Reflecting Days | Feeling Blue | Ayako (re: event, motive)
When everyone else worked to apologize and reconcile and do something fun together, Ayako was silent. She had walked out of the courtyard before anyone could invite her to makeover night.
- - -
Ayako made herself rather scarce in the aftermath of the investigation, though most people who managed to find her were still met with a nervous smile, as if nothing had ever happened. Her sleeping was still erratic without a phoneâs clock and alarm to keep her on track, something not helped by the perpetual sunset sky above the courtyard. And still, she made it part of her routine, just to give herself some semblance of a schedule. Mornings by the rose garden. Evenings in the chapel.
The routine didnât account for the devil childâs laughter waking her up, though.
Ayako wasnât in a hurry to get out of bed, only moving when it seemed Toka would keep taunting her meaninglessly until they were certain she was paying attention. Only then did Toka finally get to the point, directing her to some note in her room. It didnât take long for Ayako to find it â there it was, tucked between bottles set out on the nightstand.
She hesitated, hand hovering over the slip of paper.
She already had a good idea of who the target of this threat was. It could have been several people. Hard-working parents who only wanted to keep their children happy, at all costs. Grandparents willing to donate their old supplies and their old knowledge. A sister, still so young, still too young to die.
(But since when did that ever mean anything?)
Maybe if she just never looked at this paper, Tokaâs words couldnât become reality. It could have been so many people, she already knew that, so did it even matter to her which one? The end result was the same: Someone she loved would die unless somebody here took the bait. Someone she loved could die unless she took the bait.
Ayako grasped one of the bottles on the nightstand instead and continued her morning routine.
This time, her act of pretending that nothing had ever gone wrong only lasted about fifteen minutes, the length of time needed to take a long shower. Those were fifteen minutes of silence, and silence invited in all sorts of deep thoughts that only stirred up her fears. What if she was wrong and it was somebody else? A classmate? An art partner? What if it wasnât a threat of death after all, and the devil had meant some worse fate? What if, somehow, she could lose her a second time?
And Ayako, still trying to dry out her hair, finally looked at the note. And Ayako, still trying to pretend the wetness on her face was from her hair, mouthed out Hanakoâs name.
(It never meant anything. She was proof. Everyone here was proof.)
Someone else would take the bait. Someone else, with a heart so much more passionate and fragile and tender than hers, would kill to save their own loved one. Ayako could â it disgusted her â but she could wait, and she could keep her own hands clean up until the moment she sent someone else to the executionerâs block.
(âŠBut what if she had to wait too long, until it was too late?)