Dein Weg ist Mein Weg

Chapter 7: The Two Nishizumis

After Ogin and her crew had left the room, Maho remained in her seat for hours, enjoying the unending silence. Cutlass didn't pay her any mind, only giving her the slightest occasional glance as she fiddled behind the counter, cleaning glasses or reorganizing a shelf. Maho didn't complain. In fact, she preferred being ignored, as long as there was a freshly brewed 'Hiroshima' before her when needed, and Cutlass always made sure there was. The raging fire the drink set aflame within her shed light on her surroundings, and on the state of her own mind. It gave her clarity, yes, but also a sense of comfort. For as long as she could remember, the darkness had ravaged her mind, tempting, teasing, and toying with her. Now, for the first time in ages, her mind was at peace. She could merely sit at the bar, and think things through, without being dragged away to some tragic battle or unpleasant memory.

All things considered, her life was seemingly getting better. She had managed to leave her old life in Kumamoto behind her. She left Kuromorimine and found a new school to call home. Who she was was unknown to her peers as was, it seemed, her past. Still, she wasn't going to take any chances. The more she could keep others at a distance, the more she could ensure that neither herself or those around her got hurt again. Hurt. Maho didn't need the darkness there to know that was one of her biggest issues. Anyone she got close to either ended up broken, hurt, or dead. Therefore, it was safer to be alone. As long as she was alone, she was the only one who could end up hurt. She wouldn't let what had happened to any of her friends happen again. She wouldn't let what had happened to Miho happen to anyone else. She would carry her burdens alone, even if it would end up breaking her. Living her life under her mother had already given form to many cracks and stresses on her body and mind, and the events during the match against Pravda had nearly broken her completely.

Maho sighed and stared into the fiery mixture of the new glass Cutlass pushed towards her. The embers of her last drink were still smoldering inside her, so she simply leaned against the bar and gazed into the vibrant greens and reds for a moment. She moved her jaw around a bit, hoping to alleviate some of the pain, but to no avail, Perhaps that was for the best. She did choose to punish herself like this after all. It was at the least a less extreme form of self-harm than what she had turned to in the past. She ran a hand over her lower arm, feeling the scars through her jacket. In the end, she deserved every bit of what she was doing to herself. There was no one on earth she hated more than herself, with the possible exception of her mother. Every bit of pain she dealt herself was, in a small way, a way of making amends for the pain she had caused others. At least, that's what she told herself. Deep down, she knew of course that it didn't actually matter. People had already gotten hurt, and hurting herself wouldn't make it right. Still, the part of her that knew that that was true was hard to hear between the overwhelming cries from the part of her that told her she deserved it. Unfortunately, this was the part of her she most often gave in to, and so it was this time as well. She grabbed the glass before her, and downed it all, reigniting the burning pain once again.

Having emptied the glass, she pulled out her phone from her pocket, and fiddled with it for a minute or so. She swiped back and forth among the applications, not looking for anything in particular. Time and time again, she found herself opening up her contact lists, and one contact in particular. She would quickly realize her mistake however, and return to merely browzing photos she had taken, or reading an article. And yet, she returned to the contacts. Why was she insistent on it? She knew that it wouldn't help. She knew that it wouldn't matter. She could call him a thousand and one times, and he still wouldn't pick up. She would never feel his embrace again, no matter what she did. Without her realizing, her thumb had opened up her voicemail, and pressed play on the only one she had stored. Not wanting to bother Cutlass, but also not wanting to stop herself, she lifted the phone to her ear, and just listened.