Iron Songbird
It was a cool, February morning, and the little Songbird still shivered slightly in the cold; even in spite of the thick, crimson scarf that lay wrapped about her shoulders. Even still, she clutched close a red envelope close to her heart, her fingers only held steadfast by it pressing against her fluttering heart. She was nervous, understandably so, but even as the cold bit ruthlessly at the edges of her ears, she found her determination.
She had even requested Aria’s support in this, and her friend had actually been kind enough as to oblige her. Her support gave her hope, and perhaps a little more urgency to her cause. This had to be done, it was what was right. Over the year, she had grown closer to the Iron Giant, his daring rescue of her from the hands who would do evil had only helped her hold him even more dearly in her heart.
It was Aria who had helped her realize something incredible. Unbelievable even. The magnificent violinist had really helped her push the thought home.
She was in love with him.
So there she stood, waiting in the earliest parts of the morning. Waiting on the Iron Giant to arrive as the Sun finally began to rise in the sky. Students too began to arrive as the fiery colors splayed across the white canvas of clouds in the heavens, but the little Songbird seemed almost statuesque. The wind rushed through her hair as her eyes remained steadfastly forward, watching, waiting, and still as fearful as ever.
And then he appeared.
Towering above the heads of the crowd as he lumbered through their midst. Strength and poise were his strong suits that she knew all too well, and something she admired about him. Yet once he saw her, there was only the hint of a smile, upon her own lips a similar hint also grew. It was simple, quiet and knowing. For the moment, he thought he knew why she was there; after all, she had been cooking him breakfast daily for the past year. It was a promise that she had made, and one she was more than happy to keep.
As he drew closer though, the little Songbird’s cheeks drew upon a surprising warmth. Her composure was beginning to crack, her nervousness only gaining in terms of its momentum. Even still, the hand at her side clenched, her heels dug into the cobblestone walkway. She mustn’t run, she couldn’t. Aria had helped her gather her thoughts and mind through the entirety of the previous night. To take flight and flee now would only prove to be an even greater detriment.
“Hey Kotori-chan, is something wrong?” He inquired, a slight twist of concern and befuddlement appearing on his usually enigmatic visage. Stubbornly, she shook her head, causing onyx tresses to collapse again about her shoulders as in the distance, Aria began to play a tune on her violin. Thanks to that courageous girl and her birds that seemed to flit about as a constant, other students were distracted from the two, and instead on to the musician.
“N-No, Sasaki-san.” She whispered, blinking bewilderedly as she realized this was the moment she had actually addressed him by his first name. Until now, she had always been so formal, but now…maybe if she took this chance, this leap away from the cliff’s edge, they would be even closer than she could ever dream or hope for.
But what if he rejected her? Horror flashed through her mind at the thought, as the little red envelope in her hand laid their friendship upon the altar of sacrifice…but no. She had to do this, she had to find the courage, beyond any doubt, any hope, she must do something!
Steeling her heart and stealing her breadth, it happened.
She found her bravery, and she reached out to him with the envelope in hand. Bowing her head in the vain attempt to hide the redness of her face, she softly muttered a few words.
“Sasaki-san, w-would you do me the honor of being my Valentine?”
His giant hands reached out and slowly took the red envelope which contained her hand-made valentine. Her legs tensed, as he inspected it at first, and the little Songbird fought every urge that bombarded her conscience to flee. To run away, to escape from what now stood before her. Yet it would all be in vain, and she knew it. Countless hours had been spent into putting her thoughts, hopes, and dreams into this Valentine; she could not callously dispense such injustice as running away now. What was done, was done. Flight would do little.
The envelope cracked open, and the Valentine came with it. Sasaki would then see the words within, of which were handwritten by the little Songbird. They were four, simple, delicately written words that belied greater meaning to her than anything else in this world.
’I love you, Sasaki.’
