[Hikaru tightly squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds, forcing more tears to swim down her cheeks. This conversation doesn't make any sense, and it's frustrating as all get out for her. It's actually making her paranoid that Touya hasn't yet launched into a tirade about all of her obvious, unforgivable mistakes. It's one thing to be condescended to by their colleagues, treated with that insincerely sweet sympathy, coddled like a baby, only to be slandered once she turns her back... and another for Touya to treat her like she's going to shatter. Maybe she is on the verge of falling apart, but she never expected Touya to handle her with care. Touya's always been particularly harsh with her, and Hikaru knows why that is, even though they haven't really talked about it, just between the two of them. They spent more than four months working together to make their best showing at the Hokuto Cup. In four months of close quarters, you can learn a lot about another person, whether or not you want to learn the first thing. By now, Touya must have learned she's no good at anything.]
You won both of your matches, [Hikaru says, brittle and helpless.] You won every game of the prelims, even, every single one, and you'd still be on your never-before-seen winning streak if not for that Ogata bastard. Kurata-san, he'd give you... he'd have to give you a break, if you went back down there right now. He would do that for you. Not for Touya Meijin's daughter, but for you, yourself, as you are. [Eyes squinting open, Hikaru has the look of faraway helplessness, too, of somebody drowning at sea. She looks like she's getting swept away by the undertow she was stupid enough to swim into.] But if you knew they'd give you shit anyway, then why did you come after me? You didn't have to do that. Nobody asked you to do that. There's no point in making things harder on yourself! Touya, there's no point... [Her voice rises in volume toward the end, before sinking back down to a tightly compressed nothing.
Now she's looking at the fan, and the handkerchief, and Touyas outstretched hand holding both of them. There's a petty little part of her that wants to reject everything on offer, but it's too weak to stop her from reaching out. She takes the fan gingerly by the handle, mindful of her mascara stains, and cradles it against her chest from then on, as protective as a bird with a clutch of eggs. With both hands, she rubs the handkerchief against her face, wiping away a layer of makeup and tears and runny snot. There's no doubt she looks like a fresh hell when she's finished. Messy eyes, clumped up lashes, and there's even a stubborn smear of pink lipstick around her mouth, out of alignment, that she couldn't remove entirely.]
You are ridiculous. You should be yelling at me, not just... not telling me I'm... whatever it is you're telling me. [That she's special, it sounds like. That she's irreplaceable. But she can be special and irreplaceable and still lose catastrophically, which she did, even after working as hard as she did to prepare for this. Touya deserves more from the rival she's chosen. Touya deserves to have the whole world handed to her on a silver platter.]
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You won both of your matches, [Hikaru says, brittle and helpless.] You won every game of the prelims, even, every single one, and you'd still be on your never-before-seen winning streak if not for that Ogata bastard. Kurata-san, he'd give you... he'd have to give you a break, if you went back down there right now. He would do that for you. Not for Touya Meijin's daughter, but for you, yourself, as you are. [Eyes squinting open, Hikaru has the look of faraway helplessness, too, of somebody drowning at sea. She looks like she's getting swept away by the undertow she was stupid enough to swim into.] But if you knew they'd give you shit anyway, then why did you come after me? You didn't have to do that. Nobody asked you to do that. There's no point in making things harder on yourself! Touya, there's no point... [Her voice rises in volume toward the end, before sinking back down to a tightly compressed nothing.
Now she's looking at the fan, and the handkerchief, and Touyas outstretched hand holding both of them. There's a petty little part of her that wants to reject everything on offer, but it's too weak to stop her from reaching out. She takes the fan gingerly by the handle, mindful of her mascara stains, and cradles it against her chest from then on, as protective as a bird with a clutch of eggs. With both hands, she rubs the handkerchief against her face, wiping away a layer of makeup and tears and runny snot. There's no doubt she looks like a fresh hell when she's finished. Messy eyes, clumped up lashes, and there's even a stubborn smear of pink lipstick around her mouth, out of alignment, that she couldn't remove entirely.]
You are ridiculous. You should be yelling at me, not just... not telling me I'm... whatever it is you're telling me. [That she's special, it sounds like. That she's irreplaceable. But she can be special and irreplaceable and still lose catastrophically, which she did, even after working as hard as she did to prepare for this. Touya deserves more from the rival she's chosen. Touya deserves to have the whole world handed to her on a silver platter.]