Âmes en peine (English ver.)

²⁴ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐢

With October coming soon, the deadline the art teacher had imposed on her students was drawing to a close.

Surprisingly, her grandmother hadn't dug too deep when Hana had asked permission to stay after school to finish her art project with Ejiro Igarashi. She had expected to have to turn heaven and earth in order for her grandma to accept, yet the sixty-something had offered no resistance. The brief explanation her granddaughter had given her, for once, was enough to lower her guard. Hana didn't complain, although she couldn't help finding it suspicious. Since when had the old woman been so understanding towards her?

For a little, the skater almost felt bad for having – partially - lied to her. It was true that Hana had spent a good part of the afternoon refining up her charcoal self-portrait portfolio, but she hadn't done it at school, nor in Igarashi's company.

Using the mirror in front of her, Hana readjusted her hair one last time. She checked that her shirt was buttoned up and tucked into her uniform skirt, and once she was sure of this, the young woman swiveled in the direction of the person carelessly seated on the desk chair. Her gaze caught the translucent eyes that watched her intently, still reading the remnants of lust floating there. Not without effort, the young woman managed - this time - to ignore them and repeated the sentence she had uttered half an hour ago.

-—'ll be off now, announced Hana calmly, noting the late hour of the evening. Thanks again for your help, Akaashi.

—Hey, aren't you forgetting somethin'?

Hana froze, not understanding the meaning of his sentence. Or rather, she feared she'd misunderstood. Her fatigue was such that her mind easily wandered, and a misinterpretation of the situation was not hard to come by.

Seeing the interrogation floating in her eyes, the young man couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. He didn't comment, however, choosing to clarify his thoughts instead. Keisuke lazily rose from his chair. At arm's length, he reached for the portfolio lying on the piano flap. In a few strides, the boy reached the pretty brunette, standing at the entrance to her room, and handed her the possession she had almost forgotten.

—I was talking about this, he said mockingly, waving the folder. It'd be a shame to leave it here after all the time and effort spent on it.

—Oh.

Hana cursed herself for her lack of concentration. Lately, her mind had really been elsewhere. She often left an assignment at home or lost some of her personal belongings. All this training and competition were exhausting her, both physically and mentally, not to mention the lovely anxiety that was growing inside her as the fateful date approached. This, combined with her cruel lack of sleep, was not helping her situation.

—I'm so absent-minded, she apologized, gratefully taking hold of the portfolio. Thank God you're here. Thanks again for the help.

The young man didn't answer immediately, taking the time to put his now free hands back into his pockets. What his companion had just said came as no surprise to him. Aside from her tired look and paler-than-usual cheeks, Keisuke could tell that something was bothering her. He sensed she was more distant, less anchored in the present. She listened less. Barely replied. Played nervously with her fingers whenever she had the chance. All this was a significant number of indications that something wasn't quite right, and while he'd initially thought it was due to the pressure of figure skating, his intuition told him it was something else.