Shape of a Miracle EP 1 - The Pied Player

Three Years Prior Part 2

Three years ago.

She sat there, staring at the first page. It had only been a few months since she bought her new pink notebook, but she had spent every day since then thinking about what to write on it and the kinds of people who will write on it. She won't be able to control the latter, but she had to make sure that the former would be the best it could be.

She mulled over on formalities, friendliness, length and how exactly to get her message across. She wanted to make her situation clear, while still showing how that should be of little bearing in their interactions. Even when she finalised an idea, she couldn't help but mull over every possible way someone could take it. Was it too forward? Was she over explaining it? Or was she not explaining it enough?

She clenched the pen in her hands, bleeding the ink onto her fingertips. She grabbed another spare sheet of paper and, for the twelfth time that day, practised what she was going to write down. She scribbled on the paper, occasionally looking through the dictionary beside her, feeling that if she doesn't, the universe itself will miraculously change the spelling of a random word, causing herself to write it wrong in front of the whole class, humiliating herself and destroying her chances of making any friends. In less than a week she would have her first day of that new school, she needed to make sure she isn't going to make any mistakes.

In less than a week. She had already procrastinated this to less than a week away. she hovered her pen over the notebook. At this point she wasn't even sure if she would be able to touch it. Its dozens of blank pages were crisp and beautiful, was she really going to ruin it with her handwriting? She took the pen away from the page, but it seemed she had already ruined the paper, as to her horror she had already accidently made an ink blob on it.

She had to write in it now. She sighed, took a deep breath, and started writing in it, making sure the first character would hide the ink splotch.

"My name is Shoko Nishimiya. It is nice to meet you."

She leaned back on her chair. She had had that sentence stirring up in her brain for months. It was almost surreal to see it actually written down in the notebook. She looked over it for spelling errors, but it was almost perfect. Sure, there was a bump in the road while she wrote it, as she couldn't fit her full name under one paragraph. But it was still completely legible. She tried to hide her ever growing grin despite being completely alone, and she turned the page and wrote down what she wanted to say next:

"I would like to get to know everyone through this notebook."

Except that wasn't meant to be what was written next, she had skipped a line. She braced for a wave of dread, for a pit in her stomach to suddenly form, but neither came. Instead, she felt completely free. Writing down those words only made them more real to her, like this notebook really was the key to find a connection in another person. In fact, she preferred it this way, she wanted everyone to know how bursting-at-the-seams she was at learning about them, about understanding them, and to listen to their voices. She turned the page and carried on with what was originally going to be the second line.

"When you want to talk to me, please use this notebook."

She couldn't hide her smile now, imagining all the things people might write down in her notebook, all the things she could write down to talk to them. it was illuminating, thinking of all the wonders this notebook can give her. She turned the page, ready to write her final sentence.

Then she stopped. There was a reason she wanted this to be the last thing written down and not the first. She swallowed. But she had to write it down. So, she did. With everything else she had spent a lot of time on every pen movement, making sure that every aspect of every character looked perfect, as to make it clear what was being written down. But with this, with the most important sentence in this notebook, she jotted the words down as fast as she possibly could.

"I can't hear."

She stared at it for a moment, looking out for any errors or unreadability. Then she shut it away.