Snippet #2446044

Hikaru shook his head, the faintest of smiles gracing his masculine features for a few moments. The paper on which the missive was written ruffled slightly in the breeze, but his grip on it was good enough that it would not go flying out of his hands. His mother always seemed to know what was required in any situation, and he knew that she of all people would be able to help Shizuka, perhaps without the residual something that tended to distract him in her presence, especially when he caught sight of the mark. She was making progress, but perhaps slower than she needed to, and he supposed that if anyone would understand why, it would be his mother, who had raised one half-wolf, and trained two sons for battle. He and Sora owed their prowess with a sword to Reiko, and she had a way with teaching that was hard to match.

Perhaps it was the right solution, but was he the right person to pass this on? How likely was Shizuka to take him seriously when he offered? He trusted that his mother’s letter would be sufficient to convince her—if she even read it. Coming from him, though, she might not. Shizuka made no secret of the fact that she hated him, and while Hotaru just found that funny in his way, Hikaru as a whole grew tired of it. It wasn’t like he had to go out of his way to teach her. He could have let her tear apart the forest and the school on the fourth day, and it wouldn’t have been on his conscience. At least… not wholly. But he helped her anyway, and even he didn’t know why. Sure, his darker side found it fun, but Hotaru was amused by a lot of things, many of them requiring a lot less effort. It was true that the force he’d had to exert to make her submit that day was exhilarating in its own way, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to fight Esaias, and that had required more. Something about her was different, and he didn’t understand why.

Maybe this, too, was something his mother would understand, but he dare not ask her in a letter. That would require a talk in person. She was the one person he never had reservations about sharing with, not even something as ridiculous as his emotions. She knew them better than he did, anyway.

Decided, at least for the time being, he lay back on the stone ledge of the school’s roof, tucking the letters away in his pocket before propping his head on his folded hands, staring directly up at the sky. The clouds moved by lazily overhead, and there was small chance of him being disturbed here. It was a weekend, and he only smelled two people. One of them was her, and as always, he could not fail to notice. The other was faint, enough so that she could not properly identify it. He took that to mean that it was sufficiently distant so as to be of no concern. He doubted she would seek him out if there wasn’t something she wanted from him, and he’d told her today was hers to do as she wanted with—he wouldn’t force her to work seven days a week, after all. He was surprisingly disciplined for a man of his demeanor, but he wasn’t some kind of drill-sergeant hardass.

The wind stirred the ends of his black hair, tossing a few of the strands over his brilliant eyes for a moment, but he was content to let them be. Instead, he closed them, and drifted into meditation, aware of his surroundings but focusing on everything and nothing in particular. He willed his mind to be empty of troubling thoughts, and tried for a while to simply exist.