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fuwabloom · 1 year

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It's been a while since I posted anything! So sorry but I've been in a bit of creative funk and had to scrap a lot of the chapter I was working on so... I'm gonna post it here!

Context: Ayano is being discharged from the hospital after fainting due to stress. Her father is worried for her and she thinks back on a very specific memory of appeasing him as a child.

It took several more tests and evaluations before Ayano was finally released from the hospital. Her mother was, once again, roped into another meeting with Director Mukai and assured her family that they could leave without her.

The three idle outside the entrance of the hospital, her father carrying a bag of clothes in one hand and a paperbag full of books and other miscellaneous trinkets Ayano was gifted. Mukai Kinu was bashfully obvious with trying to win over the girl's affections,

She laughed off the concerns of the two, and gently patted them on the shoulders, affirming her initial offer,

"Now, now," she cooed, affection sparkling in her eyes. A wide grin blossomed on her lips, reaching her eyes with sheer delight. "I know today is our first day altogether out of the hospital, but duty calls! I'll have Mukai-kun drive me home and pay for some prime wagyu beef, doesn't that sound nice?"

Ayano isn't slow, she knows what her mother looks for with how she stares back, batting her lashes in am attempt to garner a favorable response. Her father is quick, a natural charmer when it came to Ryoba, and he utters a pathetic excuse of being concerned that maybe they should all take a night to relax. It's been so long, hasn't it? They've rarely had a chance to sit at the table and negotiate who gets to finish what side dish.

Ayano follows up, picking up the cue from her father's trailing pleas. She forces a heavy pout, eyes downcast, and as soon as she feels her mother's loving attention on her, she crosses her arms and turns away. Most parents would reprimand such insolence but Ryoba was an anomaly. She had no standard criteria. No control group to be compared to. Nothing. She was a being of whims and wants with no manual someone can pick up and read.

An adolescent of a parent with an ounce of normality would get scolded. But this was not that type of setting. Instead, Ryoba giggles, validating the poor acting, and gently kisses her daughter's temple. She's a woman who is not easily swayed and faulted to being amused than endeared.

"I wish you could act spoiled like this before you start high school," she sighs and her husband relents a nervous chuckle. "Maybe I'll also drop by Wakuri Bakery and pick up some cream puffs? I know my dearest Ayano's are the best but for now, you need to get reacquainted with our home after being away so long!"

She repeated her consolation until a man in a black suit arrived and cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, with black hair swept over a pair of shades. His shoulders were broad and the way he stood made him appear bigger than he actually was for his average height. "Aishi-san," he calls, tapping on his wrist. A flash of light reflected on his watch, showing off a hint of his wage.

"Hmph!" Ryoba whines but laughs it off when the man refrains from flinching. "Oh you young blood," she chides and waves to her family. "Don't worry, my loves, just make sure not to eat too late!"

The two leave, approaching a loitering vehicle with the suit opening the passenger's door, waiting for Ryoba to slide in. She turns one last time and blows affectionate kisses to her husband and daughter and, finally, seats herself in the car. Visibly, the man's shoulders slack, and he hurries to the driver's seat. A few more seconds pass and the engine murmurs before the vehicle departs.

Ayano hears her father breathe out in an ironic mix of distress and relief. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" His tone is unsteady as his eyes are tracking the tail end of the car circling through the parking lot and entering the high way. "Mukai-sensei said everything was fine, great even, and praised how healthy you are... But, uh, how was your appetite? Was it okay? Did you eat enough?"

Her father danced around the worries of her well-being often. Meanwhile, Ryoba batted away such issues like they were someone else's problem or something absurd like the Aishi family's genes were above such trivial things like fevers. They both exercised caution of Ayano's health, leaving it to regular evaluations in school. There was never anything wrong outside of the mild concern that Ayano, as a growing child, didn't eat much compared to other children.

It wasn’t urgent nor something to worry about, but it left a gnawing feeling in his stomach. A worry that he once brought up when it was just him and a seven-year-old Ayano. They sat across each other at a quiet family restaurant. Laminated menus placed before them, wiped clean from previous diners, colorful to entice their childish patrons, and used silly names to further entrance curious eyes.

Sundae specials like 'A Berry Banana Bonanza' for a banana split chock-full of strawberries and raspberries; 'Choco-Mint Mayhem' where the sea green of mint was sprinkled with chocolate chunks and decorated with sticks of Pocky; and 'My Neopolitean Regime' is a strange name for a childish delight, what with its dedicated embodiment of its three flavors and candies that resided inside. It's supposed to be a statement, Ayano once thought, possibly one that denied dentists everywhere a smooth appointment.

Her father's eyes shone briefly after she rose her head, asking with eagerness if she wanted ice cream. She knows she needs to act spoiled, yanking at her father's shaky hands, and sobbing crocodile tears with a thousand pleases falling from her tongue. She knows he wants that, to witness an ounce of a normal child across him. She knows he is struggling, desperation the only thing he can feel when around his family.

She knows and yet, she can't act like what he wants. All she can do is pick up a mask that she made specifically for him and wear it while reciting a script. As the playwright, the producer, the actress, she performs and does it well.

"Daddy," she meekly began, batting her eyes like she's seen Midori do a thousand times. "Can I get the Neopolitean one?" She tapped her finger against the disgustingly bright photo of said dessert.

A smile escaped him and the crows feet around his eyes crinkle. "You can, but then you'll be too full for dinner," he gently reprimanded, relief flooding from his voice. His muscles loosen, as if something inside him unwound. "Can you promise me that you'll have room for some yummy dinner?"

Like he could breathe.

She figured this was enough for him to feel like this could be normal. So she nods, stubborn with cheeks puffed and brows furrowed, similar to Kuu who debated with her parents often. She'd fight for adding 'just one more book!' to the cart as they wandered from aisle to aisle in a bookstore. Funny faces seeped onto Kuu's parents' faces as though they were doing their best not to laugh, and were easily swayed by the soured look of their child. 'Okay,' they'd say with a shake of their head, 'just one more.'

So, as always, Ayano feeds off her companions' lives and processes it as artificially as possible.

"I promise!"

And that memory drifts into nothingness. Her stomach was too small to handle such a behemoth of a sundae and they wound up boxing it, brought it home, and had it as dessert for dinner. She recalled having stomach cramps but managed to hide it and finish dinner her mother crooned on about loving to make. Ayano excused herself to take a bath first and relished in the hot water for as long as she could.

Why would anyone want to eat more than one scoop of ice cream? Impossible. She felt her teeth decay at the thought of attempting it a second time.

And so, the feeling drifts again.

"Mukai-sensei made sure I've eaten everything on my plate," she assured, feigning bashfulness. "I might gain weight because of it..." Gingerly her hands pat at her nearly nonexistent flab. She always worked out, not even thinking about it, scultped by her mother's designed lifestyle. Her posture was always upright, she did light cardio, she put her all into physical education, and was on constant alert. If anything, the pink-haired nurse commented how Ayano had a surprising amount of muscle for someone who wasn't part of an athletic club.

"It's almost as if you're training to join a sports meet!"

It was a kind observation. Something someone innocent, ignorant, of the world would assume. Or someone normal.

Her father cracked a smile, crows feet prominent.

#yandere simulator #ys galatea au #fuwa writes #fuwa drafts #this can be found on ao3!#well the actual story #not the actual chapter

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