. “You already know. I don't like repeating myself.”
She gave a huff. “You shouldn't keep coming.”
“You're up and about, right?”
She turned away, giving a slow nod.
“That's reason enough for me to stay.”
It was best to ignore him, she decided. Ignore him and forget the reason he kept bothering her. It was his fault anyway. As much as he denied it, she blamed him…
Funny. Her vision was going blurry…
There was a moment, just before Mitsuru reached consciousness, that he felt a presence beside him, one he'd felt many time before. The warmth of someone sitting next to him, leaning against his shoulder. He saw, like a TV that doesn't work quite enough for you to see more than distorted images, the splintered face of a woman he can't quite recall. She was saying something something, something important, and he could almost hear her.
Then he woke up.
There was a moment, right before Mahiru reached consciousness, that she felt a presence beside her. It was one she recognized well, one she refuses to forget. The piece of the puzzle missing from her desperate life. She wanted to call out to him, just to know he wasn't completely gone.
Then she woke up.
Okay, I made you wait forever for the cheapest update.
Just be happy I'm updating.
You know the worst thing about writing stories? All that rising action. I want to get to the best parts, but I have to make it work.
Bleh. Just review.