bus rides | midoriya izuku

13 | train rides

AIKO SPENDS HER TRAIN RIDES DRAWING ON A TABLET

The vicinity was filled with light chatters among passengers in the evening light, the blazing sun with its fiery clouds dominating the crystalline windows of the peak, yet lonely hour—not too crowded nor not too empty, just scrupulous fates crossing each other, though there were only two people sitting opposite her while she sat alone on her side.

Besides, Aiko finds exceptionally at peace in train rides compared to the times she used to ride the bus home months ago—a little before her middle school graduation ceremony. Trains are a lot more vast—the freedom of space and to breathe. The glass windows sliding like a scene out of a movie, a scenery that deserves to be captured with a timelapse or perhaps, the digital pen twirling around her fingers, ready to paint that very sunset she admires differently than the ones when she was limited to the squeezy, confine space in the bus seats. The difference in its view was that its wider, higher and marvellous which could not be compared to any divine soul in the universe—could not be compared to her splendid mind of hues that'll soon be imprinted in tablets and papers and canvases.

The details throughout her journey that resonate with her perky ears was the best music she could ever ask for—the hustling of citizens from each town uniting in one cabin, hundreds and thousands of stories walking past each other as they engross themselves in today's newspapers and trending music blasting from their earphones. The setting noise of the train tracks constantly entrancing her eardrums like its disturbing when it's not—because Aiko managed to find the beauty in relishing it, especially when fruitless silences would halt her imagination.

As for the wisteria girl herself, she's changed a bit.

Her short hair had grown a few inches, maybe two or three. Her lilac strands barely touched her small shoulders, but it was enough to tie it into a little ponytail while her fringe falls past her ears like willows. Her uniform was new of course—high school, marking the start of new representations, values and experiences. Adults always said that high school's the time when she should enjoy it while it lasts, so maybe, she'll try. Though her skirt was shorter than her previous school. Currently, as she sat, her black skirt lays almost above her mid-thigh, shrinking her sense of security when she's bare like that in public spaces, especially when it's not discreet like bus rides.

Not only her appearance had changed, but the little things also did too.

The digital tablet she has now was a birthday gift from her parents not too long ago, and god did she smiled so bright it couldn't be compared to the divine sun. And what's left of it was her leaving behind the comics she used to read. That may be a little sad, but that doesn't mean she completely discards over a hundred comics sitting on the shelves of her room. She would let it preserve their time with her through those days in middle school and use them as references for her future ambitions.

With time comes with patience and skill that Aiko was fully aware of every thought she has. Perhaps she missed the feeling of her delicate fingers grasping the colourful sheets of comics as it wrinkles under vague movements, the nostalgic smell of printed chemicals and paper vintage comics she rarely reads—sentimental of transiting from a physical copy of comics to the modern technology as she writes out her mind of lavenders into a digital canvas.

Today was the first day of high school, and Aiko was already beyond exhausted than she could endure. Perhaps the change of everyday environment was a major toll—making friends all over again, introducing herself again for every new year, trying to fit in, trying to hide the things she love when such things are taboo to other people except the chosen ones.

But at least Aiko could rest her chaotic mind for seven stops, meaning she has almost an hour to rest her tired legs and aching back before getting up for her stop to walk home. By the time she's going to reach her station, it would already be past dark.

She lets her head rest on the thin glass separating her and the doors—the nearest seat to it that she finds favour in it since she could rest easy and avoid the humiliating moment of dropping her head on someone's shoulder. Her tablet was already in her bag, too drained to even think of something to draw, so she takes advantage of her time.

The train screeches to a stop at the second station, and by the time the doors slid open, her eyes were already drooping from drowsiness. Soft footsteps entered the train, urging her to shut her eyes as her gaze spaced out on her lap and the floor.

Red shoes stood in front of her.

"Aiko-chan?"

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to be continued in train rides

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