WHITE HEATHERS SPILL FROM THE PORCELAIN VASE AND MANA CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT IT. It's Monday tomorrow and she just wants to stay in the comforts of her bed, beneath the silk sheets and the fluffy pillows.

She bought the flowers yesterday, they're still alive now. She likes to look at beautiful things, like the way they make everything around them pleasant.

She rolls over, eyes now fixed to the clock next to the lampshade next to her bed. It vaguely reads quarter to five in the morning. She doesn't have an alarm, Mana always wakes up early.

She has no chances of conducting the clumsy heroine who has a piece of toast stuck on her mouth entrance.

Mana hates being late. She's always early and when she arrives at school, the people inside it can be counted. She's specially early today. A visit is planned; the girl's soccer team which Mana is helping out for today is going to Karasuno High School for a practice match.

Their manager, a girl so short you'd mistake her for an elementary school girl has asked Mana to help out. The girl is Mana's classmate and she likes Mana. With Mana being one of the few people who actually identified her as a high school student.

She does her morning rituals: eat breakfast, take a bath, select a book to bring to school and mutter prayers to her deceased family.

She walks all the way to school since it helps her exercise. She doesn't have the perfect physical stature but Mana is healthy and she intends to keep it that way.

The same friendly neighbor watering her lawn greets her, with that same smile, the same bickering couple and their crying children, the same street thugs who greet her with a raucous 'Good Morning' and tell her to be good if she doesn't want her to end up like them.

Even the birds chirping by the dead branches of the gigantic oak tree seemed more of a dull routine now.

Overhead the clouds dance past the sun, sometimes blocking the rays allowing her to feel just a bit of cool; sometimes it's the shade of the trees doing that for her, cherry blossom trees and willows creating archways over the stone pavements.

"Good morning," Mana greets Iwaizumi. The boy is as punctual as he is decent. The school is almost empty, save for a few people and one of those people is Seijoh's ace.

"Good morning," the taller boy says. "You're early as always."

"Same to you too," she replies as they walk side by side. They continue to converse, their topics ranging from the weather to current happenings in their lives. Iwaizumi is as considerate as ever, making sure to avoid mentioning Oikawa.

Mana appreciates it, but she knows. Sooner or later, she's bound to cross paths with him. Aoba Johsai may be a big school, but when you're taking the same paths and the same year, you're bound to meet.

They separate in the hallways, with Iwaizumi's classroom being on the left wing of the building. It's a breathe of fresh air knowing that Oikawa is not here yet.

Mana bites her lower lips, grey eyes looking dumbly at the entryway to the classroom. It's the same as usual, void of people. She's the first to arrive as always. She places her phone on top of her table while she gets the book she brought. It's to remind her of her meeting with the soccer club.

The book smells and feels new, its pages untouched, its stories yet to unfold. Mana bought this one recently, it's an English book, but no matter she manages to read it with only the tiniest of difficulties.

And its overall theme is horror.

She wonders, in a random trail of thought, if her life is a horror story.

And the flashbacks come pouring. The corpses, the flames locking and crawling their ways upwards. The note perched on top of the table, tear stained and oozing of confessions that prick veins and muscles in her entire system.

[ I'm sorry. I can't go on anymore. I thought Mana would be enough to keep me going, but even she, cannot move on. She just stares into nothingness and cries, and I'm even worse than her. I just keep on writing you these letters in hopes that you might reply. But you won't, will you? ]

[ I don't know what to do anymore. These dangerous thoughts are lurking in my head, just waiting for a trigger, one final flicker of flame to send the embers lighting and the place burned to ashes. They're whispering, taunting me. I can't hold on much longer. I'm sorry. ]

[ Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. ]

[ But people who left cannot stay, can they? I'm sorry. I want to end this worthless existence but I worry for Mana. The blade glistens and taunt me, the scissors, the cutter, the blades, they're all doing the same thing and I fear it's close. ]

[ The whispers have gotten louder. THEY'RE COMING. ]

The brain is a mirror, she thinks. It makes you see [remember] things, some even you don't want to see [remember].

And she isn't crying. No, Mana is past that.

At least.

She snaps the book shut. She's not even halfway through it when she darts a glance to her phone that's vibrating from the alarm she set.

The soccer team.

By the time Mana arrives at the open field, some of the members are already there. They're already carrying their things to the bus and Mana immediately assists.

"Mana," Nishina Rie says as soon as she sees Mana. "Good to see you. Did you bring your PE clothes?"

Mana nods.

"Good," Rie says and any outsider would see this scene as odd. A girl who looks like an elementary student, guiding tall high school girls towards a bus.

Mana wears her PE clothes before she sets foot into the bus. It's the standard clothing for Aoba Johsai, a white round neck t-shirt paired with blue jogging pants. Mana takes the liberty of wearing a baby blue blazer over the shirt and tying her hair into a ponytail.

Rie, sitting next to her, mirrors her appearance, save for the hair, with the shorter girl's amber hair tied into pigtails and two white hair clips embellished. It wouldn't be uncommon for someone to mistake her for an elementary student.

"Mana-senpai!" one of the soccer team regulars calls her. The bus is already moving. She remembers the girl from Rie's earlier introduction. Saiba Saeko. With lustrous black hair and unnerving forest green eyes, she would be hard to miss.

"What is it?" Mana asks with a pathetic attempt of a saccharine smile.

The girl smiles. "Want some pocky?"

Mana thanks the girl before picking a piece of pocky. She bites at it, small portions disappearing into her mouth and coating her tongue with chocolate goodness.

"Ne, ne, Mana-senpai," another girl calls and it's a brunette with fair skin and wide blue eyes. "Is it true you're dating Oikawa-senpai from the volleyball team?"

More girls now dart their glances at her, some calculating, some envious and some amazed.

Mana, discombobulated from the abrupt (yet somehow eerily predictable) question, musters a weak nod in response and the girls squeal. Rie shushes them with a glare and the younger students retreat. The same can't be said for the third years though. Their eyes seem to pierce through her, pools of brown, blue and black bubbling with something that send shivers down her spine.

She feels like sheep in the middle of a pack of wolves. Weak, defenseless prey.

But she's not really entirely weak.

"When are you two going to break up?" one bluntly asks, and Rie immediately tries to silence the girl. The girl is as ferocious as she is blunt, she merely flashes the shorter girl a wicked grin.

She's a viper. Ruthless and cunning. She will strike in the opportune moment, calculating risks and possibilities. Her eyes a dark shade of green remind Mana of snakes with the same skin color. Her hair is a mesmerizing shade of red, vermillion Mana concludes and they flow from her scalp like beautiful ringlets. Her skin is dark, evidence of hardwork under the sun; she's an athlete amongst all things. She's tall and curvy for a high school girl and she is what Mana would call lean.

Mana doesn't hate her, but she despises the question so she answers, with equal- if not more- venom dripping from her words.

Akatsuki Mana may not endure the feeling of being left behind and the thought of impermanence, but it took strength to endure. She's not weak.

No. No. No.

"That's for him to decide," she taunts and the girl takes the bait.

"So you're just his toy? A plaything he'll discard as soon as he's done with you?"

Mana holds back a snicker. "Not quite, darling. I'm afraid I'm something he can't let go of. You can take him anytime you want, but I assure you... he'll come crawling back to me."

That is a fact. Proven and tested and although there is some sort of bravery to her woods, she feels pathetic.

And the words are nostalgic. They're remnants of her past self, the bright bright flame of a girl who was all smiles, heart, patience and just the right amount of venom.

She still had those qualities, they're just overshadowed by one agonizing emotion. That feeling that makes her want to rip her hair from her scalp, and tie a noose around her neck.

Misery.

That feeling of never escaping. From this cycle she's in.

It is a cycle. Just like she snapped. He will cheat, he will cheat, come back to her and she'll welcome him with open arms.

It's frustrating and the remnant of the girl she once was sparks a thought in her mind.

What if?

What if...

What if she tries to change it?

And Mana has never felt so much despair at the fact that she'll never try. His love is a bird cage, and she's the battered bird who has no intentions of escaping.

The bus stops and they get off, an awkward atmosphere hanging in the air like some kind of ominous cloud. She rubs her fingers together, inspecting the buildings. It's smaller than Aoba Johsai but the different colors are a refreshing sight.

Karasuno High School.

Of course she remembers this school.

It's the school where Etsuko used to go to.

It's the school where her mother used to teach in.

The uniforms almost make her cry. The passing girls remind her so much of Etsuko. There is one girl in particular, with the same fiery red hair as her sister. They almost look the same, act the same (with their hoodies and headphones, hands tucked on pockets and eyes that looked at you like you were an idiot) save for the fact that this girl possesses the darkest obsidian for eyes. Where Etsuko had beautiful grey eyes, this girl had obsidian.

It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her. It's not her.

( She's dead, remember? )

Mana closes her eyes and the letters flash on her mind again.

[ I'm sorry. This is cowardice but I can't take it any longer. I'm taking Mana and Etsuko with me. ]

"I'm sorry too," Mana whispers (she had fallen behind because of her dawdling). Her mother had apologized in those letters, those notes written in her journal that managed to survive. Just like Mana.

"I'm sorry for surviving."

It's a worthless cycle, and Mana knows she's okay with it.

Better hollowness than pain.

Better emptiness than flickers of hope that will dissipate anyway.

Better loneliness of enduring than that feeling of being left alone.

Again.

And although she cannot rewind time, she knew what she would have chosen if she knew what pain awaited her. She knew what she would have done, what she would have felt.

( Better dead than left behind. )

She should have just died.

* * *
e n d.
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[ Supermarket Flowers ]

'sometimes, it's just better to let go.'