A/N: Here. I wrote something after years of nothing. It's NatNao until the very end where it suddently transforms into ShizNat!
Disclaimer: I don't own Mai-HiME.
Sketchbook
"What are you doing?" Nao asks, towering over her from behind.
Natsuki is silent for a moment, chewing on the end of the pencil in contemplation. After gathering her resolve, she sighs inwardly and forces herself to look at Nao, but her mind is making too much noise, all those thoughts floating around, and her heart burns. "Trying to get you out of my head." She resumes the drawing she has started.
Nao asks as if she has to, "Why?"
"Because I'm not in yours," Natsuki replies. When was the last time you thought of me?
The slamming of the door tells Natsuki that Nao has left. This is my sketchbook of you.
"Why are there stitches in this one?" Nao traces the threads with the soft pads of her fingers. If only Natsuki had kept in the needles so that Nao's hands would be caught, bleeding empty, turning hard and calloused just like Natsuki's place in Nao's heart.
Natsuki drums her fingers on the table, waiting to respond to the question-how should she answer? In the most honest way she can, or lie? Natsuki had cut up the pictures of them together into several pieces, then pasted them as a collage in her sketchbook. She made sure to cut heartshapes around Nao's face and rip them like heartbreak. Those are the only pieces she stitched to the pages.
"Because I hoped you'd stitch my heart." Natsuki is serious; Nao is not.
Nao smiles a fake smile and jokes, "Did I?"
"No." It's almost as if you never wanted to.
There's a shattered record at the end of their neighbor's driveway, cast aside with the furniture they want to throw out. Someone could make good use of those old, broken things-like how Nao found Natsuki. I am just a useless piece of trash you happened to pick up.
It was December, amidst the light snowfall on a slippery bridge of dreams. Bones shaking, anxious fidgeting, waiting for someone to fix her. Natsuki was a broken violin; out of tune as soon as the temperature changes and rusted easily, but she didn't know how to become a melody. Yet, Natsuki could hear Nao through the silence of winter. As it collaborated with serenity, Nao's voice was the qualms of the most beautiful lullaby that made even nature envious.
"I saw someone beautiful, but very lonely in the atmosphere of love." Nao staggered up next to Natsuki and leaned against the rail. If it were spring, what line would you have used?
Natsuki teetered over the edge, ready to plunge head first in the freezing lake. Inch by inch, second by second. A tug on her hand pulled Natsuki back to balance on this earth. Nao was so warm...
Nao said, "You're making me nervous."
Natsuki squeezed her savior's hand. You make me nervous.
Natsuki built that bridge and scenery with pastels, but used the smallest pieces of the black record for snowflakes; they tainted purity of the white ground. The record finally found its purpose.
Use me as you please; I don't mind. I want to be of use to you until sickened by my presence. Fix me up and break my insides-I know someday I'll be at the end of our driveway, too.
Natsuki rewrote Nao's lies around her poem she glued to the page.
Nao is the poet, but that girl holds title to them. Sometimes when Nao allows Natsuki to read a few of the many she writes, Natsuki likes to pretend they're written for her. The features aren't the same, but if Natsuki imagines being her, she can be happy because Nao's feelings will temporarily be directed to her in her thoughts.
"Who are these about?" Natsuki asks, reading Nao's binder of poems and notes.
"It's just a poem. It's not about anyone, only an inspiration." Nao waves the subject off nonchalantly, but Natsuki's not letting her get away.
Why can't I be your inspiration?
"But you exchange them with that girl," who matches the description in every fucking way.
"I get inspiration by responding to others' poetry." Is that what you call it?
Natsuki wrote Nao a poem in her sketchbook. Could you write me back, too? Maybe this time you will tell the truth.
The color of black, a shaded gray
Why are you neutral to this day?
Beneath your ancient soil
Uncovered secrets in lava begin to boil
So spout out words you couldn't say
At least in peace my soul can lay
Natsuki sits at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, the last page of her sketchbook wide open. She realizes how many things she's drawn since the start of everything, since the start of Nao. She picks up the corner of her sketchbook, gently releasing each page as she studies the contents slowly. The closer she got to the ending the page the darker every drawing became.
"Excuse me. Do you mind if I join you?"
The thick Kyoto-ben jolts Natsuki out of her reverie, and she snaps her head up. I wish my sketchbook was about you.
When Natsuki hasn't repsonded for a minute, crimson eyes cast sideways and a genuine smile falters briefly. "I'll take that as a no."
Natsuki's mouth is dry and at a loss for words as she observes the person before her. "No, no. Please sit." She feels anxious. She feels nervous. There is this unexplainable need to never be separated from this stranger and she wants to know why. "Please." Her hands twitch in uncontrollable anticipation, emerald orbs full of desperation for this woman.
The woman smiles, gracefully pulling the chair out and sitting across from Natsuki. "I'm Fujino Shizuru." Shizuru sets her coffee down and extends her hand outwards.
Natsuki hopes her palms aren't sweaty when she shakes Shizuru's hand. "Natsuki. Kuga Natsuki."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Natsuki."
The sketchbook is forgotten, and so is Nao.
"What are you doing?" Shizuru asks, draping her arms around Natsuki's neck from behind, nipping her ear playfully.
Natsuki gives a hum of satisfaction, running her hand over the new sketchbook she bought. She burned the last sketchbook, the one filled with Nao, because remembering Nao wasn't worth it. Those memories, if Natsuki could call them memories, weren't worth keeping. Natsuki turns her head to meet Shizuru's gaze, mind calm and heart swelling with love. "Drawing everything of you I have in my head."
Shizuru asks in a most delighted, curious tone, "Why?"
"Because I want to remember you forever." Natsuki smiles a real smile. Is this what it means to be happy? Natsuki knows it can't be any better than this; Shizuru is everything she wants.
Lips gently graze each other. This is my sketchbook of you.
A/N: So the poem isn't that great, but it's the best I can come up with. I'm not very good at poetry. Feels good to write again. Please, tell me what you think of the story [please don't say anything about my failure of a poem, haha].