(V2) Chapter 8: Strawberry Bandage

“Next station…Asakusa station…next station…Asakusa station…”

I snapped from my early nap as the automated female AI finally announced my drop off station. I’m too tired to walk my way home, I’m too frightened to be near people.

I feel that everyone’s gazes are judging me, clawing at me, whispering that I had let myself fall into the same cycle again. That no matter how much I tried to escape it, violence would always find a way back into my hands.

So I stood up head down, the smell of sweat, air conditioning and perfume brewing in every inhalation.

The exit was jammed with people within seconds, and I sidestepped my way, bumping them shoulder to shoulder.

Some let me pass, some sent me piercing scowls.

Cool and fresh air greeted me outside, finally taking in the greenery of the capital.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, hiding the bruises, and made my way down the street.

Just a quick stop at the convenience store for dinner essentials. Then home. Then maybe I could forget this day ever happened.

Bzz. Bzz.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, barely squinting at the bright screen.

Akio-san.

I hesitated, knowing exactly why he was calling. But ignoring him would only make things worse.

With a sigh, I answered.

“Still hitting the books, mister?” His voice carried the usual playful edge.

“No,” I replied, forcing my tone to stay even. “Got a lot of schoolwork. I promise to drop by on my next shift, full time.”

There was a pause. A knowing pause.

“Oh boy,” Akio-san muttered. “Did I hear it wrong? Lovey-dovey with the girl next door?”

I nearly dropped my phone.

“E—Excuse me?!” I sputtered, heat crawling up my neck. “It's too early for things to be romantic.”

“So you’re planning?” he teased. “Living with a girl solo for months? Sounds like something’s brewing.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Come on, Akio-san. You know me, I’m not like that.”

It was true. I had never thought of taking advantage of Ayase at times she’s defenseless.

I mean, she always lets her guard down around me but how am I different from those people that abused her if I tried to make icky advances?

I admit that she’s a part of my life now, but it wasn’t all about romance. It revolves around survival—hers and mine. Everything was platonic and about bridging our needs day by day.

“I saved her because it was necessary,” I muttered, rubbing my sore knuckles against my jeans. “Not because I wanted something in return.”

Akio-san chuckled, satisfied with my answer.

“Seems like my little kid is finally growing up. Better yet, independent. I’m finally free from such a pain in the ass.”

“Who knows,” I replied. “I’m just following my mentor’s example.”

Silence. Then three slow clicks of his tongue.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he finally said, his voice softer. “Now take your time to rest.”

For the first time since the fight, something in my chest loosened.

Even if I messed up today, even if I lost control, there were still people who saw the better parts of me.

The call ended. I sighed, stuffing my phone back into my pocket as I headed home.

At least I could still go home. Now with lighter steps.

***

The second I stepped inside, I was ambushed.

“Strawberry parfaits!!!”

Ayase’s eyes beamed at the sight of strawberry parfaits at the living room table. Seeing her like that, the whole weight suddenly was lifted from my shoulders.

It was sorcery. Her eyes and smile brought magic.

Her fingers twitched feverishly next to the sweets, mouth almost watering.

Before I could even react, she snatched up the desserts and bolted to the kitchen with a melodious hum.

I blinked. The food was gone on an instant.

And for the first time today—I actually smiled.

Ayase returned a few moments later, balancing a tray in her hands. On it, a perfectly plated steaming omurice, paired with crispy ebi fry on the side.

If this was the equivalent of giving her strawberry parfaits, then it's a great trade. I always wanted to eat meals made by Ayase herself, so probably I'll keep it this way.

She placed it in front of me with a proud grin, hands on her hips. “Here! A reward for getting parfaits!”

I let out a tired chuckle, shaking my head. “You really are simple, aren’t you?”

Ayase puffed her cheeks. “Excuse me?! I worked hard on this!”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I appreciate it.”

She huffed, satisfied, before plopping down across from me.

I reached for my chopsticks, but the moment I moved my hand, her entire expression changed.

“...Ishida…san…?”

She froze. Her eyes locked onto my fingers, mouth slightly agape.

She blinked, and each time she did, more tears welled up in her eyes.

“W-w-wait here…!” she said hurriedly, her voice losing all of its earlier playfulness.

I followed her movement.

Shit.

I had forgotten to hide them.

My knuckles—raw, bruised, bloodied, and split in places—were fully exposed under the living room lights.

The small sounds in the kitchen turned into a barrage of metallic clatters and glasses breaking. I stood up and dashed inside, and Ayase was yanking all of the drawers and cabinets open, desperately looking for something that didn't even want to be found.

“S-sit there…wait for me…Ishida-san…” she sputters, voice filled with panic and disillusionment.

Her eyes were wild, her hands trembling as she tossed aside utensils and bottles. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, overflowing like a river with no dam to stop it.

“Ayase!” I repeated, twice, thrice, I lost count.

She trashed herself free as I grasped her arms, so I had no choice.

“I’m here, I’m here!” I repeatedly whispered as I finally enveloped her in my embrace. “Look at me!”

She searched for my eyes still while clawing her way out, and when it finally met, she blinked.

“I-Ishida-san…” she whispered back, finally her struggles loosening. “I’m…”

“Ayase!” I pleaded. “Just stay here! Just stay with me!”

“But—”

“It’s alright…” I said gently. “It doesn't hurt.”

“Blood…”

“Everything is alright.”

Her hands gripped my blazer.

And then—she broke.

Loud, gasping sobs ripped from her throat as she clung to me, her fingers curling into my back like I was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

We fell on each other’s knees. The embrace is still tight and unwavering. I felt the contours of her body in mine, her scent, her uneven breathing…

Her pain.

Her worries.

Her own raw feelings.

She was so warm as if having a fever, especially down to her bosom. But I ignored it, and chose to digest unease.

“I will be fine, Ayase. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sorry…” she threw her sobs. “I’m just worried…”

I swallowed, refusing to reply.

Maybe I just absorbed the thought of how can I break her just by making her worry.

I acted reckless.

Because I thought before no one cares.

But she did.

At that moment, I felt that our souls were somehow connected in their own ways. No one wanted to let go.

Each one just wanted to feel each other’s company.

Ayase’s grip loosened, her fingers tracing over my arms then to my hands, and to my bruises, more carefully now, afraid to hurt me more.

“Did you get into a fight…?” she murmured slowly. “…Why?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

I wanted to say it was for Saori.

I wanted to say it was because I couldn’t stand seeing my friends suffer.

But deep down, I knew it was also about me.

About the part of me that still couldn’t walk away.

“…I had to,” I finally muttered.

Ayase didn’t say anything for a while. She took my hand, and I felt my face burning in her touch. Her slender fingers were silky soft, and she let my injured hand caress her cheeks.

After that, she pulled something from her pocket.

A bandage. Not just ordinary, a bandage decorated with tiny strawberries. The very same thing she used on the first day we met.

“T-tell me if it hurts…” she said sweetly.

She gazed at my wound gently and worked in silence. “There…Ishida-san’s fingers won’t hurt anymore.”

It barely covered three out of five fingers. It was far from safety.

But somehow—it was more than enough.

I stared at my hand, at the ridiculous pink bandage, at the tiny strawberries staring back at me.

My chest ached.

What she did is more than anything I could wish for.

“Please don’t fight anymore.” she mumbled. “Or else…”

“Else what?”

“I’ll wash it with antiseptic.”

I stiffened. The thought of my skin burning in alcohol terrified me more than anything.

“...I promise I won’t.”

“Okay, make sure you mean it!” she cheerfully smiled.

She didn’t say anything in an accusing way. She didn’t scold me at all.

But that made it hit even harder.

I exhaled through my nose, clenching my jaw. “I mean it.”

“…Then don’t break that promise again.”

She finished tying the bandages and retorted her hand back, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

I avoided her eyes. “…Thanks.”

Ayase pouted. “You better not hurt yourself again, Ishida-san.”

Silence.

Then without a warning, she hugged me. Once more.

She rested her head on my chest, and I know that it drummed harder than it ever had.

“I don't want to see Ishida-san getting hurt.” she muttered. “It hurts me more.”

I could feel the vibration between us, and it's rather comforting.

“I'm sorry.”

I stared at her. Then gently played with the soft strands of her pink hair.

Ayase…

She was something else.

She wasn’t like the others.

Not like Takamine-san, whom I’d been chasing for two years, only to realize I’d already let her go.

Not like anyone else I’d ever met.

The weight on my shoulders felt lighter.

The ache in my chest wasn’t so unbearable anymore.

For the first time in a long time—

I felt like I wasn’t alone.

I felt content.

I felt…

...loved, if it even was the proper word to this tangled feelings that she's giving.