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Akira was not well.
Chishiya noticed it as soon as she watched his troubled eyes lose themselves in the darkness of the night. She said nothing the whole way back, and when they reached their unusual, but safe shelter, she went straight to the small mound of blankets and pillows where she had slept the night before, lay down on the soft makeshift bed and cried. She cried until her own body could no longer bear the physical and emotional burden of the events that had just occurred, causing her to fall into a deep sleep.
The blond was guessing that she would quickly fall into sadness after learning the true nature of that cruel world, he was even betting that when the sun peeked over the horizon and a new day came with it, Akira would wake up as a different person, perhaps someone more familiar with the evil that surrounded her, or perhaps as someone who would fight to survive. It was almost a given that something like this would happen, but a feeling of nonconformity settled over Chishiya like a premonition of something that, despite the facts, would not happen.
Chishiya contemplated Akira's hopeless rest for a long while, thoughtful about everything. Although, the basis of his current attraction with the girl fell on her peculiar kindness, if that kindness that had called him in the beginning disappeared, the blue-haired girl would go from being his most precious treasure, to just another person like anyone else in this world.And yes, it would be hypocritical, on his part, not to want to give up that which made Akira a good person, being that he himself was no god's bread and had put his life before that of anyone else. But that same selfishness that urged him to survive under any circumstance would be the same selfishness that would push him to take care of Akira so that she wouldn't become just another one of the bunch. So, determined with his goal, he laid his body on the ground and let himself fall into the world of dreams.
Akira awoke screaming.
His dreams, which he hoped were an escape from his cruel reality, were almost treacherous as they put a vivid replay of the man's death in his head; that nightmare seemed so real that even the memory he had of the event seemed like a low quality copy. He felt that he could even feel the wetness and metallic smell of blood painting his body with gloomy and terrifying stains. It took a couple of minutes before he could open his eyes, after that, he rubbed his fists against his eyes trying to relieve the annoying itch caused by his dry tears still impregnated in his eyelashes, he grimaced as he felt his own morning breath and once he felt his muscles somewhat awake he could get up from that uncomfortable mound of blankets where he had decided to sleep.
