The characters portrayed within are the creation of Takeuchi Naoko,
and are used without her permission.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Silence Devoid of The Meaning
by DDFA
This is the second sequel to "A Darker Shade of Pale".
--------------------------------------------------------------------
She had to protect herself from the people out there. They
wanted to destroy her, subsume her into some mindless sense of
purpose and duty.... She had almost allowed herself to slip into a
state of compliance, but she was smarter than that.
There was a girl, name of Wakabara Yayoi. Makoto had known
her, but all too briefly, in her first Junior High school. She was
a tall, thin and lanky girl, with longish fawn-coloured hair....
With their mutually unusual heights, both she and Yayoi were likely
to fall into each others' company.
Makoto peered out of the window. The sun was setting now.
After an entire day of ranting and raving, trying to get the voices
out of her head, she had calmed. As had the voices, which were now
nothing more than a dull rumble. Calming, yet with a hint of
menace, that they would return with renewed vigour. Makoto didn't
want to hear those voices. She wanted to sanctify her body and
spirit against the melting-away of her being, into the common
purpose.
Friendships were short in those days, but they seemed to last
close to forever. Something to do with the warped perception of
time one has when one is young. The days went on forever, and weeks
were an eternity. Their friendship had lasted approximately seven
weeks, but it had been enough time for a young girl, such as Makoto,
now devoid of parents, to claim an emotional connection.... To turn
Yayoi into a barrier against the harshness of what it was she had
had to face....
They had always been after her. Standing on the street
corners, waiting for her to pass by on her way to and from school.
It was as if there had been some sign, flashing above her head, that
said "fight me".... Unsurprisingly, since she had been taller than
any other girl her age. After the first few fights, she had tired
of being thugged on by others, and had chosen to seek them out,
handing out her own form of thuggish justice to those who preyed on
the weak.
Yayoi had been strong, too.... Stronger-willed than Makoto
had ever been. That was another reason Makoto liked her. The pair
of them were able to back each other up in times of crisis. And in
this particular school, that had been altogether too often. There
was a desire to keep rogue elements in line amongst certain elements
of the school's population. It was not uncommon for beatings,
bordering on out and out abuse and torture, to occur under the
guidance of members of the school's student body. Naturally,
neither Yayoi, nor Makoto, were particularly enamored of these
methods.
They were out there. She could see them.... People passing
by in the street. Occasionally, one would look up at her, then look
away. She loved the way they feigned disinterest, as if they were
going on with their daily routine. Quaintly amusing, in a way....
If not for the fact that it was all so false. Such things as daily
routine were a fantasy, devised by those who controlled the common
purpose, to make sure the cycles of the world ticked away like
clockwork. How she despised them all, for giving in to the
conditioning.... For sacrificing their individuality. She had
managed to retain her individuality, no matter how negative it had
been, all of these years.
One day, Yayoi had disappeared. Vanished, just like that.
Her parents had been very upset, as had Makoto. It was the day
after she had been involved in an argument with the school student
body president. Makoto didn't know what it had been about, and she
was surprised that Yayoi wouldn't allow her even the slightest bit
of information as to what had lead into the argument. Yayoi had
shunned her for the rest of that day. Makoto was sure she had been
in tears.
Makoto fingered the tangled and greasy strands of her hair,
hanging loose from the usual ponytail she had chosen to wear as a
mark of her individuality. In truth, it was nothing more than an
attempt at appearing socially acceptable. It never really worked.
People still regarded her by reputation, rather than personality.
Even now, her reputation was darkening her relationships with the
closest of friends she'd ever had. Was ever likely to have.
She had begged with the president, in the wake of Yayoi's
disappearance, for information about the argument.... What had lead
to it and such. He remained stern and tight-lipped, warning her
never to bring it up in conversation around him, again. The whole
affair had made Makoto feel vulnerable, and she didn't like feeling
vulnerable. She became violent. Anyone who even dared look at her
in the wrong way was fair game. She knew how to fight, and she
fought often. In those moments, there seemed no greater pleasure
than to see the blood of her opponents fly, to hear the crunching of
bone....
Fighting is not enough. She knew she had to build up the
barriers of protection around her, even if it meant cutting off all
those who cared about her. Their concern was almost certainly
false. Nobody had really cared about her. Nobody but Yayoi. It
was strange, though, how much Yayoi reminded her of Usagi. She felt
tears come to her eyes, and she slid down with her back to the wall,
below the window. Usagi really DID care, didn't she? Her concern
wasn't just some fluke of destiny's path?
She had been transferred not long after.... The school just
couldn't deal with the concept of such a violent female student.
Not that there weren't tough girls within the student body, it was
just the level of violence which she had displayed.... The anger
she was feeling.... A kind of anger that seemed to have no true
source, and no purposeful target. She just needed to express her
anger to the world, even with the negative results that it brought.
She never did hear about what had happened to Yayoi. Not for a
while, anyway.
Usagi had picked her up at the point of her transfer....
Nobody else was willing to deal with a girl who got off on breaking
noses. Usagi really didn't care very much about her reputation,
just the lunch Makoto had made for herself. And Makoto was more
than willing to share that lunch with her. Of course, she realised
now that Usagi was probably more interested in the food than she was
in her, but it didn't matter.... It had been a while since someone
had appreciated something about her. And Usagi had been so forward,
too.... The forwardness broke through the wall she had built up
around herself. The same forwardness that Yayoi had displayed.
Yayoi had just jumped in, headfirst. That was what the police
had said. The body was quite decomposed, and had been made a meal
of by whatever was hungry enough. It had been a dark time in
Makoto's life. There were missing memories in her mind....
Something about having died. Of course, she wasn't too afraid of
death, after all, if you've died once, it's a kind of a nothing
experience when it happens again. But it was the thought, of some
bloated, festering corpse, being found and identified as Yayoi, that
had upset her. When she had died, she had vanished into
nothingness, with an almost painless abandon. Yayoi's way of death
seemed like.... Like....
Like silence, devoid of any meaning.... Just a sudden moment
of total physical annihilation and violation. Total corruption of
the body.... Not that the body was worth much.... Just a stinking,
nauseating bad on blood and bones, carrying some putrefying soul on
into infinity, or killing the soul with its own physical demise.
Makoto placed her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the
sounds of her own sobs. She was too evil to feel sorry for.... She
hated herself and she hated everybody else. They all wanted to
control her or kill her and she understood why. They killed Yayoi,
and now they wanted her to follow.
The world was starting to slip away, in much the same way it
had earlier. Reality, dying with the last of her self-worth. And
then the phone rang, and it all came back into clarity.... harsh,
sharp and painful. She let the phone ring once.... twice....
thrice... She leapt forward, scrambling across the floor to the
table where it was sitting. Four times, five times, six times. She
held the table for support with her left hand, allowing her right to
slip up to the receiver, lifting it, and placing it against her
head.
"Moshi moshi.... Mako-chan?" The voice was high-pitched,
concerned. Makoto swallowed, not immediately recognising the voice.
"Yayoi?" She whispered into the mouthpiece. There was a few
moments of silence from the other end. Then....
"Mako-chan? Are you alright? We didn't see you today, and we
were worried...."
"Usagi?" She whispered again.
"Mako-chan, are you okay? Who is Yayoi?"
"Usagi....chan...." Makoto swallowed. "Help me..."
A vision passed Makoto's eyes. It was Yayoi, smiling at her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"I've always felt at home with the dead."
Tom Baker
_________
/ @ \ DDFA (The Right Dishonourable Mark A Page)
/ / ^ ^ \ \ ayanami@internode.on.net
/\
\/ \/
\___________/
/_/ \_\ PU
Version 1.0 - Sunday, 22nd November 1998
and are used without her permission.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Silence Devoid of The Meaning
by DDFA
This is the second sequel to "A Darker Shade of Pale".
--------------------------------------------------------------------
She had to protect herself from the people out there. They
wanted to destroy her, subsume her into some mindless sense of
purpose and duty.... She had almost allowed herself to slip into a
state of compliance, but she was smarter than that.
There was a girl, name of Wakabara Yayoi. Makoto had known
her, but all too briefly, in her first Junior High school. She was
a tall, thin and lanky girl, with longish fawn-coloured hair....
With their mutually unusual heights, both she and Yayoi were likely
to fall into each others' company.
Makoto peered out of the window. The sun was setting now.
After an entire day of ranting and raving, trying to get the voices
out of her head, she had calmed. As had the voices, which were now
nothing more than a dull rumble. Calming, yet with a hint of
menace, that they would return with renewed vigour. Makoto didn't
want to hear those voices. She wanted to sanctify her body and
spirit against the melting-away of her being, into the common
purpose.
Friendships were short in those days, but they seemed to last
close to forever. Something to do with the warped perception of
time one has when one is young. The days went on forever, and weeks
were an eternity. Their friendship had lasted approximately seven
weeks, but it had been enough time for a young girl, such as Makoto,
now devoid of parents, to claim an emotional connection.... To turn
Yayoi into a barrier against the harshness of what it was she had
had to face....
They had always been after her. Standing on the street
corners, waiting for her to pass by on her way to and from school.
It was as if there had been some sign, flashing above her head, that
said "fight me".... Unsurprisingly, since she had been taller than
any other girl her age. After the first few fights, she had tired
of being thugged on by others, and had chosen to seek them out,
handing out her own form of thuggish justice to those who preyed on
the weak.
Yayoi had been strong, too.... Stronger-willed than Makoto
had ever been. That was another reason Makoto liked her. The pair
of them were able to back each other up in times of crisis. And in
this particular school, that had been altogether too often. There
was a desire to keep rogue elements in line amongst certain elements
of the school's population. It was not uncommon for beatings,
bordering on out and out abuse and torture, to occur under the
guidance of members of the school's student body. Naturally,
neither Yayoi, nor Makoto, were particularly enamored of these
methods.
They were out there. She could see them.... People passing
by in the street. Occasionally, one would look up at her, then look
away. She loved the way they feigned disinterest, as if they were
going on with their daily routine. Quaintly amusing, in a way....
If not for the fact that it was all so false. Such things as daily
routine were a fantasy, devised by those who controlled the common
purpose, to make sure the cycles of the world ticked away like
clockwork. How she despised them all, for giving in to the
conditioning.... For sacrificing their individuality. She had
managed to retain her individuality, no matter how negative it had
been, all of these years.
One day, Yayoi had disappeared. Vanished, just like that.
Her parents had been very upset, as had Makoto. It was the day
after she had been involved in an argument with the school student
body president. Makoto didn't know what it had been about, and she
was surprised that Yayoi wouldn't allow her even the slightest bit
of information as to what had lead into the argument. Yayoi had
shunned her for the rest of that day. Makoto was sure she had been
in tears.
Makoto fingered the tangled and greasy strands of her hair,
hanging loose from the usual ponytail she had chosen to wear as a
mark of her individuality. In truth, it was nothing more than an
attempt at appearing socially acceptable. It never really worked.
People still regarded her by reputation, rather than personality.
Even now, her reputation was darkening her relationships with the
closest of friends she'd ever had. Was ever likely to have.
She had begged with the president, in the wake of Yayoi's
disappearance, for information about the argument.... What had lead
to it and such. He remained stern and tight-lipped, warning her
never to bring it up in conversation around him, again. The whole
affair had made Makoto feel vulnerable, and she didn't like feeling
vulnerable. She became violent. Anyone who even dared look at her
in the wrong way was fair game. She knew how to fight, and she
fought often. In those moments, there seemed no greater pleasure
than to see the blood of her opponents fly, to hear the crunching of
bone....
Fighting is not enough. She knew she had to build up the
barriers of protection around her, even if it meant cutting off all
those who cared about her. Their concern was almost certainly
false. Nobody had really cared about her. Nobody but Yayoi. It
was strange, though, how much Yayoi reminded her of Usagi. She felt
tears come to her eyes, and she slid down with her back to the wall,
below the window. Usagi really DID care, didn't she? Her concern
wasn't just some fluke of destiny's path?
She had been transferred not long after.... The school just
couldn't deal with the concept of such a violent female student.
Not that there weren't tough girls within the student body, it was
just the level of violence which she had displayed.... The anger
she was feeling.... A kind of anger that seemed to have no true
source, and no purposeful target. She just needed to express her
anger to the world, even with the negative results that it brought.
She never did hear about what had happened to Yayoi. Not for a
while, anyway.
Usagi had picked her up at the point of her transfer....
Nobody else was willing to deal with a girl who got off on breaking
noses. Usagi really didn't care very much about her reputation,
just the lunch Makoto had made for herself. And Makoto was more
than willing to share that lunch with her. Of course, she realised
now that Usagi was probably more interested in the food than she was
in her, but it didn't matter.... It had been a while since someone
had appreciated something about her. And Usagi had been so forward,
too.... The forwardness broke through the wall she had built up
around herself. The same forwardness that Yayoi had displayed.
Yayoi had just jumped in, headfirst. That was what the police
had said. The body was quite decomposed, and had been made a meal
of by whatever was hungry enough. It had been a dark time in
Makoto's life. There were missing memories in her mind....
Something about having died. Of course, she wasn't too afraid of
death, after all, if you've died once, it's a kind of a nothing
experience when it happens again. But it was the thought, of some
bloated, festering corpse, being found and identified as Yayoi, that
had upset her. When she had died, she had vanished into
nothingness, with an almost painless abandon. Yayoi's way of death
seemed like.... Like....
Like silence, devoid of any meaning.... Just a sudden moment
of total physical annihilation and violation. Total corruption of
the body.... Not that the body was worth much.... Just a stinking,
nauseating bad on blood and bones, carrying some putrefying soul on
into infinity, or killing the soul with its own physical demise.
Makoto placed her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the
sounds of her own sobs. She was too evil to feel sorry for.... She
hated herself and she hated everybody else. They all wanted to
control her or kill her and she understood why. They killed Yayoi,
and now they wanted her to follow.
The world was starting to slip away, in much the same way it
had earlier. Reality, dying with the last of her self-worth. And
then the phone rang, and it all came back into clarity.... harsh,
sharp and painful. She let the phone ring once.... twice....
thrice... She leapt forward, scrambling across the floor to the
table where it was sitting. Four times, five times, six times. She
held the table for support with her left hand, allowing her right to
slip up to the receiver, lifting it, and placing it against her
head.
"Moshi moshi.... Mako-chan?" The voice was high-pitched,
concerned. Makoto swallowed, not immediately recognising the voice.
"Yayoi?" She whispered into the mouthpiece. There was a few
moments of silence from the other end. Then....
"Mako-chan? Are you alright? We didn't see you today, and we
were worried...."
"Usagi?" She whispered again.
"Mako-chan, are you okay? Who is Yayoi?"
"Usagi....chan...." Makoto swallowed. "Help me..."
A vision passed Makoto's eyes. It was Yayoi, smiling at her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"I've always felt at home with the dead."
Tom Baker
_________
/ @ \ DDFA (The Right Dishonourable Mark A Page)
/ / ^ ^ \ \ ayanami@internode.on.net
/\
\/ \/
\___________/
/_/ \_\ PU
Version 1.0 - Sunday, 22nd November 1998