VIOLET SKY, takigawa chris yuu

━ chapter two

act i

this shouldn't be happening.
( oh but it is. )

chapter two

❛i've burned all my bridges❜

━━━━━━

"Are you going out again?"

Amara pauses at the question, one foot in the entryway and one over the threshold.

She watches Chiyo and Hiro. They're playing Super Smash Bros on Chiyo's switch and it's Hiro's pink, cherubic Kirby against Chiyo's hulking Donkey Kong; they've been muttering insults to each other from the corners of their mouths the entire match, aggressively stabbing at the joycons that extend from the small, rectangular screen sitting on the desk chair.

Hiro swears up a storm as Donkey Kong reigns supreme and Chiyo turns to look at Amara, lips quirking in self-satisfaction.

While Hiro begins setting up another match — "that was a fluke" — Amara shrugs and smiles. "School's tomorrow. Figured, you know, before we get too busy."

"Uh-huh."

It never bodes well for Amara to lie to her friends, even if it's indirectly.

Akamine Chihiro is the more oblivious of their trio — she's young and stupid, Chiyo says, even when Amara points out that she's only a year younger and that she and Chiyo are literally dating — but for the ever-observant Hosaki Chiyo, there is nothing Amara can hide from her.

Chiyo and her unnerving perception always manages to humble her when she gets too high up on her ledge, but now it's sort of inconvenient. She never used to consecutively 'go out' — to Nakatsuwa — but she's been doing so for the past week. Naturally, Chiyo and Hiro notice and are curious about what's bringing her to Nakatsuwa more frequently, but Amara . . . almost doesn't want to tell them.

Since her brief social blunder a couple days ago, things have been moderately quiet between herself and the stranger, but they've spoken.

Quiet exchanges mostly, superficial, disingenuous.

The kids have grown increasingly aware of his presence and since they still meet by their old spot, they have a few minutes to talk amongst themselves before reaching the clearing they currently use. Amara had to explain that he was just a stranger and they talked sometimes. Nothing more, nothing less.

She's grateful that aside from their brief interactions, the stranger hardly takes up most of her time. Even she can't forget that her original purpose in Nakatsuwa is to see the kids — not the stranger.

When they take breaks, usually collapsing underneath the shade of the tree, they'll talk amongst themselves and she'll sketch and listen to them complain about the new school year. Occasionally she'll enter the conversation; novelty remains about Amara's status as a foreigner because they hesitate to bombard her with questions — it's strangely thoughtful. But they talk about it eventually, about the formalities and social hierarchies; there's little about each other's spheres of existence that are truly different (other than maybe, like, bidets).

She's sure the stranger is well-aware of what they talk about. He never makes a move to enter the conversation, but she senses him on the other side of the bench, listening, maybe a little reluctantly. He throws half-glances at her sometimes when they talk, an unwilling-but-not-quite participant in the conversation, if only because he is there and within hearing range of the conversation, but never contributing.