It was autumn already; she couldn't believe how much time had passed. The seasons had gone by much quicker than she imagined they would/anticipated. Oddly enough, this cyclic change empowered her with a strange feeling of relief. It was the start of something fresh—something new. She would be starting over with a blank slate—or so she presumed. She rested her chin against the palm of her hand, gazing longingly out the window. There was a low hum, or kind of whooshing noise coming from outside. The rustling of the leaves grew louder as they brushed against each other noisily. A whirlwind of bright red leaves blew by and the trees began to shake ever-so-slightly. The sky was covered in a blanket of baby blue, with soft tufts of clouds slowly sweeping by. The bright colors contrasted against each other and a tingling feeling grew in her stomach. The colors felt almost tangible, as if she could touch them if she stretched her hand out far enough.
Normally she would consider herself lucky to be inside on a day like this, but she grew weary of being cooped up in her room for so many hours on end. Sighing in frustration, she pushed her books to the side and shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed. She pressed her hand against the foggy glass window, feeling the warmth rush out of her cold fingertips. She removed her hand precariously, carefully examining the fingerprints she had left behind as if she were studying a fossil. The idea that each individual in the world had a different set of fingerprints was almost puzzling to her. The shadow of the imprints of her fingers faded away, erasing any trace of evidence she had left behind. She frowned, rubbing her cool fingertips against each other before curling them into a fist. She yearned to go outside—to breathe in and breathe out, just to feel her breath intermingle with the frigid air. Her thoughts wandered again to the notion of "inadvertently" disobeying his instructions, but she shook them off. She was going to considerable measures gaining his trust again and she wasn't going to ruin her chances now.
She figured he didn't expect her end up being so rebellious. She rolled her eyes and snorted. God forbid she defy his authority. After all, he didn't exactly have experience with dealing with "rebellious teenagers." When would he stop viewing her as a child? She sighed bitterly, sobering up again. Well, he would soon grow used to the fact that she was almost an adult now. He didn't exactly have a choice. She huffed, sulking, and pulled her knees to her chest. She glimpsed back and forth from the scenery outside the window to her unfinished work. After a brief moment she let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Chemistry was not her best subject.
The bitter cold nipped at his face and he scrunched his nose in aggravation. He grumbled something under his breath and wound his slipping scarf tighter around his face. He hated autumn. He wasn't being cynical; there just wasn't anything to look forward to about it. He trudged onwards, hearing the occasional crunching of leaves under his heavy footsteps. Today had been a long day. He had visited at least a dozen shops in the slim hope that one of them could mend his katana. She had told him to continue searching, despite the likelihood of anyone other than his late instructor fixing it being near zero. And, just as he expected, no one could help him. He narrowed his eyes and scowled. It served him right for putting his faith in complete strangers. He wasn't like her. He had never understood why she always blindly trusted others, in spite of what her gut—or visions—supposedly told her.
He hunched his shoulders in, frowning, and subconsciously shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. It always came back to the same unanswered question—why had she come to him? He was silent for a few moments, before a twisted smile tugged at the corners of his lips/ cheeky smile twisted at the corners of his lips. He didn't exactly have the best track record to begin with. He shrugged, trying to rid himself of these troublesome thoughts. Regardless, he had given her his word that he would keep her safe at any cost. And he intended to keep his promise.
He set his lips into a firm line, looking up to see if he had arrived at his destination yet. He approached the winding path before him and paused, now aware of the familiar squeaking of the creaky gate outside his house. He stepped forward, unlocking and swinging the gate open. It let out a high-pitched, scraping noise and he furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. He attempted to shut it noiselessly, trying to attract as little attention to himself as possible. His mood began to dissolve quickly as he advanced heatedly towards the front door. Life was getting the better of him. "How does she do it?" He unconsciously muttered to himself before stopping abruptly. He caught a quick glimpse of an indistinct figure leaning into the window and froze. His eyes squinted, trying to get a better focus/view through his glasses, and his lenses zoomed in on the figure. He saw the outline of a slender form leaning into the window eagerly. Long, straight hair spilled over small shoulders onto an oversized T-shirt. Noticing the size of the T-shirt, his frown deepened. Was that his T-shirt? A small bubble pointing towards the person popped up, forming a solid 'H' for Haruka. One hand was placed on the misty glass with the other propped idly over the curve of her cheek. She shifted uncomfortably, her head bowed and hands clenched into tight fists. He didn't need to see her face to know she was absolutely miserable; he could tell by her body language enough. Guilt prodded at his gut, but he suppressed it almost instantly. It was her fault for being placed under house arrest, he reminded himself bitterly. It's not like he was doing this for shits and giggles—he wasn't that much of a heartless bastard. If she hadn't have tried to sneak out in the first place, she wouldn't have been in this predicament. "It was as simple as that," He grumbled to himself. If anything, he should've expected it sooner, he admitted to himself. He was certainly taken by surprise. He scowled and turned his attention back to the door, choosing not to relive his worst memory.