~Hakurei Shrine~ > Patchouli's Scarlet Library

[Nanowrimo] Weave the Stars

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MatsuriSakuragi: And I finally have a moment to leave a comment here~ Yesss, I have been looking forward to seeing where you are going with this story. I'm especially interested in finding out more about Mari and Isabel's relationship too, because it seems like they've got a strong sisterly bond :) I wonder how the HRtP presentation will go... Lookin' forward to seeing more. Keep it up. :D

Alfred F. Jones: Chapter three is a go! It's surprisingly long for a chapter that I thought would be terribly boring to write. We're gonna get to the meat of the story soon, though hopefully this chapter won't be too boring. By the way, just to confirm what some people probably already figured out: the English dialogue is just parsed Japanese, but the Spanish is indeed Spanish and is left as such. If I should translate anything, just let me know. Chapter Three Mari was an early riser. Even if she hadn't been before she'd moved here, the incessant krarrah kwink-kwink-kwink every morning outside her window would have made her into one. Yawning, she greeted the magpies on her windowsill with a sleepy ?buenos dias, pajaritos?. Then she rolled off of bed. Taking out two slices of bread from her small bread box, she fed them. They weren't her pets, but they acted like it. They showed no fear of her reaching out towards them. Feral animals didn't do that, as she understood, but she was a seamstress, not a zoologist. Whatever. Though she wasn't exactly a talkative person, it did make her feel lonely to not be able to talk to at least one good friend-- namely Isabel. But the birds, at least, wouldn't laugh at her if she spoke to them instead. And they wouldn't look at her oddly if she lapsed into Spanish, either. Speaking of. She looked at the letters on her table. She would need to write up their envelopes. She'd do that after she woke up in full, though. She took a shower to wake herself up, dressed in some rather unfashionable but highly comfortable clothes (because occasionally, despite being very fashion-minded, she was willing to sacrifice looking good for feeling good), then dragged herself to her small one-person foldable table and turned on the TV while eating cereal. She liked to eat it absolutely dry. Milk tasted awful to her. It was like slimy water. Then she ate some of her cookies. At some point she would have to find more fruits, because she had gone three days without eating a single fruit and it was starting to feel weird to her. Not that she thought she'd be able to find chirimoyas at her local grocery store here. After all this, it was finally seven in the morning. The weather report on TV said that the day was going to be warm, continuing the week's trend. The spring thaw meant that she would soon be able to stop wearing long sleeves and leggings under her dresses. She was smiling just thinking about the new springtime fashions she'd get to see on the street. Warm weather was truly the best for fashion. Winter had its appeal, but after a certain point on the thermometer, practicality took precedence over cute winter clothes. She preferred loose clothing over tight clothes by far. Leaving a cookie on the windowsill for the magpies, she turned her attention to her letters. She accidentally sealed her parents' letter into its envelope before writing the addresses on it. She caught herself before she did the same with her sister's letter, but it was annoying to have to write on an envelope that already had a letter in it. They'd have to be mailed by international post, so she couldn't just drop them into the apartment's outgoing mail box. She would have to trek to the post office to do it. She bit her lip. It was a trek she'd gotten familiar with, sending letters every two weeks the way she did (sending a letter one week, waiting a week for the reply, and sending a reply of her own the next week), but she didn't like it. It took her past the one area of the city that was almost always bustling with activity: the electronics and entertainment district. Sometimes she was willing to put in the extra hour of walking it took to walk all the way around and back again, sometimes not. She thought back to her home, where she would be sending the letter to her parents to. That place had also been big and crowded, but it had never been unconquerable when Isabel had been by her side, holding her hand to reassure her that she was still there. Mari sat down with the letter in her hand, focusing on the address, and didn't move for a while. Then she sighed and got up, and threw the letters into her small backpack. She had never been the sort to carry a purse; she was too afraid of having it stolen from her in the street, no matter where she was. At least to steal her backpack, they'd have to cut the straps. She looked at the time. She still had an hour until the post office even opened, and it was about a half-hour walk both ways. No need to leave just yet. She could spend some time steeling herself. She didn't want to end up crying or nearly vomiting in public again. Mari sat down with a book. It was one that Isabel had sent her by mail some weeks ago, along with a letter that read, in part, ?I found this book in a store while I was in Barcelona. I thought that maybe it could help you. Please let me know if there's anything else I can send along to you to help you.? As a bonus, it was a book all about learning to deal with panic attacks and it had a lot of helpful advice. It was in Spanish, thank god. Though she was here in Japan, Mari wasn't going to make it harder on herself by trying to read this in her second language. She spent some time absorbed with the book, letting the time pass. She was somewhat anxious about getting caught in a big crowd outside the longer she waited for the day to drag on, but she was more anxious about being caught outside the post office, unable to go inside to escape from a crowd until they opened the doors. Finally, it came time to leave. She breathed in and out, controlling her breathing pace, and pulled on her backpack, setting the book down on her table as she headed out. She checked if she had money three times, then once more for good measure, just to make sure she could pay the international rates and not end up having to come back to her apartment. She could do this. She could definitely do this. She left one last slice of bread on the sill for any birds that might come by. Then she took her keys, locked the door behind her, went down the elevator (without allowing herself to think ?what if the elevator gets stuck??, no matter how tempting), out of the apartment building, and went outside. Deep, slow breaths. Her destination was about eleven blocks down, to her right. The opposite direction of where she'd gone yesterday, in fact, which was a relief. The less she thought about yesterday, the better. She set off. Thankfully it was a weekday, so not as many people were out and about as they would be on a weekend. The younger crowd was mostly in school, except for the delinquents and the ditchers, and the people who went to work in the mornings were already there, except for those who overslept and were rushing to work. She wouldn't have to find alleys to walk through this time, although she knew where they were if she really needed it-- Don't plan an escape route. Don't plan an escape route. That had been in the book. She had to focus on the here and now, not potential future disaster. Walking on the sidewalk would be fine for her. It was going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right. No one spoke to her on the way, thank god. She didn't even have to make eye contact with people. They were mostly homekeepers, mostly women at that (to her relief) who were out to do some early shopping, or perhaps they were on their way back from dropping their children off. She did run into someone who made eye contact with her, a woman who looked to be in her thirties with warm brown eyes and a slight smile, and she was very proud of herself for not obsessing about what the woman thought of her. Instead she focused on her adorable red checkerboard dress and the fashionable hat she was wearing. What a cute outfit. She'd have to make it herself later. Much to Mari's surprise, she was actually somewhat... enjoying this walk. She even caught herself with a smile on her face, however brief. She was proud to feel her heart beating at a completely normal rate, her palms not even sweating. There was one time. She was only a block away from her destination; in fact she could see the sign that read ?post office? in the distance. But there was a crowd of people outside a store. Some kind of jewelry store. Or an electronics store. Either way, she couldn't keep walking on that side of the street, so she crossed and tried not to look. But as she got closer, their chattering got louder. She could already begin to feel the beginnings of anxiety stirring. However, then she remembered the book. She forced herself to slow her pace, then slow down completely, and just focused on the storefront next to her. She focused on the plants hanging inside the store. There wasn't anyone attending the front, what a relief. Mari just stared at the plants. When someone came up to the front of the store, though, she had to look away and find another distraction. It landed right in front of her, actually. A bird landed on the street and waddled around the edge of the sidewalk. It caught her eye. A magpie. Of course. It then flew up. She looked up to follow it, and that's when she saw the telephone wires over the street, and she swore she could recognize some of the other birds as her magpie friends. And also pigeons, mostly light grey but also some adorable brown ones. She smiled. Even if she didn't have Isabel here to hold her hand, at least it felt nice to know that she wasn't entirely without an escort. She continued walking, past the crowd, across the street, and into the just-opened post office. Mari took another deep breath. In here, the birds couldn't hold her hand. It was all up to her. She could definitely do this. She took her time making her way up to the front desk. The workers were still getting set up, and it wouldn't hurt to mentally prepare herself for conversing with people. She sat down in one of the chairs they had for the elderly. There was no one else in the post office with her, save the postal workers themselves. She picked up the day's newspaper. Not much news of import to read today. There was one news item that sort of caught her eye. Aum Shinrikyo was in the papers again, having recently been declared bankrupt. She had something of a grudge against them, despite not even being in the country at the time. But the community back home had been very panicked when they had heard of the news on TV. It was just one year ago. She had been in the youth center lounge at the time, waiting for Isabel to come by and pick her up. Someone had come in then, yelling to turn on the news, something big had happened. She had been the one to find the remote and change the channel to NHK, and that's when they had seen it. The sarin gas attack on the Tokyo Subway. It was evening there, and morning in Japan. The evening had seen many panicked teenagers coming to the center to watch the news and then call long distance, back to their family members in Tokyo, to make sure that they were all right. She knew she didn't have any family in Tokyo, but that night she had been very grateful that Isabel had forcibly pulled her away from the television and walked her home. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to take the subway alone. Trains yes. Subways no. The thing about agoraphobia, according to the dry academic stuff she'd read about her own condition, was that it came down to thought processes. The main form of therapy used to treat agoraphobia was called cognitive behavioural therapy, which sought to address those thought processes by changing perspectives on them. For example, why was a person with agoraphobia afraid to go outside? Maybe it was for no distinct reason. Maybe it was a poor response to a rational reason, like ?I can't go outside because I'm scared I'll get skin cancer from the sun so I'll just stay inside forever?. Maybe it was a logical, reasonable response to an irrational reason, like ?I can't go outside because it's violent out there and I will surely be killed by some axe murderer on the side of the road?. But it was really hard for her to think of the last one as irrational when it was a real, actual thing that had recently happened. What if she had been here a year earlier, in Tokyo on the subway, just in time to get sarin gassed? It was in the realm of possibility-- no, worse. Reality. It was a real thing that had happened to some people, and that could have easily included her. She shuddered. What if she died outside of her apartment? Who would find her body? How long would it take for them to find her? Her official documents were all in Spanish, too, except for her travel visa. How long for them to find someone who could read it? Or would they find her abandoned apartment first? She felt short of breath. How long for her parents to get the news? How long for her body to get shipped back to be buried-- Oh no oh nonononononono-- No, no no. The room had gotten dark, foreboding in her eyes, though it was still only about eight in the morning. She was sweating, she could feel the trickle down the side of her face. She felt like she was going to faint if she didn't get some fresh air. Somehow, despite the dark room, the lights felt brighter than ever, like they were focusing exclusively on her. She had to leave. She stood up quickly, felt herself getting dizzy as she stood. The office workers must have thought she was drunk. The lights felt so hot. She was still sweating. She heard some voices from the desk. They were talking about her. They were making fun of her. She definitely looked drunk. Day drinking, this early? She had to get out. She had to get out. SHE HAD TO GET OUT. Her legs were wobbly. She forced them to be straight, forced herself to the door. Behind her she could vaguely sense that someone had come out from behind the desk and was coming over to her. The idea of someone grabbing her, touching her right now filled her with terror. She swung her hand, threw the newspaper she hadn't realized was still in her grip. Shaking like a leaf, she banged her right shoulder against the door, then pushed outwards, stumbling out onto the street. Failure. Failure. She had failed. Everything had been going so great and then-- She just HAD to pick up that fucking newspaper, hadn't she?! She caught her breath, feeling better already now that the lights weren't bearing down on her and now that there was air to breathe. But she still had to find a nice dark corner to hide in. People were staring at her. They definitely thought she was drunk, or sick, or both. She was sick, in fact, and that's why she had to hide. She ran. On wobbly legs, but she ran. Behind her, she heard steps and worried they were for her. Thankfully, she knew that there was a quiet alley down which she could find a small quiet and mostly abandoned memorial to some samurai or other, and it was nearby. She made a run for it. Her heart rate jumped when she heard someone yelling behind her, but she ignored it and ran, heart pounding, head hurting, and fear surging through her veins. As far as she knew, that person was coming to yell at her for being a nuisance, maybe even hurt her, and she couldn't stop. She ran down one street, turned fast on her heel, ducking left. There it was, right ahead. A torii gate hidden away from the eyes of the public, on a sudden cobblestone path. She had found this place once when she had done her circling around to the post office, and kept it in mind in case she ever needed a hideaway and couldn't make it home. She ran, comfortable sneakers making it easy on her feet. It was remarkable that such a quiet place existed right here in the middle of a busy city and yet no one knew of its existence except the occasional old man or old woman. Remarkable and lucky. She dashed past one torii gate, then turned a sharp right and went past another, and she was in. Her heart was pounding. She wanted to collapse to her knees and cry, but first she reached the grass. Then she fell onto the ground, sobbing in relief. And in anger. What. A fucking failure. That was a pathetic show she had just shown there and she knew it. The very small part of her mind that was still reasonable objected. She shouldn't feel angry at herself, she was scared and panicking and she had been doing so well. But the rest of her mind just used that as an excuse to catapult into the next accusation. She had been doing so well! And then she had picked up a fucking newspaper and just LOST IT? Pathetic! All that work for absolutely nothing! And there was no question about whether or not she could go back to the post office. Go back, and feel everyone's judging stares as they elbow each other to whisper, ?hey, that's the loser who started crying because of a dry newspaper article and had a panic attack in the middle of a post office! Can you believe that?? ?No,? she whispered, tears streaming down her face. ?Stop it. Stop this, stop it!? She clapped her hands over her ears. ?Stop saying this to me, just stop it now!? But her mind kept coming at her. ?You are so pathetic, Maria. Let's go over the facts. You are in a foreign country that barely wants you here. You have known you have agoraphobia since you were nine years old, at least? That's when you moved to the city with your family and suddenly discovered that crowds made you really anxious and scared. A bit longer for you to get officially diagnosed. And yet you still decide to be a fucking idiot and move to a foreign country to... what was it, prove that you can make it as a clothing designer? And to prove that you could totally live on your own??  A derisive snort. ?And you felt so proud when you stepped on that plane without having a panic attack on the tarmac, didn't you?  Well, how do you feel now? You can't even sit down quietly in a deserted post office here without having a freakout! Pathetic! How do you stand living with yourself?? She shook her head from side to side, hands still over her ears. ?No quiero o?r m?s de tus palabras, ya vete y d?jame en paz, ?no quiero o?r m?s!? But the accusations continued, snaking their way past any of her objections and biting at her. ?But really, how do you stand living with yourself? I mean that as an honest question, mi querida Marisol.? It was sneering with the nickname, not affectionate. ?The only reason you were able to last as long as you did in a big city was because you had Isabel to hold your hand, and I don't even mean that metaphorically. I mean that you literally had to hold her hand in crowds. Like a child, not an older sister. "And you are an adult! How long did you expect for her to be able to hold your hand, really? I mean, let's be realistic here. She was always going to move away. It is even what she is studying. She wants to be an archaeologist and travel around the world digging up ancient cultures and artifacts. What did you intend to do when she left? Just stay inside the house all day? Rely on your parents to get everything done? But instead of being an old woman, you are supposed to be the reliable older sister! Seriously, why didn't you ever consider just throwing yourself off a bridge?? ?Oh, wait, I forgot,? the voice in her head mused, and then it seemed to lower its voice, kneel down by her side and whisper straight into her ear, breath tickling her neck. ?You did consider that. Several times. And every time, you chickened out. Because bridges were crowded. And you're so afraid of crowds without your sister. Isn't that just the crowning irony of it all?? Mari pitched forward on the grass, trying to contain her sobs before they got loud and someone came out to chase her away. She buried her face in her hands and cried. ?D-d?jame en... paz,? she sobbed. ?Ya...  he o?do suficiente. ?Que m?s q-quieres de mi?? ?That was the best part, though,? the voice laughed. ?I am going to leave now, but I do want you to keep that in mind. Don't forget it. You're too pathetic to live, and yet too pathetic to leave.? It chuckled even as it faded away. ?Si de veras quieres terminarlo todo, nadamas dime y te puedo ayudar con eso.? And it finally left Mari alone, trembling and shaking on the ground, hugging herself tightly as tears fell down her face. -----

Alfred F. Jones: It could have ended there. Most other times that anxiety attacks like that happened to her, that's exactly what happened; she hid herself away, cried, and then eventually dragged herself back to her apartment. But not this time. Mari didn't even notice him until he had stepped closer, onto the grass. She had been crying for several minutes now, her face red and her cheeks raw from rubbing the tears away with her hands, all under the stern gaze of a samurai from the Meiji era keeping the peace in this old forgotten memorial. He paused on the grass for a moment, but then spoke up. ?M-miss? Are you... are you okay now?? Mari's head shot up to look at who it was that had come to kill her. ?N-no te acerces,? she stammered before she remembered where she was. ?I-I mean.. S-stay away!? ?Miss, please relax,? he said. It was a young man, dressed in the attire of a Japanese salaryman; black jacket, black pants, dark blue tie. He was standing on the edge of the grass, moving closer, but only very gradually. ?I am not here to hurt you or scare you. I was just worried about you.? ?I-I don't need help from someone I do not even know,? she objected. ?Who are you?? ?H-Habara,? he said. ?Habara Akihiko. I work at the post office and I saw you--? Her stomach seemed to do a backflip, and she interrupted him. ?T-then leave me alone! I don't need you to laugh at me!? ?Miss, I do not want to laugh at you,? he replied, taking another step forward. ?Please don't be frightened. I saw that you were scared, and I just wanted to try and help.? Mari realized her eyes must be reddened from her tears. She glared at him. ?I-I think you are lying to me.? ?No, I am not, miss,? he said, taking a step. ?I do work at the post office, I said the truth about that, but I'm also a student of medicine. And you were having an anxiety attack, weren't you?? She looked at him, saw the worry in this stranger's eyes, and started tearing up again. ?And it's okay. It is not the first time I've seen an anxiety attack. I just want to help you. Please.? She was crying again, so she turned her face down to the ground so at least he wouldn't see. ?A-all right...? Her shoulders were shaking as he made a few more steps, then sat down next to her. ?Miss... what's your name, first?? She was still shaking, so it was hard to get it out. ?M-Mari. M-Mari Saiho... Saihoshi.? He nodded. ?All right, Saihoshi-san. Do you take any sort of medication for panic attacks? Do you have any medicine with you?? She shook her head. ?I-I've tried to go to a pharmacy, but... kanji....? ?All right. I understand. Please take deep breaths, Saihoshi-san.? He didn't seem worried about the grass staining his clothes. Instead he put his hand over his chest. ?Like this, please.? He took a deep breath. ?Hold it in....? Then he released it. ?For three seconds, and then... exhale, slowly.? Her throat felt so dry. But she nodded, and tried to hold her breath. It was hard. Her sobs were still refusing to stop. But they were slowing down. She couldn't manage three seconds. But she could manage one. ?Again, please. Concentrate on breathing.? She tried again. She held it for two seconds this time. She could already feel the beginnings of relief. Her heart rate was slowing down. ?You are doing well. Keep it up.? He modeled breathing for her again. ?Inhale... then... exhale.? She breathed in... then exhaled. He nodded. ?That's good. Good job. Now, please, do me a favour, and count slowly from one to ten.? This was the same sort of thing Isabel had asked her to do from time to time. ?One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten.? ?May I put my coat over you, Saihoshi-san?? She was still shaking a little, she realized. She nodded. ?Y-yeah.? He pulled off his jacket, then put it over her shoulders, leaning over but also not actually coming into physical contact with her. It wasn't that cold a day outside, but she felt warmer-- in a good way, not from her heart racing in terror. ?Would you like me to get you something? Food or something to drink?? She shook her head vigorously. ?That's all right then. That's all right.? He smiled. ?You're going to be fine. Please close your eyes now, and focus on breathing again.? She closed her eyes this time, and took a breath. This time she managed to inhale deeply.... then held it there for three seconds... and exhaled. ?Well done, Saihoshi-san.? He nodded. ?You are doing well. How do you feel?? She paused, then looked down. ?Better now. Thanks to you. Though I'm still... hrm.? She sighed. ?I feel so humiliated.? ?Humiliated how?? He asked. ?Well... I had a panic attack in a quiet, calm place and worse, a total stranger had to come and help me out.? She put a hand on her face. ?I feel so embarrassed.? ?It's okay. Everyone needs help sometimes.? He smiled. ?My mother used to have panic attacks, actually. I learned to help her out when it happened.? ?Your mother?? ?Yes.? She winced inside. Other people had this, too. It was never a fun thing to re-learn. ?I'm afraid...? She wiped some tears away from her cheeks. ?I didn't quite catch your name. I heard you say it, but I wasn't focusing.? ?Habara Akihiko. I work at the post office.? Her heart sank. ?Oh. Right.? ?It's okay, honest. I won't get in trouble or anything, I'll just call it my break.? He smiled. That hadn't really been what she had been thinking about, but sure. ?And it's fine, honestly. I'm not going to laugh at you or anything. If you don't mind my asking, though....? ?Yes?? ?As you said, you were in a quiet room and reading silently. What triggered your panic attack? You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable,? he added quickly. ?But I want to know, in case it's something I need to remove from the post office so it does not happen again.? ?I, er...? She looked down. ?I was reading in the newspaper.? ?Oh, there's bad news there?? She tightened her grip on her pants leg. ?It was about Aum Shinrikyo.? ?Au-- oh. Oh.? He winced. ?I'm sorry. I understand now.? She didn't think he really understood, but whatever. She sighed. ?But I shouldn't hold you here any longer. You have to go back to work, right?? ?I should, but more important is if you're all right. How are you feeling now?? She took a breath. ?Better. Much better. Thank you so much, Habara-san.? ?Would you like to come back to the post office? Though, I assume that you just want to go home now and rest.? She shook her head at the first sentence, nodded at the second. ?Y-yeah. I don't want to go back in there. I'd be too humiliated.? ?No, don't be. There's nothing shameful about having a panic attack. Everyone has something that scares them.? He shook his head. ?You shouldn't feel ashamed. It's not something that has to rule your life.? She recognized the advice from her book. It sounded just as hollow spoken aloud as it did in the printed form. ?Thanks, but I know that agoraphobia isn't that nice.? She smiled, somewhat bitterly. ?I-I think I'll just go home. Thank you, Habara-san.? She tried to walk past him. He didn't move to block her, but he did reach out his arm. ?Please wait, Saihoshi-san. Why did you come to the post office? Did you need to drop off a letter?? She blanched. She had been just about to forget all about that and let this entire debacle go to waste. ?Y-yes! I did want to do exactly that, in fact...? She looked down. ?They're in my backpack. Ah.? She tried to reach for her backpack, but found his coat in her way. ?I think this belongs to you.? ?Are you sure you don't need it any longer?? ?Yes.? She tried to smile. It came out weak, but at least it was real. ?I am really grateful that someone like you came to help me.? She looked down. ?If it had been up to me, I probably would have just lain there for an hour longer before I dragged myself home bit by bit.? He shook his head. ?That happening was exactly why I wanted to become a doctor. So I could help people like my mother. So she wouldn't have to be alone.? He took his coat back. ?So that I could help.? ?I appreciate that a lot,? Mari replied. ?And I imagine she does too.? He nodded. ?Anyway, what was it you wanted to drop off?? ?Ah.? She could reach for her backpack now. She pulled it off, and retrieved the two letters she wanted to send. ?Here. These two letters, by international mail. And hold on just a second.? She reached again into her backpack, and rummaged around a little until she found a small plastic bag. ?And this should be the exact amount of money needed to send them both. I calculated it.? ?I see,? he said, taking the letters and the money. ?I can certainly get these sent for you.? He looked down at the letters. ?One is to... Madrid?? ?Yeah.? She couldn't help but smile at that one. ?My sister Isabel is studying archaeology there.? ?Wow, really? That's impressively far for a Japanese person to go! Especially since you could study that just fine here.? The smile stayed on her face, but it was sort of frozen now. She... supposed that this stranger didn't need to know what was wrong with that sentence. Even if he was nice, she was probably never going to see him again. ?Y-yeah.? Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice that she had replied without conviction, and instead looked at the other letter. ?And this one's to Peru? Do you have another sister there?? ?No.? She glanced to the side. ?That's where my parents live.? ?Your pa--? He blinked. ?Wait, Peru? Why?? She felt her heart sink. ?That's...? She could easily lie. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. She was likely never going to see him ever again. She'd never seen him at the post office before. It should be easy to avoid him if he worked in the mornings. She didn't need to tell him the truth. But, frankly, after him seeing her at her weakest and reaching out a hand to help her, she couldn't quite muster up the motivation to lie to his face. ?That... is where I grew up. It's where I was born.? She met his gaze. Even with people she knew well, meeting their gaze was rather unnerving for her, but she did it. ?Soy Peruana Japonesa.? He blinked. ?That was... Spanish.? ?So are the letters,? she said. ?And their names.? Akihiko looked down at the letters again. ?Y-you're right. You're Japanese, though?? ?That's what I just said. I'm Japanese Peruvian. Half Japanese, to be more accurate. Or you can call me a dekasegi, if you want to be more insulting.? ?N-no, I--? He scratched his head. ?I was just... surprised. I did notice that your skin was dark, but I thought...? He looked down at the letters again, then seemed to remember what he was doing and why he was out here. ?A-ah, I should get back...? She nodded, a bit sad. ?Yeah. Thanks for everything, though.? ?I'll get these delivered as soon as I return.? He seemed to compose himself. ?Please have a safe trip home, S-Saihoshi-san.? ?Sure.? She shrugged. ?I'll try to rest when I return to my apartment.? He walked away from her first, heading back down the alleyway, but before he left, he turned back to wave. ?Take care of yourself, miss.? She didn't wave back, but she did smile. ?Yeah, thanks for everything... Habara-san.? She sighed when he was gone and turned her focus over to the Meiji-era samurai who had been looking down at her sternly the whole time. ?Yeah, yeah, I get it,? she said, shouldering her backpack again. ?Revere the emperor, expel the...? she sighed. ?But even then, thanks for the quiet place.? She headed back home taking the long way this time, and managed to avoid crowds by using the alleyways. It was embarrassing how much easier it was now than it had been earlier. Then she got to her apartment building, went back up the elevator and refused to let herself worry about it running out of air, entered her room, pulled off her shoes, and sat on her bed. Then she pulled over her cassette player and her headphones, and put on a tape of Julio Iglesias to relax. She managed enough muscle control to turn it off right before falling asleep, and she didn't wake up again for many hours. She really, really needed the rest. End of Chapter Three So far this hasn't been much of a Touhou fanfic, has it? Well, hopefully that'll change in chapter four. Hopefully Nanowrimo will agree! I've never actually had an anxiety disorder, so if I got anything wrong I apologize. I did do my research, but if you recognize any problems with my depiction of agoraphobia and panic attacks, please point them out! 'till next time.

MatsuriSakuragi: ........ I... fuck. Just... jesus christ. I want to give Mari a hug so bad right now because holy shit that is horrifying. Way to be spot-on with the panic attack, too >.< That was especially worrisome near the end of that, too. Those are... not very nice internal monologues at all. :( This Akihiko fellow seems really nice though! It's good to know that there was someone there who was able to help her, and that she was able to be calmed down well enough. I do hope things begin to look up for her soon either way >.< Very nicely written-- but dear god that was enough to make me squirm in my chair. D:

nintendonut888: Man, y u so mean Ruro? ;O; Even so, this was quite engaging to see her just lose it like that. I can only continue to hope that having a place to work and people to relate to can help her overcome this. >.< Very good. Keep it up~

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