𝐈𝐈. 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

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Akina,

Prepare for the summer. Train.

- Hiroto

He had never signed his letters with words of affection or anything linking himself to her. By the scrawl of his hands he isn't a father, but a paragon. Not a trace of paternal bond, simply one order to the next. He had always been like this; Akina's learned to not wish for the tenderness of a father's warmth, there's no sense in yearning for what will never come.

This letter is ominous, even for the self-proclaimed exemplar that is Hiroto Selwyn. Train, she repeats like a mantra in her brain. For what? How does one train for an unidentified test? She wants to question what for, but with the scrutiny of the Ministry she doubts she would get much of an answer anyway. 

Her inky eyes flit from the parchment to the rest of the hall, the usual blissfully upbeat ambience now back in full swing. From her lone seat she watches the students. Across from her are Cho Chang and Terry Boot engaging in what appears to be a very lively conversation, with the latter animatedly flourishing his arms to accompany his vibrant storytelling. Cho watches and nods thoughtfully every now and then, though there's a certain longing swimming through her eyes that doesn't quite light up her face like it used to. 

Though perhaps that's what loss does to you; it purges your soul and leaves a vacant shell in its wake, the emptiness only a reminder of what was and what could have been. 

Akina daydreams of an earth-shattering love that Cho and her recently departed so obviously shared. Anyone with sight and a functioning brain could see the adoration the pair had for each other. She wonders avidly what it felt like-- is it safe and secure like an embrace laced with promises of the stars? Or perhaps is filled with lust and passion, with surges of electricity that charge your very spirit, fortifying with your bones? Or, possibly, is it an entirely new feeling in its own, an uncharted territory that one cannot describe simply in words? Many say that you simply just know, but if you "just know" then surely it must be familiar enough that you can recognize what it is. 

She questions if the sentiment of love is even in the cards for the life that doesn't seem to even be hers. What is there so passionate about living solely for the sake of others? There's no love for lost souls existing only for the sake of following instructions. 

It would sure be glorious to feel, though, even if only for a moment. 

She is interrupted from her fantasies by a blaring whoop from across the hall, causing her to pick up her head and observe.

Beyond the melancholic girl in blue is the Gryffindor table, true to their vibrant nature and as lively as ever. The abundance of ginger-haired students are ardently talking to each other with wide grins, capturing the attention of everyone nearby. The Weasley clan has a talent for seizing attention, they could captivate anyone around with their eccentric attitudes and spirited voices. 

Enthralled by the conversation is a rather small girl compared to the rest of the occupants at the table. Only her collarbone and up are visible from being shrouded by the wood, she looks comically out of place. She's sporting a toothy grin as she nods eagerly, her dark eyes wide with enthusiasm. Her already puffy cheeks make her look like a toddler, and they're only accentuated as she smiles. As she nods, her raven tresses bound in two pigtails frame her face and swing excitedly. 

Akina watches fondly, the corners of her lips turning up ever-so-slightly. Though on cue, the younger girl tilts her head to the side just a fraction, but it's enough where she catches Akina's gaze. As if her features couldn't brighten anymore, she rises slightly from her seat and frantically waves at the Ravenclaw from across the hall.

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