Blossoms of the Dark

CXXIX Shouto: Hibiscus

Trigger Warning:

- disappearance

- mention of human trafficking

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Today is the fourth day.

I brace myself to find an empty seat by the window.

But no.

The girl with raven tresses in the daylight, with liquid silver eyes I gladly drown in every time I see them, with silver faerie ear shells, with immaculately ironed uniform shirt and trousers, with blazer draped over her shoulders, with loafers on her feet, with ivory white gloves and lace choker, with an expensive watch on her wrist, with purple hibiscuses interwoven in her chignon occupies that seat.

The girl who wears glasses and reads herself to sleep.

The girl of intrigue, the girl of mystery, the girl of secrecy.

My moon.

I'm in disbelief. I don't even fully comprehend that Selene-chan is here - really here - until I storm toward her and seize her by her upper arms. She flinches at being pulled out of her chair so suddenly, but honestly, I am the one more surprised. No. That's not the right word. There is a mixture of exhilaration, pent-up fear, relief, concern, ecstasy, anger, serenity, and sadness. Is there a word for this combination of emotions? Part of my prayers were met. She is alive, she is safe, she came back. But she did not return unharmed or unscathed. Band-aids are stuck to her face: a big on her forehead, two smaller ones on her cheek, one on her nose, a few on her neck. My hands roam down her arms so slowly, so tightly. To remember her unforgettable presence again.

"Sh-Shouto-kun?" she asks timidly.

I don't know what to say. By the time my hands reach hers, I have intertwined them, clutched hers like a lifeline, stroked the backs of hers the way one would stroke the petals of a rose. My head bows to rest against the slope of her shoulder, tears dripping into the fabric. I can feel the beats of her pulse increase, the rate of her inhalations and exhalations rise, the warmth of her body heating. Her sandalwood perfume becomes the only thing I can smell. I could recognize her by touch alone, by smell; I would know her blind, by the way her breaths came and her feet struck the earth. I would know her in death, at the end of the world.

I memorize her like never before. Every heartbeat, every breath, every scent, everything that makes her her. So this is what separating from you feels like. Pain. Suffering. Agony. I never want to feel any of them again. Perhaps minutes later, though it feels like an eternity, I raise my head to meet her eyes. She has not said anything besides that question, and I am glad she hasn't. But at the same time, I want to hear her voice. Her laugh. Anything. My fingers brush against the band-aids, one by one. Her breath hitches, but she stays still. A tendril of her hair escapes from its chignon. I twirl it around a finger, tugging it, coiling it, but never letting go. When I do, I tuck it behind her ear and speak for the first time since seeing her. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she responds, instantly.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, even though I know the answer. I had watched the news this morning, which broadcasted that the search mission was successful. But I want to hear it from her, in person. Anything to hear her voice and know just whom I should direct my rage toward.

Selene-chan glances behind her, out toward the window. Understanding her worries, I pull her into a corner of the classroom, a blind spot for viewers outside. "Four nights ago, I was having a fitful sleep. Nightmares. So, I decided a moonlight stroll in one of the Hanada gardens would relax me. But I strolled too far. Something hit me, and everything turned black. When I awoke, I was restrained to a pole, and there were many masked men around me. They said strange things. Like I would fetch a heavy price, or that I was an exotic beauty, or that my cane was made of pure silver so selling it would make some profit. They were human traffickers. Later, I overheard one of them saying that there was a buyer interested in me, but said buyer wanted me chaste. Apparently, being chaste did not mean no injury. The traffickers beat me to keep me under control. When I resisted, the beatings were harsher. Ultimately, they hit me so hard they decided getting rid of me would be the better option. All this time, I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. They dropped me into the water, thinking I would drown. My cane rolled into the water, too. I managed to retrieve it and secure a some boat wreckage. But I could not swim, and I was too exhausted to call for help. I remember fainting to my wounds, and then waking up today in the hospital with a high fever. The people who found me said I laid unconscious on the shores of Tsubasa Beach."

The story matches exactly what was reported on the news. That was her statement and the report from the police and Pro-Heroes. Everything matches. Why there were no signs of resisting in her bedroom, why her cane was missing with her, and why she disappeared for so many days (no one thought to search the waters, not even me). It is not far from my assumptions or Aizawa-sensei's assumptions. So maybe it wasn't the League of Villains that kidnapped her. That doesn't make them saints, but now I know that they were not responsible. I know who to loathe with every fiber of my being. But I just wish that none of this happened. "You're not burning up now, and your injuries seem non-fatal. Did the doctors treat the fever and wounds?"

She replies that Recovery Girl was brought in to accelerate the healing process. There were many fractures and plenty of internal bleeding. A concussion and numerous contusions. With that many sustained injuries, she should have been dead. I send a silent thanks to all my ancestors and the gods watching above that she's not.

"You had me worried sick, Selene-chan. I thought ... I thought you were dead," I choke as I untangle a hibiscus for my treasure collection.

She rests her hands on my shoulders and apologizes repeatedly.

I hold her waist and whisper, "Please, please, please, for god's sake, take better care of yourself."

Her tears flow, matching mine.

But they seem to be apologizing for more than just frightening me.

I think I imagine it when she murmurs, "I'm sorry for all the times I have lied to you, hurt you, and all the times I inevitably will."

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Citations:

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." - The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller