Greedy Miracle

Miya followed Mukashi out of the convention center quietly. Her heart started to pound as she came to grips with the fact that she'd almost been hit in the face. 
     Fofu had hated her. 
     She realized that now she knew the answer to the question Mukashi hadn't responded to. 
     Hatred was a desire to hurt someone else at any cost.
     She hardly registered that the crowd was still cheering, even when she walked along the same carpet towards her tour bus. 
     She stepped onto it and took her seat. 
     Mukashi sat across from her.
     "Don't worry about what the crowd saw. The people managing the stream coming from the idol meeting are very competent. Nothing Fofu said about you will reach the ears of the public." He sounded like he was trying to be calm. "Furthermore, because you have decided not to press charges, the only reprimand she'll receive will come from her own employer." His voice was still collected, but she noticed that his lip quivered slightly. 
     Miya felt something like hope stir within her chest.
     She turned around, knelt on her seat, and looked out the one way windows of the tour bus as it began to move away from the convention center. The crowds were still out there, still singing her praises. 
     Still loving her.
     She felt hot tears well up in her eyes as she realized that what she was feeling was exactly what Fofu wanted to feel. The light sticks, the cosplays, the memes; it was everything Fofu wanted. 
     So why wasn't it everything she wanted?
     She put her head against the window until her bangs were pressed onto the glass. 
     Why did she still want more?
     She should have been happy. 
     She pulled her head off of the window and looked at her reflection in it. 
     Mukashi could see Miya's tear-stained face in the reflection over her shoulder. He began to consider the possibility that her leaving the convention early might have been a boon; she would have more time to sleep that night, and thus be more relaxed for her training and follow-up concert the next day. 
     He stood up and walked, slowly, over to Miya. She saw him approaching in the reflection. She shut her eyes tight and looked down towards her seat.
     He noticed her reaction to his approach. He didn't stutter or slow down at all, but his mind began wondering about why she would react that way to him drawing closer. He withdrew into his memories for a moment, searching through all the ones he could think of in order to find something that would provide an answer to his query. 
     One clear thought entered his mind, cutting through the files and cabinets.
     Why was he bothering to compare her response to anything? 
     He pulled himself out of his memories and looked down at Miya as she knelt on her chair once more. With a calm breath, he started speaking.
     "Miya, after we reach Zygeist Media, you will prepare for bed and go to sleep as soon as possible."
     A part of her wanted to protest and say that she'd rather stay up then go to sleep, but she knew that if she asked to stay awake, Mukashi would ask her why she wanted to stay awake. 
     And she had no reason to believe that being awake was any better than being asleep.
     "Yes, Mukashi." She said as she looked away from him and gazed out the windows of the tour bus longingly.
     There was a brief moment where Mukashi thought he should do something other than go back to his seat. He let his eyes linger on Miya, her teary eyes looking out the window towards the streets of Seoul. 
     He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. He wanted to put his arms around her again, like he had when she'd eaten lunch. He could tell that it would make her feel better; it would probably serve to stop her from crying. She did have a positive reaction to physical touch, even when it came from him. He took one more step towards her and started to bend his knee.
     Miya saw Mukashi begin to kneel. Her heart stuttered as she began to hope desperately that he would hug her again. She gazed at his reflection in the window expectantly. 
     Mukashi saw his reflection in the window. 
     His gray eyes. His sharp chin and pointed nose. His tall and lithe frame. His trimmed hair and constantly professional expression.
     His arms were slightly bent, as if he were opening them for a hug.
     He realized that if he hugged Miya, he would also feel something. 
     In fact, he was already feeling things. Abnormal things; things he hadn't felt in a long time and therefore shouldn't feel. The restlessness in his chest, the faint tingle in his hands, the way his lungs had to work slightly harder than normal in order to keep the same amount of oxygen in his brain; those were all things he'd only briefly experienced before.
     A fact became clear; if he hugged Miya, those feelings would intensify. Looking back over the events of that day, he noticed that every time he made contact with Miya, the strange feelings worsened. At that moment, he made one more connection.
     If he hugged Miya, she wouldn't be the only one affected by it.
     Miya turned around from where she knelt and looked up at him as he stood in front of her. She looked at him through her bangs and saw his position. Her mouth opened, only slightly, as she became confused about what he was doing.
     "M-Mukashi, why are you standing like that?" She asked politely.
     He snapped back to reality and looked at her face, her eyes still hidden by her bangs. His chest felt like it was filling up with something strange, and his breathing took more effort to control. 
     It didn't hurt him; it was actually rather stimulating. 
     His mind went to a file in a cabinet from long ago. 
     He'd been doing well in school that year; despite only being eight, he was consistently solving mathematical problems for children twice his age. His other subjects were struggles, but mathematics was his respite. 
     There had been a girl. She'd been the same age as him, and she'd also been excellent at mathematics. The two of them had often been given similar assignments. They never worked together on any projects, but they had sat at adjacent desks during math class. 
     She'd often spoken to him about various things. 
     Unlike his family, she had been interested in the things he had to say. She'd complimented him on his mathematics; she'd helped him with his English and his Science work. She'd even spoken to him about things that his parents only talked about with his older brother; things like how his day had been; what his favorite foods were; what his favorite books were.
     Her name had been Nishiyama.
     She'd made him feel the same way Miya was making him feel.
     Then his brother had found a well-paying job in South Korea, and the whole family moved there at his request. 
     Mukashi had not seen or heard from Nishiyama since then.
     His father had left Korea in order to find inspiration for his paintings. His mother had been looking for someone free-spirited. They'd met each other, fallen in love, and gotten married. They had one son; a boy they'd named Sando Il-Sun. He was the light of their lives. He'd been blessed with their creative energy and drive, and was incredibly competent. 
     Twelve years after Sando was born, Mukashi intruded upon the Il-Sun family. 
     He was nothing like them. 
     When he'd politely asked his father and mother to reconsider moving to South Korea, they had been confused. They had asked him why he wanted to stay. He had told them, very plainly, that he wanted to keep talking with Nishiyama. 
     "Son, your brother is doing this for all of us. His new job will not just be providing for me and your father, but for you as well. It's unfair of you to ask him to change everything because you want to keep talking to someone."
     "Yes, mother." 
     That had been the end of the discussion. His parents never brought it up again, and he respected their authority too much to whine about it. The entire experience had made Mukashi realize something incredibly important.
     What he wanted was not relevant.
     Slowly, he stood back up and put his arms at his sides. 
     "M-Mukashi?" Miya asked quietly, wondering why he'd moved away. She'd wanted him to hug her, and she couldn't understand why he hadn't done so.
     "Miya, I will neither hug nor touch you without your express permission and request." He stated, then went back to his seat across from her. 
     The words sank into Miya's heart, and she felt the same way she'd felt that morning.
     Empty.