Sunsets ཉ Mitsunoa

1⠀ུ⠀Rainy Days

༑

⠀⠀⠀Blinding lights illuminate the room, a little girl sitting on a stool just beside a broad, white bed. She watches the somewhat steady breathing, ears twitching as each beep catches her drums and causing her to jump from surprise. As many times as she's been here before, she'll never get used to her surroundings. Everywhere, she could smell the scent of death. It was a rather disgusting stentch that pervaded the building, one that smelled of something rotting or a strong, stinging scent that would attack her nostrils within one inhale.

⠀⠀⠀She was afraid that this scent will be what will bring her precious sister down to her knees and force her to obey the laws of the Underworld. She doesn't want her to leave. She wants her to stay where she is, healthy and bright.

⠀⠀⠀But even she knows something like that will not come without a price to go with it. The body laying still upon the white sheets is not the bright, sunny person she wished to see. In fact, she is the opposite. Her face is paler than a ghost, cheeks blanker than her worthless mind to the point anyone could see her veins through the skin. Her hands and fingers are as useless as her mind, system not connected to her body. They are wrinkled and thin from the lack of movement, and sometimes, Shinoa forgets that this person is her sister.

⠀⠀⠀It was like it was someone right out of a horror movie.

⠀⠀⠀"Shin-oa," Her sister croaked in front of her, gaze a dull grey, no light in her eyes. "You're back from cram school, huh? How're you, darling?"

⠀⠀⠀"Fine, Mahiru. Are you getting better?"

⠀⠀⠀"Much better. I feel like I could be free of this illness tomorrow!" Mahiru joked.

⠀⠀⠀"That's great to hear," Shinoa commented with fake relief, her palm against her chest warmly as she grants her sister a smile.

⠀⠀⠀Later that night, she is sent out of the hospital, Mahiru fast alseep and erratically breathing as she tries to complicatedly even out her lungs. It sends tremors down Shinoa's spine each time she hears it— eyes casted downwards and tears threatening to spill. In the back of her mind, she knows she isn't going to be better. She doesn't, for a fact, feel better. It is just for the sake of keeping Shinoa free of stress and worry. Shinoa leaves the hospital with more weight on her shoulders, mind wandering and pondering.

⠀⠀⠀The tears she was once holding back came at her at full force, the wetness catching her uninvited attention within seconds, and she almost doesn't notice she's crying. Shinoa wished she didn't know that she was. She wished to trail back to her home without a single thought of what was happening. She wanted to run home to a kitchen full of freshly cooked foods neatly made on the table, with a cat rubbing against her limbs, the television ringing in her ears of her most favorable soap opera. She wanted to run home to a happy, healthy sister. But almost, if not most of those desires, were impossible.

⠀⠀⠀Shinoa all but ate fast foods or microwaveable foods that came in boxes or cups. She didn't have a whole lot of time to buy her own fresh ingredients let alone cook for herself. It wasn't because she did not have the money, no, she did— kind of. Most of her earnings went to paying monthly hospital bills and operations, but of course, she still needed to have enough money for her own wellbeing. Not that hers mattered as much as her sister's. How she got so much money in little time wasn't a mystery either. Shinoa Hīragi was famous within the city.

⠀⠀⠀Famous, yes, but for the wrong reason.

⠀⠀⠀When she couldn't afford to eat a proper, more healthy meal, she usually pondered the thought of adopting another cat, though that option was always shot down within seconds. Shinoa and Mahiru had a cat once— a beautiful, feathery Maine Coon that was the color of the sky when the sun began to set, a golden-sandy hue that brushed over its fur. One day, when they couldn't find it, their parents told them it ran away. But they knew the truth. It died. It wasn't an absurd thing to hear; the poor thing was old and frail, as if one stroke of its fur, and it would shatter within your touch.