Akari means light.
Light meaning the only array of hope given to the Ayumu nation. One of the largest empires known to mankind.
When the empire suddenly disappears on the young girl's seventh birthday, an invasion erasing the nation forever, causing...
I narrow my eyes, stretching my arm out and clutching it. My eyebrow quirking as I realize that it is somehow, heavier?"
Confused, I peek in and notice that it's filled with money. My eyes widen as I reach in, pulling a round gold coin out, the moon from my kitchen window far away gleaming lines onto the reflective coin.
I sigh, tossing the pouch onto the table, I look down into the floor, my fist balling with the coin.
This whole time, I'd tried to avoid a situation like this, because now I must repay the favor.
...............
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My eyebrows furrow as my fingertips lay just upon the base of countless golden coins. I part my lips, a sway of air leaving just the opening as I lean back on my lounge chair. My hands leaving the embedded circular object, moving from my slightly bent over position.
Soon, my brows settle, only one quirked just a bit as I stare down at the pile of golden coins. My own that was placed back into the bag, reflecting arrays of light shining in a copper golden color, and the boys own...They weren't shiny, or even in keen condition. The ridges were jagged and the colors were disoriented from the misuse.
Although, it wasn't the negligence for someone's own money that had bothered me so...because of course, it was the boy who decided to give it to me.
As I'm leaned back, my forehead resting on my knuckles, I blink slowly, rolling my eyes as I shake my head, leaning back down to the lowered table and cupping my right hand, sliding the spread out coins into a pile once more.
My head quite literally feels as if it had been scorched and thrown from the moon and back as I feel it still pound and ring through my brain.
"I shouldn't even bother..." I mummer, scooping the coins and placing them back into the given pouch. It is not like this day was unique in some sort. As my days had gone, the same occurrences replayed in the night time and time again.
I loosely toss the pouch away from me feeling as if any thought that adds stress to my head is going to kill me in some way.
I stand from my lounge seat before abruptly grasping the side of my head. My unoccupied hand rests on the arm of the couch as I hold my eyes shut, hoping the pressing I hold against it will somehow heal it.
It only lasts seconds and as it fades away, my pain-filled expression does not. Bothered, annoyed, upset.
Upset at how weak I am beginning to feel. Perhaps this place is tainted.
I puff my chest and click my tongue before swiftly walking away. As I do, my steps tapping the carpet as I March upon the staircase, I begin to feel a chafing sensation.
