Reverie and Nightmares

6

Mikan's view

I was never given the chance to make friends during lunch. I was a little grateful that lunchtime in Japan didn't require students to sit around, possibly hundreds more, at clenched-up tables. I was becoming restless having to take it all to the bathroom and sitting on the marble floor to sip my fat-free chocolate milk.

I might've even agreed that the reason I traveled to Japan after many long years was to experience this one unwritten experience. I had an entire U-shaped building to take my lunch to, and if I wanted, I could sit around where most would be on the rooftop, but there was no way a soul would find me there.

Watanabe collected the rest of the scan sheets and test books in quick succession. Dropping five of the test books, I knew that she was having a very rough day. It was day two out of the four, and I was grateful that the mysterious slump of difficulty in English, Japanese, and History was out of the way. I was so thankful that instead of walking directly home, I walked near a park I'd heard before while eavesdropping. (I wasn't okay with accidentally doing so, but heaven forgive me, I did.)

Walking to the swing set, I tried to imagine myself when I was younger. It was a time I remember every day, but each time a little differently. Plopping my behind to the seat and fixing my long skirt, I instantly feel the cold on my thighs. I shake it off and use the force to swing back and forth. It was something unbeknownst to almost anyone in the entire blue and green world that my favorite hobby, besides answering the most complex equations, was to relax in a swing set.

I don't believe it's my fault for wanting to, as it's so relaxing, and I feel more at peace here than lying down on the world's best memory foam. But kicking my thigh, I realize I've never tried the world's best memory foam.

I pictured the sky turning purple, and it was a beautiful sight.

It was a story I read the first time I swung as a five-year-old girl. The name Night Night Vampire, it told of a young little vampire girl who grew tired of the sun and had to rely on her adoptive caretakers, so she flew to where it felt best, and it just happened to reunite her with her biological parents, the vampire king, and queen. It sounded stupid on paper, but trust me, that story was the most soothing while swinging.

My school bag never once saw a day where I wouldn't carry the mass-market copy of that very slim short story. It was practically a brochure at its width, but I didn't care about it. I reached into my school bag, legs still dangling above the seat, and began reading. The seven pages flew fast (as to be expected), and I kept it tightly in my grip.

I knew it would end soon, but why did it have to?

It was around this very second that I wished I had the funds to purchase noise-canceling earphones to listen to Beethoven or even an audiobook take of the story. I bite my lips and hear that a little kid was hurt by the way he squealed. It was nothing short of being genuine, and my fight-or-flight sense came on. Even with my horrible instincts to flee with every initiation of talking if it isn't with select people, I wanted to try to prove to Shirogane that the work he's put in to help me study was worthwhile. (Or maybe not.)

I walked to where I had heard the noise and very quickly came to the terms of it being a preteen girl. She reminded me of the Sister, with her hair done where her forehead revealed itself as a forest in a desert, but her hair was dyed brown. Her cries were much louder than her appearance, however, so it came to me that I knew I had to try to do something.

The pain of wanting to help and not wanting to be confusing enough, and I pinched my thoughts to at least ask.

"Is something wrong, little girl?" I ask. "Where are your parents?"