you can have my heart or we can share it like the last slice.

Earcandy: Higher than the Stars | The Pains of Being Pure at He–
Real candy: Meiji Coffeebeat. It’s scarily addictive.

Sorry I haven’t been replying to e-mails, humans. I just want to be alone with lifeless objects right now. This little poop of a story is written in such a way to bore you. Natsuki is trying to convince you she’s nothing but.

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Characters are owned by Sunrise.
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    art.

The bare and white walls plainly stated the message as soon as she entered the place.

The tap wasn’t even dripping. No comforting echoes of domestic life.

The place looked larger. There were discoloured patches on the polished wooden floor. It was like a map for all the furniture that once stood. This is where the side bureau was. The couch was over there. The only two dining chairs we ever used were opposite each other right here.

She refused to blink them away. Hardening her arm muscles for self-control, she strode to the apartment’s last breath. The book case was almost bare. It had been filled with college texts and classic literature once.

Only one book was left. Fear of Flying. It was untouched, still in shrink wrap, suffocating. It was in English. No wonder it was abandonded.

Books in English were hard to come by in this country. It was most likely a a gift from the US for Shi–

She tore through the bedroom. Not even the door creaked. The fluffed pillows and the smell of fresh sheets were beckoning her tired body. Boy, was she tired all of a sudden.

Her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes. Tiny rivers cut across her temples.

When she opened her eyes, a blurry figure emerged from the door.

“Natsuki-san,” an empathetic male voice spoke.

She was caught red handed. She could stain the white wall with her handprint as if it was an Indian pony–she was the enemy and she had been knocked down by the hollow apartment.

That’s what she was. A bunch of empty rooms. Home is where the he–

She told herself that she was bored. And she told Reito that too when he found her. Just bored is all. There’s nothing else for me to do, so? He mutely nodded and informed her that he had to lock the place up.

She left and took the book with her.

She was bored but she never accepted invitations from her friends. But she did go out a lot, by herself. Looking bored. Tokyo gets dull you know? She thought with an actual huff. For me, at least, she added almost graciously. This city had life and knew how to live it.

She rode her bike to the shopping district. Her face was hot inside her helmet. She wished she had a backpack. Her back felt bare without a passenger.

She stopped at a parking lot. She strapped the helmet on the bike this time instead of carrying it along. It had been in her precaution to bring it with her sometimes when she was with her companion. It was a potential weapon if anybody dared to mess with her. No stranger usually did. But her friends, however, were another story.

As she strolled to her destination immersed in arbitrary thought, the loud botiques, the infotainment, and the traffic tried their best to be heard–to sell, to inform, to step on it, grandma! Get your European trash outta my Evo’s way!

But she couldn’t just very well smash their heads with a helmet, she shrugged as the thought occured. Maybe just metaphorically, she thought absently.

Maybe.

Only her friends received a phone call. Since when were they so close, huh? She inwardly snarled.

Little black clouds were hovering above her head as she continued to walk.

A certain digital poster finally caught her eye. It wasn’t huge. It was right next to the sidewalk. Shibaraku, a Kabuki play taking place in Kyoto. Come to Kyoto if you want to be swept back in time, to step back into the beautiful past…

Why not? she thought absently. The past was great.

She recognised an obscure film noir and bought a ticket.

The film was compelling. It was set in the streets. It was life in the drug-abused veins of Beijing. She liked it.

The small theatre would occasionally be bathed by darkness as the film rolled on. The giant screen reflected across green irises like the movie was playing on micro TV. Her eyes swept over the seats in front of her. The couple on the fifth row were kissing.

Maybe they got bored too, she vigorously agreed with the thought. Just like me. Me, I’m bored. I got nobody here.

Her lips twitched but she didn’t notice.

Her reality was much more obscure and opaque by now. Subtlety was in her blood–she was Japanese. And right now even she couldn’t get the context of her own thoughts. She hadn’t realised that a mental cataract was forming.

That, and the mounting glaciers around her he–

——

That’s the end, dammit.