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It’s her first night free from her overbearing mother, yet Mafuyu can’t sleep. She certainly tries, utilizing countless methods both logical and nonsensical, but she has no luck.
Kanade is next door, probably passed out on her desk, and Mafuyu entertains the idea of going over there and seeing if she’s awake, but ultimately decides against it. If Kanade really is asleep, then Mafuyu won’t disturb her. She barely gets an hour some days, despite everyone’s urging to take better care of herself.
Mafuyu wonders which of them takes worse care of themselves.
She tosses and turns, eyeing her broken phone and missing her computer. She purposely doesn’t think about the reason both are in their respective conditions. Her fingers tap on the mattress, a staccato rhythm that she itches to put into song form. Kanade would see the symbolism in it, maybe, and turn it into a masterpiece that would make Mafuyu feel something that isn’t misery.
How long has it been since Mafuyu genuinely smiled? She’s not quite sure these days.
She sits up, eyes now used to the darkness of the room. She was offered a nightlight, but refused it. Mafuyu likes the dark; likes the way it matches how she feels. Blind, lost, looking for something she can’t quite see. No light to be found — not yet. Even after breaking free from the shackles of her mother’s expectations, she can’t find a light.
She can’t see anything but the vague outlines of the furniture. A hint of depth, of coherency, but nothing more. As she swings her legs over the side of the bed and gets to her feet, Mafuyu feels the urge to wander around and see how far she makes it without tripping or bumping into something. Maybe three steps, or perhaps five, or even all the way to the front door.
She gives it a try, but the room is unfamiliar, and her shin hits the seat of the swivel chair. It turns a bit, coming to a halt once the seat of the chair is facing her. Mafuyu takes it as an invitation from fate and takes a seat. The chair creaks, likely from disuse, and she makes a mental not to look for some sort of lubricant for it.
She spins a bit until the creaking gets annoying, watching the fuzzy outlines of the room go around and around. She never gets dizzy. She wonders why.
Mafuyu’s still not tired. Of course she’s not — changes of scenery have never done much for her in the past. Why would that change now? Why would anything change? Why would running away fix things?
She stares into the dark, unblinking and stone-faced. She doesn’t move until the sun rises. The light gives everything a little more color and clarity.
It doesn’t feel like much of an improvement.