The reply stings, even though Asuka doesn’t say anything. Could have just run away, huh? Because it’s always meant to be that simple? Because Asuka’s at fault here clearly, right? Logically, it’s not what is actually being said, but Asuka can hear the judgement all the same. She’s not surprised either - after all, what else was she going to expect?
Except the comment about “that woman” makes something in Asuka flare up, the girl glaring at Melvin.
“Shut up! Kiyomizu-san is lovely, and deserves somebody around who actually appreciates listening to her. You don’t even know her! That’s, like, so judgy, y’know? Is that why you have no friends?” It takes less than a second to slip back into the same old mannerisms, despite how poorly Asuka feels about having her life displayed here. It doesn’t make her feel better in the slightest, but Kiyomizu-san doesn’t deserve to be disrespected like that. She actually tried to keep Asuka entertained, clearly!
-
“Y’know, it’s nice you have all this space.” Kagami is sitting by a desk in a familiar bedroom, acting as though they’re reading a magazine. Anybody with eyes, however, can see that they’re staring at Asuka on the bed rather pointedly. Except Asuka, although she just looks irritated by the comment.
“I guess.” The anger there is clear, Asuka practically gritting her teeth as she speaks. Kagami, however, continues unbothered.
“I mean, really, you have everything you want, right? And your parents don’t-”
“Okay, what the fuck!? Why do you keep bringing that up!?” The Asuka on the bed finally loses her patience, glaring at Kagami with a combination of confusion and anger. Kagami, rather than look unbothered, finally looks irritated. Whatever issue had been bubbling - and Asuka was quite familiar with it - had finally burst to the surface, unable to be suppressed. The tension in the air was clear, uncomfortable.
“If you can’t tell me why, that’s the problem.” Their tone is cold, absolutely unforgiving as they stare at Asuka with nothing but contempt. Asuka, for her part, doesn’t seem to know how to respond. There’s anger and frustration, yes, but the fact it’s Kagami saying this stuff leaves her defenseless, and it shows. She opens and closes her mouth for a few minutes before finding the words she needs.
“Fuck you!! You ungrateful piece of s-Your mom’s always there! You’re the ungrateful one! I invited you here, why the hell are you attacking me!?”
It only serves to encourage Kagami to grow angrier, standing up and throwing the magazine away as they let out a yell of: “My mom uses me as a therapist! Do you know ho-”
The rest of the fight is cut off, the scene changing abruptly.
Asuka’s walking in the hallway of what you can assume is a school, getting dark looks from other students as she passes by. With the way she barely reacts, it’s clear how normal it is to her. In fact, she seems more fascinated by whatever’s on her phone, face troubled.
The account on there appears to be hers. Except, from what Asuka can clearly see, it’s not. She’s not logged into it, she’s logged onto her own account. A slew of mean-spirited tweets are on the screen, all targeting various classmates. Yet the hints of confusion on Asuka’s face, while subtle, are still undeniable.
It’s only when Asuka glances at a group of students, all who seem especially angry at her, and spots Kagami amongst them that her expression changes. It’s the specific way Kagami carries themself - they were soft, quiet, but they were strong and didn’t cower- and the way the rest of the group seems to move to shield them when Asuka passes by that realization dawns on her. Kagami catches Asuka’s eyes, and something challenging rests there.
Asuka stares for another brief second, before rolling her eyes, giving a clearly antagonistic wave to the group (much to their obvious displeasure) before she struts off, phone back in her pocket.
(After all, more attention never hurts - no matter how bad it is.)
-
There it is.
Asuka’s face just looks frustrated more than anything. Whether it’s because Melvin saw it all or because there were small details she missed the first time she had to see now, the world will never know. Not that it’d want to, clearly.
