memory loss, an impending sense of doom. character disappearance/death 1220 words
Kotori is waiting for Umi at her side of the river just as she always does.
Umi nods a polite greeting at her to wish her good morning, and Kotori smiles back in return. The next statement is inevitably a query about how well they slept, followed by a quip about the previous day’s homework and how much there was. Sometimes, they’ll decide to pick up a snack on the way to school before class begins. This is routine. This is normal for the two of them, a familiar pattern in the fabric of life.
The sinking emptiness in her chest is not, however, par for the course.
A cold hand of dread has sunk its talons into her neck, sending icy chills through her body. There’s a sinister voice lurking at the back of her mind, whispering there’s something missing over and over again. She’s trapped in an echo chamber of her own thoughts, and can’t quite place what’s wrong. Umi freezes in her tracks. Kotori frowns.
“Umi-chan, what’s wrong?”
Her hand slides into Umi’s, warm and friendly. Something about it feels wrong. Umi absentmindedly raises her other hand to her face, as though there’s something else—no, someone else that should be filling the gaps in between her fingers with their own. It’s a ridiculous sentiment. Umi doesn’t voice it.
“It’s nothing,” she mutters, giving Kotori’s hand a small squeeze before continuing on their journey. The icy talons sink deeper inside her as they continue to walk.
Eli doesn’t remember how she ended up as a school idol. She vaguely recalls a point in time where she found it ludicrous, immature even. After rejection after rejection from ballet schools, the idea of performing on stage again would have seemed like a wild fantasy at best, a pipe dream at worst. Yet here she is on the school’s rooftop, preparing herself for the Love Live with seven people who are almost friends.
Her voice rings out loud and clear as she leads the group’s stretches. She is a strict teacher, she knows, but it is for the best. It is up to her to ensure their steps are in sync, their movements melodious in the way that they dance. Even if they are not singing, she should almost be able to hear the music.
It is oddly silent on the roof that day, even with her instructions.
Technically, nobody is doing anything wrong. Rin is the best dancer of the group, and she and Hanayo have obviously been practicing together with how much Hanayo has improved. Nico has caught up with the two of them, and her movements are fluid as she prances into stage for her dance solo. Nozomi is gorgeous, as usual, but perhaps Eli is a biased party when it comes to that.
There’s a gap between where Kotori and Umi are standing, but their formation has been that way for as long as she can remember. Eli frowns.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember very much any more.
The stars are bright; they always are.
It is late after practice and Rin is rushing home to do her homework, pedaling her bike as quickly as she can. There’s a large, open field on the way back, and despite her rush, something tells her to stop and stare. She glances up into the night sky and wonders, for a moment, if she is meant to channel her namesake. Perhaps, someday, she too will shine: no more worries, no more hiding, no more toeing the fine line between boy and girl, wanting desperately to cross.
The constellations stare back at her unblinking. Then, a faraway twinkle through the corner of her eye, so sudden that she nearly jumps, a brief flash of brightness and radiating light.
“Ah,“ she mutters, stretching her hand out, almost as though to grab hold of it. But the sparkle disappears almost as quickly as it surfaced, and Rin finds herself grasping at air, feeling quite silly, reaching for a light that doesn’t exist. She frowns.
She must have been seeing things. Stress from school, and stress from life. That’s all, right? She heaves a sigh and continues to pedal on, a pit of dread bubbling inside her as she thinks about the mounting pile of homework that awaits.
The skies screamed the next day, letting loose a torrent of rain. Instead of practice the eight girls of Muse are huddled in the Idol Research Club room, watching videos of their previous performances and observing their mistakes. The Love Live tournament is coming up and Nico is gearing up on her barrage of criticism—they could have sung that louder, they could have had more heart.
Hanayo swallows the lump in her throat as she glances to the left, watching as Maki diligently takes notes. She grumbling underneath her breath about Nico, but that is nothing new. Nico is a force to be reckoned with, the kind of person she’d call a human hurricane. They need that sort of force to keep the group going.
Dark clouds and harsh winds part to reveal sun. Hanayo knows it’s bad, but sometimes it feels like there is no light in sight. It’s been dark clouds and rainstorms for a while now, a suffocating fog breathing over the days past.
Nico sighs dramatically, dropping her pen on the table in lieu of a mic.
“Hanayo, go grab another stack of CDs from the shelves. We’ve got lots of work to do.”
Hanayo nods, getting up from her seat. She’s overthinking it. They’ll compete in the semi-finals, face off against A-Rise, and perhaps they’ll win. She walks over to the CDs and removes a stack from the shelf. There is a shoebox behind them that she has never seen before. Hanayo frowns, squinting through her glasses.
That hasn’t been there before. She grabs the box with her other hand, placing it underneath the CDs and walking up to Nico. There is something strange about this. Something she can’t quite place.
“H- hey everyone, come and take a look,” she says, nervously glancing around the room. Seven pairs of curious footsteps scuttle around her, peering over the shoebox in her arms as she removes the top.
Newspaper clippings. Her eyes widen when she realizes they’re of their group—the newspapers are all talking about Muse, but there’s a girl in the center who isn’t in the room. Orange hair, a side ponytail, and the brightest smile she hasn’t seen. Hanayo’s eyes meet Maki’s, and she gulps.
An mp3 player. She hands it to Rin, who presses the “play” button. A voice pours out of it, technically average at best, but imbued with a heart and passion that’s unrivalled by anyone in the group. The song she is singing is familiar, yet unknown. Ai wa Taiyou Jyanai.
Love is like the sun.
Hanayo digs further into the shoebox. A group photo. The orange-haired girl is holding the camera, her hand outstretched as she takes the selfie. Around her, everyone is laughing and smiling. Even Nico. (Especially Nico.) She hands the photo to Umi, who practically snatches it away from her in shock. Her face is pale and her voice shakes.
“W-where’s Honoka?”
The memories flood back like a tidal wave. Hanayo drops the shoebox.
FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G
1220 words
Kotori is waiting for Umi at her side of the river just as she always does.
Umi nods a polite greeting at her to wish her good morning, and Kotori smiles back in return. The next statement is inevitably a query about how well they slept, followed by a quip about the previous day’s homework and how much there was. Sometimes, they’ll decide to pick up a snack on the way to school before class begins. This is routine. This is normal for the two of them, a familiar pattern in the fabric of life.
The sinking emptiness in her chest is not, however, par for the course.
A cold hand of dread has sunk its talons into her neck, sending icy chills through her body. There’s a sinister voice lurking at the back of her mind, whispering there’s something missing over and over again. She’s trapped in an echo chamber of her own thoughts, and can’t quite place what’s wrong. Umi freezes in her tracks. Kotori frowns.
“Umi-chan, what’s wrong?”
Her hand slides into Umi’s, warm and friendly. Something about it feels wrong. Umi absentmindedly raises her other hand to her face, as though there’s something else—no, someone else that should be filling the gaps in between her fingers with their own. It’s a ridiculous sentiment. Umi doesn’t voice it.
“It’s nothing,” she mutters, giving Kotori’s hand a small squeeze before continuing on their journey. The icy talons sink deeper inside her as they continue to walk.
Eli doesn’t remember how she ended up as a school idol. She vaguely recalls a point in time where she found it ludicrous, immature even. After rejection after rejection from ballet schools, the idea of performing on stage again would have seemed like a wild fantasy at best, a pipe dream at worst. Yet here she is on the school’s rooftop, preparing herself for the Love Live with seven people who are almost friends.
Her voice rings out loud and clear as she leads the group’s stretches. She is a strict teacher, she knows, but it is for the best. It is up to her to ensure their steps are in sync, their movements melodious in the way that they dance. Even if they are not singing, she should almost be able to hear the music.
It is oddly silent on the roof that day, even with her instructions.
Technically, nobody is doing anything wrong. Rin is the best dancer of the group, and she and Hanayo have obviously been practicing together with how much Hanayo has improved. Nico has caught up with the two of them, and her movements are fluid as she prances into stage for her dance solo. Nozomi is gorgeous, as usual, but perhaps Eli is a biased party when it comes to that.
There’s a gap between where Kotori and Umi are standing, but their formation has been that way for as long as she can remember. Eli frowns.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember very much any more.
The stars are bright; they always are.
It is late after practice and Rin is rushing home to do her homework, pedaling her bike as quickly as she can. There’s a large, open field on the way back, and despite her rush, something tells her to stop and stare. She glances up into the night sky and wonders, for a moment, if she is meant to channel her namesake. Perhaps, someday, she too will shine: no more worries, no more hiding, no more toeing the fine line between boy and girl, wanting desperately to cross.
The constellations stare back at her unblinking. Then, a faraway twinkle through the corner of her eye, so sudden that she nearly jumps, a brief flash of brightness and radiating light.
“Ah,“ she mutters, stretching her hand out, almost as though to grab hold of it. But the sparkle disappears almost as quickly as it surfaced, and Rin finds herself grasping at air, feeling quite silly, reaching for a light that doesn’t exist. She frowns.
She must have been seeing things. Stress from school, and stress from life. That’s all, right? She heaves a sigh and continues to pedal on, a pit of dread bubbling inside her as she thinks about the mounting pile of homework that awaits.
The skies screamed the next day, letting loose a torrent of rain. Instead of practice the eight girls of Muse are huddled in the Idol Research Club room, watching videos of their previous performances and observing their mistakes. The Love Live tournament is coming up and Nico is gearing up on her barrage of criticism—they could have sung that louder, they could have had more heart.
Hanayo swallows the lump in her throat as she glances to the left, watching as Maki diligently takes notes. She grumbling underneath her breath about Nico, but that is nothing new. Nico is a force to be reckoned with, the kind of person she’d call a human hurricane. They need that sort of force to keep the group going.
Dark clouds and harsh winds part to reveal sun. Hanayo knows it’s bad, but sometimes it feels like there is no light in sight. It’s been dark clouds and rainstorms for a while now, a suffocating fog breathing over the days past.
Nico sighs dramatically, dropping her pen on the table in lieu of a mic.
“Hanayo, go grab another stack of CDs from the shelves. We’ve got lots of work to do.”
Hanayo nods, getting up from her seat. She’s overthinking it. They’ll compete in the semi-finals, face off against A-Rise, and perhaps they’ll win. She walks over to the CDs and removes a stack from the shelf. There is a shoebox behind them that she has never seen before. Hanayo frowns, squinting through her glasses.
That hasn’t been there before. She grabs the box with her other hand, placing it underneath the CDs and walking up to Nico. There is something strange about this. Something she can’t quite place.
“H- hey everyone, come and take a look,” she says, nervously glancing around the room. Seven pairs of curious footsteps scuttle around her, peering over the shoebox in her arms as she removes the top.
Newspaper clippings. Her eyes widen when she realizes they’re of their group—the newspapers are all talking about Muse, but there’s a girl in the center who isn’t in the room. Orange hair, a side ponytail, and the brightest smile she hasn’t seen. Hanayo’s eyes meet Maki’s, and she gulps.
An mp3 player. She hands it to Rin, who presses the “play” button. A voice pours out of it, technically average at best, but imbued with a heart and passion that’s unrivalled by anyone in the group. The song she is singing is familiar, yet unknown. Ai wa Taiyou Jyanai.
Love is like the sun.
Hanayo digs further into the shoebox. A group photo. The orange-haired girl is holding the camera, her hand outstretched as she takes the selfie. Around her, everyone is laughing and smiling. Even Nico. (Especially Nico.) She hands the photo to Umi, who practically snatches it away from her in shock. Her face is pale and her voice shakes.
“W-where’s Honoka?”
The memories flood back like a tidal wave. Hanayo drops the shoebox.
She screams.