The Stray

Part 17 - Just the Begining of an Adventure and the End of a Story

I probably should have done this a long time ago, but, it's time for the curtains to close on the final act.

Thank you all so much for the support and I hope you like circle endings as much as I do.

Any additional story notes will be posted in another chapter that will be coming out soon after this is posted.

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~ Nezumi

Just the Begining of an Adventure and the End of a Story

It was time for my first day at UA High School.

I was jittery with nerves, tugging at my hair, wobbling at the knees, and the eggs on my plate were beginning to resemble mush from all the poking and prodding.

In simpler terms, I'm a wreck. And from the glances the kind man kept shooting me, I looked about as good as I felt.

I tried to steady myself, prepare myself, relieve a bit of my encroaching anxiety. I focused on the sensation of the cold and cheap plastic counter biting into my skinny wrists, of the way my collar slightly chaffed at the back of my neck because the tag was poking out, on the way the light filtered through the windows that morning, turning the dull tile floors into something slightly gold, on how I could hear the cats talking at each other a few rooms away . . . focus on anything but the pressing matter of school coming into session in a few hours.

"Stray." Shouta's eyes pinned me like a bug on a corkboard. His discerning gaze was as alarming as it was reassuring and familiar. At least I stopped fidgetting now that I had someone's direct gaze on me.

"It'll be fine."

And if Shouta says it, it must be true.

Biting my lip I turn my face down, raising a hand and tugging at my hair, the motion comforting in a way rocking was comforting to a child.

"It-it . . ." I didn't have the words, but Shouta seemed to understand anyway. He was great like that.

"Things may be hard in the beginning, but the first day is always the worst," Shouta says, scraping a last bite of food off his plate and into his mouth.

"Yeah," I agree weakly, trying to sound convincing. Shouta was kind enough to not refute the obvious hypocrisy in my tone.

Shouta makes a gesture to my plate with a flip of his hand. "Eat. When you're done, I have something to show you. To give you."

To give me? Curiosity fills me up, almost enough to completely edge out the anxiety. It was even enough to help me scarf down some more food as I rushed to find out what Shouta has for me.

The kind man always gave me good things. A candy, a new shirt or hoodie, a new notebook or some pens-- they were always thoughtful gifts when Shouta said he had something to give me.

Standing up fast, I dump my plate into the sink-- gently-- letting some water rush over it briefly before turning on a socked heal to stare eagerly at Shouta, eyes already wide and waiting. Shouta huffs at the look buts stands as well, having already put his dish in the sink while I was scarfing down my first meal of the day.

Shouta, as he turns to lead the way, has a look in his eye. I have come to recognize the look during our time together. It was a look I welcomed. One of soft eagerness and giving. It was the look he wore, subtly like an underskin, when he wanted to get a positive reaction from me-- be that by letting me have that one extra scoop of ice cream or by giving me a gift.