Echoes of the Past
The Roomkeeper: Part I

The Shadow Pixie of Saint Miator

Tradition.

Sweet. Cute. Adorable.

Humiliating. Demeaning. Insulting.

Which is it?

Yes.

Monday, May 13, 1996, Evening (POV: Uchida Hisoka)

"Damn!" Although expected, the timid knock at the door startled Uchida Hisoka and she poked her finger with the needle she was using to mend frayed lace on her voluminous Miator winter uniform. As she watched blood well up on her fingertip, not for the first time she bemoaned her parents' choice to send her to Miator and not Spica. At least their uniforms are simple...and probably self mending. I'm sure a Spica student would claim so in public at least. "Hopefully she'll be good at sewing," she muttered.

"That would defeat the purpose, dear roomie. You won't get any better if you don't practice, and they assess our sewing at the end of the term. Or did you miss that part of the "Miator School for Brides" brochure they pawned on our parents?" came a voice from across the room.

Hisoka looked up from her work to glare across the dorm at her roommate ironing near the entrance to the bathroom they shared along with just about everything else. "So, are you going to get it?"

"Hmm, let me think..." replied the red haired slip of a girl in a voice dripping with sweet sarcasm, her face never rising from her work. "I seem to remember someone said something just last night when I went to the door to let Subaru-chan and Mayumi-chan in for the tea party. Something about talking at the door until sunrise, at which point we'd all be shampooing the upholstery in the staff lounges of all three schools until sunset under the 'tender mercies' of Mother Superior. I'm sure you don't want me to keep the poor girl at the doorway until curfew, do you?" The redhead continued to focus intently on her ironing.

I get all the attitude of Spica and none of the benefits. Only one more year and I get a room to myself. Will I survive until then...or more importantly will she?

Hisoka silently began the litany from one to ten in her mind that had saved the life of her roommate on more than one occasion. She was at seven when the knock at the door was repeated.

"The universe hates me," Hisoka declared as she set aside her confounded uniform and thrice-damned sewing kit and arose to get the door.

"At least there's symmetry," came the voice again from across the room.

"Aoi Hiromi, you will put that iron down right now and at least pretend to be a passably decent human being for our kōhai or I will take said iron and deposit it up that famously pert little ass of yours."

"Since you ask so nicely..." Hiromi replied with that radiant smile she seemed to be able to turn on like a light, and with about as much effort.

Any response from Hisoka was cut off by a third knock at the door, this one even less confident than the previous two, if that was even possible. Hisoka turned toward the door and strode to it, pretending as she often attempted to do that she was already in her fifth year and Hiromi was somewhere, anywhere, else than in the same room with her. A moment later, she was looking through an open door at yet another, albeit smaller and less curvy, redhead. Oh wonderful, from the frying pan and into the fire...

"Oosaki-san, I must admit I'm surprised the good Sister let you do this. Did you go through the lottery or were we perhaps specially selected for this honor because of our reputation?"

Silence.

The Shadow Pixie of Saint Miator, miraculously detached from the skirts of Sister Hamasaka. The Miator pair known for "discouraged" activities. Something seems to stretch the bounds of random chance here.

"When you're done with the interrogation Hisoka-chan, would you be a dear and allow her in before curfew." The honey sweet smile on Hiromi's lips was audible for both girls at the door.

Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.

"Yes, please do come in," Hisoka said, trying to appear honestly inviting. "As my histrionic socialite of a roommate points out, I am being rude to keep you at the door. Welcome to our humble abode." She waved back at the dorm.

Hisoka drew herself and the door back as the child-like girl slipped by her and stood just inside the room, apparently uncertain in which direction she was supposed to direct her traditional introduction. Hisoka took pity on the poor thing, closed the door, and walked around the kōhai to stand next to Hiromi.

Looking back at the young first year, everything about the girl was perfect- immaculate Miator black with the oh-so-sweet angel-white apron of a roomkeeper over it. The condition of her uniform wasn't surprising given Keiko had lived in Strawberry Hall as long as Hisoka had, what was perplexing was her face. I've seen her around Miator and the dorms for over three years now, but I think this is the first time I've actually seen her eyes. Keiko's characteristic long bangs had been pulled back, almost certainly by someone other than the girl, with a hair clip. Looking into Keiko's face, measuring her posture, Hisoka saw again where the girl picked up the "shadow" moniker. That and her notoriety for lurking at the edges of just about anything happening in the Hall. Watching.

She'll win any poker game she ever plays.

For all her social ineptness and neurotic introversion, Hisoka was well known in Strawberry Hall for her empathy. Whether she liked it or not, she resonated with the emotions around her. It was the reason WHY she liked machines and devices more than people, much to the annoyance of Miator's hierarchy who appreciated clothes irons over soldering irons. When you had no choice but to feel the emotions of those around you, it got exhausting quickly. Despite all that, for the first time in her memory she stood before someone who was...not...there. Emotionally, the girl was a ghost...a shade...a shadow. No emotion. As refreshing as it might seem under other circumstances, at the moment it was...disconcerting, especially when combined with the girl's lack of emotive of language either.

No wonder this girl freaks everyone out.

"Oosaki Keiko desu. I am honored to be your roomkeeper this year and will strive to help you in any way I can," and then a deep bow...perfect...straight...but again voice and action devoid of emotion.

Traditional, cute, demeaning. All and none, in one neat package. Hisoka had often wondered who came up with this system, if for no other reason than to build a time machine to go back and throttle her.

"It is an honor to have you here, Keiko-chan," Hisoka heard her roommate say as she moved to stand in front of Keiko. "My, you look so adorable!"

As always, when Hiromi engaged, Hisoka simply stood back and watched in amazement as her roomate said all the right things, her body language impeccably inviting and disarming. Never mind the numerous rendezvous and trysts this child had reportedly ruined. Never mind that Hiromi had more grievances against Miator's infamous little sprite than perhaps any other student in Strawberry Hall. At the moment you'd think little Keiko was Hiromi oneesama's little sister in truth as well as formality.

The amazing thing is it's all real. I've rarely known Hiromi to hold a grudge or affix blame...and I'd know given I'm the only one who's not bespelled by her charms. At least the only one who hadn't...yet at least...entered an order.

Hisoka fell into the familiar routine watching quietly as her roommate effortlessly become the center of someone's universe, their hearts putty in her hands. Only Keiko-chan wasn't relaxing. She was stiff as a board. It occurred to Hisoka that Keiko hadn't said a word since her introduction, despite Hiromi's famously effective efforts to draw her out. A hand on the elbow, a gentle arm around the shoulder to draw her towards the back of the dorm. Still nothing.

Okay, this is too painful to watch.

Knowing it would be an invasion of her roomies turf, her famous "moves", Hisoka nevertheless gently slid to where the two girls were standing at the doorway to the bathroom and interrupted Hiromi's ineffectual efforts. "Keiko-chan, where do you want to be right now?" Hisoka asked with effort to make it sound neutral, not rhetorical, and to appear truly interested in the answer.

Startlement barely displayed. A moment of eye contact. A torrent of jumbled, anguished emotions lasting an instant. Then control reasserted. "I wish to do my best to live up to the expectations you have for your roomkeeper."

Way to dodge the question, kid.

Hisoka looked past Keiko towards Hiromi. A shrug was her roommates signal. Hiromi was an empath in her own egocentric way and hadn't missed anything either...but likewise had no ideas. At least there was no sign of annoyance toward Hisoka stemming from the recent presumption.

Clearly there's a lot more to this girl than the rumors.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Keiko spoke again. "I'm sure you were very busy before I came and need to finish your sewing and ironing. If I may be excused?"

Just like that. The kōhai's forthrightness was amazing, and very unlike any first year Miator student she'd ever known. Hisoka looked again towards Hiromi. Another shrug, but her face was clearly more troubled.

"Yes, it is somewhat late and I'm sure we all have much to do before curfew. Hopefully we can all talk some more tomorrow after a good night's rest." And some tea and a long walk to make this headache go away. Hisoka walked to the door and opened it for the girl, who promptly bowed and fled through it. Relief perhaps the only emotion not clamped down during the entire bizarre encounter. Hisoka watched her go around the corner and out of sight before closing the door again.

Deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

"What just happened?" Hiromi asked once the door was shut.

Hisoka turned back to respond to her roommate. "I think we've discovered a second rare entity with a pulse and outside a habit that you can't vamp at will."

Hiromi's eye's clouded and brows furrowed in thought. "I'll concede she isn't an extrovert for sure, but I wouldn't exactly write me off yet. Still...she certainly does live up to her freaky reputation, doesn't she?"

"I've never been around someone so cold," Hisoka mused.

"You've managed to avoid yourself, you mean?" Hiromi added with cocked head and raised eyebrow, but with an impish sparkle in her eyes.

Thank you dear heart. I really did need that...and you know it. Maybe you've added me to your little collection too and I just never realized it. Do any of the other girls realize they're in your web, I wonder? "I've been out of my mind most of my life, but at least there's no doubt I have one, unlike others in this room." I know, lame response, but for once I hope you'll let it slide.

Hisoka strode from the closed door back to her bed to take up the detested sewing again. Hiromi was right, if she wanted to make it to her fifth year, it was going to be through, among many other domestic indignities, a sewing test.

"School for Brides" indeed...

***Author's Notes***

This story is a prequel to the events of Strawberry Panic and extends back directly from events in my other story, Voices of the Present, describing the events following the E'toile election of Hikari and Amane-senpai. I would encourage anyone reading this to at least read Chapter One of the other story, but this story will stand fine on its own.

I have gotten questions about the "School for Brides" thing. I pulled it straight out of the light novels on which SP! is based. If you're curious, read the wiki entry on Strawberry Panic.