February 01, 03:30 AM Hayashi Akira Girl’s dormitory The dormitory was deathly still and dark. A single chime of an alarm clock broke the silence, almost deafening in the stillness. Quickly the sound was muffled, and soon peace resumed. The sound of the door opening, the padding footsteps and muffled click as the door pulled shut again were almost unnoticeable. [hr] February 01, 05:30 AM Hayashi Akira The Cemetery The air was cold as it swirled around Akira, the white silk of her kimono rustling in the wind. Her hands and face, numb as always, scarcely felt the chill, though. Her breath clouded in the air before it was dispelled by the harsh wind. It was dark, save for the yellow-orange glow of the city lights. The dried leaves rustled on the concrete paths, stirred by the harsh currents of air. There was not a sound but for the rustle of leaves and the quiet crying that worked its way out of Akira’s mouth. February first. The day that Ayako died. The headstone was small, the grave dirty and scattered with leaves. None of the family had been here in months. Akira stared at the stone, the plain characters on it blurring in her vision. “Here lies Hayashi Ayako. Gone before her time, never forgotten in our hearts.” She didn’t even realize that she was kneeling until the corner of the headstone smacked her knee, causing a dull pain. Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto the headstone. “I’m sorry, onē-sama. I’m sorry.” She whispered. Her voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper from disuse. Her head was bowed over in her shame, shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. “You would have turned twenty-four today, onē-sama. You’d be a doctor by now, like you always wanted to be.” She fumbled in her pocket for the two things she’d brought. A pocketknife and a lighter. She flicked the blade open, extending her arm before her. The silver blade caught the light of the moon and for a moment she could not breathe, transfixed by the silver reflection, until she blinked and the spell was broken. Her eyes closed and she brought the blade down and across her arm, slowly, applying pressure until she felt the faint sharp pain, like a pinprick. Green eyes opened again to inspect the blood pouring from the gouge, spilling onto the headstone and the ground. Not a drop stained the girl’s pure white skirt. An ordinary person would have been alarmed by the sheer amount of blood, but Akira only frowned slightly, thinking she must have cut a bit deeper than she thought, and with another long-practiced gesture, picked up the lighter and flicked it to flame. She held her arm over it, listening to the sizzling of her crimson blood as it boiled in the heat from the lighter. She slowly passed it over her arm, keeping her face still as the fiery pain shot through her as she slowly, painfully cauterized the wound she’d caused herself. The fire was always the most painful part. [hr] February 01, 05:45 AM Hayashi Aimi Girl’s Dormitory A barely-audible strain of classical music filtered through the dormitory. An iPod alarm, set to the lowest possible volume. Nonetheless, the girl for whom it was set jerked awake faster than if it had been a gunshot. As Aimi realized what was going on, she forced herself to relax. Long ebony waves of hair tumbled messily as she yawned, stretching, and slipped out of bed. The floor was achingly cold under her feet, and she hopped around slightly as she gathered her toiletries and went to shower. [hr] February 01, 06:15 AM Hayashi Aimi Girl’s Dormitory Aimi tiptoed back into her room, squeaky clean and dressed for the first day of school. As she crept around the room, her dark violet eyes fell on the calendar. February first was the day. Involuntarily she glanced to the shrine that stood, forgotten, in one corner of the room, and bit her lip sharply to keep from starting to cry. How could she have forgotten? She took a feather duster and tried to make herself not tremble as she lightly dusted the altar; a polishing cloth to make the wood shine. She had no flowers, this late in the year, but she did find some incense. Next came the part she always hated. With trembling hands she struck a match, flinching away from the blistering heat on her fingers, shielding her eyes from the brightness. She lit all of the candles and set the incense to burning, though the smell burned her nose and made her eyes water. She sank to her knees on the floor before the altar, clasping her hands and pressing them to her forehead, shutting her eyes. Tiny currents of air danced around her, a few breaths of warm air from the heater; frigid air seeping in under the door from down the hallway. She forced herself to breathe deeply, ignoring the burning in her throat from the incense and the dreadful tickling of her hair down her back, the painful rubbing of the seams from her uniform on her skin. Ayako had always liked it better, even when Aimi was little, when she had kept her hair down, not “braided all fussy”, and had insisted that the first day of kindergarten, Aimi wear her full uniform. So today would be a tribute, however agonizing the rubbing of the fabric on her skin was. The memory brought a bitter pang and Aimi swallowed painfully, forcing it from her head, forcing herself to concentrate on her prayers. Today of all days it mattered. Ayako would have turned twenty-four if she’d been alive. It would have been the first day of her last year of medical school. If she had lived, that is. [hr] February 01, 07:15 AM Hayashi Akira and Aimi Girl’s Dormitory Aimi went to Akira’s room, to try and find her before breakfast. After repeated knocking on the smooth wood door did nothing (except cause Aimi to squeak in pain as it felt like she’d broken her hand) she frowned and backed away, picking up her whiteboard from where she’d dropped it near her sister’s door and absently doodling on it while she waited. A tap on the shoulder caused Aimi to jump into the air, whirling around and nearly losing her balance; she looked up into the blushing, damp face of her older sister. [i]I’m sorry. Went to shower.[/i] Akira signed. She preferred to not talk, because it always felt weird to her to talk when Aimi wouldn’t. [i]You okay?[/i] [i]I’m fine, I was just worried.[/i] Aimi signed in return. She took a step, hesitantly, and Akira closed the rest of the distance, hugging her closely, which made Aimi bite her lip in pain. She took a shuddering breath as she felt Akira trembling against her, only to have scents assault her nose. Akira was wearing a perfume that she didn’t usually wear. With a jolt through almost ten years of memory, Aimi recognized the jasmine and cherry blossom scent of Ayako’s favorite perfume. It was very, very strong, burning Aimi’s nostrils and almost causing her to gag because of the intensity. That wasn’t what triggered her, but the underlying odors. Wet earth and dust and rock. The coppery, sharp tang of blood. And the sick, sweet smell of burned flesh. Aimi gagged, reeling backwards, staring up at Akira in horror, her whole body trembling. Reflex tears sprang to her eyes and she clapped both hands over her mouth in horror. It dawned on Akira that she had better explain herself, and she moved to do so, signing so fast her hands were almost a blur. Her hands were up in the air, and in her haste, her shirt sleeves started sliding down, revealing the two fresh, matching marks amid the older scars. Fresh marks still oozing blood from underneath black, peeling scabs and discolored gray flesh. Aimi just stared, for a moment, not registering the words. Then she fled, tears streaming down her face, thoughts tumbling faster than she could sort through. [hr] February 01, 07:30 AM Hayashi Akira Girl’s Dormitory The quiet alarm went off, startling the older Hayashi girl out of her thoughts, precisely what the alarm was designed to do. She uncurled from the ball she’d formed into and stood up from the corner, wincing as the world spun around her, maybe from blood loss, maybe just from vertigo. She had half a mind to go eat food, but she didn’t much feel like eating today and anyway, Aimi would be there and an encounter right now would probably not be the best thing in the world. So she retreated back to her corner, allowing herself to meditate again almost instantly and entirely losing track of time as it passed. [hr] February 01, 07:30 AM Hayashi Aimi Cafeteria The cafeteria was starting to fill when Aimi walked in. Having spent ten minutes curled up in a corner crying, trying to make sense of what she’d seen, she was feeling somewhat emotionally wrung-out but was trying to keep herself together. She’d known Akira would hurt herself, but… not that bad. Those cuts were deep enough they could have done some serious damage. She felt her stomach heave and forced the thoughts out of her mind as she pretended interest in what the cafeteria had to offer. The cafeteria lady seemed very sympathetic, eyeing Aimi’s single bowl of rice and cup of tea with some skepticism. It was the usual serving lady and she’d only ever seen Aimi eat rice and tea—well, that was really all the girl ever ate. The lady was very nice, even asking if Aimi would like some honey to put on her rice or something, to which the small girl could only shake her head, just the thought of the oily slippery sweetness of honey making her want to throw up again. She carried her pathetically light tray easily in one hand as she scanned the room for a place to sit that didn’t have any boys at the table. She hated interacting with males who weren’t way older than her; having bad experiences with boys her own age, she supposed. Regardless of the reason, she didn’t want to sit with any males. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of girls laughing about something. They looked enough alike to be sisters. There was one open spot at their table and no boys there, so she headed in that direction. With long-practiced ease she wrote as she walked, while balancing her tray on her other arm; when she came to the girls’ table, she held up the board. “My name is Aimi. I’m a seventh-year. Is it alright if I sit with you?” it said. She blinked, blushing slightly at the awkwardness of her introduction, not wanting to look either girl in the eye lest they see how red and blotchy her face was, a telltale sign of the fact that she’d been crying. She had half a mind to run away now, but she’d just look even more awkward then; as it was she felt many sets of eyes on her and had to fight with all her willpower to not run, or drop her tray, or flop around trying to scratch her back because of how tickly her hair on it was, or fidget with her blouse because of the pressure it put on her skin. She tilted her head down a little bit, allowing her bangs to further hide her eyes, and quickly erased the board, writing another message in smaller, more scribbly print. “I mean I’m sorry I won’t sit here if you don’t want me to I just don’t want to sit with anyone who seems scary and you two don’t seem very scary…” People who read her message would have been shocked that it was possible for a mute girl to ramble nonsensically; she blushed all the more for being so awkward and childish and put her board down to her side and resisted the urge to keep contradicting herself, instead waiting for the two sisters to say something, blushing all the more with every passing second. [@Ogobrogo]