Ophelia
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz.
It started out as a normal week for one Omi Tsukiyono. He went to school, came
home, help close up shop, eat dinner, assassinate evil doers in the night, do homework,
than go to bed.
But one day, (it was a Tuesday) that normalcy went out the proverbial window. It was
a busy day at the flowershop where many fangirls with nothing better to do crowded four
frustrated young men.
"Omi! Do these flowers go with my eyes?"
"Omi, could you help me pick the right flower for you?"
Indeed, it was a typical day. Omi tries to appease the girls as quickly as
possible. Seeing that Aya was on the verge of losing it gave him further incentive.
One of the overzealous girls knocked down a plant, the pot shattered. Aya began
yelling as Omi bent down to pick up the shards. As he looked up and out onto the street,
Omi knew something bad was about to happen.
A young girl was walking along the edge of the sidewalk. Actually, it looked like
she was walking on a tightrope. She lost her balance and fell onto the street. Omi saw a
car barrelling its way down the street, so he sprinted away from the shop, barely registering
the disappointed squeals from within.
He yanked the girl off the street, a moment barely passed as the car zoomed by, never
slowing down for even a second.
Omi let a out a breath of relief and looked down at the girl. She appeared to be
about twelve years old and had a faraway look in her eyes. She blinked away the dreamy
expression and looked up at Omi in surprise.
"Eh? What happened?"
Omi looked down at her in surprise, "You were almost hit by a car."
"Oh," she said slowly,looking down at her hands, "Huh, that keeps happening to me," she muttered to herself.
She than looked up at Omi and smiled brightly, her braces glinting in the sunlight, "Well, thanks!" With that said, she ran off.
Omi sighed, as an assassin he has seen many strange things and met many strange people. That girl was no exception. His train of thought interrupted by Ken's voice.
"Hey, Omi, everything all right?"
Omi smiled at Ken, "Well, I guess everything's as normal as it gets for us."
It was not often that Omi got to attend regular classes rather than cram school. However, things have been relatively calm (well, as calm as it can get for Weiss, anyway. Omi chatted with a fellow student before class began. The teacher came in and gave the students a look that promised trouble if they don't shut up and sit in their seats properly now. Another student trailed in after the teacher. Omi gasped, it was the girl from the other day.
Once the class settled, the teacher announced, "Class, this Ophelia Dazai. She moved here from England with her family. Ophelia, you may sit in the third row." She nodded to Ophelia to take her seat.
As the class progressed, Ophelia proved to be an eager student. She engaged in the discussion enthusiastically. Omi was quiet duing the class, his mind occupied when the teacher called on him.
Omi perked up, "Y-yes?"
The teacher frowned at him and was about to speak when the bell chimed. Saved by the bell, Omi thought thankfully. He made a quick exit out into the busy hallway. Omi glanced around for Ophelia, but she was no where to be seen.
After school, Omi did something unusual. He dawdled. He walked under a tree when he heard a sound and looked up. A yelp was sounded as a body came crashing onto him.
"Ow," a feminine voice groaned, the person shifted off of Omi, "Oh, hey, are you alright?"
Omi stretched his limbs tentatively, "Yeah, I'm alright."
"Oh good!" the girl's voice, breathless, had an accent.
Omi glanced up, it was Ophelia.
"Oh, hey, you're the person I was looking for," she practically shouted.
"Eh?"
"Yeah. Remember yesterday?"-how could he forget?- "Amazing and you're in my first class. What a coincidence!" Ophelia spoke excitedly. "Oh! Sorry! Let me help you up." She extended her hand and helped Omi up. She continued, "Let me properly introduce myself. I'm Ophelia." She beamed, her mouth once again revealing her braces.
Omi couldn't help but smile, "I'm Omi."
"Nice to meet you, Omi."
They brushed themselves off and began walking. "So," Omi began, "You're from England? Your Japanese is very good."
Ophelia blushed and grinned, "Thanks. My parents were both born and raised in Japan. My mother's parents moved to England when she was fifteen. My dad went to college in England."
"They met in college?"
"Yep. They first met at a Shakespeare reading. It was a reading of Hamlet, to be exact."
"How did you like your first day?"
"Hmmm, I liked the literature class, but that's it. I have to go back to the middle school after the first class."
Omi stopped, "Wait, what grade are you in?"
"In the eighth grade," she grinned at Omi's look, "I'm fourteen."
"When I first saw you, I thought you were really young. But that's okay, I have the same problem."
She laughed, braces once again glinting in the sun, "Most people think I'm ten or twelve. What about you?"
"Fifteen. But it's okay."
They continued walking. Ophelia looked over at Omi, "What about you, Omi? Your family?"
"I don't have parents, actually," Omi explained vaguely, "I have roommates and we live over the flowerhop that we run."
Ophelia thought briefly about asking his parents, but thought against it. There are some things that one does not ask of certain people.
Ophelia just smiled warmly at Omi. They sat down down and were in comfortable silence. They heard the school clock chimed. Ophelia bolted up.
"Oh, crap! I'm late!"
Omi was startled, "Hey, Wait!"
"Thanks for talking to me, Omi. I really liked it." She beamed, "Hey! Can we talk more tomorrow, after school? We can meet under the tree. You know, the one I fell out of."
"Of course. See you tomorrow."
Ophelia waved as she ran off.
"A poet?"
"Yeah," Ophelia smiled wistfully, "A poet. That's what I want to be." She paused a moment, and looked thoughtful, "No, that's not right. That's what I am. I am a poet."
"I read about a study that shows that poets, out of all writers, tend to die young." Omi flushed, wondering why the hell he brought that up. He reflected that the life as an assassin probably desensitized him in some aspects.
Ophelia just laughed, "I read that, too. I find it quite fitting, actually."
Omi stopped over the bridge they were crossing at the cryptic remark. "Why do you say that?"
She looked down at the creek flowing beneath the bridge, "Oh, I'm going to die soon." Ophelia answered causally, as though they were speaking about the weather.
"Are you sick? Did someone threaten you?" Omi demanded, getting the same feeling he gets everytime he and his fellow Weiss watch a mission video.
"No, no, nothing like that," Ophelia replied. "How do I explain it? It's just a feeling I get, it's so strong and it's always there. I just know."
"Does anyone else know?"
"No," Ophelia reflected for a moment, "Hm, that's funny."
"What's funny?"
"Well, I never told anyone about it before. In fact, I don't think I've ever said it aloud. For some reason, I feel like you would understand. Isn't that weird?"
"Hmmm," Omi declined at saying anything more.
Ophelia continued to stare at the bubbling creek, "What's more odd is that I keep having near death experiences. I know that sounds really dramatic, but that's what they are. At first I brushed them off, but... they have become more frequent in the past year." She sighed.
Omi remembered their first encounter, "That's what you meant when you said that keeps happening to you."
Ophelia looked surprised,"That's right, I did say that, when we first met." She offered a small smile, "It feels good to tell someone."
"I'm glad you told me, Ophelia."
"You believe me than?"
"Of course." Omi had an idea, "Hey, you know what will make you feel better? Ice cream!"
"You're a strange one," Ophelia informed him, "I like that in a person."
Omi just smiled.
The crowd at the flower shop began to thin out, much to the relief of all those who work there. Omi was in the back finishing his last flower arrangement when Yoji slid in with a knowing smile.
"Hey, Omi, there's a cute girl here to see you."
Omi frowned, "Yoji, a lot of girls come in to see us."
"It's the girl who was almost hit by a car last week."
"Ophelia's here?" Omi went out the door.
Yoji's jaw dropped, "Ophelia? You know her name?" Yoji followed Omi out, "Is there something you're not telling Uncle Yoji?"
Omi looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, "It's not like that, Yoji. She's only fourteen."
Omi found Ophelia in the shop. She was staring at Aya in fascination and Aya blatently ignored her. She turned around when she heard Omi.
"Omi!" she grinned.
"Ophelia, what brings you here?"
She shrugged, "I wanted to see you in...flower action!"
Omi groaned, but smiled at her, "We close in an hour. Did you want to do something?"
"Yeah, my favorite author is signing at the bookstore. Want to go with me?"
"Sure. If you can come back at eight, we can go."
"Great! Oh, by the way, do you have violets?"
"Of course. What a minute, I'll get some for you." Omi turned to find the flowers when Aya gave Ophelia some violets is a painted pot. She blushed as she took the flowers from him. Aya turned around and once again went back to ignoring her and everyone else.
After purchasing the flowers, Ophelia turned to Omi, "I'll see you at eight."
Omi nodded, "Alright, bye."
Ophelia glanced at Aya and blushed again. She turned and left the shop.
Omi sat at the kitchen table, flipping through an illustrated copy of Hamlet that Ophelia cheerily loaned to him. It was in English. There was something about Shakespeare that doesn't translate well into Japanese. Omi's grasp on English was fairly good, but Shakespeare's English is hard!
The pictures were nice, there were mostly paintings depicting the plays. Omi flipped the pages and came upon a painting that struck a cord within him.
"That picture..." Omi lost his train of thought when Yoji came in dragging a very drunk Ken with him. Ken nearly toppled over, giggling.
"What happened?" Omi asked horrified as Yoji forced Ken into a chair.
"Heyyy, Omi!" Ken slurred.
Yoji sighed, "I found him in a bar, he almost got into a fight."
"A fight?" Omi frowned at Ken, "Ken, you don't drink, what the hell were you thinking?"
Ken looked at him, his eyes unfocused. Yoji lit a cigarette, ignoring Omi's pointed look, "I think Ken here got into a little fight with Aya, earlier."
Omi groaned, he hated it when Aya and Ken fight because it always got ugly and Ken often would run off afterwards. And their fights were never 'little', they were actually all out brawls.
Aya made a sudden appearance in the kitchen. He silently observed Ken and than said, "So, you got into a fight."
Omi looked between the two of them warily. Ken shrugged and ignored Aya. He looked to Omi, "Well, ya see, there was a soccer game on..."
Omi groaned, "Ken, you got into a fight over a sport?"
"He wasn't exactly fighting..." Yoji ventured in.
Ken stood up, "We fought like real men! We had a drinkin' contest!"
Omi felt sweat forming, "I guess it's good that Yoji came in..."
"No, it's not," Yoji grumbled, "He ruined my date! Ken you owe me big time!"
Aya raised an eyebrow, "Ruined your date?"
"Yeah! She wanted to go to one more bar. Of all the bars we had to go to , it's the one he's in!" Yoji jutted his thumb at Ken who was now being supported by Omi. "I should have left him there...drinking to oblivion. She was so hot, legs up to here..."
"Yoji!" Omi groaned as he shifted Ken, "Ugh, Ken, you smell like cigarettes, beer and cheap women."
Ken laughed, "So I smell just like Yoji!"
Yoji glared as Aya crossed the kitchen to help Omi with Ken.
Ken growled, "Stay away from me!"
Aya shrugged, "Fine, have it your way." He nodded Omi, "Take care of him."
"Yeah, like you care, Aya!" Ken shouted.
Aya glared at him, "I'm not going to talk to you while you're in this state. We'll talk tomorrow." He turned around and left the kitchen.
Ken grumbled incoherently about redheads while Yoji stretched and stated, "I think I'm going to take a shower. Good night gentlemen!"
Omi frowned, "Aren't you going to help me?"
Yoji shrugged, "Hey, I did my duty and brought him back nice and safe. You can do the rest." He winked at Omi.
"Ughh, I'm not feeling so good," Ken moaned and stumbled towards the bathroom.
"Ahh! Ken! I need to take a shower!" Yoji yelled.
Omi sighed and followed Ken. It was going to be a long night.
Omi yawned, he was relieved that the flower shop was closed. It had been a long night with Ken hugging the toilet while Omi rubbed his lower back in comfort. He was staring at the picture in the book when Ken came stumbling in, bleary-eyed.
"Good afternoon, Ken," Omi smiled, "Learned your lesson?"
Ken groaned and gave Omi a dirty look. He took out some juice and sat at the table. Ken glanced over at Omi and saw the book. He perked up when he saw the picture.
"Hey, I've seen that picture. I've always liked it."
Omi looked surprised, "You know it?"
"Yeah," Ken touched the book and Omi nodded that he could take it. Ken began leafing through the book. "I've seen this book before. I had tutors when I was in the J-league. One was a literature tutor and she had me read Shakespeare."
"You've read Hamlet?"
"Is that the one with the guy killing his stepdad or something?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, yeah, I read it. I couldn't understand a damn thing..." Ken paused for a moment, "Well, I felt bad for the girl in the story. That's where that picture came from."
"Did you like the story?"
"Well, I'm not sure. I really felt for the girl, all those bad things happening," Ken paused again and blushed, "I have a copy of that painting. Please don't tell Aya or Yoji."
"I won't" Omi assured him, amused. His teammates often surprise him, pleasantly so.
Aya walked into the kitchen with a bag. He eyed Ken for a moment, "Do you feel better now?"
Ken looked at him warily, "Yeah."
Omi began wishing that his teammates were more predictable. Aya approached the table and took out soup from one of their favorite restaurants. He handed one cup to Ken.
Ken blushed and accepted it, "Thank you, Aya."
Aya handed one over to Omi who gratefully accepted it. He glanced down at the book.
"Reading Hamlet?"
Omi nodded.
Aya glanced at the book again and announced,"Ken has that picture in his room."
Ken sputtered, almost knocking his cup over, "How the hell did you know that?"
Aya smirked, actually smirked (which scared Omi), "I know everything about you, Ken," and with that he left the room.
Omi was sure the world was coming to an end, because everyone was acting out of character. What was next, Yoji actually being responsible and open the flower shop at a reasonable hour?
Ophelia was making a wreath of flowers when Omi found her after school.
"Hey," she greeted.
"Hey, it's been a while." Omi answered.
Ophelia grimaced as a few flowers came loose from the wreath, "Yeah, I guess we've both been busy, huh?"
Omi took the wreath and quickly and efficiently began fixing it. He felt tired. The night before had been a particularly tough mission,and they all manage to get away somewhat unscathed. However, they still had to go about the day as though everything was normal. Omi handed the wreath back to Ophelia.
"Heh, thanks," she grinned and patted the grass next to her.
Omi dumped his heavy bookbag to the ground and dropped next to it.
"Yeah, a lot of work at the flowershop."
"Oh, it's really thriving, isn't it?"
Omi smiled, "No, not really, we're just barely getting by."
Ophelia looked quizzically at him, "But it's always so busy!"
Omi laughed, "We get a lot of people in there, but no one buys anything!"
Ophelia laughed as well, Omi than realized she had dark circles under her eyes (he's quite observant).
"Hey, are you alright? You look really tired."
Ophelia shrugged and looked away. A moment later she began to speak, "I've been having dreams lately. They feel so real and..." she paused, "There's water and I feel panicked and then blackness. That's when I wake up."
Omi stared, unsure of what to say. He's had bad dreams before and knew they have affected his life. Ophelia suddenly stood up.
"Omi, I have to go!" She beamed at him,braces glistening in the sunlight, "Thanks for fixing my wreath!" She turned to leaved, but stopped and looked back at him, "Thanks for being my friend."
Omi had an unsettled feeling in his stomach. He knew he should go after her, but Manx suddenly appeared in front of him, "Omi, we have a mission."
Understanding what his priority is in life, he followed Manx back to the flowershop.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the flowers were in bloom (it was another tuesday). Omi found himself walking to the park where he and Ophelia are supposed to meet. He was going to be a little early, he had caught Aya and Ken in a private moment and decided that leaving early was a good idea.
As he got closer to the park, Omi noticed there were police cars and yellow tape restricting access. He ran up to one of the people in the crowd that had started to accumulate at the scene.
"What happened?" he inquired.
A woman shook her head sadly,"There was a girl who drowned. Someone found her body near the bridge."
Omi stepped back, his instincts telling him that it was Ophelia. He had no where else to go, but home.
Omi sat on the couch in Ken's room. He stared at the coffee Ken had offered.
"What happened to her?" Ken asked as he sat down next to Omi.
Omi sighed softly, "She was standing at the bridge when she had an aneurysm and she fell into the creek." Omi flexed his foot, "She knew she was going to die and there's nothing that I could have done about it."
Ken didn't say anything, but the two sat together in comfortable silence. Tomorrow they all would continue on with their lives despite what losses they have suffered and will continue to suffer. Ophelia became one of the many friends Omi has lost. But like all the people he has lost, he'll never forget her.
A/N: The study where poets die younger than any other writer is true! I read it in the newspaper about a year ago. It was conducted by James C. Kaufman, director of the Learning Research Institute at California State University.
The painting in the book Omi was reading is called 'Ophelia' by JT Waterhouse. I love that painting.
In the series and ova, there's a trend of Omi befriending girls and often there's some kind of tragic end. What I was going for was for someone to have a natural death rather than a violet death. I find stories (fictional and non-fictional) of people who just knew that they were going to die, even if they don't know when or where fascinating. Hence, Ophelia.