anime/manga; Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne
pairing; Chiaki/Maron, although only mentioned briefly
warnings; other than plot-changes, nothing I guess.
disclaimer; I do not own Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne or any of the characters used.
i.She is the shadow lurking in the alleyways, the silence thickening the air in the dead of the night; she is a faceless phantom with feather-light steps, a stray traveler beneath the pale light of the moon. She is a brilliant mind, a powerful paw sent by God - proud in the way her back arches, strong in the careless grace of her limbs, strikingly beautiful because of the cold arrogance of her rose-petal cheeks and keen eyes.
She is a kaitou, existing for one purpose entirely.
"Jeanne", her only companion save for the dark abyss of the night calls, "Jeanne! Jeanne! That was too close!"
Finn Fish looks most displeased, eyebrows knitted in worry and breathing ragged.
Maron smiles, stretching thin arms above her head where hair like gold loops down her back. She can hear the frantic voices of the policemen far below her from her position at the very crown of the tree, head leaning against the base of it.
"It's fine", she pledges, nodding towards the chess piece cradled by the angel's small hands. "I got the job done, didn't I?"
"You did", Finn agrees, concern still laced with the golden quality of her eyes. "And it was great, as usual. But, you know.."
The small creature bites her plush lip, obviously pondering over how she should approach the matter.
"Lately, you've been a lot more serious about this.. I mean, you've gone out every night collecting the beauty of artworks for almost two weeks straight! It wouldn't hurt if you took a day off to.. rest", Finn finishes uncertainly, long fingers brushing against the material of her silk-like cloth.
Maron hides her head beneath lithe arms deep inside, while Jeanne takes the lead and smiles warmly at the angel, nothing short of perfection reflected in her calm face outwardly.
"There's no time for rest! I can handle it, you know - if there's anyone who can, it's me, right?"
"Sure.." Finn trails off, finding it impossible to argue with the infamous thief and still unable to suppress a small smile. "What made you intensify your fighting spirit by a hundred times, anyway?"
Maron thinks of dark hair colored a gloomy blue, of honest eyes pleading with hers, of strong fingers clasped around her wrist a little too tightly - and then she thinks of the mysterious and almost haphazarded stagger, of hair shaded an icy blue, of hard eyes daring her to make the first move.
Both images strike a chord within her for some reason.
"Nothing special", she retorts off-handedly. "Just want to prove to that idiot Sindbad that he should think twice before challenging me!"
Maron-not-Maron jumps from the tree branch with practised elegance, hearing the flap of Finn's wings not far behind her;
She is a lonely apparition blessed with strong will, she is the blurry something you thought you saw from the corner of your eye, she is the straight-forward flow of the wind as it twirls past, hidden still. She is the balance of the world, the notorious thief with a mission, known not only for stealing paintings but also many people's interest.
She is Maron - but she's anything but (and she's just so weakweakweak).
ii.Her name sounds good in his mouth, looks good falling off of those full lips, feels good as it brushes against her bare skin in an invisible caress.
Because, behind the newspapers and the indistinct pictures of her being broad casted nation-wide, behind the rumors and stories muttered in awe or disgust, behind the nightly patrols and promised prizes for catching her, there is still someone who remembers her name; her real name.
"Maron", he whispers against her shoulder. "Maron", he pleads into her citrus-scented hair. "Maron", he breathes across her flushed face in warm wisps.
"Chiaki", she offers in return; just once, and barely audible at that, but it's enough as she watches the handsome features of his face pull into a ridiculously happy grin.
Maybe that's why his betrayal stabs deeper than a knife to her heart would. Maybe that's why she curses her own stupidity for falling into a trap as easy as that one. Maybe that's why she vows to never make the same mistake again.
She's always known it, after all; trust is too expensive to be wasted breath on.
And she sits all alone, head leaning against elbows perched on a dirty bench in the local amusement park, eyes swollen and hair like dull sunshine hanging loosely around her face.
The worn-out carousel in front of her stopped working a long time ago, rust and unreliable mechanism being all that's left. It's a love story all on its own, a tale that seems to have faded into oblivion.
She's not strong enough to pick up the pieces, to fake the smile that is her trademark, to stand tall and proclaim herself the queen of bravery; the kaitou able to survive anything.
She stays like that for a long long time and watches the sky shift in colors as morning approaches. Maron thinks she can almost hear the nostalgic carnival-like music, the children's ringing laughter; among the buzzing of all the people and rides, she discerns the echo of two hearts skipping a beat.
Maron cries. But this time, no one's coming to save her.
iii.Maron hasn't switched the lights in her room on for at least a week, the principal of her school stopped calling long ago and even Miyako's persistent knocks eventually died out.
"I'm all alone", she mumbles through wet bangs and cheeks streaked with make-up. "I'm all alone", she clarifies to anyone willing to listen - God? The Devil? It makes no difference.
Her crucifix that's been frozen in time stares back at her from the window sill, nothing like the key that once opened up her other self.
Maron smiles and stands, tentatively reaching for it.
In the end, it was all borrowed power - but she'd do anything to have it back.
"You can have it back", a voice confirms, and Maron doesn't have to look back to know that Finn is standing with her arms crossed, long nails splayed across porcelain skin. "You've already realized it yourself, I can sense it. It doesn't matter anymore, right? What's wrong, what's right - it's all the same, just different sides of the coin."
The cold metal meets her fingers and Maron has to release a shuddering breath.
"You can have your strength back. Forget all about this world and the things that has happened here. Forget the old, weak Maron."
It's too inviting to resist, the taste already evident in the back of her mouth, and she can feel her walls slowly crumbling.
Maron (JeanneJeanneJeanne) lets her own, pathetic self be washed away in order to leave room for something greater, more powerful, and everything around her disappears save for the frantic beating of her own heart.
The male and achingly familiar voice yelling hysterically a wall away goes unnoticed, as does the violent ringing of her phone.
She's entrusting herself to nothingness, because nothingness is all she has left.
And Maron knows that even God can't forgive a sin like that.
-- A/N;
No, really, it's a great manga. Deep, though. It is, right?
Hope you likey, although I'm not sure what kind of point I'm trying to make with this story.