Aizawa
December
Every day was like the last; just me going through the motions. Well, any other day since she left at least. The days ran together anymore. The only way I could tell the seasons had changed was the chill that stung my face in the mornings when I left for work. That, in itself, began a pattern that I wanted so desperately to break. The problem is, how do you break out of a prison made of your own thoughts? I'd wonder if she would run on such cold mornings. If she was running, where was she? Was it even cold where she was? So many questions, all avoiding the one big one that I really wanted the answer to, but knew I'd never get.
The days prattled on. I went to work, came home, worked out, sometimes finally fell asleep on the couch. Rinse, repeat. I couldn't sleep in the bed any more, it was too overwhelming. I felt like the world's biggest pussy. I didn't lose it like this when Obe died, and yet, this woman whom I honestly barely knew, has turned me inside out. I avoided everyone. I didn't need their sympathetic looks or their pity invites. I let Hiz drag me out on my birthday because I think he needed a reason to get sloshed.
I followed every lead Keigo sussed out. Her car was found a few hours north in Yokohama, near the port. That, in itself, didn't bode well. Add in the fact that the trail went dead from there, it was even worse. She could have boarded a ship and gone anywhere. She could have been kidnapped and sent somewhere even worse. Her bank account was emptied the night she left and her one credit card paid off and closed the same night. There was no record of her passport being used at any airport, port, or train station in any major city in Japan, not so much as a red-light camera photo of her anywhere.
I even tried searching veterinary records, thinking maybe she took Bruno somewhere new, but there was no record of a dog matching Bruno's description and name anywhere that I could find. I even tried digging into her background for possible family connections. She never really talked about a family, other than a friend who was like a sister to her back in New York. I'd bugged some of my US contacts to see if they could do some digging, perhaps she'd made it back there without being detected somehow. Nothing. Hiz even reached out to his contacts within their Homeland Security and there was no trace of her. It was as if she evaporated like mist into the night.
I was angry at first. It was the why, or the lack there of. I just didn't understand what happened. She was there one minute, and gone the next. I wanted to hold onto that anger, I wanted to hate her. I wanted to use her image for target practice in my head, but every time I thought of her smile, of how she looked at me; like I was the only other person on earth, my chest felt like it was caving in. I started telling myself that if I could just know she was alright, it would be enough. The anger slipped away into hurt, and that's where I stayed.
If she was safe wherever she was, it wouldn't matter why she left. The pain in my chest wouldn't matter. The hole she left behind could be forgiven. Just let her be ok. A million times a day I must have said this over and over to myself. Hiz made it known only once, just how angry he was. He agreed to spar with me one Saturday, something he hasn't done since our Academy days. He's built like a stalk of bamboo, but he's deceptively strong. Even still, I'm stronger, my reflexes quicker, and he hates to lose.
I could tell when he stepped in the ring with me that he had something on his mind. I did too after all, that was why I was there. I needed to get my mind off her, or at least try to. He came out swinging in a Southpaw stance, almost knocked me out with the first hit. "Jesus Hiz." I said as I stood back up from the mat. He didn't even look at me. "Ok." I said, my anger rising. He wanted to be a dick for no reason, I'll let him know he picked the wrong time for it.
I came back at him with series of straight jabs to a body shot right hook combo that he took in stride, coming back at me with the same series. Back and forth we went, for an hour. We finally took a break and were both sucking down water like it was a new invention, his back turned to me. We came back in and he led off with a haymaker to an uppercut. If I hadn't blocked at the last minute, he would have laid me out for good.
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Kintsugi
FanfictionKintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with gold, treating the the break and repair as a valuable part of its history. In a just-different-enough AU, where life is almost as it is here, pro-heroes...