In times of trouble, Noriaki Kakyoin found his respite most often in nature. Many times had he retired to the local park after a long day at school, by his lonesome, to sit and do as he pleased. He would read a book, or watch the birds, or write in his journals, or catch up on homework he had missed the night before.
Hierophant Green would remain in his shadow throughout,
as his shadow. A poignant and ever-present reminder of what he was, and what he could never have as long as it persisted. Hundreds of people would stroll past as Kakyoin sat with one leg crossed over the other as if to make himself as small as possible, and not one of them would ever turn to look. Not one of them would ever turn to see
Hierophant Green, nor its bearer, staring a hole through the pages he glared at to avoid meeting their eye.
It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, he supposed. Whether Kakyoin liked it or not, he could not deny that the choice was, at its root, his and his alone to make. He had spoken with his parents about it, and they, too, did not understand. They couldn't see
Hierophant Green, no matter how much he tried to point it out, to make them see that the problem wasn't
them, and he wasn't being made
fun of, and would they please just
listen to him, it can't be fixed, and eventually, they would relent. He had always hated making them worry. When he was younger, the sight of his mother's face, worried to death and yet unable to see the problem, had made him tear up without fail. Even now, it bit at his heartstrings. He remembered it like it was yesterday. It was no matter of hatred, it never was. Just resigned acceptance, that as long as
Hierophant Green hovered by his side, this would be his lot. Sooner or later, he would learn to appreciate what he had, rather than lament what he didn't.
And now, in this microcosm of Tokyo, was no different. Kakyoin sat cross-legged upon a bench in the park, back leaned against the cold metal and eyes wandering semi-aimlessly but darting away from a new stimulus on occasion to avoid attracting attention. His Stand hovered behind him, rising upward and out of his shadow, the tendril that linked it with the ground idly shimmering like waves in water. He didn't have a book, nor a journal, nor anything to occupy his mind save for his thoughts. Thoughts that he would have preferred to avoid, for the time being - if he was dead, then surely, he would remember how. It was a hollow patch in his mind, and no matter how he willed it, the memory simply would not come.
Resigned acceptance, once again.
With nowhere else to turn and nothing else to occupy his hand, Kakyoin reached into his pocket and produced from it the
Player Pin that he had received upon entry.
His brow furrowed slightly as he turned it over between his fingers, eyes looking over its symbol to hunt for any trace of meaning in the macabre design. For the moment, at least, he found nothing. The symbol was entirely foreign to him, but, then again, not much wasn't in this new Shibuya. Once more, he ran through what the one who had made him this offer in the first place had said. Seven days of challenges. If he was victorious, then what he wagered would be returned, and he would live again. If he failed... well, there was no use in thinking about it. With nothing left to occupy his time and his legs growing anxious, Kakyoin stood from the bench and recalled
Hierophant Green, stowing his Player Pin in the pocket of his jacket and setting off down the park's path, unsure of where, exactly, he was going. The weight of the phone he had been assigned was comforting, at least. He would watch it intently, waiting for the first in a long line of tests to determine whether or not he would defy the reaper.
Squinting from the sun's glare and producing his shades from his pocket in turn, Kakyoin put them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he went.
@udon
