IE || in the eyes of [you]

vi. To Mask the Parts of [You]

Flickering lamp posts, 24 hour shops alight, cars of late—night workers driving pass by, with a few motorcycles too, and the distant barks of one to two dogs: such was something you were familiar with as you walked down the dimly lit, sandy pathway back to home.

Familiar, because it was something you've seen, and heard, many times in your past life.

The times when you lived in the streets. The times when you hid yourself in the shadows at night. The times when you sucked up your shame to ask for money or for food. The times when you scavenged the rubbish bins for food. The times when you told yourself over and over to try and not pickpocket. The times when, through many teary nights after countless auditions' rejections, you would return to a place you couldn't call home because by the end of the day, it was a shelter that could kick you out if you did not find a way to contribute for society.

Seriously. You kicked a pebble out of your way. This is my new life. Mamoru-chan gave me this life, so why ... why can't I do this? Why did I acted that way towards them? I should've said something like, "This is nothing when I've got to get stronger to play soccer." Stupid. You blinked twice. The ground looks weird. Is there an Earthquake?

You tripped over the pebble you kicked.

Oh ⸺ Your blurry vision went dark ⸺ so it really was an Earthquake. F×ck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ ⚽️

Genda Koujirou did not expect to catch a girl right after he stepped out of his tuition centre.

With one arm holding onto you, he used his free one to close the door behind him. Then, with both of his arms, he carried you up princess–style. Underneath the small light sources around him, Genda could make out the tracksuit you were wearing.

Raimon? He looked at your outfit. This is ⸺ isn't this the tracksuit for the soccer club?

Your eyes remained close. Your breathing a steadied. However, Genda narrowed his eyes at the bruises on your face, and the dried blood smudged underneath your nose.

He brought you to a clinic nearby.

Inside, Genda waited outside of the room for the doctor to finish examining you. A great many questions zoomed through his head: Why did he bring someone who was from a team that was scheduled to compete against his own? Why in the world were you covered in bruises and a bloodied nose? Were you being bullied? Did you get into a fight? Neither of this questions were answered, and Genda was even more bewildered when the doctor came out with a report:

"Fortunately, your friend isn't in any dire state. All she had was some bruises on her face and hands, a bit of a tyre mark on her face, and her bloody nose. With some patch up, she should be fine."

Tyre marks? Question marks floated above Genda's head. She couldn't have been hit by a car, or a motorcycle ... was she?

"Oh, quick question, young man," the doctor called out.

"Yes doctor?"

"Do you know your friend's family phone number? Or house address?"

"My apologies, doctor, but I don't." Genda dared not add that he just met you today.

"I see, I see." The doctor muttered, "I supposed you two aren't that close."

That was true, so Genda didn't say anything.

"This does complicate things. Nonetheless, we still need to contact at least one of her family members. Did she have any belongings with her?"

Genda remembered the bag he took off of you when you were placed in the doctor's room. Muttering an apology, Genda unzipped your bag and shuffled through the items inside. He found your flip phone. Just then, it rang.