Munto Fanfiction
Take Care
He was going to take her away, and there's nothing she could do but watch her go and bid her farewell.
Munto © KyoAni
She didn't like him.
She didn't have a reason to, even. The man in red, the island in the sky, the space containment, the akuto, everything was beyond what she could grasp. Every speck of magic that she's ever been connected to comes from the woven syllables of her friend's lips, and that single, brief, millisecond of image in the sky she saw a year ago.
She should've became closer to her. The whole incident should've been the key that told Yumemi not to hold that pink umbrella anymore, because she's not alone in this anymore. Instead, her fair-skinned friend drifts further away and gazes at the sky for extended periods of time, searching for the first sign of something. Anything.
Ichiko was afraid.
He was taking Yumemi away from her.
It's not fair.
Yumemi belonged to her. She belongs to her and Suzume, who found her first, who befriended her first, who believed what she saw…much longer than this stranger from the parallel world who appeared only to exchange a few selected words.
She was jealous.
Every time Yumemi looks up in the sky and drifts away, Ichiko feels a protective surge of a mother hen to shake her and just tell her to "wake up!" or "stop!" or the always implied, never voiced "don't leave me!" Yumemi can dream and fly all she wants, because Ichiko will always be there to catch her. She's only afraid that Yumemi won't fall. That she'd be swept off her feet and led towards the heaven.
"What is he like?" She once asked, and immediately regretted it.
Yumemi paused in the middle of putting her notebooks away and smiled sincerely at her. "Like an angel" she breathes, and chuckled as an afterthought as if reflecting her reply. She spends the next two periods profiling him through fragments of details; whispering words of how her prefers to be address "-sama," which she humorously ignores, and slipping her notes with scrawled cartoons no better than Suzume's childish art pieces. They came out nothing like the prince charming as Ichiko expected. Something like Kazuya's type, she would've imagined.
"He twitches on his left brow when he doesn't get what he demands for," Yumemi laughs, as if it was the most adorable thing she'd seen.
He was not an angel, Ichiko concluded.
It was her duty then, she decided. She's going to be the glue to her friendship; she's going to keep Suzume and Yumemi together. No marriage with genius delinquent or king from magical realms is going to tear any of them apart. She sworn it while stealing quick glances at her smiling friend.
But she can't stop her from wanting.
It was as if she could vanish any time. Even though she's right here, her long, pale fingers clasping Ichiko's tanned, large hands, the latter knew that a single gust of wind can blow her away. She could see it. Fragile, petite Yumemi gliding with a wind, hand in hand with a magical king who she can't see, and heading up and up to a heavenly kingdom where she can't go. Beneath invisible dove-feathered wings and golden halos, Ichiko would scream her lungs out to no avail. Yumemi wouldn't hear anything but bells.
She was going to lose her to him.
Yumemi would go with him. She would vanish right before her eyes. Her smiles, her laughter, her soft and collective voice, would all become a distant memories reflected solely through the taped photographs on her paint-chipped walls.
She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to say: If you go, you won't come back. We're more important than him. Instead, as Yumemi grasp onto the shirt of the magical King and the two ascended above the clouds, she whispers, "Take care."