Spring Awakenings

Never More

5/1/12, Shirogane Estate, Early Evening

Rise shivered as she walked along a short pathway just south of the Yamegawa flood plain, in the direction of the Shirogane estate. She had changed into a cute orange spaghetti strap shirt with a white, turtleneck undershirt and a pair of dark brown woolen tights, and even they were ineffective towards the sudden blustery assault that had sprung itself right past the floodplain. She cursed herself for not bringing a jacket and soldiered on, adamant on speaking to Naoto and fixing their damaged friendship.

She looked back to her usual self: copper hair set high and spunky in floppy pigtails and perfectly applied makeup that highlighted her eyes and lips. It sounded stuck up, but in the past few days she had almost forgotten the thrill of expertly applying enough blush to make her cheeks gleam and dabbing her eyelashes just a tad to make them really stand out when she fluttered them. She felt like an ancient warrior, armoring herself up to go and face down an oni , a demonic ogre that was known to gobble up unsuspecting humans. She wasn't afraid that Naoto would eat her, but she was more afraid of the Detective Prince's cruel and sharp tongue; Rise was still harboring some hurt feelings from Monday, and she wasn't sure if she could handle any more venom.

Before she had left her room, Rise had also snatched her book bag, which was currently in her left hand. Because she had been essentially comatose for the past few days, she had forgotten to remove the gift she had bought for Naoto from her bag. Now that she was feeling different, she decided it couldn't hurt to try and give it to her. She knew that she was no wordsmith, and since her emotions were still running high she hoped that the gift could speak for her in the case that she couldn't communicate how much Naoto meant to her.

Beyond the short road she was on, a large estate loomed in the background. Unlike the usual homes in the Inaba area, the Shirogane estate was designed much more like a Western home. Large wooden doors replaced normal sliding paper fusuma , and old brick and mortar stood in place of wood. Rise had only seen something similar in movies and manga, and she felt her knees tremble a bit as she cautiously stepped toward the front door.

It was past 6:30, so the sun was completely down,the only light coming from a lamp that teetered just above the front door. This light encompassed Rise as she stepped to the large door, recoiling a bit at the steely-eyed owl that firmly held a brass knocker in its beak. She nervously reached up and gently grasped the thin knocker, rapping it three times against the oak door and wincing at just how loud the knocks sounded in the calm night.

A few moments passed by undeterred, and Rise considered knocking again when she heard some movement on the other side of the door. Another moment flew by before the door finally opened, and an older, well-dressed man with thin glasses appeared in the doorway.

"Yes? Is there something I may help you with?" the man asked softly. He was smiling, but Rise could sense that he was tense and prepared to shut the door if he saw this was a waste of his time. Clearing her throat, she struggled with her anxiety to string the words together.

"Y-yeah, uh, hi! My name...my name is, um, Rise Kujikawa, and I was wondering if Naoto was home?" She coughed awkwardly as she felt the man staring at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. As he began to speak, she did her best to silence the squeak of terror when a different hand gripped the man's shoulder. The hand was weathered and old, and it connected to a face that was equally aged.

"Yakushiji-san, I believe this is one of Naoto's friends. Why don't you go and prepare some tea for our guest?" the man asked nicely, meeting the eyes of his steward with a calm but demanding look, "I'll attend to the young lady here. Thank you." His voice was gravelly, a sandpaper sonance that betrayed his elegant look: a brown plaid vest that hung open, a gleaming golden watch chain dangling from the pocket, and a reddish-brown shirt with white pinstripes. He also had a tie, a dark burgundy number with olive squares on it that was left untied around the spread collar of his shirt. In a way, with his sharp grey eyes and heavily greying blue hair, he looked like an older version of Naoto. The slightly younger man nodded and retreated into the house's foyer.