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There’s been a girl hanging around Osana lately.
She’s pretty, thin and tall and pale like a ghost, sickly looking when she stood against Osana, all warm and glowy, rosy in the cheeks and the soft fingers that would hold her hand, similarly skeletal and sickly-white, a cartoonish difference in tone.
They looked a bit like the sun and moon, having been so close as of late the comparison felt appropriate, growing associated with the other in the whispers of their peers, hushed gossip and leers by those around them who found it taboo for two girls to share the closeness they did, their synchronicity questioned.
She and Osana got the same—used to, before she began hanging around her. They hadn’t been as… close, lately, Osana finding herself too busy with her new friend, always having plans just when Raibaru would’ve been free to meet with her, to speak to her, even.
She doesn’t mean to ignore her, she’s sure—Osana’s not that kind of person, not one to ice someone out, especially with no reasoning; she’d just been so preoccupied with this new girl who seemed hellbent on finding her way between the two of them, pulling Osana away during lunch and between classes for whatever trivial reason, always just before Raibaru was going to speak to her. Sometimes, it felt like she had their routines memorised, knowing just when to insert herself to maximise Raibaru’s inconvenience.
She’d only met her a few times before she’d become friends with Osana, and then only in passing—she’d never had much reason to pay attention to the girl, her aura overwhelmingly unassuming, as if practiced.
Her name’s Ayano, though she only ever heard her referred to as ‘Yan-Chan,’ Osana’s nickname for the girl. Raibaru’s admittedly unsure of how they first met, despite her asking; Osana always brushing it off with a glance away, murmuring something about a favour or some task Ayano had done in her aid.
She trusts Osana—trusts she wouldn’t hide anything important from her, but it still hurt, especially knowing it must’ve been something that, despite Osana’s diminishment, was impactful enough to be able to bring her and Ayano together, considering how starkly different the two girls were.
Osana wore her emotions on her sleeve, despite her efforts against it—once you knew her, it was obvious what she was feeling at any given moment, and she felt strongly. Love, hate, despair; they would consume her, overwhelming and crippling at times, times that Raibaru had led her through, held her and spoke to her and laughed with her, kissed her cheek and head (and, maybe one day, her lips.)
She could be cruel, though; her behaviour dictated by these overwhelming emotions presenting as harsh brutality or overwhelming kindness—it was just her nature, overemotional without a good outlet, refusing to teach herself one, and maybe Raibaru enabled her without realising, allowing her this cruelty knowing she would come back to her to recover, for assurance and warmth.
Ayano seemed to be the same as her, in that way.
Raibaru would see them, sometimes, after Osana got into one of her increasingly frequent spats with Taro, sitting on the roof or one of the benches behind the school, isolated enough for intimacy but public enough for Raibaru to see them, for rumours to spread. Ayano would hold her just like she used to, arms wrapped around her waist and head resting against her shoulder, Osana almost sitting in her lap as she ranted or cried or did nothing at all, just basking in the heat of another person’s comfort.
Ayano wasn’t warm, though. Raibaru had touched her, only once when handing her a hair tie after she’d lost her own, but since hasn’t been able to shake the sensation of her chillingly cold hands, as if she’d had no blood at all. It fit her temperament, though.
She really was opposite to Osana in that way, in how she seemed so completely unreadable despite her projections of emotion, her fronts—they were never genuine, despite how they seemed to fool the other students attending their school, her smiles taught against her teeth and eyes blank, an utter ingenuity in her expressions and tightness in how she held herself.
She seemed to want to be read as utterly ordinary, but in that overcompensation she seemed uncanny, as if she wasn’t even a person, much less the sweet girl she acted as.
Though… she was different, sometimes—when she was with Osana.
She’d change, posture relaxing and eyebrows released from that near-constant furrow Raibaru always saw directed towards herself. Her lips would relax and eyes soften, light that always seemed absent returned with passion. She looked almost kind in those moments, all her sharp edges smoothening into something that could meld with Osana’s softness.
But with her happiness, contentment, also came its corresponding anger. Concealed, as everything she did seemed to be, but there and overwhelmingly present, a deep kind of simmering rage she saw in the glares Ayano would give when she was with Osana, over her shoulder or behind her back as to not have her see, the clenching of her teeth and darkening of her eyes in the direction of whoever may’ve gotten in their way, snickered not quite quiet enough for her to miss.
It was almost funny, really—Osana who’d been trying and failing since childhood to mask her emotions against a girl who faked all she had. Really, it was a miracle how she hadn’t caught on to Ayano’s true nature, but Raibaru couldn’t blame her, really.
Osana had always been like this, her harsh exterior leaving her vulnerable to quick connections to anyone who dared to breach it, an immediate rose-tinting over their person that had left her vulnerable and crying in Raibaru’s arms too many times for comfort, and she feared Ayano would be her next perpetrator, especially considering the… weirdness, which had been surrounding her.
Raibaru’d like to think she’s not a judgy person. In the past she’d never paid much mind to a weird look or unsettling demeanour, and usually with girls like Ayano, she could look past it, enjoying her naive bliss; but ever since she’d shown up, bad things had been happening. Really, really bad things.
Like last week! There's this boy, Kyuji, who’s had a crush on Osana since the beginning of the school year, maybe earlier. She’d never really liked him, seeming a bit too shallow in her opinion, but he was harmless, if not a bit annoying when he’d stalk the two of them around the school. Raibaru knew Osana only had eyes for Taro, so she wasn’t particularly threatened by his presence, leaving him to yearn in her peripherals.
But something must’ve changed those few weeks ago, because he decided to confess.
She’d noticed his shift in demeanour almost immediately—he’d always loitered around them with this faux-casual air, a performative nonchalance as he gazed at Osana from afar, but in the days leading up to his confession, he was fidgety, unsteady on his feet and his eyes darting between the ground and Osana; so when he slipped that small, white letter into her locker, she watched.
She watched as he glanced around, sweat beginning to bead at his nape just above the collar of his uniform, and watched as he half-walked, half-ran out of the building, the tension in his shoulders lessened only slightly.
It was the last Raibaru saw of him.
The two of them only found out about his disappearance the next day during first period, the walk over having Osana complain about her no-show ‘secret admirer,’ having not yet raised any concerns, Raibaru simply assuming he’d gotten cold feet. Besides—it was the first time they’d been able to walk to school together in a week, and she’d not wanted to bog herself down with negative speculation instead of focusing on Osana and their conversation.
When they got to class, their professor looked anxious, Ayano calm as she watched the two of them enter.
When they were told what happened, Osana was upset, like anybody would be, sympathetic when she heard the news despite her relatively small relation to the boy, but Raibaru was there to help her through it, assuring her of her own safety and lack of guilt; she got over her upset relatively quickly, returning to her regular attitude within a few days.
It was Taro that broke her.
It was only about a week after Kyuji’s ‘disappearance’ when it happened—the school had just begun to install higher security, cameras at the doors and equipping the teachers with stun-guns in what at the time Raibaru had thought was a bit excessive, but retrospectively wasn’t nearly enough.
It was one of the first-year students that found him, his corpse half-stuffed into one of the girl's restroom stalls on the third floor, head wet where it rested against the toilet and body crumpled in a way Raibaru cringed at the memory of.
Electrocution was what they called it, but they never found the perpetrator. There was no blood, no wounds or prints anything to indicate who could’ve killed him other than the knowledge they more than likely attended their school. It was a cold case before it could even be opened.
Osana cried for days after—he was her closest friend second only to herself, and in turn was utterly inconsolable; Raibaru remembered her expression when the alert came over the speakers, telling them of the crime and their early dismissal. Shock and disbelief and horror all crossed her face in a matter of seconds before she stood, pushing her chair back with the force of the movement and running out of the room.
Raibaru tried to follow, to comfort her, but Ayano was already there.
It was as if she knew exactly what would occur and when the perfect moment would be to impose herself, clinging to Osana as she sobbed into her uniform, nails digging so tightly into the fabric Raibaru thought she might split a seam. She watched as she held her hand tight enough to bruise, afraid she might lose her if she let up even the slightest, watched as Ayano pulled her close, her lips resting against her ear as she whispered soft things she couldn't read from afar.
She wanted to intrude—break the tension and take Osana away from this girl who had progressively been infringing on their relationship, corrupting her, turning her away from those who cared—but then Ayano looked at her.
She’d never seen that expression on her before, a crooked smile, a real one, breaking just above where her chin was covered by the crown of Osana’s head, eyes in a satisfied leer, pride evident in how her brows raised and stared straight at her, grey eyes alight.
It was what convinced her of Ayano’s guilt—and why she’ll be meeting her.
Most of the school had already left, the final dismissal bell having rung over a half-hour ago leaving only stragglers and a handful of clubs still active around the courtyard.
Her elbows rested against the cool metal of the rooftop’s railing as she looked down at the people milling about below, small enough to seem unreal as they chatted or smoked or, as one couple found appropriate, made out behind the bushes of the gardening club.
Raibaru glanced behind her, but only saw the grate of the AC and empty rooftop, save herself. She’d gotten a note to meet someone a few hours ago, for some unspecified reason, and she knew it was Ayano. Normally, she wouldn’t be this risky, especially considering the air of unease around the school as of late, but she just had to. She had to know if she was right about Ayano’s guilt, or if the jealousy she’d been refusing to acknowledge until now was clouding her judgement so terribly she’d thought Ayano a murderer.
If she was right about her, then this was dangerous, leaving herself vulnerable like this—but she was the best fighter in school, if not the entire area, and Ayano knew that. She wouldn’t try something, especially not when there were still so many people around, so many witnesses; she didn’t seem the type. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
She just… needed to talk to her. If not for herself, for Osana. She just wanted her to be happy—and if Ayano was what made her happy, then she could accept that.
She heard her before she saw her, if only barely, her footsteps unnaturally light, the clacking of her heels against the tiles of the roof giving her approach away. Raibaru tensed, her arms shifting to hold the railing, unwilling to turn just yet.
“Ayano? Is that you?”
Silence followed, footsteps gone and wind picking up, her skirt hitting against her legs. Her hands felt clammy against the metal, unsteady.
She still didn’t turn, waiting for Ayano to break the tension, make the first move.
She did.
She stepped behind her, close enough her chest almost pressed against her back, and dropped to her knees to grab Raibaru’s ankles.
She lifted, and the last thing Raibaru saw was her shoes, held in Ayano’s hands as she grinned, lopsided.