The Carnival changed everything.
All of the HiMEs and their loved ones were returned to life, the Obsidian Lord was defeated, and life seemingly reverted back to normal, but they, themselves, were all different. Something within them had inextricably changed and they could never get it back. Months of conflict and personal turmoil had ravaged the girls and now they were trying to heal, to see what they could still salvage out of the wreckage of their beings. And as hard as they try, the group lacked the cohesion they once possessed. Forgiving and forgetting is a wonderful sentiment, but theory and practice are often discordant.
Shizuru paces the rows of the Fuuka gardens. Each step grates against the gravelled walkways, her feet dragging, weighed down with the actions of her past. She furrows her brow under her tawny fringe and sharply exhales, hoping that she can expel all the sins that reside within her. There is a schism that is wrenching her apart, the person who she knows that she is and the person who was unveiled during the Carnival. How can they both be her when they are so antithetically opposed? But as they both reside in her; surely they are one and the same?
How can one acknowledge such a horrific aspect of their own being? How does one continue as though nothing happened with the knowledge of such a malevolent personality lodged in their soul? Is it possible to atone for their actions? Is it possible to condone such deplorable deeds? Could anyone ever love such a monster?
The viscous liquid drips languidly onto her alabaster cheek, her emerald eyes intent on the metal intricacies before her. She passionately curses the motorcycling engineering before inwardly conceding that maybe her anger is misplaced.
Ever since the events of the Carnival, Natsuki has seen Shizuru shirking away from her, retreating away behind that detestable, amiable façade. Yeah, to the casual observer and the multitudes of fangirls, that smiling face may suggest that Natsuki and Shizuru are still friends, but Natsuki knows different. She knows that multitudes are contained behind that mask, and that it does nothing to indicate the magnitude of Shizuru's strength, the extent of her pain, and the infinite warmth that she is capable of. There is a universe hidden behind those eyes and Natsuki is no longer permitted to peer into those depths.
They no longer interact outside of group get-togethers and even within those environs; their interactions are stilted, cordial at most. Natsuki is treated to the full fangirl package, her history with Shizuru so easily dismissed.
There was a HiME karaoke night – another admirable attempt on Mai's part to provoke some reconciliation among the fractured girls. After the final last warbling note, and some drunken farewells, Natsuki confronted Shizuru in the parking lot.
"Shizuru! Wait!"
The older girl doesn't break step as she strides across the asphalt towards her car.
"Please Shizuru! Just talk to me!" pleads Natsuki.
Crimson eyes glance over her emotionlessly. Natsuki pauses. She never realised that such a warm colour could ever look so frigid.
"Apologies Natsuki, but I must head home and prepare for my morning classes. Finally being in university doesn't allow time for mere frivolities. I only came this evening as I was tiring of Mai's incessant begging. I bid you good night."
With that, she slid her shapely legs into the silver sedan and drove off into the Fuukan night.
Frivolities? Natsuki stands dumbstruck in the vacant lot, her mind whirring at the abrupt dismissal. How is it possible for Shizuru to brush her aside so casually? Has everything they've been through together been reduced to nothing? To mere frivolities?
Natsuki resolved that evening, while standing dejected under the waning moon, that she would do her utmost to unmask the enigma. To coax some semblance of the Shizuru she once knew out of that infallible exterior. She swipes away the oil on her cheek and resumes her tinkering.
Weeks have passed. The inexorable march of time marked by sunrises and sunsets, by a slight crispness encroaching into the air marking the transition into autumn, by another full moon glaring from its lofty heights; the only thing that hasn't changed is Natsuki's relationship with Shizuru. She is still ensnared in an inescapable purgatory. Every attempt that she has made to engage with the sandy-haired woman is met with failure. She is barred by voicemail, by hordes of admiring fangirls, by nonchalant dismissals veiled with thin excuses. The lack of success does not yet deter her, her resolve is still unyielding. This is all indicative that some more forceful measures must be employed.
She leans against the ivy-laden brickwork, her arms folded across her chest, her gaze intent on the doorway 5 meters away. She is outside the business science lecture hall, the location of Shizuru's current class. She managed to bribe this information off of one of the older girl's many adoring fans; the scope of their knowledge about the woman was eerily disquieting. Their meticulous stalking had its uses, she concedes, as she spots the graceful blonde exit the building. She lingers for a moment and observes as the masses swarm around their idol. She smiles and beams at the mob, but if you look closely (as Natsuki does), it never reaches those ruby eyes.
Natsuki unglues herself from the wall and stalks her way across the courtyard to the humming throng. She shoulders her way through the crowd towards her target. As she reaches Shizuru, she firmly grasps her wrist and forcibly tugs her away from all the fawning faces. She feels the delicate skin pinch under her unrelenting grip, but she refuses to slacken. She is desperate, pleading, but even more than that, she is fearful. She can't afford to let Shizuru slip away once again. Shizuru is the one certainty remaining in her life, the one entity she truly can't survive without. She can not falter.
Natsuki steers them across an empty quad toward a bench sheltered under the boughs of an indecisive oak, whose leaves have not yet reached a consensus on the upcoming season. She yanks Shizuru onto the seat next to her but does nothing to relinquish her hold.
"Shizuru, what the hell are you doing?", bites Natsuki.
"Whatever do you mean? I'm attending my classes, of course. Which is something I'm sure that you should be doing too."
Her tone reveals nothing, her crimson gaze fixed at Natsuki's white knuckles clutching her wrist.
"Don't be evasive. You know exactly what I mean. What's happened to you? Where have you gone?"
"I am sitting right here. Where else would I be? On Mars perhaps? Or maybe in an underwater cavern?"
Natsuki bows her head, attempting to hide the swelling tears behind her navy tresses. She was expecting deflections, but the sarcastic rebuffs are more piercing than she had anticipated. Natsuki uses her free hand to grab the other girls chin and force their eyes to meet – tumultuous emerald and hardened crimson.
"I don't mean literally. Where's the real Shizuru? The girl who saved a rebellious youth from spiralling into self-destruction? The one who has one of the kindest, warmest hearts that the mind can envision? The Shizuru whose real smile is blinding with its beauty? What about my best friend, my most precious person, where did she go? I miss her."
The tears cascade down Natsuki's cheeks, the exact embodiment of the outpour of feelings in her impassioned speech. She gazes into the opposing eyes and hopes to detect some familiarity in the ruby depths...
There's nothing. That perfectly honed shield gives nothing away, not an inkling of emotionality. Not a single fragment of hope for Natsuki to latch onto. But wait. There was a flicker. A momentary crack in the mask, only a split second, but enough for a torrent of hurt and pain to avalanche over Natsuki.
"That girl no longer exists, if she even existed in the first place, which I doubt. I suggest that you stop clinging onto such a childish fantasy and move on with your life. We aren't naïve kids anymore. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some coursework that requires my attention."
Shizuru takes advantage of Natsuki's shock and jerks herself away before marching off across the campus, leaving behind a deflated girl on a desolate bench.
Minutes pass. Natsuki is still rooted to the spot. Her hand is still clutching onto something. Something that is already gone. She sits there perplexed, the salty paths on her cheeks drying in the autumn breeze. Shizuru was distant, sarcastic and biting, but those words belied the raw emotion that Natsuki glimpsed in her eyes. That fraction of a moment was enough for a host of pure anguish to radiate out of Shizuru. Natsuki could see that Shizuru was still suffering, was punishing herself while hiding behind her fortified walls.
Natsuki clenches her empty fist, the void left by Shizuru's presence made tangible in her hand, but she feels an echo of that loss in her heart. All those years, she was so caught up in her vengeance that she didn't acknowledge her feelings for Shizuru. She ignored them. Avoided them. She was meant to be the angsty daughter whose mother had been murdered by the First District, she was not meant to be a girl infatuated with one of her upperclassmen. All that time, she never knew. She never knew how much she needed her. She never knew that when Shizuru saved her it would reshape her whole world. It was now her turn to return the favour.
Natsuki leaps off the seat and races across the campus, weaving through loitering students conversing about sports or essays or other unimportant things. She pants heavily while storming into the dormitories, a determined scowl etched onto her face. She corners a mousy-looking girl and berates her into disclosing Shizuru's room number before bounding up the stairs to her destination.
517. Natsuki bangs her fist against the burnished wood. She is heaving for breath, but using every iota of energy to get the other woman to come to the door.
"Open up!", each word punctuated with another resounding boom of her fist, "I swear to God I will wrench this door off its hinges if that is what it will take to get you to talk to me."
She continues her percussive hammering until she hears the almost imperceptible click of the latch being withdrawn. The door doesn't open. The air feels stagnant with silence. Natsuki exhales sharply before turning the knob and stepping into the dorm room. Her eyes scour the room, searching for Shizuru, before seeing her silhouetted in front of a large window in the adjoining bedroom. Natsuki stalks her way towards the immobile figure, trying to read anything in the slope of her back or the slight angle of her head. Once again she is left wanting, Shizuru is a sealed tomb.
Then she notices a slight wavering in the line of Shizuru's shoulders, a constrained ripple throughout her entire frame. Natsuki approaches softly and wraps her arms gently around the taller girl's waist, her forehead resting between her shoulder blades. She feels a stiffening of the lithe frame in her arms, but the silent sobs still undulate into her embrace.
This was her turn. Her turn to save Shizuru from the wars she waged inside her head. She lifts her head and places a placating kiss on the quivering girl's back.
"Shizuru", she breathes. "Shizuru, you don't have to do this on your own. Just let me in."
The older woman drops her head against the paned window in front of her, her smooth arms rising to rest on the taut ones encasing her abdomen.
"You are too good to me, Natsuki. You are too forgiving." Her tone is conflicted, a clash between sorrow and restraint.
"Nothing could ever be too good for you and there is nothing to forgive."
The older girl spins around, tears barrelling down the modelled planes of her cheeks. The façade has crumbled, all fragments of the mask have been washed away. Natsuki looks into the open expression of the woman in her arms. This is the fractured woman that she has come here to save. This is the woman she will do everything for, anything to piece together her shattered soul.
Crimson is drowning. Drowning in tears. Drowning in a merciless hurricane of suffering.
"How can you console me so easily? How do you find it within yourself to embrace me? Surely you are repulsed by me? Repulsed by my monstrous heart? I am a despicable human being and I deserve neither your sympathy nor your pity."
The blonde girl sinks to her knees, her words draining whatever strength she had remaining. Her hands make one last desperate surge for redemption, her fingers contracting around the calves of Natsuki's jeans.
The biker softly gazes down at the woman at her feet. Her heart constricts at the sight of her most beloved person in such agony. She runs one hand through Shizuru's dishevelled tawny locks, her fingers sketching silent pacifications into her scalp. She drops down to the floor, both of their knees brushing, her fingers still splayed in the back of Shizuru's locks. She uses this hand to coax Shizuru to look at her, to ensure that the weight of her upcoming speech is understood.
"I have never been repulsed by you, Shizuru. Not even with what may or may not have happened during the Carnival. You lost your way a little, and what kind of person would I be if I judged you for that? I was lost for a long time and you were the one who saved me from getting engulfed in my self-imposed isolation. You are the most remarkable person I have ever known. You outwards beauty is only surpassed by what it contains. Your capacity for love is boundless, and the unselfish way that you bestow that love is truly admirable. I only hope that I can love you with the same devotion as you have shown me."
That last statement sinks into Shizuru slowly, like a burgeoning sunrise. She blinks rapidly. The revelation too bright for her eyes.
"It's true, Shizuru. I love you. I don't know when it happened, but it became so evident that to deny it would be to deny my very self."
Natsuki traces her fingers across Shizuru's sculpted cheekbones, wiping away all the remnants of her emotional upheaval. She gazes into those crimson depths and feels a resplendent warmth overwhelm her being. What she sees there is truly breath-taking.