Sajyou Ayaka – Night 01
En route...
"You'd make a passable reporter," a fiendish, gray-haired friend had told her before. "You're thorough and can tell a story; it's the drive needed to pursue and sell it that's not always there." An aside glance elsewhere, a hair flip so haughty it had to be an act, and a too-knowing-by-half smirk. "Makinoji thinks the fullness of your breasts means you can do anything, though, so--" Annnnd then sputtering and indignation and laughter (granted, it wasn't just from her).
Still. Funny how her life seemed to revolve around those repeated feelings.
It'd sounded like teasing back then (the first part, Ayaka meant, definitely the first part--!), almost, and that'd have been it were the speaker anyone else, especially being a younger lady. But said friend was an actual lady (Makinoji had exclaimed as much enough times), devious eyes capable of a solemn, earnest sternness that reminded Ayaka all too well of images on manuscripts and scrolls and odder ends that her father had collected before... Before a lot of things. Better days, when Manaka was still a giant, an intact pedestal.
Ayaka remembered her big sister (and never mind she was the taller one now by far, the great and smart and beautiful and successful Manaka would always overshadow her as someone more in every sense), and all the times the two girls would sneak into Father's study, making an impromptu storytime out of his preserved manuscripts. They'd especially enjoyed the moving, lifelike illustrations, history and legend and fancy alike all for them--
'No. Bad. Don't chase that rabbit.' Ayaka settled back in her cabby seat, glancing out the window every couple seconds as she tried to rouse herself into full awareness and out of a pseudo-slumber. Yes, better not to dredge up what her sister had been like then.
The point remained that Kane-chan had been right all along. Not that Ayaka planned to ever mention such a thing to the mayor's daughter, no, but the point still stood. When the first signs of the coming War had begun manifesting, the provisional Command Seals etching themselves on Ayaka's body, it hadn't been long before enough half-forgotten childhood memories dredged themselves out of the fog of memory. Some cursory investigation, some note-taking, annnnd...
And she'd been late to classes at the university for half a week, too busy cowering under blankets in in her room like a child. Again. Dammit.
Ayaka had fought with herself for far too long to maintain a certain detachment from her heritage. Magus she, and her family, may be, but thaumaturgy had left far too many old scars for her to forgive and embrace the Craft with open arms once again. But the Holy Grail War – the Heaven's Feel – was only too real; her sister's state was more than enough proof of what chasing it when it wasn't there could bring. And then that thought had brought out so many more... A wish, and a curse: that's all the Grail represented. It felt like giving in.
["You're panicking. You can't panic here."] Her father's basic lessons. He'd always said to defer to them, and whatever else Ayaka thought of her upbringing, it at least came to mind often. ["Make a strategic withdrawal. Find someplace secure, and reexamine your information. Think."]
Which meant deciding on even just getting back up, dressed, and moving. A pattern, like keeping up appearances, going out, and keeping herself occupied. Patterns were good.
Ignoring the ritual just to pretend her normalcy could continue unfazed in the meantime... Well, it was delusional. Tempting, yes, but to take leave of her senses like that, to drift away from the reality around her--
'Like Manaka'
--no. Just, no. She couldn't be like Manaka. And that, as the proverbial "they" would put it, was that. Well, there had been more, yes, but, it was over and done with. Not that resolution came any easier, but, well, a course chosen was a course followed. ['Make a plan, and keep going.'] Another of Father's lessons; not the most satisfying of comforts, but it was a place to start.
Getting his old papers – packed and stored and locked away years ago – sent to her had come next. Then finding time and a safe place to decrypt them. Then, a map and markers. And then making some phone calls, because this was insane--
...Okay, and a couple more relapse under the covers happened, too. Fine.
Her nerves were shot, and now she wasn't so much high-strung as numb. But, she could still think; she could still work, and act normal until she even fooled herself that everything was under control and she'd be good and ready.
Ah. The taxi had gotten her far enough; Ayaka made enough to cover the fare and even a small tip, and the smile (a leer, really, but flattering enough, she guessed) the driver threw her way was enough to mentally brace on before continuing to the harbor front by foot. Here, a cut in the fence that never really got replaced because it'd get made again. There, a concrete barrier that helped circumvent the odd, irregular patrol.
Her destination wasn't where most magi – most Masters – would really pick out, if they had any self-respect. Or a high opinion of themselves, rather, but, besides the point. It was a secluded, it was out of the way from most random passerby, it had a way out (by jumping off the pier, admittedly, but she could swim) and it was in a spot that any glowy shenanigans – the papers mentioned those, and Ayaka had tried triedtried to cover her bases – could be explained away by moonlight flashing off the water below.
Drawing the circle, that'd been better. Familiar. Enough that'd she'd actually almost gone through with a joke that come to her days ago, something to stick it to magi, and the War, and the doubt--
["Make a plan, and keep going."]
Yeah. Focus. It was a shame about the catalyst, though. It'd occurred to her that Makinoji's store might have been handy for something like this, maybe, but time was running out as it was. That, and magi being involved in anything meant paranoia levels rising.
Damn it all, she was normal. And still a magus, kind of. Just, not a normal magus, even for a Sajyou. But for her sister...
'A wish, and a curse.'
"...Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. Soul to soul. Hear me, upon this oath pledged to the highest heavens, and the lowest hells."
That'd had to be enough.
