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Asako’s ears were very astute.
She could hear the quietest of murmurs beneath people’s breaths, catch the sound of wings flapping way up in the sky, traverse a room in pitch black by the way her footsteps echoed back at her. Yuuki has never really questioned this part of Asako, no one really has, because it was such an Asako thing to do. Hear things that the average person had to strain their ears to listen to.
She would also sometimes ( oftentimes, all the time ) hear things the rest of them couldn’t. Things Yuuki couldn’t. It frightened her, just a bit.
Because Asako’s eyes would become distant, far away, as she stared down God knows what. Her eyebrows would knit together just so, her lips tightening just so, never enough for anyone else to notice, always enough for Yuuki to be caught off guard. Her body would stiffen, breath hitching, sweat dripping. All just so.
Asako would get so far in her head sometimes, so focused on this sound only she could hear, Yuuki was scared on more than one occasion whether or not her friend would come back.
But Yuuki would always be there to bring Asako back.
Asa, what’s wrong? she’d say.
And just like that, the spell is broken. Her attention snaps to Yuuki, a smile stretched tightly across her face ( just so ) and her eyes are still distant but they’re looking at Yuuki.
Oh, it’s nothing! she would then chirp, as part of the script. I just thought I heard something.
She never actually told her she hears them. Always just brushes it off as thinking she hears them. But Yuuki knows better.
She often wishes she could gently pull Asako close to her, bump her forehead against her friend’s, let the fear wash off of Asako instead of being pounded down to the deepest part of her guts. Yuuki would cup her face with her hands and whisper I’m here, I’m here, and let Asako cry. Let Asako murmur against her lips what she hears, where and why she hears. If she knows, if she cares.
I’m here, I’m here, she’d say.
(I’m not, I’m not, she’d respond.)
Asako didn’t always look distressed when she heard something.
Startled, sure, but then her shoulders would relax and her eyes would come back and she’d smile again, continue on. As if she had heard a sound in the forest, realized it was a bird, then continued on her hike.
These moments left Yuuki the most frightened, because what normal things could only she hear? What good things?
It left a gross knot in her stomach.
She didn’t think Asako could see the things she heard. She could probably get a general image of what its form looked like through sound, but she could never truly see it.
She wondered if that’s why she often looked disturbed. Far away, as she reached and reached and reached for a conclusion, her human brain begging for more information, finding none, then deeming it a threat. Would knowing what it (whatever it was) looked like ease her mind? Or would it just add fuel to the fire?
Was it better to live in ignorance of the whole truth?
Yuuki knew it was a normal thing for Asako. Hearing things was as normal and natural to her as breathing.
She was painting her nails, gingerly holding Yuuki’s hands, face close and concentrated as she carefully applied the polish. She could feel her breath against her fingers, slow and warm as she used it to keep her grounded to the task at hand.
All of a sudden, her eyes tore away from Yuuki’s fingers.
They were still on her nails, still observing, but they weren’t looking. Her breath hitched ( just so ) and changed to a shallow pattern.
But she didn’t stop painting.
Asako bit down on the inside of her lip even more, attempting to cancel out whatever it was this time. It worked, for the most part, and Yuuki’s nails were soon done, flawless, save for the memory of eyes that were never looking.
Yuuki wanted to know what kinds of things Asako heard.
She assumed it was something loud most of the time, if the way she often flinched ( just so ) was any indicator. But she wondered if that was all there was to it.
Did she ever hear voices? Or was it just noises, indiscernible and obnoxious? Did she ever hear the sound of chimes, a melody, a song? Could she discern from the things she hears versus the things she hears?
Would Asako ever share with her the things she hears?