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The photo album containing the pictures was one of the first things that caught Ayaka’s eye when she stepped into Sara’s bedroom, yet Sara never let her touch it, let alone be privy to its contents.
Unlike everything else in her bedroom that appeared worn down to some extent—undoubtedly having seen heavy use from her exercise regime—that bright red album seemed almost pristine.
What could it have contained? Ayaka had always wanted to ask, but she had not wanted to be rude. If Sara did not want to show it, then she should respect her feelings.
She did wonder though whether she had accidentally made her curiosity too obvious, when Sara asked one day if she would like to take a look.
Ayaka had to be convinced several times that it was absolutely fine.
“I want to share about my past with you,” Sara had to explain and reassure the poor girl, who was deeply worried that she had crossed a line by accident.
Once they had both taken a deep breath to refresh themselves, Ayaka finally broached the question and asked to look at the album.
That was what led them here today. Looking through aged photographs shoulder-to-shoulder, making themselves comfortable sitting on the floor and nestled into each other against the bed frame.
(A certain someone admitted that she would be much too distracted if they opted for the bed instead.)
"Oh my gosh, what happened to your arm here?" Ayaka's eyes bulged at one of the photographs on the top right corner of the page. It was a photograph of the inside of Sara's elbow, heavily bruised and gnarly; bloated, even. A closer look showed that the bruise had even been bleeding a little, from a small tear slightly lower down on the grotesque black-and-purple.
"It's a long story..." Sara replied sheepishly, wondering where she should begin. "I was a newbie at the time. The bruising was from getting hit by the bowstring each time I fired a shot—it’s actually normal for newbies to get hit, but typically not to this extent. I probably had been doing something wrong with my form, but neither my coach nor myself could figure out what it was. Eventually, we figured that my bow at the time simply wasn't stable enough, so we had a stabiliser attached to it. It actually helped a lot!"
Sara flipped the photo album to the next page. "See? The bruise never bled again!"
"But you’re still getting bruised! Actually, why do you have so many pictures of your bruises?" The spread of black and purple and yellow left Ayaka feeling a little squeamish. "Are you a masochist, by any chance?"
"N-No!" Sara leaned into her girlfriend's face for emphasis. "But... I do like-to-kiss?"
Ayaka nearly snorted a chuckle at the silly pun, but she opted for an affirming peck on her girlfriend’s speckled nose instead. It crinkled when Sara made a goofy little grin.
Then, the taller woman leaned back in place, and the album was flipped to the next page.
"Anyway, eventually I had a v-bar, two side stabilisers and even some weights added to my bow setup. I've never gotten hit again."
"Good," Ayaka smiled, leaning into her girlfriend's shoulder, "I wouldn't want to hear anymore about you getting hurt. I hadn't realised that archery was such a dangerous sport!"
"I'm sorry to have shown you the pictures." Sara preened into Ayaka’s hair apologetically. "Despite it being a rather static sport compared to fencing or swimming, people tend to underestimate the power behind a primed and perfected shot. For one, the arrows always flew straight and true, no matter who might be standing in their way."
"..." Ayaka shot a pointed look.
"I didn't shoot anyone, don't worry. We usually put up some signs and have some safety measures in place," Sara cooed, soothing her girlfriend of her worries, "there were times when we had to holler across the field to get some stray idiots out of the way, but we never shot a single soul."
The album was flipped to the next page, where each and every photograph appeared to be of various award ceremonies.
"Wow..." Ayaka gently pried herself away from Sara before pouring herself into the photographs. In each and every one of them, there was a woman who looked just like her sweet little bird, but younger, full of vigour and smiling all the time. Waving trophies and medals with her arms slung around her teammates, teeth biting into sparkling gold. This person was very much unlike the woman she was now dating. The woman whose handsome features were now marred with bitterness and rue. As an athlete herself, Ayaka understood that look perfectly.
"Did you ever wish to go back?" She could only ask.
"When have I never?" Sara chuckled wryly, then leaned into her smaller girlfriend for comfort. "But you know I can't."
Holding Ayaka's hand, Sara flipped the album to the next page. It contained a roll of exposed film, cut into strips and inserted into the spread. The end of the last strip of film was dotted with dark splatters and spots, and slotted in front of some court documents and insurance papers. Underneath all these layers of paper and plastic, thoroughly hidden as though to keep out of sight and out of mind, were newspaper clippings of an incident that Sara wished not to recall, even as the phantom pain surged and splintered through her arms.
"I can never go back." She softly lamented into Ayaka’s ear as she brushed their hands together. Lifeless metal against skin.
If only she could feel Ayaka through her own fingers again.