02 ↣ Reaching Forward | Yuuna
@shsl-dreaminterpreter
It was not her place to console anyone here, but Misaki could not help but think of the pitiful face that Yuuna Mikami made throughout the duration of their last encounter. Misaki was not sure whether or not to brand the young woman as a fool for shedding so much of her energy over the death of someone seemingly so insignificant, but perhaps it was because Misaki herself thought so little of her companions as anything more than acquaintances who happened to share the same, unfortunate fate as her. Nevertheless, it did not stop her self-righteous nature to rectify a situation that she felt she had control to handle on her own.Â
Two loud, firm knocks were made on the hotel room door that Misaki had found to belong to Yuuna. In her opposite hand, Misaki held a small, round tray where a teapot from her own collection, and an empty pair of matching cups, sat. The silence that followed her billowing knocks was filled by the sound of Misaki’s own, firm voice a moment later.
“Mikami-san. It is Watanabe. Could you spare me a moment of your time?”
Misaki was not here to comfort the young woman out of the goodness of her heart, but more so out of her own self-righteous desire to weed out the weak-willed to ensure they would have some kind of chance at survival here. She did something similar with the painter, so perhaps this woman was no different. The girl waited silently as she stood before the doorway of the dream interpreter. Whether or not Yuuna wished to see anyone, it was not Misaki’s concern.
That trial was an experience like no other. Yuuna Mikami wanted an extravagant high school life. Her situation was, indeed, extravagant, but murder wasn’t exactly weaved into the plot she had planned in her fantasies. This wasn’t what she wanted at all...! The girl tightened her embrace on a polar bear stuffed animal as she lay on her bed. What seemed to be the remainder of her tears stained her pillow. Maybe she could take a nap...
Knock knock.
Or not. That was fine, too. Later, perhaps.
The dream interpreter lugged herself out of bed to answer. Even if she didn’t want to talk to anyone, leaving them at the door without a word would just be rude. Hesitantly, Yuuna opened the door just a crack and peeked out into the hallway to find a very well-dressed girl holding a tray of tea. She couldn’t say no to that kindhearted gesture. Tea was pretty great, after all. And so was willing company.
“Oh...hello, Watanabe-san.”
Yuuna then opened the hotel room door completely, revealing what she was supposed to call, “her room.” It was...messy, to say the least, with stuffed animals and pillows and manga and papers and clothes and pens and what have you nearly covering the floors. The furniture was light wood, and the curtains, bedspread, and fuzzy floor rug were crisp white, a blank canvas.
“You can come in. Let me clear off the kotatsu for that tray.” Her voice still lacked its usual cheerful chirp.Â
