âSometimes, the truth is stranger than fiction.â
For a long moment, Sora gave the owl his best blank stare, long past the point where it would have been considered socially acceptable to do so. Not that he cared much about social acceptability, mind. His brain, contrary to what his outer appearance of complete stillness would suggest, was working overtime, trying to process what heâd just been told. There was no way Snow was right about that; this was clearly some kind of joke he and Midori were in on. The cat produced a purely-mental snort at this, clearly amused, but he ignored her.
Even if by some chance they were right and not lying to him, then that may be only one of several explanations. It would have to be, because it was plain as day that Fujiwara didnât love him? What the hell was that even supposed to mean anyway? Theyâd barely decided to be friends, an area which, though his experience was scant and ended badly, he could at least say he had experience in. He was the furthest thing from a lover of anyone, in demeanor or behavior. He wasnât even capable of it. He was a sociopathâhis family had told him so. Occasionally, he grew bizarrely attached to specific people, but he didnât love not like normal people did, and he doubted very much that sheâd ever even think about someone like him in a way like that.
If she had⊠no. She just hadnât. That was all.
He was saved from needing to actually say anything in response to this parade of absurdity by the fact that his phone was ringing. Glancing at it, he saw the coded caller ID that indicated Sachiko, and picked up immediately. âHey. Finally decided to end my enforced vacation?â he asked in a bored tone of voice, knowing she probably hadnât. God help him, if this was about her againâŠ
When she spoke, the tone was more urgent than he would have expected, and he sat up at once, causing Midori to jump off him, though she didnât look offended, easily picking up on the gravity of the situation. âSora,â she spoke hurriedly, âThe storm is coming. I felt it this morning.â Her cousinâs jaw tightened, a bit of stone crumbling to dust where he held the cement of the roof white-knuckled in his grip.
âThe same one? Have you warned them? Are you with her?â The questions came rapid-fire, his eyes narrowed to ebon slits, his mostly neutral expression dropped into a deep scowl.
âDifferent hurricane, same eye. I told them, but you know what theyâre like. Maybe half believed me. And of course Iâm with herâyou know I wouldnât leave her to them. Sheâs my family, too, Sora.â He relaxed almost imperceptibly at that. As long as those two made it out alive, he didnât really care much for the rest. His family had shown him, long ago, that when push came to shove, they didnât care about him, only what he could do for them. He only saw fit to return the sentiment. It hadnât been difficultâhis heart had hardened at an early age, due precisely to them, after all.
âThen maybe half of them will live,â he replied tersely. âYou know the drill: keep moving, keep hidden, and keep Kaede safe. Until the day we die.â
âUntil the day we die,â she echoed gravely, and the line went dead. Sora shoved the phone back into his pocket and raked both hands through his hair, pushing it back along the crown of his head, propping his elbows on his knees. Midori wound sinuously around his ankles, purring and trying to soothe him as well as she could. But she knew her masterâfor all his insistence that he didnât love, couldnât love, there were people that he cared for more deeply than most people could imagine. He wasnât empty at allâin fact, he was so full of emotion, of caring, of genuine compassion, that he felt the need to hide it, to bury it, always, for the sake of those he loved.
His breath was shaky, but smoothed out as he focused on it. Sachiko knew what she was doing, and if anyone could stay one step ahead of those that would do her in, it was a girl who could scry the future. His relatives may not have put much stock in her ability, but he knew all too well just how potent it was.
âShit.â It was stated in a hollow monotone, and Midori mewled in concern. He was doing it againâemptying himself.
Even if by some chance they were right and not lying to him, then that may be only one of several explanations. It would have to be, because it was plain as day that Fujiwara didnât love him? What the hell was that even supposed to mean anyway? Theyâd barely decided to be friends, an area which, though his experience was scant and ended badly, he could at least say he had experience in. He was the furthest thing from a lover of anyone, in demeanor or behavior. He wasnât even capable of it. He was a sociopathâhis family had told him so. Occasionally, he grew bizarrely attached to specific people, but he didnât love not like normal people did, and he doubted very much that sheâd ever even think about someone like him in a way like that.
If she had⊠no. She just hadnât. That was all.
He was saved from needing to actually say anything in response to this parade of absurdity by the fact that his phone was ringing. Glancing at it, he saw the coded caller ID that indicated Sachiko, and picked up immediately. âHey. Finally decided to end my enforced vacation?â he asked in a bored tone of voice, knowing she probably hadnât. God help him, if this was about her againâŠ
When she spoke, the tone was more urgent than he would have expected, and he sat up at once, causing Midori to jump off him, though she didnât look offended, easily picking up on the gravity of the situation. âSora,â she spoke hurriedly, âThe storm is coming. I felt it this morning.â Her cousinâs jaw tightened, a bit of stone crumbling to dust where he held the cement of the roof white-knuckled in his grip.
âThe same one? Have you warned them? Are you with her?â The questions came rapid-fire, his eyes narrowed to ebon slits, his mostly neutral expression dropped into a deep scowl.
âDifferent hurricane, same eye. I told them, but you know what theyâre like. Maybe half believed me. And of course Iâm with herâyou know I wouldnât leave her to them. Sheâs my family, too, Sora.â He relaxed almost imperceptibly at that. As long as those two made it out alive, he didnât really care much for the rest. His family had shown him, long ago, that when push came to shove, they didnât care about him, only what he could do for them. He only saw fit to return the sentiment. It hadnât been difficultâhis heart had hardened at an early age, due precisely to them, after all.
âThen maybe half of them will live,â he replied tersely. âYou know the drill: keep moving, keep hidden, and keep Kaede safe. Until the day we die.â
âUntil the day we die,â she echoed gravely, and the line went dead. Sora shoved the phone back into his pocket and raked both hands through his hair, pushing it back along the crown of his head, propping his elbows on his knees. Midori wound sinuously around his ankles, purring and trying to soothe him as well as she could. But she knew her masterâfor all his insistence that he didnât love, couldnât love, there were people that he cared for more deeply than most people could imagine. He wasnât empty at allâin fact, he was so full of emotion, of caring, of genuine compassion, that he felt the need to hide it, to bury it, always, for the sake of those he loved.
His breath was shaky, but smoothed out as he focused on it. Sachiko knew what she was doing, and if anyone could stay one step ahead of those that would do her in, it was a girl who could scry the future. His relatives may not have put much stock in her ability, but he knew all too well just how potent it was.
âShit.â It was stated in a hollow monotone, and Midori mewled in concern. He was doing it againâemptying himself.