#rivulet's misery increases

[bengaly]

wettest, soppiest rat

[everythingkashmir]

Bridging the Gap?

Drowning in Neglect

By Faisul Yaseen

Life in Kashmir can be difficult, and it is important not to lose sight of the challenges people face daily. 

A major concern within Jammu and Kashmir is the neglect and tragedy associated with critical infrastructure projects like bridges.

It might seem hard to believe, but the Jammu and Kashmir Infrastructure Development Fund Corporation (JKIDFC) has sanctioned funding for 622 unfinished projects worth Rs 1446.73 crore. 

But here’s the kicker: they’re all stuck! 

And get this: These schemes are scattered across all 20 districts of J&K. At least 15 bridges and seven pedestrian bridges have been left unfinished for years and need major repairs.

Recent incidents of boat capsizing in Gandbal in the Srinagar district and Awantipora in Pulwama district have highlighted the serious ramifications of the J&K government’s inability to complete important bridges in the region.

Lives have been lost, families are torn apart, and communities are left to mourn after broken promises.

Six people died in the fatal boat accident near Gandbal.

Two more persons went missing in the Awantipora boat capsize.

It was a sobering reminder of bureaucratic incompetence and government apathy.

The incomplete bridge over the River Jhelum for nearly a decade is seen as a sign of impending doom, forcing villagers to risk their lives on dangerous boat journeys.

The failure of the government to prioritise the security of the people and their welfare left deep holes in the lives of the people of Kashmir.

Suhail Ahmad, a resident of Gandbal, shared the woes of countless Kashmiris who suffer because of governance inefficiency.

His words reflected the stark reality that lives could have been saved if the government had heeded the call for timely infrastructure construction.

Despite such loss and shock, the government’s response shows that it is not worried.

The decision to resume work on the Gandabal Bridge is primarily motivated by public noise and media scrutiny and is a gesture rather than a genuine concern for public welfare.

Given years of established and broken contracts, diplomatic guarantees appear to be neutral. 

Increasing the size of the project will not alleviate the suffering of those who ultimately paid for the strikers.

Another stark example of an important bridge project standing for a remarkable 17 years is the situation at Dogripora. 

Muhammad Ali and Intisar Ahmed expressed their frustration at the lack of progress in an era of technological progress. 

They praise those without lifelines, who are forced to cross the dangerous rivers, rivulets, and fast-flowing streams.

The unfinished bridges and road projects in Jammu and Kashmir from Shopian to Samba, Ramban to Reasi, Baramulla to Budgam, and Kupwara to Kathua are symptoms of governance inefficiency and government apathy.

This is a stark contrast to the fact that between the 15th century and 18th century, Srinagar, situated on both banks of the River Jhelum, was way ahead in terms of the construction of bridges.

With seven prominent bridges – Aali Kadal (built in 1415 CE by Sultan Ali Shah also known as Ali Shahmiri), Zaina Kadal (built in 1425-1426 CE by Sultan Zain-ul-Abdin), Fateh Kadal (built in 1500 CE by Sultan Fateh Shah), Habba Kadal (built in 1551 by Sultan Habib Shah), Nawa Kadal (Built in 1666 by Nuruddin Bamzai), Safa Kadal (built in 1671 by Saif Khan), and Amira Kadal (built in 1774 CE by Amiruddin Khan Jawan Sher) – Srinagar came to be known as the ‘City of Bridges’ or the ‘City of Seven Bridges’. 

Over the years, five more bridges Zero Bridge, Abdullah Bridge, Budshah Kadal, New Zaina Kadal, and New Habba Kadal also came up on the River Jhelum in Srinagar in addition to footbridges near Presentation Convent and S P S Museum.

However, in the era of fast-track development, people are condemned to live a life full of misery and hardship while the government spends money on mundane demonstrations of progress like selfie points and infrastructure projects that are constantly delayed.

J&K needs to address infrastructure problems as families cope with avoidable tragedy.

Funds from JKIDFC, meant to be a panacea for stalled projects, continue to fall on deferral and adequacy.

The government has run out of excuses. 

Every bridge not built and every promise broken shows how the government has betrayed the trust of the people and failed to fulfil its responsibilities.

Until the J&K administration puts the safety and welfare of its people ahead of political gains and bureaucratic red tape, Kashmir’s bridges and roads will remain incomplete and its people imprisoned to endless frustration.

Greater Kashmir

[damienthepious]

(lizard kissin’) tuesday again?? no problem

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (Chapter 2)

[ch 1] [ao3] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: It is Rilla's turn to have her morning unpleasantly interrupted.

Chapter Notes: Hope ya didn't think I'd forgotten about this one!! (I do not forget anything tbh. I just have about fifty back burners I keep shoving stuff onto.) Enjoy??? or something. not much happens and no one is particularly happy, but. y'know. I love you! Happy LKT! Chapter specific content warning for very mild injury and a little bit of blood.

~

Rilla wakes to the sound of the portal open in her front room, and the familiar singing and the sound of creaking vines and wood invite a smile as she rolls over in bed, stretching her toes and rolling her shoulders as she slowly comes awake.

She can hear Damien’s voice. Not his words, not quite, but-

Hm. He sounds- he sounds like he’s arguing? But Rilla doesn’t hear Arum’s voice, just the Keep, and-

Her name. She picks that out easily enough. She smiles wryly, stretching again before she sits up, pushing the tangle of her hair out of her face as she hears Damien’s voice increase in volume, as she hears the portal creak back closed and her poet clatter through her front room.

“Morning, Damien,” she starts before he’s even opened her bedroom door, but the second she sees him she sits up straight in alarm. He is still in sleep clothes, which isn’t entirely unheard of when he comes directly from the Keep, considering that Rilla has plenty of his clothes lying around her own hut too, but the much more pressing matter is the blood. His neck is bleeding- not badly, but there are two small cuts just below his jaw, the blood forking together into a small red rivulet running down towards the hollow at the base of his throat, and his expression is wracked, twisted in distress.

“Rilla something terrible has happened, some curse or injury or blight and I don’t know what to-”

“Whoa, Damien, slow down!” She slips from the bed, toes cold on the floor as her hands move on automatic, grabbing up her medical bag and snatching out a clean cloth. She dabs away the red, gently cleans the area, but before she’s entirely finished Damien reaches up and touches the trail of wetness with a look of utter incomprehension on his face.

“He-” Damien looks at the blood on his fingertips, wide-eyed and lost. “He… he cut me?” he says, voice gone faint, and then the brightness in his eyes spills over and Rilla has two whole armfuls of knight, shaking through with tears. “Oh Saint Damien please protect us, oh Rilla, my Rilla he- oh I don’t understand-”

“What- Damien, shhh, I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay, but you have to tell me-”

“Might never- never be- okay, never himself again, my Rilla, oh my love-” Rilla manages to pick out between wracking sobs, and then Damien lifts his face enough that she can see the wild misery twisting his expression, the confusion.

“What happened?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Damien moans, shaking his head. “Arum- I do not know what has befallen him, I only know that when he woke- when he woke he- he pushed me away and he- he was frightened and he did not- he- he did not-”

“Breathe, Damien, you can’t explain if you aren’t breathing- slow down and breathe.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, and then another, and the third comes at least a little bit slower.

“He did not know me, my love,” Damien keens, and then the sharpness in his breath is back again and his body is shaking in her arms.

“What- wait. What does that mean? He-”

“He has forgotten us, he did not recognize me, he- called me intruder and assassin and he- he leapt upon me and-” Damien interrupts himself with a sob, and his next words are so broken between gasping breaths that Rilla almost can’t understand them. “And if the Keep h-had not intervened I do not know what he w-would have done-”

“Arum- Arum attacked you?”

“He did not know me, Rilla, he- he looked at me like a stranger and, and he had completely forgotten-”

“He doesn’t… remember?” Rilla’s mind races, already digging for explanations, for clues. “But- but the Keep stopped him from hurting you.”

“Yes, it- clever creature, it pulled him away and- and opened the way here.”

“So the Keep remembers,” Rilla says, brow furrowing. “So whatever this is… it’s just on Arum. Not on… hm. That’s… strange, but it will probably make it easier to talk to him, at least.”

“Easier to…” Damien trails off.

“If he’s got some sort of amnesia - and I have to assume it would be magically sourced, of course, unless he’s suffered a head injury lately and just neglected to mention it - he’s not going to believe this, not any of it. You know how stubborn he is, and you know how- how long it took him to be completely comfortable being vulnerable with us. If the Keep didn’t remember us too- I doubt we’d ever be able to get close enough to him to figure any of this out.”

Damien makes a choking noise, and Rilla blinks back to the moment and pulls Damien closer, shushing gentle into his hair.

“But,” she says. “But the Keep does remember. It kept him from hurting you and it brought you here, so it has to remember, right?”

“R-right,” Damien says, a little weakly. “It certainly seemed to- it seemed- confused as well, from what little I can glean of its intent.”

“Which means that it can tell Arum who we are, and that we’re not lying.” She pauses, choosing not to mention aloud that she isn’t entirely sure that Arum will actually take the Keep at its word, that he’ll believe a single note of it anyway. That’s not really a helpful thought, and it’ll only make Damien more upset. “It can back us up. He’s gonna be more likely to believe his mom than a couple of- of humans.”

They hold each other, for a long moment. The only noise that passes between them is the soft rustle of cloth and Damien’s sharp, unsteady breathing, until Rilla sighs and leans back.

“Rilla I… I am terrified,” Damien keens quietly, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah,” Rilla agrees. “I’m not exactly feeling overwhelmed with confidence myself. But- but we love him, and we know he loves us. We’ll- we’ll figure it out, Damien. We’ll figure out what happened and we’ll fix it.”

Damien bites his lip, exhales, nods. “Somehow,” he murmurs. “Somehow, we will.”

She hugs him tighter for another moment, then steps away, keeping one hand clasped with his. “C’mon. Let me bandage that up, and then we’ll start gathering evidence.”

“Evidence?” Damien stammers as Rilla sits him on the bed and grabs her medical bag again.

“Evidence,” she repeats with relish as she dabs away the remaining blood drying on his neck. “We’ve been with him for nearly a year, Damien, and we’ve been careful for the obvious reasons, but it’s not like we haven’t made a noticeable impact on each other’s lives. Like- I’m sure he’s freaking out over there about his bedroom and all the other stuff that’s changed. There’s stuff here that’s changed, too. Hell, if we need to bring in other humans that know him now, we can do that, but he’ll probably feel less threatened if it’s just us-”

“What kind of evidence?”

Rilla purses her lips, carefully bandaging him before she stands straight again, tapping her knuckles lightly on her chin. “My recorder for one, I know I’ve got him commenting on things at least a few times, we’ve got that comfort log the pair of us made for you a while back, too, and I know he’s sketched notes in the margins of some of my books even after I told him not to, which- I mean, he’d recognize his own handwriting, right?”

Damien blinks, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Y-yes, yes I suppose- that all… well, that is something physical, something hard to deny-”

“Not that I’m saying the more ephemeral stuff won’t be helpful too,” Rilla says, turning to pace in a tight circle as Damien watches. “I mean, just the fact that we’re so comfortable with him- even you, letting him get close enough- I’m sure that- well, I know he’s got the denial game on lock but still, a human sleeping next to him? That’s gotta count for something, I think, some fuel to the fire, at least, and I bet- how did you respond, when he came at you?”

She turns her gaze on Damien again, and her eyes are- a little manic. “I did not… I did not fight back, if that is what you are asking, my love,” he says, and then he stands, reaching a hand out to try to gently caress her shoulder. She steps away again before he can manage the contact, though, pacing quick again in the small space. “Rilla, are you-”

“That’s what I thought,” she says, her lip curling into something like a grin. “Which- I mean, again, the denial, I’m sure he could fool himself into thinking that was part of the ploy, or maybe that you’re just stupid or something, but you trust him so much that you won't even lift a hand to defend yourself when he could kill you, it's not like that's good tactics or something if this were a trick, it's just you trusting him and loving him and not wanting to hurt-”

“Rilla. Rilla, my flower slow down, take a breath-”

Rilla stops pacing, turning her head to look at him again, and blinking as if coming back to herself. She swallows, clenches her hands, and laughs, a little uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, okay, you’re probably right. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.” She reaches out, then, taking Damien’s hand and squeezing. “Okay. Let’s… let’s grab a couple recordings and see if the Keep will- and see if the lizard Lord is up for a couple visitors.”

[->]

[junkyardlynx]

Pt. 8

As the purple sky gave way to dull and ruddy orange, the treeline along the highway gave way to open field and the single dirt road leading inwards, revealing the nightmare I suspected. Suspected, but not desired.

Unending flame.

Trees. Grass. Flowers. Animals. People.

Shrieks began to drown out the roar of the engine and music, splitting the air with their inhumanity. The insentient flora and fauna perished quickly, mere obstacles caught in the crossfire. The people weren't so lucky. They were there with unfortunate purpose, lashed to iron stakes in the ground, bound and burning. Ever burning. They should have expired long ago, choking on their own bubbling flesh and the thick, dark haze that suffocated the clearing. No such mercy found them, their bodies preserved by tainted magic. Their screams were a beacon.

A nightmare, born from dreams of flame, clawed it's way out from the space between the Layers. It trumpeted its existence with a cry that shook the earth, and all the unfortunate souls pinned to the ground by the overwrought iron stakes seemed to turn inside out at the sound. Red mist met black smoke and Hell was disgorged onto Earth, in the middle of the Jacklyn Halls Nature Preserve.

Something wicked this way comes, I thought.

Smoky the Bear would be disappointed.

As Sarisa flipped the tail end around at the mouth of the dirt road and brought the bike to a halt, I grimly noted that the timing was too perfect. The profane ritual was not easily engineered and its timing - birthing chaos in all its glory just as we arrived - spoke of three possibilities. Ice ran through my veins as I weighed them.

One, they were simply lucky. Not outside the realm of possibility, but unlikely.

Two, our every move was being watched. Leagues more fathomable, but also unfitting. No detection magics or familiars had been discovered, and conventional listening devices would have been rendered inoperable as soon as I discharged any amount of magic from my being.

Three?

Every move we made had been meticulously planned and manipulated by someone else.

The thought chilled me, but gave me strength. If the enemy needed us to behave, acting in unexpected ways would grant us an element of surprise in the future if this was the case, and I felt it was. However, there was no way we could “act unexpected” and simply ignore this colossus of fire and flesh towering before us. Over five metres tall with skin quite too white and human for my taste, it’s misshapen and childlike head bore countless cracks and fissures that leaked lava like open sores. Two black pits of tar, uncannily expressive, sat deep within it’s skull, it’s lips open and babbling words that were less words than syrupy sweet music. It wailed horrendously as it fumbled to it’s full height, the pain of birth fresh in it’s newly-formed flesh.

Ah.

“Is that...?”

Sarisa stood beside me, flicking her wrist to engage the bracelet on her wrist into a thin and flexible wire whip.

“Amdusias.”

“Wow, the old scholars knew-” Sarisa’s words were cut short as Amdusias swung one fat wrist, roughly the thickness of a sapling’s trunk, our way. We leapt back easily, gauging our distance and the actions of the demon. “They knew nothing, damn. Where’s his unicorn head? I was promised a unicorn head, Jeal.”

“Just be thankful he doesn’t have twenty-nine legions of demons and spirits with him.”

I slipped my hand into a Wound, pulling forth my trusted lance. Amdusias raged around, thrashing at the earth as rivulets of molten blood dripped from it’s numerous searing wounds. It’s rage was momentarily misdirected from us. Things were about to get serious, and this was no time to practice moderation. My own fatigued body had already been restored to working order by the dragon’s eye, so there weren’t even any excuses if I were to look for one. As the shattered dome of the observatory loomed in the distance, I found my blood quickening, as if the magic inside of myself and my lance ached to be unleashed. 

Truthfully, they did.

Try as I might, I couldn’t help but admit I craved this. I reveled in it. Staking my existence on the here and now, on everything I was as I matched my being against another’s and triumphed. It wasn’t a part of my personality I particularly prided myself on, but it was there. Denying it would do nothing. 

This lance. Lacking any discernible toolmarks and smithing techniques, it was slender, sharp and exquisitely white. It looked as if it was carved from one piece of pure light. I loved it so. Other than it’s colour and the craftmanship, it seemed unremarkable, bearing no real ornamentation - a well made stick, really . A trusty weapon with no apparent magical properties, a simple catalyst for my own strength.

This, of course, was false.

Pulsing just the right amount of magic into the shaft, I began to burn away the enchantment that bound the lance to it’s current form. The sheer power that began radiating from it and myself pushed me off the ground, thick waves of white magical energy beating into the very fabric of the world around myself. 

Amdusias, being a demon, noticed the immense flow of magic. A shame, I thought. I would have liked to put the mewling babe out of it’s misery a moment sooner. I felt ice begin to cover my thoughts, smothering my more reserved self in preparation for cruelty. It began to charge at me with lumbering but quick steps, waddling with some sort of terrible and almost comical purpose.

Sarisa took that as a cue to buy me a bit more time. She leapt forward and between it’s crackling legs, enchanting her wire with the properties of water and shredding a large chunk of flesh from Amdusias’ right calf in the process. It tottered in the aftermath, but it’s own ruinous power restored the missing flesh to it’s weeping state as Amdusias simply fell backwards in an attempt to crush Sarisa. Solidifying the air behind her with magic, she pushed off it with her legs, darting from underneath the demon’s improvised body slam.

Harrying him with a flurry of lightning fast slashes, Sarisa’s footwork was poetry in motion. She danced like a ballerina, dodging and weaving even as the oppressive heat from her opponent caused sweat to bead on her forehead. I found myself captivated, even as I unraveled the last few threads of the spell on my slaying spear. It’s form both expanded and contracted at the same time, reforging itself into something altogether new and old, losing the luster of metal and gaining the brightness of sunlight. Wisps of magic trailed from behind it’s form, brilliant and pure. I surrendered myself to it’s 

This lance was the crystallization of the [Concept of Slaying with a Spear], Rhongomyniad. My father told me when he allowed me to duel him for it that it started as a spear forged from a white ore found in a meteorite, meant for a king of men in ancient times. With no special power of it’s own at it’s conception, it nonetheless tore a bloody path of victory through history, finding it’s way into the hands of heroes such as King Arthur before coming into the possession of the Culaine family. He mused that perhaps the ore it was forged with was particularly receptive to the psychic emanations of humanity, allowing it to permutate it’s own existence into the [Concept of Slaying with a Spear].

That would mean that for millennia, the concepts and emotions aimed at this weapon were “that weapon is going to kill me.” “That weapon is going to slay me.” It had no choice but to become what it was. 

With it’s form bared before the demon Amduisas, it seemed to howl against the nightmare’s own trumpeting roars, drowning out all of the sound. Sarisa whipped the water-enchanted wire across Amdusias’ face, carving a new line for the lava to pour forth before it healed. She retreated immediately, even before Amduisas began belch miasma and hellfire forth. She could feel what was coming.

I rose higher into the air, taking aim with Rhongomyniad. Aiming straight for where the titanic infant’s heart would be, I flung the spear with earthshattering force. With a speed so fast it appeared to teleport, the very air split in a sonic boom as Rhongomyniad struck true, spearing the so-called Duke of Hell Amduisas through it’s molten heart. It’s screams transmuted into music, it roared and cried it’s majestic pain, but it wasn’t over.

Light blossomed in the air around Amduisas, and a countless number of slender lances speared the demon time and time again, chunks of flesh and molten lava flying from it’s ravaged form, burning smoking craters in the earth. This was the total destruction of a strike from Rhongomyniad. I smiled to myself and descended from my lofty perch, sure of my victory.

That was my mistake, I suppose.

It’s body bubbled and shifted, spitting out my spear at a speed comparable to my throw. I barely managed to sidestep it, coating my hand in a layer of frost as I caught it. Being in the demon’s body had increased it’s temperature to somewhere nearly unbearable.

As it’s form was rendered inchoate, it began to melt away, only to reform into something quite more...manageable. Where a colossal and wailing child had been before, a somewhat aged man in a grey pinstriped suit now stood, seemingly untouched and unperturbed. His black hair was slicked back and peppered with a touch of grey. A thin mustache lined his upper lip, expertly manicured. His eyes retained the same coal-like quality, but now seemed to shine with a fatherly warmth. With a smile, his teeth were revealed to be immaculate in shape and a riotous red in colour, as if he’d spent the afternoon gorging himself on raspberries. A white unicorn’s head was emblazoned upon his breast pocket, replete with a fiery mane.

“That hurt, son.”

Amduisas, Duke of the Second Layer and master of music, expressed his displeasure in a tone that said “buddy, I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed.”

Sarisa had already made her way to my side. She was covered in soot and blood, but the blood wasn’t her’s. Relief washed over me at that simple fact.

“Did he really...survive that?” 

Her voice was quiet, laced with a fear I wasn’t used to. 

It made my blood boil.

This man. 

Ah, this man that was never a man.

This [Dream of a Father’s Song].

The trees had begun to sway, despite the lack of wind. 

The air began to howl, a symphony of unearthly music emanating from the thing before us.

Something wicked walked this Earth.

[levyosn-blog]

                                          hurricane force waves / @fomorias

        and you’re off, pushing books off of shelves. every memory, every doll house you’ve been forced to sit in, every fact and fiction and horrible word that has ever swirled around in your brain. you thrash the pages on the ground with increasing prejudice as voices, swirl around in your head like an angry furious bellow of mother and manolo’s criticizing.

                     you’re not smart enough.                                you’re too smart for your own good.                          you can’t focus.                                    can’t you look at my face?                                you should stay in doors.                                           why won’t you just leave?

               the voice that was supposed leave your throat was supposed to be even. an roar of unbridled fury and the misery of being the eldest daughter. of being your mother’s emotional support pillar and your brother’s last thought. a favorite of neither. the books perhaps do not deserve the wrath at the hands of that, but you still remember mother locking the door with nothing but you and your books. you’d never have any idea how long. 

                sore fingers reach for the last book of the shelf. different from the others, a diary. your mother’s, a gift from the day you left. you could recall it being pressed into your nimble fingers as your mother pushed you out the door, at least she would mutter during your good byes. to understand me better. she had promised as she pushed the young one outside. 

                 the words are shaking. no, you are shaking. the hands gripping the straining spine are shaking and the tears that have been welled up deep in your chest are falling in angry rivulets down your skin. making sure that as many tears as you can cry on it fall upon the cursed book, you tighten your grip on the binding. 

                                                                            RIP.

                    that tearing sound goes down on one of the happiest sounds in your memory.

[mysterious-matcha]

Forgotten Day

Original fic by rantarous on AO3. This fanfiction was reposted with permission from the original author.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1587

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Type: oneshot

Summary: In which Kaede Akamatsu is left off with her own thoughts and Amami comes along.

Pairing(s): Amami Rantarou x Akamatsu Kaede

Warning: -

Kaede lifts her hand, obstructing the fading light of the sunset bleeding through the glass window. The rays blinding her eyes causing a sound of vexation to slip past her lips. For someone who adores the sunset, her mind's filled with too many clouds to pay attention.The clouds hiding the beauty of the sun taking its refuge somewhere untold, those thoughts distracting her from relishing the scenery.

On any normal day, she observes the view from the window, watching how the purplish orange beams reflect on the dots of clouds decorating the sky, spread out from one another. The thought of them feeling lonely always lingers somewhere in the back of her mind, scattered from their companions, but the warm hue tinted on them probably keeps them enough company.

The pavements and foliage too, is painted with the mesmerizing shade.

However, she isn't in the mood for that.

Blinking her eyes, they turn away from the mocking lights and lazily land from seat to seat instead, mouthing the names of the classmates as she remembers the present they each gave her. They finally fall upon Amami's last, which is situated right to her left, beside the window. He's the only one who hasn't given her anything, let alone wish her a simple happy birthday much to her disappointment.

And her mind, unwillingly, wonders back between their Japanese and Math period. Tsumugi entered their classroom with a stressed expression and asked the teacher's consent to have Amami leave class early for council work. A quick bow in politeness was issued and plucked him off his seat before disappearing behind the doors.

Kaede releases a heavy sigh at the short flashback, part of it due to exhaustion but a great deal of it is because she's upset.

"Ah. Akamatsu-san! You're still here. Thank goodness... I thought you would've left before I was done with my school council work."

Her head snaps up a little too quickly from her desk, experiencing a vertigo thereupon. Akamatsu swiftly gives her head a shake, her fingers rubbing the corner of her eyes vigorously before blinking a couple of times to regain her vision. And then, her eyes turn to the oh-so familiar voice she'd listen to from day on end.

Amami's back is pressed against the wall beside the door frame, his bag hoisted on his shoulder and a sense of relief washing over his face.

I was waiting for you.

Is what she want to say, but instead settles for, "you look different.”

His eyebrows gnarl at her statement, before his lips deliberately takes the form of a ball and his fingers scratches the back of his neck.

"This?" He points to his minuscule pony tail with a soft chuckle. "Tsumugi-san had an extra hair tie on her wrist and insisted I tie it with mine. It doesn't look too bad, does it?"

Ah, it's Tsumugi-san again.

It's silent for a while, followed with an air of despondence. It's not that Kaede didn't like hearing Amami talk so fondly of Tsumugi — or maybe, just maybe that's a lie — but the fact he hasn't mentioned her birthday, although he knows it's today, feels like an unpleasant blow.

"Yes... no, I don't know."

He raises a brow in amusement. "Yes, no or I don't know, which is it?"

"It does look nice. You should wear this hairstyle more often." Kaede replies genuinely, her hands propping on the table to lift herself and bends over to grab the presents stuffed in multiple bags sprawled on the floor.

Kaede points to the window, outside at the sun; about to take its leave and believes it's time for her to leave too. An apologetic smile pulls at the corner of her lips. "I lost track of  time, it's getting kind of late, right? I should go home. I'll see you tomorrow, Amami-kun."

As Kaede is nearing the exit of the classroom, ready to walk past him and permit the tears she's holding back to slide down her warm, vermillion cheeks in rivulets, Amami grabs hold of her arm quickly.

Kaede blinks at the sudden contact of his hand curling around her wrist, her eyes moving to stare at his hand before she gazes up at his green eyes. Amami advancing forward and stopping her from leaving feels like a daydream motion. She didn't anticipate the events to take such turns, already picturing herself wrapped around in her fuzzy duvet at home all alone, weeping herself to sleep.

"Akamatsu-san, the reason why I was glad you hadn't left is because I wanted to take you somewhere but," Amami pauses, looking outside momentarily and a frown appears between his brows. "It's getting a little late. Maybe we should change it to tomorrow. If you're okay w —"

"Idiot."

Laughing at his shocked face after she mumbles the word, her fingers wipe the tears lingering on the sides, thankful they managed to hold on a little longer. Amami says nothing as he watches her, opting to stay quiet and proceeds to grab half of the bags she carelessly discarded behind, obviously engulfed with too much misery to take notice.

Her neck takes a ruby red shade at that, — the same tinge as the lipstick Iruma gave her earlier as a present — going from her neck all the way up to the tip of her ears, her cheeks steaming in embarrassment.

Amami notices and laughs, his eyes shining with merriment.

"Actually Amami-kun, is it okay if we stay here instead?"

He looks back at her quizzically, but regardless, agrees and places the bags in the corner of the room. However, afterwards, Amami doesn't inch away and stares at the presents for a while before forcefully detaching his viridescent eyes, unleashing a sigh.

It sounds disappointing and saddening, like the dots of clouds draping the heavens are watching the orange colors drift away to disappear somewhere far, far away; leaving them to become sad and alone once again.

He looks and sounds both sad and lonely.

Or perhaps, that's just her eyes playing tricks on her.

"Everyone thought really well about this — I mean with your presents." He finally mumbles, after Kaede mentally counts the seconds he kept quiet. His voice holds no inflection, causing Kaede's breath to hinch in her throat.

"Yeah, I'm really grateful."

Silence falls upon them, in which Amami stands beside the door frame and Kaede nervously taps on the table, creating a soft, melodic tone, her brain too feeble to think of any topics. But, Amami takes the initiative to break it first, pushing the two tables — his and Kaede's — together and sits on it, and asks her to take the vacant sit beside him.

"You know, I really wanted to give you my present first thing this moring. Actually, I wanted to give it to you before anyone else." He begins, his eyes glued to their frontal. "But I got called in the council office before I was able to and I only got to spend a little time in class before I got dragged by Tsumugi-san again."

He pauses and inhales. His elongated raven lashes flickering over emerald irises, glistening under the fading daylight leaking in the room. He smiles warmly and Kaede's too mesmerized to come up with any type of response.

"Now, can you pass me your hand?"

"W-What, why?" Kaede snaps after being pulled from her reverie.

He chuckles. "It won't take much of your time."

Kaede nods and Amami grabs her hand, his rigid fingers against her warm palm sending a chill crawling down her spine. Her heart skips a beat, or maybe it skips several times over. She gulps, the speed of her heartbeat increasing as the time passes, she's almost certain it would peek out to the outside world.

"There, done."

Her eyes widen when he takes his hand off her wrist, gazing at it, gobsmacked. Her digits slowly touch the bracelet made out of diamonds in awe, afraid it would disappear at any moment. Kaede opens her mouth to say something but closes it again, unable to form words.

"You don't like it?" He asks worriedly.

"No it's beautiful. I love it so much. Thank you Amami-kun, I'll treasure this."

"That so? I'm glad."

Kaede gawks at Amami, his calm demeanor still intact, but the shade of his face has changed, that much is obvious. His eyebrows knots, his cheeks looking much warmer than they normally did; warm and welcoming. His cheeks tinged with the color of Iruma's given lipstick — Ah.

Kaede beams in realization, "Is Amami-kun blushing?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

He attempts to glare at her but fails, sighing and turns his attention back towards the sunset.

"What if I'm blushing?"

"I — Uh,"

He peers at her, waiting for an answer with a glint of joviality. But once he perceives she's lost for words, he smiles.

The firmament at that moment gives off a soft glow of purple with a brilliant blue, a sea of stars draping across the skies. Amami notices Kaede's features lit up, her eyes twinkling in amazement as she stares at it intently, not blinking at all.

Her eyes has stars.

"It's beautiful, huh?"

"Mmm!"

He beams at her answer, truly content he gets to see her joyful instead of downcast like earlier, ending her birthday on a good note. "Then, I think we should go, I'll take you home."

Kaede finally tears her eyes from the sky and looks at Amami, nodding with a soft giggle.

"Ah... Hmm, let's go."