Something Vaguely Missing

"You will. It's a gut feeling," Miko promises.

"Do you need someone to spend the night with you? Will you be fine?" Mizuki has to cover her hands briefly with her arm as the sun sets behind Miko, bright rays of the sun close to blinding as they penetrate the glass.

"You should head home for the night," Miko smiles warmly. Mizuki stands, turning back to her for one more acknowledgement before she properly leaves. Miko doesn't turn, though well-aware of Mizuki's gaze upon her.

Setting her mug on the table, she lays against the bed, turning her head away from Mizuki. There's probably a part of Miko that wants to ask Mizuki to stay behind, to do nothing but to serve as company. It's hard to ask, though, for someone who's already asked for too much.

"I'll excuse myself. See you tomorrow," Mizuki helps herself out of the door. People here are so hard to communicate with.

How am I supposed to find this thing?  she ponders, furrowing her brows as she falls into deep thought. The longer she ventures this world, she feels a little like a purposeless spirit drifting amongst crowds of passing pixels.

A little more, as she thinks a little harder about her responsibilities and expectations, she feels like she can blend with the crowd. A smudge of white against a canvas of unnamed colours, perhaps it's good that she's blending in.

Maybe she'll lose the perception of reality she used to have.

Mizuki pushes the door of Hinata's home. It's dark, empty, still. The air smells musty from having all the windows and doors shut in for almost two days. Mizuki hangs her satchel against the clothes' rack, pulling out the new clothes she bought for herself.

One good thing about living alone is she can do whatever—change wherever, clean whenever. Otherwise, there aren't many things great about being alone.

Mizuki undoes her corset, clenching her jaw as she braces herself for a misstep. Somehow or another, the corset slips off without trouble. Mizuki slips her new dress over her head, dragging her dirty one to the bathroom. Mizuki's about to dump it into a bucket when she realises there's no water left in the pail.

Ah right, Hinata used to be the one fetching the water every morning. Hooking it against the wall, Mizuki picks up the pail in tired motions and trudges out the back door, finding her way through the garden.

Sluggishly, she rests the bucket against the water pump and proceeds to stare at it, having never seen such a contraption with her own eyes before. She grips onto the handle, wincing at the touch of cold metal.

Mustering her strength, she pulls the handle up towards her chest before pushing it out again, water gushing out of the tap. She repeats this again and again until the bucket is at its fullest, standing with her hand against her hip.

"This is harder than it looks," she grumbles, reluctantly picking up the pail.

Mizuki hobbles back to the house, kicking the door close behind her with her foot. She drops it against the bathroom floor with a thump, dropping her wet dress in it. She stares at it, letting out a gruff. 'I'll wash this tomorrow.'

With this, she flicks the lights off and falls against the couch. It takes too much effort to take care of myself properly. Mizuki purses her lips. Hinata probably hated taking responsibility over another person too.

[Hirashi Mizuki has hit the sack]

Mizuki wakes up groggily the next morning, not exactly wanting to do much. It's one of those days she wants to fall right back into bed until she realises her stomach rumbling. When she looks towards the empty dinner table, it hits her that Hinata's no longer around to cook her breakfast. She's going to have to get used to that.

Pushing herself off, she decides to make herself a simple serving of grilled cheese, all she can afford to make with the leftover bread and cheese she has.

Mizuki slumps against the chair. She takes a bite out of the sandwich. I have to clean the house, organise my clothes, go exploring, finish the quest, prepare for my classes with the librarian… Wait, what was I supposed to do for Adelia's classes? Mizuki bites off the rest of the bread, swallowing it.

"This is kind of tiring already," she slaps her hands against her thighs. She washes the plate thoroughly, organising it in its rightful place so she won't have to avoid extra work later.

Taking a feather duster, she trudges around the house, opening the windows and dusting the walls. There's a high chance she's going to leave them closed before she goes out and have to do this again but it's been getting a bit stuffy in the room. Mizuki keeps herself busy with a hum, a tune the maids used to sing to her as a kid.

She dusts the shelves and books, sweeps the wooden floorboards and wipes down the windows. Her least favourite chore would be washing the clothes though—she doesn't like how her fingers get all wrinkly and it takes so much strength to get all the dirt off with the washing board.

Wouldn't it have been easier if they invented washing machines a little earlier?

Mizuki changes into a primarily white frock with red accents, an open neckline but a collar attached to the body of the dress. Her favourite part has to be the flappy sleeves, ones that stretch to her calf if she drops her arms to her sides.

Mizuki laces satin through strands of her hair, tying the ends into ribbons. Her hair has grown a little longer to show time has been passing. She admires herself in the mirror, cracking a smile of satisfaction at her look.

He'd probably like this dress on me. Mizuki leaves the wet clothes out to dry. She stands back, scanning her surroundings in an attempt to find anything that's out of place. There's one thing for sure, something vaguely missing.