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── › one.
SHE'S A BELIEVER. That's what she likes to think.
The imagination of a person is vast and sometimes unexplainable, for the mind contorts itself to create a vision that we wish to see. Believing is just its fuel to ignite, and maybe that's why hope is so hungry in people's souls as we are being continuously starved from it.
But what she couldn't believe was the ripple in the universe as gold-lined headlights spattered itself on her body, a honk soon howling in the air. She barely made it if it weren't for the person gripping tightly on the back of her clothes. The crinkle of the plastic bag clutched in her hand was a sudden reminder of the groceries clinking inside, and where she was exactly going– home. With anxiety still pinching at her skin, she whirled around to face her savior only to meet an all too familiar face.
Amanai Riko.
Her mouth bobbed open and closed, eyes wide and doe-liked. This can't be happening, because it simply can't be. There's no explanation why she's seeing a girl from a fictional series and well, someone who's dead. Her withered corpsed joined the earth and along with it, her dried out dreams in 2006. It's 2023, she had to remind herself. It's 2023...right? But the girl who caused her inner turmoil voice chalked the humid wind, drawing her focus clear onto her.
"Are you- are you okay?" She's just as scared, she realizes, for her eyes dipped in the deep ocean blinked at her, almost watery and wide. The older girl had to reply with something- anything- to not make her worry even more than she already seems to be.
"Yeah, I'm..I'm fine." She manages to croak out, mind still trying to kick itself in gear but of course, she can't comprehend what the hell is going on. She straightens her posture and finally takes a look around, curious eyes still hooking onto the both of them before getting dragged into the sea of people. "Uhm, thank you." She's still shaken up, so she hopes Riko doesn't take offence to her rather flat out thank you. But instead, the girl seems to beam a bit despite the situation, a smile flickering over her lips.
"No problem! I saw the car headed to you and...I guess my body moved before thinking." She's glad for Riko's resolve even though her body had a mind of its own. She'd be dead and the thought makes her mouth feel like ash. She uses her hand to flatten out her clothes so she appears not a mess, though she knows she probably looks like it. The flimsy handles of the plastic bag dig into the flesh of her palms, sure to leave a red mark with how tight she's gripping it.
"Still, if it weren't for you, I'd be flat like a pancake." That elicits a bubbly giggle from Riko, her dark hair tied in a braid sways at the shake of her head.
"That wouldn't have been a pretty sight." They fall into a silence, the crowds of people still flurring around them. She took this time to actually look at the younger girl who was in her school uniform, backpack slung over her arm as it probably drooped to the crook of it when she took off. She's still in middle school.
Forgetting she introduced herself, she stuck out her hand for her to shake. "Kumiko." Riko's face creases into confusion before the flash of realization slithers over her face.
"Amanai Riko! It's nice to meet you, Kumiko." They clasped hands before quickly releasing, Kumiko pocketing her still shaking ones in her pant pockets. She hoped Riko didn't notice, nor the lack of last name, but luckily she made no comment on it. She opened her mouth to say something, but was shut down by another voice working its way into the conversation.
"Miss Riko, there you are!" The tone was urgent, like that of a mother's, so they both whip their heads to the call. Kumiko's heart only dropped further in her stomach. The familiar woman rested her hands gently on Riko's shoulders, eyes searching her face and body for any injuries. When finding none, she heaves a deep sigh.
"Don't go running off like that again, okay?" She heard a quiet 'sorry' mumble itself from the younger girl, gaze glued to the concrete below as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. She could sense the small spark of guilt sag down on her bones so Kumiko willed her hand out, making her presence known.
"It's not her fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and almost got hit by a car. Amanai saved my life." Soon, she felt brown eyes pin to her frame, but they were warm. They reminded her of the hot chocolate she always had during winter. The thought now burns her mind, a sick feeling roiling in the pit of her stomach. If she's here, then how the hell will she get back home?
"Oh," she tips her head to the side briefly to stare at the girl under her care, the worry still numbing her muscles but it relieves them at the comment. "Well, I'm glad Miss Riko was there then." She seems to want to say more, her lip worrying in her teeth indicating as such before she dipped herself into a bow. "Unfortunately, we have to get going." Riko flung her head up, panic sewing over her young features. She rapidly digs through her pocket before fishing out a phone, face now a little too close to comfort for Kumiko.
"Can I get your number? So we can keep in touch!" The question seemed innocent at first if it weren't for the fact that when she finally found her phone, it wasn't exactly her phone. It was a flip phone for god's sake. Her lips part in shock confusion, eyes widening at the old device sitting in her hands. The anxiety seemed to hit her with full force as it warmed the back of her neck, embarrassment tickling her ears and cheeks. She knows Riko is eagerly waiting so she flips the phone open, and without a second thought, thrusts it over to her.
"You can just...add it in." And that's how she got Amanai Riko's number. A fictional character's number. Yet, she was real. Her movements were real. Her worry was real. Her excitement was real. Amanai Riko was real. She couldn't believe that, especially when the number now put in her phone glares at her like she should know the answer somewhere.
The people still blur themselves in her vision, the city surroundings creeping in her ears, but the only noise that remains were her thoughts.
God, she's fucked.
TEN SECONDS LEFT
o1; AUTHORS NOTE — oh man oh man.... things are abt to get crayola so hang on tight.
