A little something I was just inspired to write out of nowhere really. Hope it turned out okay.
Azumanga Daioh © Kiyohiko Azuma, 1999
Original Story © Berlioz II, 2009
Evening.
The twilight of a glowering sun set golden rays down on the surface of the earth, bathing it in a hue of golden iridescence as if offering the world one last scene of beauty before the darkness would envelope humanity in a cold embrace of the approaching dusk.
The water rippled with a sparkling brilliance that was so common of the time of evening, as if the entirety of the flowing liquid was shaped of running diamonds.
The curvy and ornate streetlights reflected against the orange sky with a surrealist softness, yet with such heavy contrast to make for a unique combination of a dark silhouette gather such fragility only the sound of the last reflections of birds and a gentle breeze could match.
Over the shoreline, bulky houses stood like lonely relics of a bygone era, silent witnesses to a civilisation that once favoured such opulence to have structured them before a mass change in aesthetics, to demand lesser from those who didn't favour the imaginary gallops of fancy reserved for the dreamers and poets, destroyed the hopes for the cradle of creativity. Yet the little glimmers of that lost wish for the gentle and archaic still haunted in the memory, forbidding the abolishment of the fanciful, and still kept that glimmer of a flame lit in the embers of hope. The hope for the sentimental.
Standing on the grassy lawn, a small glass of brandy in hand, looking over the rippling surface in front of her, eyes fixated to the opposite shore where another band of similar houses to her's stared back with their eerily glowing eyes, a romantic image of a Viola, or a Gertrude, or an Ophelia could be seen.
Taking a sip of her glass, a habit she had in the past seven years acquired almost by chance, but which she never bothered to try and get rid of now that she had got the taste of the soothing drink in her evening rituals, the woman took a long sigh. The past was a curious thing. At times it could be so comforting… yet at others it could only conjure the type of solitarity that overwhelms humans when they get too deep within their introspective moods.
The silence of the surroundings, when even her neighbours didn't seem to want to disturb the passive air that the calming sunset promised, was nearly complete. Memories once more flooded back, both the good and the sad, before little by little both merged into a singular feeling that wasn't identifiable as being either… or neither. A synergy of a wind's soft song, echoing in the recesses of the bridges that kept all the strident memories together.
Emptying her glass, the pungent drink warming her body in a pleasant way, the long-haired woman once more focused her steel blue eyes on the farther shore, and on the faint glimmer of light that dotted the dark shapes adjacent of the similarly green turfs as her own. They were like ghosts of the past whispering secrets in words that could neither be heard nor understood, but which they were desperate in trying to impart to the world.
A rowboat. Silent and slippery. Fluently moving with simple, gentle thrusts of a rower, whose features were neither visible, nor distinguished with anything but a wide-rimmed hat set deep on the man's head. A poor goblin, perhaps after his own lonely thoughts. Or a modern Kharon… as would befit the satiric comedy the world had become. A man lost in the crepuscular world, where only his own thoughts mattered. Sakaki knew this feeling well.
A light bump was suddenly heard behind her, inside her house to which the veranda door was open, intruding on Sakaki's moment of stillness.
"Again…" she gently mumbled to herself, as she peered down at her now empty glass, and slowly turned around to head back inside her home.
Stepping over the threshold into the ever darkening room, to which she had never bothered to put on the shimmering lights so many people found comfort from. Instead, Sakaki allowed the sunset colour the room with its soft tones of nature's light.
Not looking around, she walked over to her comfortably large resting chairs and sat down. Fixating her eyes on the farther wall, she took in the changing shades of the room and the light that filtered through her elongated windows.
"It's beautiful out there," a voice remarked beside her, filled with a friendly tone of understanding.
Sakaki said nothing for a small while, still keeping her eyes transfixed on the wall. Then, with drawn out languor, she simply responded with a simple, "Yeah."
Her companion said nothing, rather keeping her smiling gaze set on her friend's thoughtful features. Sakaki grabbed the crystal brandy bottle next to her, and poured another glass.
"More? You sure about that?" the short-haired woman voiced.
"Yes," was once more the simple reply.
The other simply smiled back.
"Would you like one as well?" Sakaki asked.
"No thank you," was the equally minimalist answer.
Sakaki lightly tipped her head and dropped the issue. She knew better than to push her friend. Taking a new sip from her now filled glass, Sakaki allowed time pass a little forward before slowly turning her gaze toward her companion. "Why are you here?" she asked in a hushed tone, the simple act of confirmation lacing her voice.
"I thought you wanted me to be here," was the answer, still smiling as ever.
"Mmm… I suppose I do," Sakaki said, turning her eyes back to the wall.
"Would you like me to leave? Leave you to ponder on your own little thoughts by yourself?" she asked.
Sakaki waited a moment, as if tasting the words in her mouth, before giving a simple shake of her head, "No."
The other woman leaned back in her own chair, allowing silence to once more envelop the vestiges of the surroundings as the sun continued on its steady decline toward night.
It was this time between the sunset and the night that always had some strange meaning to Sakaki. It was the phantom moment that always seemed to bring within her a feeling of stillness… or quietude that was only ripe to breed reminiscence. Another sip. The brandy feeling so good going down her throat. Never drunk. Never that far. Not again. But warmed up still.
"Do you ever think of the past, Kagura?" Sakaki asked to break the silence.
"All the time," Kagura said.
"And you're all right with that?" Sakaki further questioned.
"I don't see why I shouldn't be," Kagura said. "Why do you ask?
"Mmm… just curious, is all."
"The past giving you pain then?"
"Not really… just… makes me think at times… about some things perhaps I shouldn't."
Kagura gave another warm smile, "You know… the past is nothing to be feared. What's past is past. It can't come back to you again and hurt you. Or at least not in a way that it'd effect you. The future on the other hand… well. You never know what the future'll bring."
"So what you're saying is I should be more mindful of things to come than to things gone?"
"In as few words… though there's nothing you can do about the future anyway, so… why bother trying," Kagura said, the smile never faltering from her lips.
Sakaki once more turned her look toward her athletic friend's face. "In the end, the world will just keep on turning, and all we can do is end up playing catch-up, is that it?"
"Sounds about right," Kagura beamed.
It was always like this. A simple, esoteric question. Always a reliable answer that somehow made so much sense. Sakaki preferred this. Somehow it always helped her clarify everything in her mind. Seven years had changed surprisingly lot, even if there might not have been any real need for it. But over that time Kagura had become so omniscient… probably that was to be expected, but still… it at times felt so un-Kagura like… yet still so Kagura-like at the same time. Somehow the contradictions just worked together. Never bother to figure out how.
Looking at that smiling face now, Sakaki couldn't believe how tender Kagura had become. She was so much less cruder than when Sakaki had first met her. So much more understanding. Perhaps that too was to be expected. And Sakaki certainly didn't begrudge it.
"What?" Kagura smiled. "Is there something on my face?"
"No. I was just thinking," Sakaki said.
"Wanna share?"
"It's okay."
"You sure?"
"Yes… I'm sure," Sakaki said as she took another sip from her glass.
"Okay. Have it your way. But if you ever want to, you know I'll be right here for you," Kagura said, turning her own gaze away from Sakaki and into a seascape hanging on the wall.
Sakaki quietly regarded Kagura, pondering on her proposition, "Do you think it'd be for the best?"
Kagura shrugged. "Maybe. What do you think?"
"I don't know… Sometimes it just seems easier to not get involved with these things too deep. Then again…"
"Sometimes you wish you could just speak to somebody about it," Kagura finished.
"Yes," Sakaki said after another thoughtful pause.
"Why don't you?"
"I'm not sure…"
"Are you afraid?"
"Of what?"
"Judgement. Lack of understanding. That they'll laugh at you. Not take you seriously. That they'd think lesser of you."
"…Perhaps…"
Another pause.
"You know they wouldn't," Kagura stated.
"I guess…"
"You know there are people who'd care. Who'd listen and understand. Yomi… Tomo… Chiyo… Ayumu… Kaorin…"
"You?" Sakaki interrupted.
"Me," Kagura conceded. "Point is, you're not as alone as you think you are. It's not too late as of yet. And you shouldn't hide yourself away in this… mausoleum."
"I suppose so…" Sakaki mumbled.
Kagura carefully kept her eyes on Sakaki. "You want to talk now? To me? Even for practice?"
"…No… not now… or at least not yet. Not tonight," Sakaki drawled out.
"Fair enough," Kagura said, again smiling that comforting smile. "When ever you feel comfortable."
Another silence enveloped the room. The sun had by now almost completely gone down, and the room was only lighted by an eerie bluish tint of reflection from the outside.
"It's dark," Kagura noted.
"Mmm… the sun's gone down," Sakaki confirmed as if it was necessary to point it out.
Kagura reached over to another table and took a piece of paper in her hands. Turning it around in her hands for a small while, she then folded it into a bird of paradise.
Sakaki hummed a strand from the tune for Marguerita's waltz.
A gentle breeze jingled the little ornamental wind chime down on the veranda.
"Why is it so hard?" Sakaki suddenly asked.
"What do you mean?" Kagura probed.
"This… everything. Even after all this time of introspection. Nothing ever changes."
"Who ever said it was supposed to be easy?" Kagura challenged.
"I guess so… but doesn't mean I have to like it," Sakaki said back.
"No… but you'll learn to," Kagura said.
"I don't want to," Sakaki argued.
"Not now… but sooner or later you'll have to accept."
"I'm not so sure…"
"When there are clouds in the sky and they are gray, after the showers is the sun. So it will always be. You'll reach the correct outcome eventually," Kagura softly said.
Sakaki was silent for a moment, her brain absorbing the words. "Mmm… I guess you're right… as always."
Kagura lightly chuckled, "You give me too much credit."
Sakaki didn't bother to contradict. Instead she settled to twirl the drink in her hand, which she had almost forgotten.
A faint, pale light floated past the room, momentarily illuminating the surroundings, and leaving Sakaki staring the floorlist with quiet serenity, her hand stopping the twirling of the glass.
The large grandfather clock in the foyer beyond ticked away seconds in a steady beat to denote the passage of time, filling in the moment of quiet in a non-disruptive deportment.
As the clock gave a small gong, Kagura took the mark and quietly stood up. "I think it's about time for me to leave. It's getting rather late."
Sakaki lifted her eyes a bit, but only settled to give a slight "mmm" as acknowledgement. With that Kagura began quietly moving toward the exit. But before she managed to step outside through the still open veranda door, Sakaki stopped her with a diminutive, "Kagura?"
Kagura stopped, turned and asked, "Yeah?"
"How much promise is there in the future?" Sakaki almost silently asked.
Kagura gave a light smile. "How should I know? I'm dead, remember? Only you can find out the answer to that particular question."
"I'd just like to know… if it ever gets better."
"Well… the world'll keep spinning no matter what you do. But I'll tell you this. Just trust in your friends. Seven years is a long time."
"I know. But it's still hard. I still think that I could have done something…"
"No, you couldn't have," Kagura interrupted. "You know, sometimes some things are out of your hands. Can't save the world all the time. Might as well save yourself first."
"I guess… Doesn't make me stop thinking about it."
"Suit yourself. But as with everything in this world, you'll learn. See you again tomorrow. Good night."
With that, Kagura stepped outside and was gone, leaving Sakaki once more alone with her glass of brandy.
She took a sip, twirled it in her mouth a bit, and then swallowed, once again feeling the nice warming sensation taking her over. The last glass of the evening. No more after this.
A small glistening particle in her eye. It drops on her lap.
One more sip, and the glass will be empty.
Yes, I know. Extremely esoteric and surreal. T'was something I just felt the need to write on the spur of the moment, inspired by Sakaki's rising insanity of imagining Chiyo-chichi everywhere in the anime in particular, combined with my reading of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby". I'll leave it to you to figure out whether Sakaki was just drunk, going insane, actually communicating with a ghost, or whether the phantasm of Kagura was simply something she had developed in her own mind as some kind of a comforting crutch. Basically I just wanted to indulge in an extremely poetic piece of surrealism. Also, there was no specific reason to make this Sakaki/Kagura. Sakaki was going to be there from the start, but I decided on the second part by writing all the Azu-girls names on pieces of paper, folded them up, and picked one from a glass. Kagura just happened to be the lucky winner this time.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this regardless.