i've decided to save the fanfic i'm writing for akina here before i can publish it on ao3 or something . so , if you want you can read it . 💕 it's called ' wells ' , it's the first chapter .
warning for familial death .
* chapter one
“And why was the casket closed?”
“Why do you think? The kid was a troublemaker…”
“Ugh don’t remind me…”
“So. Drugs, probably.”
It’s not that she didn’t hear them, she didn’t want to start anything. Funeral houses. Their old mansion was a much more presentable funeral house than her dingy little apartment. It had a red door, a broken window covered with yellow tape. Inside, you’d first walk into a narrow hall that immediately led to the living room. Akina had gathered her red bra from above the heater before any of the guests could see. One room, one kitchen and a white door that opened to the bathroom. No terraces, but outside the front door Akina had placed flowers of the railing of the balcony, inside plastic soda bottles.
“Look at her sister though… She hasn’t cried a tear.”
“What??”
Akina blinked slowly. Noticing the old neighbor approach her from her peripheral. The old woman with her knitted vest, big eyes, soft face. She blocked her vision, didn’t allow her to hear the chatter of those two guests anymore.
“Dear. I made you something to eat. Come. Shiro will take care of the last guests.”
She let her bony fingers take her arm, heard the old woman mutter something about how cold her skin is. A few guests lingered in her living room. Akina sat on the kitchen table and stared at the doorway to the chattering guests.
Anita’s friends were gone. Only a boy stayed. Poor guy’s been crying non-stop since he came; Quietly, he wasn’t making a scene about it. That old man over there was Anita’s professor. Those two women were distant relatives of her family. Her mother would have been displeased to hear that Akina allowed them in the house.
“The funeral house was well-arranged, yes yes. You did well, dear. Little Anita would be honored, I’m sure.” The old neighbor, Kazuko, said, diving the spoon in the pot, gathering some rice and putting it on the china bowl. “And don’t listen to those old women! What do they know about your life anyway? They talk and talk. You cover your ears.”
The thing with Kazuko is that she has a kind soul and talks too much. Akina was a sweet girl, she was. And she wouldn’t be so annoyed by it if her migraine wasn’t pounding behind her eyelids now. Today she was supposed to get her medicine with her monthly payment but all of it was spent on Anita’s funeral.
“My mother in law didn’t cry during her husband’s funeral either, it’s very norm- “
“Kazuko.” Akina finally looked at her. She smiled, and it looked terrible.
“Yes, dear?” At her gentle tone, Akina almost recoiled. She took in a deep breath, rubbed her eye.
“Can you go? Take Shiro too. I will take care of everything. Okay?”
The old woman blinked. A few times, glanced at the food she made for the girl. Then blinked again. Smiled, took the apron off. “Of course, of course. You can take care of it yourself. Yes, yes. I- will take Shiro and leave. I wouldn’t like to overstay my welcome, no no, that’s bad. Yes. I understand. Take care, dear,”
Akina tilted her head to let the woman pat her cheek, felt how the steaming food had warmed her palm. Heard her talk to her husband. It didn’t sound like they were pleased, but they left. The professor left too, after a cold consolation and a reminder that Akina had to come to the school to fill up the withdrawal form. Then, those two women whom Akina didn’t quite recognize. “Send our regards to you mother… If you find her- I mean- if she comes back home.” Her friend harshly pulled her to the door to shut her up.
In the living room, the boy sat on the lonely couch. The couch was facing the television. It wasn’t not a very big one. You can’t imagine a girl crawl out of it. Unless she’s very thin, maybe, unless she’s used to crawling out of the televisions.
Sato, was his name. A very dear friend of Anita. He stayed the night a few times when Akina was taking the night shift at the funeral house. Can guess what her little sister was doing when she was mopping the floors. Anita took after her, she’s proud. The kid noticed her staring at him. His wet eyes met hers, he looked helpless sitting there. So small. He wiped his eyes, and looked back at the black screen of the television again. He didn’t take his red jacket off. It was so cold outside and she could smell the faint scent of his sweat that mixed with his cheap cologne.
“... I told her not to watch that tape.”
Akina wasn’t blinking.
“I- She didn’t listen. She never listened to anyone. She was more stubborn than my mom.” His voice broke. He looked down at his hands and Akina noticed that he was holding a red scarf. Anita’s favorite. “… She kept saying she hated you.”
Her lips tugged in a small smile. ‘’She did.’’ She said before she could stop herself. Any older daughter will tell you, there aren’t many things that could make them lovable, that they’re the black swans of the family. ‘’But she liked you. A lot.’’ It made the boy’s red eyes fill with fresh tears. Akina’s living room had a window that opened to another building, a few of the windows were lit with yellow and white lamps, others were black, she stares at them as the boy sniffles. Has anyone else noticed what happened here? Did the police went to ask them?
Anita’s body was found in their own living room. Alone. No traces of bruises around her throat, nor blood. The door was locked and the windows were closed. The police was more interested in the fact that Anita was related to Akina Mori than the cause of death; Heart failure, they said, none of them believed it. She thought everyone would forget about the incident after years has passed but her name still made the officers raise their brows. Akina Mori, definitely a murderer, but lucky enough to leave no traces behind. Jito died when they were both eighteen years old, in his house. Akina never thinks too much about it because it would drive her crazy. The wet ground, the black television screen, Jito’s disfigured face and black hair… No. She’s not going to think about it today. When she ran away barefoot into the woods nearby, and had scratched her skin on the stiff branches, the police thought it was her doing. She doesn’t blame them, they could blame nobody else for Jito’s death. Police officers are going to deny unnatural incidents more than scientists do.
They let her go quicker this time because she had a witness that confirmed the fact that she wasn’t with Anita when she died.
That night, after Sato left, she sat in front of the television and stared at her reflection on the black screen for hours. Waiting, listening. She fell asleep there. Tomorrow she will have to gather Anita’s belongings and settle in the bedroom. Sleeping on the couch with a broken window above her head wasn’t quite pleasant, especially during winter. She should also paint the walls, should clean up the place until no traces of this disgusting wet ground smell lingered.
