First set of drabbles: general drabbles.
Existential
Warnings: Shimako-related spoilers for up through most of Haru.
Some nights, Shimako dreams of cherry blossoms.
Droplets of pink falling around her and she reaches up and the rosary is around her wrist but it isn't, she lost it, she never had it, because Sei never existed and she has always been alone. But that's not right, Sei was there, she knows this because it is A Fact.
Noriko has the rosary, she reasons, Noriko has it, but as she thinks that she realizes it has been around her wrist all along, wrapped securely, coiling protectively around the fragile appendage.
There is no Noriko then, she thinks, and wakes.
Blessed
All her life, she'd been told she had a gift. That she'd been granted a talent most people would gladly give a limb for.
Right now the supposed gift felt more like a curse. A curse that, all her life, had set her apart from others, had made people see her as something alien rather than just an ordinary person like themselves.
And now it was taking her away from the one she loved; miles and miles away. She would likely never see her again.
Well, she wouldn't stand for it. She was staying, and that was that. Case closed.
The Pitch
Note: The story Sei is pitching to Yumi (for a performance at a school festival or some such) is from the British prison drama Bad Girls.
"I'm not your jailer anymore," Sei said, gently tracing the plane of the other woman's face, "so I can do this."
The dramatic effect went completely out the window as she placed her arms around herself and made rude smacking noises. Yumi winced.
Sei turned back, grinning. "Now wouldn't you like to do that opposite Sachiko?"
Yumi's eyes grew as big as saucers. "Wh-wh-wh-" she stammered.
"Come on," Sei said conspiratorially, leaning in. "Wouldn't you like to see her in that nice skirt suit?"
"But I- That's- You know-"
"I know," Sei said, sighing. "Youko didn't go for it either."
Change
"Good day, Rosa Chinensis."
She turns, a ready smile on her face for the underclassmen whose cheeks are tinged with a hint of red. "Good day."
She isn't quite used to being one of the stars of the school yet-- and frankly, probably never will be-- but she's a far cry from the girl she used to be. Her years at Lillian High, under the watchful eye of her onee-sama and the other members of the Yamayurikai, have changed her. She's grown into her relationship with both of her soeurs.
But some days, she still wants to run and hide.
Rosa chinensis
When the bud first began to form, it was unremarkable. A mere hint of something, tinged with green, barely noticeable.
It took months for the bud to fully form, months of water and sunlight and another, more spiritual, sort of nurturing. It was small but plump now, nearly bursting with the promise of life. Still it went mostly unnoticed; its time had not yet come.
The bud's transformation into a flower took much longer; a full year, in fact. Its beauty was remarkable: delicate yet strong, firm yet flexible, cute but not overly so. It was a rose among roses.
Valentine's Curse
After the disaster of her first Valentine's Day gift to Sachiko, Yumi
was particularly determined to make this year's present absolutely
perfect.
She'd chosen a recipe that was a bit simpler-- but still, Rei assured her, quite tasty-- and had double-checked to be sure she had all the ingredients.
The baking went surprisingly well, and with a minimum of accidents. It wasn't until afterwards that Yuuki, popping into the kitchen for a nighttime snack, had the unfortunate duty of informing Yumi that cocoa powder and hot cocoa powder were not quite the same thing.
That was it. She was cursed.
Kindred Spirits
It is not yet evening when we leave the Rose Mansion, our duties
finished for the day. We walk side by side, not speaking, each of us
lost in our thoughts.
A flash of white in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I look up to see the moon shining in a cloudless sky. It's a sight I've seen many times before, but one that rarely fails to move me.
"Look," I say, pointing, and she obliges.
As she gazes upward, I see from her eyes that she feels it too. Perhaps we are well-matched after all.
Watching Eye
They are long free of the greenhouse now, old enough to know now that
what they once saw as freedom is anything but. The Virgin Mary's blank,
almost benign gaze has been replaced by the all-too-knowing eyes of
society.
They are not safe here. There are no longer any gardens in which to frolic; everything happens behind closed doors now, in seedy bars and empty apartments. In the beginning it was exciting, brimming with the thrill of the forbidden. Now it has grown restrictive, tedious. They long for their days in the garden.
It's a pity they can never return.
Hope
Warning: Spoilers for parts of the Forest of Thorns arc.
It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be.
The article had been clear: one living, one dead.
"Suga Sei." She shaped the syllables with her mouth, slowly, carefully. "Seiko..."
It was a coincidence, surely.
Her hands trembled, tapping a nervous rhythm against her desk until she stilled them, clenching tight.
She would need to place a phone call; duty dictated that she investigate the matter. If the student had, in fact, lied, she would need to be reprimanded.
She did not know if she had the strength to pick up the receiver. The miracle of hope was so fragile.
She sighed.