7 Guest (But You're not Welcome Here)

"Huh..?" Mizuki wakes up groggily to the jarring sound of windows rattling. She sits up, shaking her head in a vain attempt to return to her senses. Through the little cracks in between the boards on the roof, raindrops trickle down and onto Mizuki, wetting her dress in the cold liquid. The lights are still on around but it isn't as bright as it would be in the morning.

Clambering down, she notices that it's around one of those ungodly hours late at night. As she stretches her back, she realises it's going to take a bit before she's worn out again.

Beside her is Hinata with his head tucked over his elbow resting against the table, papers fluttering below his grip. There are a couple of open books scattered around the room and his oil lantern is only a few moments away from burning out.

It's one of the few rare occasions where he looks humble, his features softened. Goosebumps prickle against the surface of Mizuki's skin. She rubs her arm consciously, pulling up a blanket from Hinata's bed. Hinata shivers then adjusts his position. Mizuki takes pity, scolding herself in disbelief for doing so. She throws the blanket over him, not so nice but it's something regardless.

"I hate taking care of people," she grumbles. Nudging him aside, she tries to take a look at the papers he's been studying. They carry writings in indecipherable handwriting and drawings of armour and equipment. There are musty polaroids of places Mizuki has never seen, cities in different biomes.

Watching her step, she then turns to the books on the ground. She crouches, craning her neck to get a better look at the wording. She has to squint at the typewritten lettering, sitting herself down on the ground properly so she can read. The page it's open to an ink diagram of a star. 'It should be a sculpture', Mizuki tries to guess.

Tracing her finger along with the pace as she reads, she notes how it's known as "Astra", the Final Star of the land. Supposedly, a long time ago, mass tragedy struck and the artifact was broken and scattered, five different ends now hidden in each of the five kingdoms of Astrum.

Mizuki flips the page, intrigued. It's said that only those of the highest rankings can even get close to pieces of the artifact, much less hold it. The book mentions something about a "Priestess" class, briefly clarifying that it's the only social standing that has healing abilities on top of their ability to use magic.

The "Befallen Pieces of Astra", as named the five missing shards, is said to be sought out by an unknown evil, perhaps the strongest known person to ever step foot on Astrum's land. "This doesn't add up," Mizuki notes, drumming her fingers against the book.

"There's something special about this thing that I don't know about." And maybe, if this isn't knowledge determining the fate of the world Mizuki's stuck in, she would've liked it.

"Why didn't they tell me about this class?" Mizuki flips a page. She brings her nose closer to the book, then reads how another way for this quest to be solved is for an anonymous hero to come to the rescue. Mizuki closes the book, recalling the similarities in this with the synopsis she read on the cover of the game.

She purses her lips in thought, slamming her palm down against the book a bit too loudly. Muffling a gasp, she utters. "What if that's me?"

"Shit, I need to find more information on what I'm going against," she curses, flipping through the pages for any record of enemies. She pauses on one with a diagram in resemblance with the cultists she fought earlier. They are said to be "Corrupted Followers", zombie-like men and women who are raised from the dead with black magic.

Next to them are drawn slimes and "Boblins", common enemies in most open-world games. Boblins, as known to her, can wield multiple weapons and drop them as well - mainly rusty bows and wooden spears. On the next page is a full-body diagram of a mage, a shape-shifter supposedly, an enemy only found in the forests of Ocantis.

Mizuki yawns, nuzzling her head between the pages of the book. 'Am I even going to remember all of this?' She lets out a pitiful laugh.

Following this, Mizuki is not sure when she falls asleep. She wakes up to the fragrant aroma of breakfast wafting through the air, tickling at the edges of her nostrils. She sits up, massaging her spine after having fallen asleep in such a bad posture.

Dumping the heavy book next to her, she manages up onto her feet, running downstairs eagerly in hopes of snagging a good breakfast early in the morning.

"You're cooking breakfast yourself," Hinata sets his plate down on the table. She recognises it as a version of Shepherd's pie, a golden-brown crust holding a hundred different tastes and scents.

Mizuki's jaw drops in disbelief, her expression morphing into a sad one. "Why?!"

"Tsk, do you expect me to do everything for you?" he glares, sliding a stack of ring-bound papers towards Mizuki. "Recipes, now learn them yourself."

"I'm not a chef!" Mizuki scolds, picking up the recipes.

"Now you are," Hinata remarks, taking a bite out of his food. Mizuki watches from the corner of her eye as he does so, hovering the spoon teasingly outside his mouth for a few moments before digging in.

Mizuki slides into her chair, fixing her mind on the recipes. She skims through them, enough to have them ingrained in her. Shooting Hinata a side-glare, she shuffles to the kitchen where, really, all she can make is soup because she doesn't have the ingredients for anything else.

She dumps the vegetables into the metal pot atop the stove. The pot shakes roughly, giving Mizuki a fright. Out pops out a bowl of soup in a wooden bowl, and the pot finally stops quivering so aggressively. Mizuki catches it in her palms, staring at it with a questioning look. She walks back to the table, slamming her bowl against the table loudly. The soup spills, leaving her with not much left.

"Next time, wash your own clothes instead of leaving them in my dirty bucket, get water yourself from the pump outside, and don't go through my things," Hinata avoids Mizuki's stare.

"I did everything for you until now anyway." The air in the room is heavy with a tense silence, animosity painfully obvious between the two.

"Oh, and wash the dishes yourself, you need to learn to take care of yourself." The back door slams shut. Mizuki flinches, the sound of the door slamming reverberating through her ears. "Does she take me for someone incompetent?" she narrows her eyes, staring at the mushrooms floating atop her clear soup, bitter at how lowly Hinata thinks of her.

"Disgusting," she gags, shoving her bowl to the side. It clatters and falls, soup strewed all over the ground. Mizuki kicks it aside.

"He'll clean it himself," she grouses, storming upstairs. Ignoring his previous warnings, she rummages through one of his drawers, looking for any women's clothes she can wear out today. While she feels around, her hands touch something solid. It's warm after being tucked amongst so many layers of clothes.

She pulls it out and much to her surprise, it's a photo frame.

In it, there's a young Hinata with an awkward smile, holding sugar candy in his hands. Instead of his current crimson hair, it's a dark, raven black. Beside him is a girl who looks a lot like him, long hair tied into pigtails that fall over her shoulder, eyes a bright yellow and complementary to Hinata's. 'He looks good in black, I wonder why he dyed it.'

Behind them is a luscious rose garden, a gazebo and white lattice tables. A soft smile curves onto Mizuki's lips as she's hit with nostalgia and memories of her own childhood, the good old days when she didn't have enmity with her sisters over the family's company.

"What the hell?" Furious footsteps approach Mizuki, snatching the photo frame out of her grip. Hinata is red in the face from anger, blood boiling upon having his boundaries overstepped. Out of rage, he pushes Mizuki back harshly, knocking her hip against the cabinet. She grimaces, falling. Hinata raises a hand in the air, about to rain another hard blow on Mizuki. She muffles a whimper, looking up at Hinata with shaky but daring eyes.

What do you dare to do to me? they challenge.

Hinata rolls his tongue, incredulous at Mizuki's boldness. "I am an extremely pragmatic person," he hisses, lowering himself to Mizuki's level. He holds a finger to her face, menace dancing in his eyes. "But I will absolutely not hesitate to show my worst if I'm not listened to. You're a guest, you remember that? And that's all you ever will be."

Mizuki shakes, hyper-aware of each and every one of his movements, as he pushes deeper into the skin of her nose with his finger in threat and brings his face closer, breathing hot against her face. Her face flushes but this time, it's more out of anticipation.

"I don't help dumbasses, go do whatever the hell you want today," he throws a frock at Mizuki, almost ripping into it with his nails, tucking the photo frame under one of his books.

Before she knows it, Hinata's gone. Actually, all Mizuki could - was capable of catching in her anxiety was the part about only ever being a guest to him and nothing more. It stings, even to physical extents where her chest feels constricted. It hurts in a way that she can't pinpoint. The fresh, but not unfamiliar, feeling of abandonment.

Mizuki shivers in fear, curling into a ball. Her ears ring and the world's awfully dark. Suddenly, she's a small person and a little girl, crying next to her bed in a dark bedroom with red gashes across her limbs. Guess I messed up again, Father.