DISCLAIMER: The author of Gakuen Alice is surely a fluent Japanese woman with beautiful drawing skills and super creative thoughts. Since I am but a fluent Korean female with meh drawing skills and childish imaginations, math says that I am not the author (or owner, for that matter) of Gakuen Alice. Thank you.
It's raining. Again. For the second time that week.
She doesn't get why every time it rains, she feels the urge to go somewhere. Anywhere is fine, as long as it's moody, quiet, and calm.
Out of habit, she reaches one hand over to her other to tug at a bracelet, to stop in the middle. Oh right, I took it off.
It's always the rainy days. Any other day, she's totally fine. She's herself, her indifferent, emotionless self. But it's always, always the rainy days. And for the life of Earth, she cannot figure out why.
With a frustrated sigh, her car keys are taken and she's heading to the car. She could never clamp down this urge, ever since he'd gone. Come to think about it, rain didn't have anything to do with him. It hadn't been raining when they first met, or when they had their first date, or even when they'd broken up. Speaking of the break up, it had already been five months. Not that she's been counting or anything, just…
In her steps, she pauses. Her smart mind is whirling away, thinking up possibilities that she'd never thought up. Perhaps- perhaps because she'd never allowed herself to grieve properly, her own emotion-filled part of her brain was finding a vent for her sadness?
She resumes walking. It does make sense. Her brain isn't completely inhuman or without emotion, she knows. To keep up the poker face, there has to be some kind of letting out in the back after all. It is natural, and she accepts the theory as a fact.
Within moments her car is moving in the highway, her thoughts still a bit too far from road safety to not be worried. She's a systematic person, though, so she thinks briefly that she'll be fine.
Only in her driving. She can't say anything about herself.
She finds herself at the city garden again- it's been her favorite spot since last month. When it's raining, nobody ventures out to the outdoors city garden, so it's solitary. She likes the sound of rain on her umbrella anyways and the view is still as beautiful as it is in the sun.
Her umbrella out, she firmly presses the lock sign on her car keys and leaves. It's practically tradition for her now, to stop and let the rain get her for a few seconds before opening the umbrella. It feels refreshing for her, to have water pouring down at her just for a moment or two.
It feels as if she's being washed away.
With one hand, she calmly takes her MP3 (as techy as she is, she never had liked the new iPods and all. MP3 works fine for her always) and earphones and turns on the music. She has a play list, Rain, that has all the perfect songs for these days.
It's all classical music, because she finds them soothing and calming, just the way she likes it. With her camera she takes a few pictures of the scene, perfect as ever (it's another tradition of her). Then she starts to walk.
She hasn't walked for too long when she finds a soda stand, surprising still open in the downpour. She fishes out a few spare dollars in her pocket and hands it over for a Fanta, the only available soda.
"Caught in the downpour?" the man asks with a friendly smile.
She hesitates, and nods mutely.
"Better get home quick, then, miss. Who knows when this rain will stop?"
She nods again and turns to go, but turns back to the cheerful storeowner. "Why are you still open when nobody's around?" It can't be helped, she's a curious person, even if a bit too monotonous to seem like it.
He smiles at her, a genuine and gradual one, wrinkling his eyes to a sliver. "I like the rain, miss. Simple as that."
It makes sense. She thanks him and goes on her way, turning over what he'd said. Does she like the rain, too? Is that why she always goes out? No. I haven't went out in the rain since he left.
So the problem is back to him once again. A sigh leaves her lips: for once, she's tired of thinking. She just wants to enjoy the rain, the scenery, the music, and not wonder about why.
She bumps into a woman, without an umbrella and wearing a white blouse. Without a word, she hands over her own, since she herself is wearing a fitting blue sweater and jeans. She's already a bit wet anyways, and not in the danger of flashing herself.
The woman thanks her profusely, and hurries away. She smiles, softly, and turns back to go as well. The downpour has lessened just a bit, but not so that it is safe enough for the woman in white to go as she is.
She reaches the garden without much of an encounter with anyone else, and, turning the soda bottle over and over in her hands, gives herself up to the bliss.
Vivaldi is playing. Her sneakers are thoroughly wet, and so is she. She doesn't care anymore if her earphones break because of the rain. It's perfect. Her eyes close, for one second, taking it all in. The musky smell of rain is somehow enticing, and just the thought of being by herself is wonderful.
She wipes away at the puddle on the bench and sits. Her jeans are wet anyways, so she doesn't really care. Her eyes close again, overwhelming her senses in the music, feeling the rain and distinctively hearing it over her Vivaldi, and she lets herself feel melancholy.
The rain stops. It's so sudden, her eyes snap open, confused, and a frown takes over her face. The first thing she sees is shoes. Nike ones, to be exact. Since it's black and not dark green like hers, and maybe a size bigger, her gaze continues to move upwards. Jeans. Loosefitting jacket and a t-shirt. All dry. There's an umbrella connected to the arm, and it's being held over her.
Her brain is on hold right now. She recognizes this arm. She finally reaches the face, now a bit wide-eyed and slightly alarmed at how much her body is responding to this recognition. She can't remember who it is, but she does know that she knows.
It's him. Shoots. It's him. It can't be him. Why is he here? How did he know? What in the world is going on?
She must be gaping, but she doesn't care. There are questions running through her frantic mind, and her senses are on overdrive, gathering pieces of facts she doesn't need. He smells good. His hair is wet. He's getting wet too. He smells really good. It mixes well with the smell of rain. He has a watch, and he's looking at it. He's smirking at me now. Oh shoots, is he laughing at me?
She rips her earphones out. "What are you smiling at?" she snaps. She's finally (thank goodness) out of her shock/trance thing and is getting angrier by the moment.
He openly laughs now. "Nothing." His voice is his voice, and it's just too sudden for her.
She swallows. Then she remembers where she is, who he is, what they're doing. She abruptly stands. She pushes the umbrella away, to his obvious surprise, and stiffly walks away.
"Imai!" he calls, but she doesn't care. She has to put on the mask- the mask!- and be like herself. Emotionless, emotionless, emotionless, she thinks. He can't see her like this- a part of her brain wonders why, but the voice is snuffed- and nobody's allowed to know that she feels sad.
She hears the soft thuds of his quick footsteps, and quickens her own. Her legs complain at the impromptu exercise, but again, she doesn't care.
Why did he have to come? I was having a great time, she thinks, but the moment she thinks that, she knows she's lying to herself. She had been never okay, really. But it would be the day pigs fly when she acknowledges this, both to herself and to others.
She remembers she's still holding the Fanta bottle. She doesn't even know why she bought it, but too late to wonder now. Her legs are tiring, and it's taking all her will to keep it going.
Her speed is steadfastly waning. Shoots. And within moments, he's caught up to her, in front of her, and holding her wrist firmly. He doesn't have his umbrella, and she wonders quietly if he'd left it at the garden. They're both breathing pretty hard, and she glares at a spot on the horizon, refusing to meet his eyes.
Cowardly, she knows, but she knew that a long time ago anyways.
"Imai," he says again. She feels a chill that has nothing to do with the cold rain course through her. She tries to bolt, but he's still holding her in place. Her glare intensifies. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you that, Nogi." She spits out his name with a disdain she doesn't feel.
"It's cold. We're in the rain. You should be at home."
"Same goes for you."
"Imai!" He's frustrated, and she is too, a little.
"Nogi." This time, she fixes her eyes determinedly to his. "I am here because I want to be. I don't want you here, and I have no reason to believe you want to be here either except maybe your"- insufferable- "sense of goodwill. I don't need your goodwill here, so you are free to go."
He's starting to laugh again. "What?" she says sharply. "Never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know." She attempts to stalk away, but even as he's laughing, his grip is still strong.
"Nogi," she says again, exasperated. "Let me go."
His grin dies down into a small smirk. "No." She opens her mouth, ready to blast off another comment, but he cuts her off. "I have to go somewhere."
For some reason, she feels a bit disappointed. "Then go," she says. Indifferently, she thinks. You don't care. Be considerate- he has no time for you. "I've got a place to be, too."
He shakes his head. "You're coming with me."
"No I am not." Her retort is sharper than ever. "I never said I am, and I refuse to go."
"It's not something you can refuse, Imai. Your presence is mandatory."
"Then why didn't I know? You're not making sense."
"It will make sense when we get there."
"Correction: when you get there. I am not going."
"What if I said it's Natsume and Mikan's wedding?"
"As her best friend, my ear would have been blasted off already by her squeals. As my ear is fine, I'd think you're lying."
He chuckles darkly. "As logical as ever. Come on, can't you spare me just a few hours?"
That phrase- it's familiar to both of them. The two of them stays silent for a few moments, until she says, "No. Not-not this time, Nogi. Just… let me go." She's tired. Her legs are aching, her brain is aching, and she's so, so tired of all this. Her mask is dropping, and she can't afford that.
"…I'll drive you home." He looks tired too, and maybe a tad bit disappointed.
"I have my car."
"Perfect. I don't have mine." He strides away with her in tow, his hand still at her wrist.
"Nogi," she warns, stumbling for a second at his fast pace. "I said I'm fine."
"And we both know you're not."
She's surprised, to say the least. She hadn't known that he'd known. This had not been in her list of expected answers from him. The shock quiets her, but she shakes it off. "You don't know anything."
He stops. She realizes too late that her answer has been bitter. Her invisible mask has fallen, and he's glimpsed what is inside. She curses herself for forgetting, and sets in on again with a brief scowl.
He has his back towards her, so she feels just the bit safe. The rain has strengthened, battering the silent pair with its droplets and droplets, filling the silence with the constant pit-patting.
In a low voice, he says, "You'd be surprised by how much I do know." For the nth time that day, her mouth drops open slightly. He sounds as bitter as she has, and the surprise keeps her silent until they reach the car.
Both their masks- one cheerful, one apathetic- are on when they board the car. She doesn't know why she has allowed him to ride with her; it must be the shock, she decides. He starts the car and they're on their way. The ride is absolutely silent, save for the rain and the quiet hum of the engine.
She's too deep in thought to notice her surroundings until he parks the car in front of a place she's never seen. "Nogi-" she starts to say, but he shushes her and guides her in. "You-"
"Not now," he says.
She feels indignant. "Stop ordering me around," she says. She wants to scowl, but for the sake of her mask she doesn't.
He laughs again, and she glares just slightly- a hint of emotion on her neutral expression.
She's handed off to a bunch of servants who try to get her to shower and clean up, but she refuses. With her indifference on, she simply sits there, unresponsive.
In he comes, looking quite irked. "Imai, just this once." She doesn't answer, and he sighs. "What if I tell you if you go along with this, I won't appear in your life ever again if you don't want me to?"
She considers this quietly, seriously. "…fine." It's a good deal- a day for a lifetime. She does love bargains after all.
She stands up and does all the things they want her to, from showering to drying her hair. She grits her teeth when she sees the sleeveless evening dress they have for her, black and mustard-like yellow that she has to admit is pretty beautiful. Day for a lifetime, just one day for a lifetime, she chants to herself. The dress is tight to just below her hip and then gradually lessens in terms of pressure and becomes flowing at the bottom. It reaches her ankles, and she is put into white stilettos.
She curses him, because he should know that she hates stilettos. A day for a lifetime, she says again, but it's not much helping anymore. They put a little makeup on her- another thing she hates- but leaves her hair as it is, to her relief. She hates even more when people she doesn't know touch her hair in any way, especially to do something with it.
The servants don't realize that she's thoroughly disliking everything, because her mask is still on and her poker face is very aloof.
Finally, they put a sprig of rape blossoms on her ear, the bright yellow going along with the dress's more darker yellow.
Her face is rigid beyond repair when he comes to get her, and though he abruptly stops and stares for a while, he ends up laughing at her face. Of course he'd know that her rigid face is different from her usual expression. She curses him again.
They go to a ballroom-like place, her arm around his, and she spots Mikan and Natsume right away.
"Hotaru!" Mikan smiles. "You look beautiful."
"Very funny," she says dryly. "And you're here with Hyuuga, I assume."
It's not a question, but a statement, but Mikan nods anyways. "He looks really nice, right?"
"Yes, I suppose he does."
Her best friend turns and smiles at the other. "Ruka-pyon! You look awesome!"
"You're very pretty too, Mikan. Now go find Natsume before he gets all jealous."
Mikan doesn't say a word about how odd it is to see the two, who'd broken up, together again at a dance arm in arm, and Hotaru thanks her for it. She knows that her grateful gaze has reached Mikan, and that Mikan knows she did well.
"Now tell me, Nogi, why was my presence mandatory here?" She's back down to business, in her beautiful dress and flowers.
"Can't we enjoy the dance a little?" he asks playfully, but tones down at her intense stare. With a shrug, he exhales loudly. "Fine, I'll tell you." He hesitates, then continues. "I'm a bachelor at age 22. Women are looking for me. I needed someone."
Anger rises up from her like a dam has been broken and a flood was raging inside. Her mask breaks along with it, and she can't contain her emotions. "So you're using me as a tool. I thought you better than this, Nogi. I'm severely disappointed." She can't speak above a whisper, in fear of breaking down if she speaks louder. She doesn't want to make a scene.
She slips her arm away before he can respond, and walks away. She almost trips because of the horrid stilettos, but continues on. She knows her face is probably one of rage, but she thinks nobody cares enough to stop her. Nobody knows her as Hotaru Imai the inventor here, because she'd refused to have her face known for the sake of privacy. She notes to pat herself on the back later, but not when such emotions are coursing through her.
It's stopped raining a long time ago, and in a moment she's already out of the place and nearing her car when she remembers she doesn't have the car keys. She curses under her breath and just walks away from the car, the house, the whole block. She is not going to stop now.
She has her wallet (she is a sensible person, so she had prepared for maybe a burglary or something), and ends up waiting for the bus- any bus, really, that will take her away from this place.
The bus isn't coming. She openly scowls. Nobody's watching, so she can be herself. She mutters a few choice swear words, all directed to him. She vows right then and there to never think of him ever again. And then, of course, he shows up. The insufferable guy.
"Imai-"
"No. Get away from me. Why, are you running away from some old widows who've set their eyes on you? I'm sure there are young ladies out there who will serve to your purpose."
"I'm-"
"Sorry? Yeah, right. You must be very sorry to have tricked me, again and again, or maybe all those laughs were meant to laugh because you're finding it funny that I'm falling for your tricks over and over."
"No-"
"No? Then what? Are you here to convince me to go back to that dance and wear this dress and these heels and dance with you so that you can escape from females you have no interest in? Get a grip, Nogi. I'm not a desperate girl throwing herself over you. I never was. And there must be plenty of girls ready to be the one pretending to be your lover-"
"Hotaru!"
She stops. He'd never called her by her first name, just like she'd never called him by his first. But something so trivial as that wouldn't stop her now. She's on a run, and she's anxious to get all her thoughts out when her mask is down. She doesn't want to spend all her rainy days outside thinking of this insufferable, very much insufferable (everything is insufferable) person.
"-and to kiss you and hug you and all that you need to do in order to keep the others away. You're a very cruel person, Nogi, to call up your ex-girlfriend for something like this. You should know me enough by now to know that if you had just told me from the start if I could do you a favor instead of dragging me all the way here and breaking the news on me in the middle of everything I might have said yes. No misunderstandings, or trickeries or whatever that you did to make me come here for something as business-like as it is."
She takes a breather, and continues. "And I expected you to hold up on the deal and never show up to me every again? You've already broken the deal, and I can hold it up to you and-"
He kisses her, but she struggles away. "What?" she spits, "Is someone looking? Do you need to look like in love? I told you, find someone else."
"Hotaru, stop."
"Stop? No, I won't stop. I will never stop. I'm going to go on and on and on and on about everything and anything until the bus comes and I can leave you here forever."
"Listen."
"I've listened enough."
"Only to lies."
"So you know. That this whole ordeal is a lie. You admit it. Hurray."
"No, not that kind of lie. It's a misunderstanding."
"I know. You lied, I misunderstood, think that you actually still-" She stops. She can't reveal that much to him.
"-love you? Yeah, I do."
She is ready with a retort, accusing him of lying again for her to go back and protect him, but his bitter tone makes her take a step back and stay silent.
"I've loved you until now. Five months and counting. I thought I could do it, but I couldn't. Can't you see it, Hotaru? You're smart, you should know. You're a good judge, and if I had been this kind of person until now, you would have already known. I tricked you, but it wasn't so you could act as my lover. I wimped out. I brought you here to ask you if you could stand me again and be with me, but I wimped out and told you something else."
"Liar." She looks away from those burning, sincere eyes.
"Yes, I did lie, but not about that. And now that you know, albeit through a situation I didn't imagine would happen, you can tell me what you want me to do. You can tell me to leave, to keep the deal and stay away forever. I'll do it." He stops, and pleads, "if you're going to make me go, can I at least kiss you one more time?"
It's too much information, too much emotions for her brain to process. She doesn't know what to say. How can she, when her own thoughts are too jumbled up? She finally says the first thing that pops up: "Give me my car keys."
He laughs: another bitter sound. "Your wish is my command," he mockingly says. He throws her the keys from his pocket, and turns to go.
"I never said you can leave just yet." They're both surprised. She hadn't said that because she wanted to- it had been involuntary.
He looks back, slightly hopeful, and she thinks, curse him. "Let's go."
"Where are we going?"
"To a place where you can have your last kiss."
He immediately looks crestfallen. She hates public displays, after all. "Lead the way."
They reach a street where they are alone, and she turns to him, opening her mouth to say something when his lips envelope hers.
There's a hint of sadness, desperation, and melancholy in the kiss, gentle and soft. He thinks he's saying goodbye, and so he's doing his best. She kisses back.
The moment the kiss ends, she voices herself before he can walk away. "I've reached my decision." He looks surprised, because he thought that the decision had already been made. She makes her way to the house, him trailing behind her with an expression of uneasiness and hope. "Next Saturday, five thirty, Francesco's. I'll be waiting."
She hears his footsteps pause, and then a childish whoop. She allows herself a small smile, and complies when he kisses her joyfully in front of the other pedestrians.
"Now get me my clothes, Nogi. And throw these stilettos out of a third story window, will you?"
"Your wish is my command."
The second shot is going to be in Ruka's POV. That is all; hope you enjoyed :)