When I'm With Them, I'm Free

Chapter Twenty-Five: Love Is Strange

[Aunt's Name] slid on top of her couch, sitting at a space between two cushions. There were deep eye bags under her lower lashes and stains on her scrubs. She was too tired to put on the pair of sweatpants or the oversized t-shirt wanted to slip into so desperately.

Her body was sore, etched in invisible wounds that only she knew existed. She leaned to the side of the couch—more so flopping on her side than anything—towards the dark end-table, and grabbed the Tv remote. She pulled herself back into a lazy sitting position, her back curved in a tired slump.

Clicking familiar buttons on the remote, she turned on a channel she was hardly interested in and reveled in whatever food they were making. She needed to eat, but she wasn't hungry; she was too tired to feel anything but exhaustion and barely had the energy to sit up.

Your aunt fell asleep after some time, only waking up when the pain in her hunched back was worse than her starving need to sleep. She was confused, dazed. Her head hurt, full throbs curling her mind. Rubbing her temples with her first two fingers, she closed her eyes, only half-listening to the droning Tv in front of her.

"Blackouts have been more common lately," the familiar-sounding newscaster spoke, his voice monotone and yet so animated. "More recently, some have been hitting random areas in Deika and Hosu city, as well as smaller, surrounding areas."

"Some houses in Musutafu have been targeted by these short blackouts, as well," a woman stated. Your aunt looked at her, her eyes squinted at the bright light of the screen in the dark room. The woman had bright red lips and silver hair. Not grey, like an old woman, but a young, healthy hue instead. "No one knows why random residents are losing their power sporadically, or why it lasts less than a minute long, but some online forums suggest it could be the work of a villain group."

"Some others suggest that this is the beginning of another large-scale attack. What do you think, Ito-san?" This man turned left, looking at the woman.

The red-lipped woman, Ito, smiled. "Well," she began, "after the tragedy commenced only weeks ago, I definitely believe that a group of criminals could be the cause of this."

"But why attack random civilians?" the man next to her questioned, glancing between the camera and Ito. Your aunt looked at the Tv and the home phone on the counter ten feet away. It sat appealingly, begging for her to grab it, it seemed.

"I'm not sure they're after random civilians," Ito stated, straightening the stack of papers in front of her. Your aunt sat up straighter, eyes glued to the screen. Ito made a face at the pages, looking back towards the camera. "Is it possible they are seeking someone out? Someone they don't know where to find?"

"Where is that idea coming from?" the man questioned, making a face at her. His voice was quiet, his urgent tone suggesting something no one would have expected the largest Japanese news station to make: a mistake.

If that tiny mic wasn't attached to his grey suit, attached only inches from his chin, no one watching the news would have heard what he said.

Hushed voices were heard around the room, barely audible under the coherent footsteps taking place behind the camera. Your aunt leaned forward, taking in every detail she could.

This wasn't scripted. This wasn't planned.

"Abe-san," Ito began, ignoring the papers in front of her. She looked directly at him, staring into his wide, golden eyes. "Think about it,"—her voice didn't contain the monotonous drone of information, anymore—"why else would these people strike random houses? There is no correlation between any of them."

Abe looked between the camera—he looked as though he was looking beyond it, most likely at the camera crew behind the device—and the woman at his side. "How can you be—"