The Orange Glow
Characters: Sasaki, Kotori
Genre: Short story
A quiet afternoon.
A golden field lay above orange-tinted clouds, the brilliant light gazing upon the world. The afternoon warmth enveloped only portions of the blue-and-green world. Some knew of the afternoon by its magical ability to bring waves of sleepiness among those who worked hard under a blue sky. Others simply enjoyed the afternoon. But no one could truly hate the afternoon, for it stood between a jubilant morning and a sleepless night. It was essentially everything, but not anything.
A quiet girl.
Her elegant fingers fluently tapped on the instrument that sat before her. Her eyes were shut softly, and her body moved only to play the simple piano before her. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, yet it never found a purpose for the girl who closed her eyes. A long and tiresome day had strained her once again, and with each note that soared from the piano she composed with, she found peace. She found a calmness filling her heart with memories that felt both distant yet crystal-clear.
But her fingers were not the only things orchestrating the piano. For two erasers floated next to her delicate hands, another hovering above the instrument’s pedals.
She felt her soul soaring, she felt strong.
And soon, she sang.
Her voice embraced the room with her emotions, her thoughts, her memories. A sweet taste of energy would have made her shiver, but she played with more fervor instead. For while she composed the music, her mind processed the motivation to reach high. She soared farther and farther, her piano becoming more and more excited as the tapping never slowed down and only sped up with her ever-increasing bliss.
The music.
The skies.
She flew.
And then the music died.
The girl stopped playing, her voice- once again- as silent as ever. The beats of her life continued to pound on, her eyes opening from her dream-like performance. There was no need for her to reach out for her music sheets, for such things did not exist. She did not play by paper; she played by heart. She played, with peace and quiet strengthening her energized pieces.
Clang!
Clang!
An armored titan bravely charged forward as he lunged at a lifeless dummy with a wooden shinai. “Clang, clang,” went the shinai as the art of Kendo resonated across a wooden dojo. Men, kote, do- three basic attacks that led to countless of possibilities.
He felt strong. The rage he turned into adrenaline; it flowed out, balancing the bottle of destruction he was. Peace and quiet, yet strong with a warm heart. He never gave up. He never stopped.
Clang!
Clang!
The titan attacked one last time as he moved away from the dummy. He stood still, taking a few breaths, but he remembered that he would not stop. With the shinai that rested within his hands, the titan leapt forward, striking at the level of his helmet- the “men”. He leapt back, raising his blade before leaping forward once more. A simple loop of repetition; haya suburi.
Each step, each swing, each breath made him stronger. He was himself. No one could change him, for only he could change himself. And change he did, but change he won’t always do.
His shinai soared, piercing through the sinful thoughts deeply rooted in his head. No man should forget the sins they could commit, yet desires and pride did just that.
No one was perfect, but to reach for perfection could make a better human out of anyone.
One, two, three. Three swings followed by seven more swings.
One, two, three. Another set of ten, and another, and another, and another and another and another and-
His foot slammed against the ground as he dashed forward with the blade, his kiai resonating across the dojo. Turning his body from the wall he stood in front of, he raised his blade and struck once more, dashing with sweat streaking underneath his gi and bogu.
Silence.
Then, peace.
The quiet of the afternoon returned again.
The boy left the dojo in his uniform, the girl left her melodic room in her own uniform. Night came near, but the afternoon refused to sleep. Soon, the moon appeared faintly amongst the orange skies, occasionally hiding itself behind the puffs of white that inhabited the air. They packed their things and headed to their next destination.
Time ticked by, and bonds pulled them together. The two found their eyes lock onto one another, and they stood still, too accustomed to the peace and quiet of the vibrantly golden afternoon.
Confusion crawled around the air, but soon, it was replaced by two small smiles. For they could not smile too widely; the peace and quiet they knew of had shifted into that of silence.
“Good afternoon, Kotori-san,” the boy said, and his small smile betrayed him a bit.
“Good afternoon, Kirima-san,” the girl said, her small smile glowing under the orange-gold world.
Their orange world.
Soon, the silence went away, replaced by a new kind of peace and quiet. They walked together under another normal day that went by uneventfully.
Under a peace and quiet that came from their friendship.
