Chapter Text
Ayame and her mother, Ryoko, hadn't been the same since Keisuke's death. Could they be blamed, though? To one, her dearest son; to the other, her cherished little brother. A few months had passed since then — from the 31st of October to the current date, the 1st of April.
It's Spring.
It's a Spring where Ayame wouldn't be able to pick petals out of her brother's hair under the cherry blossom trees while he complained about his Toman friends, whom he loved even if he denied it adamantly.
It's a Spring where Keisuke wouldn't be smiling at her with his wide grin, canines flashing as he petted the stray cats that always found their way into his room somehow (the open window was definitely not the problem).
It's a Spring where Ayame wouldn't be watching with amused laughter as their mother scolded Keisuke for burning cars, failing his exams, getting into fights… the list could go on. She wouldn't receive the puppy-eyed stare from her little brother as he tried to get her to convince their mother that he knew what he was doing and she didn't have to worry so much.
It's the first Spring that Ayame and Ryoko will experience without Keisuke. Ayame doesn't know how to feel about it. In all honesty, she was still in denial.
She expected him to appear out of nowhere, grinning at her as he laughed about her getting pranked so easily, and she'd cry while scolding him about how bad of a joke it was. But that was not how life worked.
That brought them here to their new house in small, cozy Makochi. Makochi, where they knew no one. No Toman, no Valhalla, no… whatever.
No fighting would've been something that she wanted, but considering the reputation of Furin High, she doubted it.
Really, how did she even get enrolled in Furin? It's an all-boys school, and she was very obviously not a male, if her identification card said anything about it.
Okay, so maybe she flunked her entrance examinations because she was — still is, by the way — mourning her brother and wasn't in the correct mindset to study, but really? Really? An all-boys school was the only place she could be sent to?
She let out another heavy sigh, as her mother and herself pulled the suitcase to the entrance of the town, where wind chimes decorated the gate. It was fitting, she supposed. Furin did mean wind chime, after all.
But, what caught her attention was a sign hung up on the board by the entrance, written like a historical sign board and even stamped with a logo.
Anyone past this point who causes pain, who brings destruction, who hold evil in their heart, will be purged by Bofurin without exception.
"… That's how Toman started," Ryoko commented quietly. Ayame's breath catches in her throat, before she answered, "Yeah. That's how it was, wasn't it…" The two stood there for a few moments, before sighing.
"Let's go, ma," Ayame started first, glancing at her mother, who was still staring at the sign with a forlorn expression, "We have a lot to do… with unpacking our things… and stuff."
"Right," Ryoko replied, amber irises flickering away. They walked further into the town, quite genuinely startled by the amount of Furin uniforms around, each in groups of five or less.
Huh.
Ayame's eyes averted as soon as she caught the gaze of a student, wearing a grey hoodie under his Furin blazer, white headphones on his head and hair dyed platinum blond. The school didn't have any rules regarding alteration of uniforms, she realised, glancing around to see the different variations of shirts the students had.
What she didn't catch was the way the boy's eyes were trained on her for a second longer, before his attention drifted to his companions.
They walked down the streets, walking to their new apartment in silence.
The day was uneventful. Both mother and daughter didn't particularly feel like exploring the town just yet.
The house was quiet.
So, so quiet.
No footsteps running around, no cats meowing, no mundane arguments where they quarrelled for the sake of quarrelling, no neighbours asking them to shut up because of a certain boy shouting, no… Keisuke.
Ayame doesn't think she will ever get used to it. Actually, she didn't ever want to get used to it.